Part 16

The suggestion was received with delight by the dancing contingent. Adolphine, greatly surprised by the animation now exhibited by her brother-in-law, mentioned it to her sister.

"Your husband seems to be in high spirits now," she said; "and I am very glad to see him so."

"Why! did you think that he wasn't in good spirits before?" rejoined Fanny. "You are wrong, my dear girl! Auguste always enjoys himself--only, he doesn't look as if he did; that's his way."

The cotillon came to an end, and the tired dancers began at last to think of retiring. Batonnin, having supped satisfactorily twice over, left the house with Anatole de Raincy, humming:

"'La belle nuit! la belle fete!'"

"I know that! it ith from a comic opera," said the tall young man.

"True; but you must agree that it's apropos: _la belle fete!_"

"Yeth, but I'm afraid--according to what Vauflers thaid----"

"What did he say?"

"That Augutht Monleard had lotht enormouth thumth on the Bourth of late, and that he mutht be in a very bad way."

"Ah! the devil! that's why I found him so distraught, then. At supper, he drank a lot to forget himself, I noticed that."

"After all, he may pull up again--luck may turn. Ah! I thee a cab. Monthieur, I with you good-night, or rather good-day, for here'th the light."

"Your servant, monsieur."

Batonnin returned to his lodgings alone and on foot, saying to himself:

"Well, whether Monleard is ruined or not, I had two suppers, all the same!"

Our friends and acquaintances almost always welcome our misfortunes in such wise.

XXXIV

AUNT DUPONCEAU

Cherami, in accordance with his usual custom, spent very freely the money Gustave had given him; he still possessed a few francs out of the five hundred, however; and his appearance was very decent, too, for he had presented himself with a new hat, and he still had his new switch. One cold but beautiful morning, about ten o'clock, as he strolled in the direction of the Madeleine, to give himself an appetite, the ci-devant Beau Arthur saw coming toward him a woman of enormous size, holding by each hand a small boy, one of whom wore a hat surrounded by feathers, which gave him the look of a trained monkey. The children, as well as their mother, were so enveloped and swaddled in winter garments that they had not the free use of their limbs. These three living bundles rolled along the street, lurching against one another; but when they came face to face with our stroller, they halted, and the stout woman exclaimed:

"I cannot be mistaken; it is certainly Monsieur Cherami, out walking so early!"

Cherami had already recognized Madame Capucine and her sons, and, being by no means overjoyed at the meeting, would gladly have turned back to avoid it, but it was too late; so he courageously made the best of it, and replied, with a courteous salutation:

"Myself, fair lady; and I congratulate myself on the good-fortune which I owe to chance; for you are far from home. Do you happen to be going to Romainville?"

"No, monsieur, no; we are not going to Romainville; this isn't the way there, either," replied Madame Capucine, eying her interlocutor from head to foot; and the great change which had taken place in the apparel of her debtor was naturally reflected in her manner of speaking to him. As the change was altogether to his advantage, she smiled graciously, and continued:

"Aunt Duponceau don't live at Romainville any more; she has sold the house she used to own there."

"Indeed? why did she do that?"

"Oh! because--because that neighborhood has such a reputation. You know the ballad: That _lovely wood, to lovers----"_

"_Presents a thousand charms!_--Yes, I know it by heart. But there's no wood left, except a little bit which has been bought by a novelist of whom I am very fond, and all surrounded by walls--not the novelist, but his woods; so I don't see what could have frightened your Aunt Duponceau so."

"Mon Dieu! you know how ill-natured people can be! There was always somebody to say: 'Ah! so you live at Romainville; that's the place for grisettes, gin-shops, and low dance-halls! one always meets a lot of drunken people there.'"

"I should say that you find them everywhere."

"It isn't the fashionable drive nowadays."

"The most fashionable resort isn't always the most amusing."

"You don't see the latest styles there."

"Oh, well! if you go into the country to see the styles, you would do better never to go anywhere but the Opera."

"But the strongest reason, and the one that finally decided my aunt, is that there isn't any railroad to Romainville."

