Part 14

"I have just come from Spain, mademoiselle--I beg your pardon--madame. I have been away about five months."

"Indeed! then that is why you look so brown; but that doesn't do you any harm--far from it. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Enjoy myself? not exactly that, madame; but that wasn't what I went for."

"They say that the women are very pretty in Spain; that their eyes, especially, are dazzlingly bright. Is it true, Monsieur Gustave? Did you see any eyes in that country that excel those of us Frenchwomen?"

"I saw none, madame, which could be compared to----"

The young man checked himself, and added:

"I saw none which made me forget those of the Parisian women."

"Good! that is very polite! And you are settled in Paris now?"

"I do not know, madame; that will depend on--my uncle."

"Well, monsieur, while you are here, if it will afford you any pleasure to come to our evenings at home, Monsieur Monleard, I am sure, will be delighted to see you. At all events, he allows me to invite whom I choose--and he does the same. I greet his friends courteously, he does as much for mine; in that way, we always agree. Stay! next Thursday, as I was saying to my sister, we give a large party; there will be everything: music, dancing, cards, and supper; it will last all night, and we shall have lots of fun. You must come. We shall have all Paris--that is to say, all the best artists, all the celebrities. Will you come?"

Gustave was struck dumb by this invitation, and especially by the light, careless tone in which it was offered; he was more distressed than gratified, and answered, with a low bow:

"No, madame; I shall not have the honor of accepting your invitation."

"Indeed! And why not, may I ask, monsieur?"

"Why, because--at this party--in your husband's house--it seems to me, madame, that I should be out of place; and I am sure beforehand that I should take no pleasure in it. Pray receive, madame, my thanks and my adieux."

Thereupon Gustave went up to Adolphine, who had listened without a word, and pressed her hand, saying in an undertone:

"Adieu, my only friend! Ah! your father is right: it is much better that I should not come here again."

Gustave left the room. Adolphine had difficulty in concealing her grief. Fanny, meanwhile, looked at herself in a mirror, saying:

"What is the matter with Monsieur Gustave, I wonder? He had a very tragic air as he left us. It wasn't polite of him to refuse my invitation. And I fancied that it would give him the greatest pleasure! There are so many young men who would be overjoyed to have the opportunity to come to my evenings!"

"In your eyes, Monsieur Gustave ought not to be like other young men. And I cannot conceive how you could have dreamed of urging him to come to see you," rejoined Adolphine, in a trembling voice.

"Why not, I should like to know? You seem to be surprised at everything!"

"But after all that happened between you before you were married----"

"All what? Monsieur Gustave was in love with me. Ah! there are many others who are in love with me to-day--yes, and who pay court to me, too. But that won't keep them from coming to dance at our ball--quite the contrary; and they have engaged me beforehand for I don't know how many contra-dances. But I shall take only those whom I like. I would have done as much for Gustave; or, rather, I would have given him the preference--I would have let him have more dances."

"But don't you see that Gustave still loves you? that he can't accustom himself to seeing you as another man's wife, and that it would be impossible for him to meet your husband?"

"Do you think that that young man still loves me so much as that?"

"To be sure; he was just telling me so himself when you came."

"Ah! the poor boy! I am sorry for him, but I thought he had grown reasonable! A constant lover! Why, the fellow is a perfect phoenix!"

"A phoenix that you would have none of!"

"I don't repent. My husband is not a phoenix in love, I admit. At first, he adored me; then, it suddenly passed away. But I wasn't silly enough to groan over it. He has continued to lavish on me all the pleasures and amusements that wealth can procure. What more could I ask? I consider myself the luckiest woman in Paris. Whereas with that poor Gustave--that phoenix of constancy!--I should have vegetated; I should have gone to the play on Sunday, as a treat!"

"Monsieur Gustave is already in a much better position. His uncle is so well satisfied with him that he gives him ten thousand francs a year now."

"Ten thousand francs! Well, yes, that is something. One can manage to live with that. But how far he is still from Auguste's position!"