"Surely that must be a great deprivation to a person who, when she is once settled in her country-house, never goes to Paris at all."

"And so my aunt bought a house in the opposite direction--at Passy."

"Passy and Romainville are not exactly side by side, that is true; and they are not much alike, either."

"Oh! they're entirely different!--Aristoloche, do keep still!--Passy's a fashionable, convenient place to live in; you can't go out of the house unless you're dressed up."

"That must be very pleasant when one's in the country."

"The houses all have polished floors from top to bottom. The one my aunt bought--don't jump about so, Narcisse!--the one my aunt bought is smaller than her house at Romainville; but it cost a lot more. There's no fruit in the garden, but it's ever so much smaller."

"What does grow in the garden--ducks?"

"There's a little honeysuckle, and ivy, and grass--oh! it's well kept up."

"If it satisfies all of you, that's the main point.--Are you going to the country on such a cold day as this?"

"Aunt always expects us Saturday, to stay till Monday."

"Ah, yes! it is Saturday, isn't it?--just as it was when I met you waiting for an omnibus at Porte Saint-Martin."

"But, since then--Aristoloche, if you move again, I'll box your ears!--since then, it seems to me, Monsieur Cherami, that things have improved a little with you--judging by your dress?"

"Yes, my dear Madame Capucine; I have collected a little money that was owing me.--Mon Dieu! that reminds me; twenty times I have had it in my mind to look you up and settle that little balance I still owe your husband; but something else has always put it out of my head; it's a mere trifle, to be sure, but I propose to settle it very soon."

"Very good! but if you want to see Capucine, there's a very simple way to do it--that is, unless you are engaged for the day."

"The day? I can do what I choose with it, I am as free as air."

"Then come with us to Passy, to my aunt's; she expects us to breakfast, in fact; we're a little late, and--Narcisse, will you please not pull the feathers of your beautiful Henri IV hat like that; you'll spoil them!"

"The old hat makes me squint; it puts my eyes out."

"What a bad boy! A hat that your aunt gave you!"

"You were saying, my dear Madame Capucine?"

"I was asking you to come with us to Aunt Duponceau's; you know her; and to-night, at six o'clock, Capucine will join us there, and you can settle your little account with him. What do you think of my scheme?"

Cherami reflected a moment, then replied:

"Your scheme hits me--I mean, it suits me perfectly. The company of a charming woman--an improvised trip to the country--this breakfast, which will not detract from the pleasure of the occasion--I am at your service. Let's be off."

"Ah! that's very good of you!"

And the stout lady smiled a smile of lingering sweetness at Cherami, who was in her eyes a very handsome fellow now that he was well dressed. He had already formed his plan, into which the payment of his debt did not enter; but he was certain of a good breakfast, and probably of being invited to dine as well, with Aunt Duponceau; after dinner, he would readily find some pretext for escaping from the Capucine family.

"Here comes the Passy omnibus," said Madame Capucine; "let's not miss it."

They entered the omnibus; Madame Capucine took Master Aristoloche on her lap, in order to avoid paying for a seat for him; she requested Cherami to do as much for Narcisse, a suggestion which did not seem to tempt the ex-beau. Luckily for him, the urchin insisted upon having a seat all to himself, threatening, if they did not humor him, to sit on his Henri IV hat. This threat produced its effect: Master Narcisse took his seat in a corner, and Cherami declared that the little fellow deserved to be put by himself.

The omnibus started, and they soon arrived at Passy; thereupon Cherami had no choice but to offer Madame Capucine his arm to her aunt's abode. The little boys went before them, jumping and frolicking. At Passy they were in no danger from wagons, and Master Narcisse had seized Cherami's switch, with which he belabored all the stone posts and benches; a proceeding which was far from amusing to the owner of the stick, who expected from moment to moment to see it in the same state as Monsieur Courbichon's cane.

"That little fellow promises well!" he exclaimed.

"Isn't he full of ideas?"

"I am convinced that he will end by breaking my switch. But how does it happen that you didn't bring your maid Adelaide?"