"And then, too, Fanny, when you invite Monsieur Gustave to your house, you seem to forget that duel. Your husband knows that it was he who was in such despair on account of your marriage, and that that was the cause----"

"Oh! for heaven's sake, let me alone, Adolphine! My husband has forgotten all about that. He has much more important things in his head. When a man is intent on making millions, do you suppose he wastes any time on trifles of that sort? Oh! mon Dieu! chattering here with you, I forgot that I have to call on my broker."

"You have a broker, Fanny?"

"To be sure. I speculate on the Bourse, too--just to amuse myself a little, you know. But I do not intrust my affairs to my husband, because he would ridicule me. Adieu, little sister! Make your preparations for our grand party on Thursday. Oh! we shall have much sport. I am going to have a ravishing gown."

Madame Monleard took her leave; whereupon Adolphine sank into a chair, saying to herself:

"Now I can cry at my ease, for he said that he should not come here any more!"

XXX

THE SECOND MEETING

On leaving Monsieur Gerbault's house, Gustave did not return at once to his uncle's office; he felt that he must be by himself, in the open air, and, although it was winter, he had no fear of the cold; on the contrary, it seemed to him that the keen north wind would cool his blood and tranquillize his mind, which the sight of Fanny had overturned anew.

Having her before his eyes, more bewitching than ever, Gustave had realized how dearly he still loved her who had refused to be his wife. And he had already found, in the depths of his heart, innumerable reasons to excuse her conduct; in his eyes, she was rather frivolous than guilty.

Now that he had seen Fanny again, that she had talked with him as pleasantly as before her marriage, and had urged him to call upon her, Gustave did not know what to believe, what to think, what to conjecture, from it all. He asked himself why she wanted to see him. Whether it was because she still felt some affection for him, whether she derived any pleasure from his presence, whether she sympathized secretly with his grief; or was it simply for the purpose of flaunting in his face her brilliant social position, her superb gowns, and the homage that was paid to her?

Gustave walked a long time at random on the boulevard, where he met very few people, on account of the cold.

"No," he said to himself; "I will not go to her house! Have I courage to be a witness of her husband's happiness? Moreover, her husband hasn't invited me; it seems to me that he is sure to receive me very coldly. That's what I would do in his place. But Fanny didn't think of what she was saying; she invited me thoughtlessly--or else from simple courtesy. Ah! she is very pretty still; she's a hundred times more fascinating than ever! I did very wrong to go to Monsieur Gerbault's!"

Suddenly the melancholy lover was roused from his reflections by someone who threw his arms about him, embraced him, and kissed him on the cheek, crying:

"Ah! here he is! it is he! At last I have found him--my dear, good Gustave! Victory! Castor has found Pollux! I have my cue!

"'And since I've found my faithful friend, My luck will take a different trend!'"

Gustave struggled to free himself, in order to see the face of the individual who was so lavish of tokens of affection, and he finally recognized his impromptu friend of Fanny's wedding day, the man with whom he had dined at Deffieux's.

Cherami was the same as always. But his costume seemed even shabbier in the cold weather then prevailing than in summer; for his frock-coat, more threadbare than ever, was drawn so tightly across his shoulders that one could see that there was nothing under it; his plaid trousers, worn thinner than ever, evidently afforded his legs very little protection against the sharp north wind; and the Courbichon hat, by dint of being planted on the side of his head, was beginning to resemble the one it had replaced. But all this did not prevent the ci-devant Beau Arthur from holding himself erect and eying everybody he met from top to toe.

"Why, it is Monsieur----"

"Arthur Cherami. Yes, my dear fellow; it is I, your faithful friend, your Pylades, who has been seeking you over hill and dale, and who even called to inquire for you at your uncle's,--Grandcourt, the banker,--who, I am bound to say, did not receive me with all the consideration I deserve! But uncles are not very amiable, as a general rule. He told me that you were in Spain."

"He told the truth; I returned only last night."

"And I have been scouring the four quarters of Paris every day, saying to myself: 'If Gustave has returned, I cannot help meeting him.'--And here you are, my dear friend, whose absence seemed so long! Well! don't we propose to shake hands with our intimate friend, on whose bosom we poured out our woes?"

But Gustave hesitated to give his hand to Cherami, and replied in a serious tone:

"Before shaking hands with you, monsieur, I must have an explanation with you. You fought a duel with Monsieur Auguste Monleard, and you made that duel inevitable by addressing an insulting remark to his bride. By what right did you take that step? Why did you do it? for what object? Come, answer me."

"Ah! par la sambleu! this is a cross-examination which I was far from expecting! I fight in a friend's cause, I wound his fortunate rival--I didn't kill him, to be sure; but still, I might have killed him. Then, your charmer would have been a widow, and you would have married her!"

"Ah! I thank heaven that Monsieur Monleard got off with a wound in the arm! If you had killed him, I should have been accused of the murder!"

"What's that? you? Everybody knows that it wasn't you who fought with him. I see a young man, miserable, desperate, because the woman he loves marries another. That young man interests me. I dine with him, and he pours his sorrows into my bosom. Every instant, he complains of the perfidy of the woman who has deceived him; and, that same day, when I chance to meet that faithless creature on her conqueror's arm, you would not have me try to avenge my friend's wrongs? Damnation! what the devil do you understand by friendship, I wonder? If that's your idea of it, why, adieu, bonjour, let's say no more about it! Go and look elsewhere for friends; but you won't find my sort lying around by the dozen!"

Gustave detained Cherami as he turned away, and offered him his hand, saying:

"Come, come, don't get excited, hot-head! I see that one cannot bear you a grudge; give me your hand!"

"This is very fortunate. He realizes at last that I am entirely devoted to him, and that his happiness alone is my object."

"My dear monsieur----"

"Don't call me _monsieur_, or it will be my turn to be angry!"

"Very well! my dear Arthur, that duel of yours annoyed me very much, because I was afraid that it would have set Fanny against me altogether. But, thank heaven! it did nothing of the kind."

"As if women were ever angry because a man fights for them! You evidently don't know them; on the contrary, it flatters their self-esteem--it serves to set them off a little."

"I have just seen Fanny, I met her at her sister's. I didn't expect to see her there. Ah! if you knew--I am still all upset by that meeting."

"Do you mean that you still love that young woman?"

"Do I love her! Alas! yes, I love her still, and I feel that my passion will make my whole life miserable."

"Did the little lady receive you coldly?"

"Why, no; on the contrary, she gave me a most delicious smile, and talked to me just as she used to before her marriage. In fact,--can you believe it?--she invited me to a large party that she gives next Thursday."

"And still you have a sad, woe-begone air! why, I should say that you have every reason to rejoice!"

"Why so?"

"Because when this lady, who knows that you once adored her, and who must have seen that you love her still--when, I say, she asks you to come and see her, it means that she proposes to reward you for your constancy--to crown your passion. Pardieu! that's not hard to understand. Go to her party, my dear friend, and I'll stake my head that within six weeks the husband has rooms at the sign of the Stag or the Crescent, as long as you choose."

"Ah! what do you presume to imply? You imagine that Fanny is capable of betraying her husband, of forgetting her duty? No, no! she may be fickle, coquettish, if you please, but she will never be guilty. And I myself--oh! that is not my conception of love. A woman who shares her favors--who pretends to feel for one man the love which she really feels for another--oh! I should soon cease to love such a woman!"

Cherami shook his head, as he muttered:

"You are young, my dear Gustave; you are very young! You don't know the world as I do. You say that you still adore your Fanny, and that you wouldn't have her deceive her husband for you?"

"In the first place, she wouldn't do it!"

"I am strongly inclined to believe the contrary; but let us admit that you are right. I see but one means of making you happy, and that is to carry the young woman off. Do you want me to do that? I'll undertake it, if you do."

"No, my dear Arthur; I have never had such a thought. Fanny has all that she wants--she is happy; I shall be very careful to avoid disturbing her happiness; I have neither the right nor the desire to do so. But, as I feel that the sight of her intensifies my suffering, by reviving the passion which I am trying to extinguish; as I do not wish to expose myself--for some time, at least--to the chance of meeting her at the theatre or in society, why, I shall leave Paris, and travel once more. My uncle always has business in other countries, and he will not be sorry to employ me in that way again."