"Oh! don't talk to me about that girl, I beg!"

"What! can it be that the faithful Adelaide stole from you?"

"No, it wasn't her honesty that gave out; it was something else. Ah! who would ever have thought, who would ever have believed---- An ugly, thin, shapeless creature. Oh! men have very beastly tastes sometimes!"

"The deuce! do you mean to say that Capucine----"

"What! oh! no, indeed, monsieur; it wasn't my husband! Ah!"

And Madame Capucine looked up at the sky with an expression which seemed to say:

"If it only had been!"

Then she added indignantly:

"Ballot, monsieur; Ballot, our young clerk!"

"The devil! that young man you liked so well?"

"To be sure. As if anyone could have dreamed! He behaved very well at first."

"And he went astray in the kitchen?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"But was it perfectly certain? People are so ill-natured!"

"They were caught, monsieur; caught among the bunches of onions."

"Enough! tell me no more; you would bring tears to my eyes."

"So, as you can imagine, I purified my house on the instant; I dismissed Mademoiselle Adelaide."

"And your clerk too?"

"He went of his own accord. We might have forgiven him, perhaps; he was so young!"

"Of course, and the smell of onions goes to the heart."

"But Monsieur Ballot chose to lose his head, and away he went."

"You will find somebody to take his place."

"That's what I'm looking for at this moment. Ah! Monsieur Cherami, a young man who had--my whole confidence! You can't rely on anything or anybody nowadays!"

"That's the only way to avoid being taken in."

The stout lady heaved a tremendous sigh and leaned heavily on the arm of her escort, who said to himself:

"I wonder if she would like to have me replace Monsieur Ballot?--Thanks! I have my cue."

In due time, they arrived at Madame Duponceau's house. She was a little woman, who shook her head constantly when conversing, so that she seemed always to reply in the negative to the questions that were asked her. She received Cherami with cordiality, although she barely knew him; but she liked company, and was especially eager to have people admire her house. Cherami was inclined to favor admiring her breakfast first; and, as the young Capucines supported that idea, they repaired at once to the dining-room.

The breakfast consisted of a pie, boiled eggs, ham, and coffee only; but the pie was succulent, the eggs fresh, the ham tender, and the coffee very strong, so that they breakfasted satisfactorily; then Aunt Duponceau cried:

"You must come and see my house, from cellar to roof."

Cherami, whose paunch was well filled, was already saying to himself:

"Sapristi! if I have got to stay here till night, between the aunt and the niece, with the accompaniment of two little brats who keep wiping their hands on my trousers, I shall pay dear for my dinner! Let's see if I can't find a back-door.--We had better begin the inspection of your house with the garden," he said to Aunt Duponceau; "after such an excellent breakfast, one feels the need of a breath of fresh air."

This suggestion was adopted, and they adjourned to the garden, which was of small dimensions and offered nothing attractive to the eye save four gillyflowers in pots; for in December there are few leaves on the trees. The garden presented but slight attraction, therefore, but at the end of it was a gate opening on the Bois de Boulogne. The ladies and the children, being stiff with cold, soon had enough of the garden; whereupon Cherami took a cigar from his pocket, saying:

"I am going to ask your leave to smoke this cigar outside, in the Bois. I cannot go without a smoke after breakfast; it's a habit that has fastened itself on me: a very bad habit, I admit, but it's too late to cure myself of it."

"Smoke in the garden," said Madame Duponceau.

"No, indeed! Your garden's very small, and the smell of tobacco would sadly impair the perfume of your gillyflowers. I don't choose to turn your delightful _cottage_ into a barrack."

"He is very well bred," whispered Madame Duponceau to her niece.

"Yes," replied Madame Capucine; "I shouldn't know Monsieur Cherami, now that he's decently dressed."

Our smoker succeeded, not without difficulty, in rescuing his switch from the hands of young Narcisse, who insisted on beating his brother with it; he lighted his cigar, passed through the gate at the end of the garden, and drew a long breath of relief.