"That's a crazy idea of yours! So, if your love happens to hang on, that little woman will make you do the tour of the world?"

"Let us hope that time will cure me."

"There is something that works quicker than time in the cure of love; to wit, another love. You ought to have had ten mistresses in Spain."

"Impossible! I thought of nobody but her."

"You can fairly boast of being a paladin of the good old times. You could have given _Roland_ and _Amadis_ points. So you are going to leave Paris again! Would you like me to travel with you?"

"Thanks! my company is far from agreeable; my sole pleasure consists in musing by myself--thinking of the happiness to which I looked forward for some time, but which I am never to know."

"We would have sought adventures together, aye, and found them too, I promise you! That would have diverted your thoughts."

"I do not care to divert my thoughts, as my only pleasure is the thought of her."

"Sapristi! yours is a devilishly persistent passion! However, as you're so obstinate----"

Cherami paused, and seemed to reflect upon the best means of changing the subject.

XXXI

A NEW SWITCH

"In that case, it will be another long while before I see you again?" he said at last. "That troubles me--especially as there are times when a friend is very essential!"

Cherami shook his head, rubbed his chin, and added, between his teeth:

"I haven't my cue at this moment--I need it damnably!"

Gustave glanced at the ex-beau, whose piteous expression was even more noticeable against his wretched costume; then he exclaimed:

"Can I do anything for you, my dear friend? If so, tell me, I beg; I should be happy to be of any service to you!"

"Faith! my dear fellow, I will not conceal from you that I am at this moment absolutely cleaned out. I counted on some money that was owing me; my quarterly income isn't due for six weeks."

"You need money? Why, in heaven's name, didn't you tell me? I am entirely at your service. How much do you need?"

"Why, at this moment--it's very cold--my rascal of a tailor broke his word--so--I ought to have--say, a hundred francs, to furbish me up a bit."

"A hundred francs! Why, you couldn't do anything with that. Here, my good friend, here's five hundred! Take it; I can spare it."

Gustave took a banknote from his wallet as he spoke, and handed it to Cherami, who could not restrain a joyful movement when he received that windfall; he seized the young man's hand and pressed it with all his strength, crying:

"Ah! you are the friend I have dreamed about! My dear Gustave, I shall never forget what you do for me at this moment! Henceforth we are friends in life and death! I cannot name the exact day when I shall be able to repay this money----"

"Eh? who said anything about that? I have more money than I need, and, I say again, I am delighted to be able to be of service to you."

"Excellent and worthy friend! You are made on the antique pattern; you have something of Socrates and of Marcus Aurelius about you. So you don't want me to kidnap Fanny?"

"No, I won't have it!"

"Well, if you change your mind, you have only to write me a line at the same address: Cherami, Hotel du Bel-Air, Rue de l'Orillon, Belleville. By the way, I will call on your uncle's concierge now and then, to find out whether you have returned. Sapristi! it pains me to have you go."

"I shall return--and perhaps I shall be more reasonable."

"Then we will enjoy ourselves, we will laugh and make merry! Au revoir, then, my dear Gustave! If you have any commission for me, write me a line. But prepay your letters, for my hostess has a habit of refusing to take in those that have to be paid for."

"What! even when they are for her tenants?"

"Above all, when they are for her tenants."

Gustave walked away after shaking hands with Cherami, who looked after him with a touched expression, saying to himself:

"Excellent heart! he reconciles me with mankind; clearly, there still are such things as friends; they are rare, but, still, they do exist, and it's simply a matter of finding them. Now, I must see about getting some comfortable duds; that won't be an extravagance. When anyone brushes against me, I am always afraid he'll carry away a piece of my coat."

Cherami soon found one of the great furnishing shops where you can procure a complete change of raiment, from head to foot. He bought a pair of trousers, very full, a thickly padded waistcoat, and a roomy coat; and he put them all on over the clothes he was wearing.

"I am like Bias, one of the seven sages of Greece," he said; "I carry my whole wardrobe on my back."

Cherami made all these purchases for ninety francs. He left the shop much stouter than he entered, and his double trousers compelled him to walk with a certain gravity. But he was so content, he considered himself so comely in his new clothes, that he smiled benignly on everybody, even on the cabmen who passed him. But something was still lacking: since he had restored Monsieur Courbichon's cane, he had not replaced it, for lack of funds; and that was to him a great privation. Now he could gratify his longing; a man who has four hundred and ten francs in his pocket, after purchasing a new outfit throughout, can well afford to humor his fancy for a cane.

Cherami spied a shop where canes of all sorts were for sale; he examined a score, among which there were some very expensive ones. After hesitating for some time between a superb Malacca joint at seventy-five francs, and a light switch at a hundred sous, he finally decided upon the latter. "For, after all," he reflected, "I don't need a cane to lean on! Thank God, I haven't the gout! I will take the switch; it can be used as a crop when I ride; and then, I like something that bends--one can play with it."

Armed with his switch, with which he beat the air in a very unpleasant fashion for those who passed him, Cherami betook himself to the Palais-Royal, saying to himself:

"I think I will dine at Les Freres Provencaux. I like that old-fashioned house; you are always treated well there. It's a little dear, perhaps, but one can't pay too much for what is good."

"Pray be careful, monsieur! you hit me with your cane!"

"What's the matter, monsieur? what are you complaining about?"

"You hit me with your cane, I tell you."

"In the first place, monsieur, it isn't a cane; it's a switch; in the second place, you have only to walk farther away from me."

"Monsieur, I am on the sidewalk, as you are. I have a right to be here, I fancy."

"What's all this?--Cheap talk? impertinence? If you're not satisfied, monsieur, say so at once; I'm your man; I won't run away!"

His interlocutor, who had not left home with the intention of fighting a duel, quickened his pace and disappeared without making any further reply.

Cherami began to wave his switch about as before.

"These fellows are amazing, on my word!" he muttered. "They want to frighten me out of playing with this little stick. As if I would put myself out--as if----"

But this time he concluded to stop, hearing the crash of broken glass; he had shattered with his switch a beautiful mirror which formed part of the show-window of a perfumer's shop. The mistress of the establishment was already in her doorway, where she said to Cherami in an angry tone:

"You broke that mirror, monsieur; you broke it!"

Beau Arthur, with no outward indication of excitement, smiled at the perfumeress as he rejoined:

"Very good! my dear woman, if I broke your mirror, I'll pay for it. You shouldn't lose your temper for a little thing like that. How much will it cost to replace it?"

"Twenty francs, monsieur."

"Twenty francs! here's your money! a mere bagatelle!--I am not sorry to have christened my switch," he added, as he walked away.

XXXII

THE FAREWELLS

When he learned that his nephew wished to leave Paris again, Monsieur Grandcourt did not conceal the regret which he felt at the thought of another separation; but when he realized that Gustave still loved Madame Monleard, he placed no obstacle in the way of his departure, and it was decided that the young man should go to Germany.

"During your absence," said the banker, "an individual came here to inquire for you--I say an _individual_, for I don't know how else to describe the man, whose whole aspect was more than questionable. His name, I believe, is Arthur Cherami, and he claims to be an intimate friend of yours, because you paid for his dinner the day Mademoiselle Fanny was married."

"Ah! yes, I know whom you mean, uncle; I have seen him; I met him a couple of days ago."

"I trust, my dear Gustave, that you will not affect that gentleman's society. You don't know, perhaps, what he did? He fought a duel with Monsieur Monleard, after making an insulting remark to his wife."

"I know it, uncle. But, in the first place, that day, or rather that night, the poor devil was a little tipsy--he lost his head--he thought he was avenging me; after all, it only goes to prove that he's a brave fellow."

"My dear boy, the gentry who stop public conveyances on the highroad are generally brave fellows, too, but that doesn't prevent their being brigands."

"Oh! uncle, do you mean that you think that that poor Arthur----"

"I don't say that he's a thief; but I don't advise you to make a companion of him."

"He's no fool; he has had a good education, and he knows the world."