"Par la sambleu!" he exclaimed; "here I am outside at last; there are breakfasts which cost a big price. Madame Capucine ogles me in a way that begins to alarm me. Her aunt always seems to refuse what you ask her. The little brats are two infernal monkeys, who ought to be kept in the big cage at the Jardin des Plantes. Ouf! I feel the need of air! I hardly expected this morning to go for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne, in such an atmosphere as this. But, since I am here, I must make the most of my luck. I won't go back to those mummies till dinner time. I'll tell them that my cigar made me ill."

XXXV

THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE

Cherami sauntered through the Bois, where, by reason of the season and the early hour, he met very few people. He had just lighted his second cigar, when, as he turned from one path into another, he saw a man coming toward him, very well dressed, walking very rapidly, and turning from time to time, to look behind him and on both sides, as if he feared that he was followed. When he saw Cherami walking in his direction, he stopped, and seemed undecided as to what he should do, being evidently inclined to retrace his steps. But, meanwhile, our smoker was drawing nearer, and ere long the two men stood face to face and looked at each other. Thereupon each of the two uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Pardieu! I am not mistaken. It is Monsieur Auguste Monleard whom I have the honor of saluting?"

"And you are the gentleman with whom I fought at Belleville?"

"Himself--at your service, for anything in my power!--Arthur Cherami."

"Ah, yes! I had forgotten your name."

"This is very early for you to be in the Bois de Boulogne. I say early, although it is after half-past twelve; but in winter people seldom come for a turn in the Bois until between three o'clock and five."

"True, very true; but how about yourself?"

"Oh! I breakfasted at Passy, with certain excellent people, whose society is not over and above diverting: and, faith! after breakfast I came here for a smoke. How does it happen that you are not on horseback?"

"Why, because it suited me to come on foot, I presume."

"That was well deserved--excuse my curiosity. For my part, if I still owned a horse, I certainly wouldn't be on foot. You see, I am very fond of horses! I used to have some fine ones: that was my passion!"

While Cherami was speaking, Auguste continued to glance uneasily from side to side; he was even paler than usual, and his face wore a grave and gloomy expression.

"Do you happen to have a meeting on hand for to-day?" continued Cherami, flicking the ashes from his cigar. "If that's the case, and you need a second, you know, my dear monsieur, that I am entirely at your service, and that I should be enchanted to oblige you in any way."

"No, no, I have no duel this morning," Auguste replied; then, gazing fixedly at the person before him, he added, in a minute or two: "And yet, monsieur, you can, none the less, do me a very great favor."

"I can? Then, speak! I am entirely at your service. I have nothing to do."

"Yes, it was a lucky chance that led to my meeting you here. I left Paris this morning, rather suddenly, and I forgot to write to a certain person; but it's very important that I should."

"You want me to carry a letter to someone?"

"Monsieur Cherami, this is a matter of the utmost gravity; I apply to you, because I think I have judged you accurately. You are a man capable of understanding me."

"The deuce! the deuce! but you have a serious way of talking! It is plain that this is no joking matter."

"Are you still disposed to do me a favor?"

"More so than ever."

"Very well; then be good enough to come with me. There must be a cafe somewhere about here; a restaurant where I can write a letter?"

"Yes, we have only to turn back a little way, and we shall find what we want."

"Let us go. Have you breakfasted?"

"Why, yes; as I told you just now, I breakfasted at Passy. But that won't interfere with my taking something more. The air is sharp, and walking assists in rapid digestion."

They turned back; Auguste walked so fast that Cherami, despite his long legs, had difficulty in following him; he tried to continue the conversation, but his companion seemed absorbed by his thoughts, and did not answer.

"There's something wrong with that man," said Arthur to himself, as he lighted another cigar. "I don't know what it is, but that long face of his doesn't indicate a man who is trying to make up his mind what sauce to order for his lobster. However, it's his business. He has confidence in me, and I'll not betray him, for he's a good fellow. I am only sorry that I stuffed myself with eggs and pie at Aunt Duponceau's, for I should have breakfasted much better with him, that's sure. But every man isn't a sorcerer."

They found a cafe-restaurant, and were shown to a private room.

"Order whatever you choose," said Auguste to Cherami; "I have breakfasted."

"You too? In that case, it was hardly worth while to come here."

"I beg your pardon; I am going to write, I must write, two letters; then I will leave you. So, eat at your leisure; you have no occasion to hurry."

"Very good.--Waiter! Let me see, what can I take--something light, to give me an appetite? Ah! I have it. Bring me a good slice of pate de foie gras, and a bottle of very old Beaune; we will toy with that, and then we'll see."

Cherami was duly served. Meanwhile, Auguste had seated himself at another table and was writing.

Madame Duponceau's breakfast did not interfere with Cherami's enjoyment of the foie gras, which he watered with frequent draughts of Beaune, saying to his neighbor from time to time:

"Pray drink a glass of this wine; it's old and very good; there won't be any left in a moment; however, we can remedy that by ordering another.--Waiter, bring me some kind of cheese and a second bottle of this Beaune."

Auguste had ceased to write; he sealed the two letters and handed them to Cherami.

"Will you kindly take these letters, my dear monsieur? one is for my wife, Madame Monleard; the address is written on it."

"By the way, how is your good wife?"

"Very well; but allow me to finish. This other letter, without address, is for you."

"For me?"

"Yes; and you must give me your word of honor not to read it until half an hour after I have left you."

"Half an hour after you have left me?"

"Yes; will you promise?"

"If it will oblige you, I promise."

"Thanks; I rely upon your word."

"You may safely do so; I haven't thirty-six words in serious matters; but the other letter?"

"When you have read what I have written to you, you will see what I ask you to do; and I am confident that you will carry out my intentions."

"I have told you that I am entirely at your service."

"Here is my purse, for I shall not come back here. You will find enough inside to pay for whatever you may have ordered."

"Very good; I will pay, and I will put the change in the purse. It's a very pretty little thing--very dainty, and in excellent taste."

"If you like it, pray keep it in memory of--our acquaintance."

"You are really too kind. I don't stand on ceremony, myself, so I accept it."

"And now--pour me a glass of wine, so that I may drink with you."

"Ah! now you're talking!"

Cherami filled two glasses; Auguste took one of them with a firm hand, touched it to the one held by the ex-beau, muttered a few unintelligible words, and swallowed the wine at a single gulp.

"Sapristi! how fast you go! one has no time to follow you. I toss champagne off like that sometimes, but it's a miserable way to drink, as a rule. I like better to sip. Shall we have another glass, so that I may drink your health?"

"No, I haven't time. Adieu, monsieur; I rely on your promise. You will not read that letter for half an hour."

"You have my word! Are you going so soon?"

"I must."

"When shall I see you again?"

"Impossible to say. Adieu, monsieur!"

"Au revoir, rather!"

Auguste took his hat, shook hands with Cherami, pointed again to the two letters on the table, and rushed from the room.

Cherami balanced himself on the hind legs of his chair, drank another glass of wine, and ordered cigars, saying:

"As I have to stay here another half-hour, I may as well employ my time to advantage.--Waiter! coffee, brandy, and kirsch. By the way, see what time it is now by your sundials, and tell me exactly."

The waiter brought what had been ordered, and said:

"The clock in the hall has just struck two, monsieur."

"Very good; when it strikes the half-hour, you are to come and tell me; do you hear?"

"Yes, monsieur; I shall not fail. Does monsieur wish anything else?"

"No; these decanters of brandy and kirsch will help me kill time. If I want you, I'll ring.--This has been a most extraordinary day!" said Cherami to himself, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "I hardly suspected, this morning, when I was pacing the boulevards to get up an appetite, that I should breakfast at Passy, and then breakfast a second time in the Bois de Boulogne. This Monsieur Auguste Monleard is concealing some scheme or other which is not of a cheerful nature. Those two letters he left with me--one of which is for myself--there's a mystery about the whole business! This purse he gave me is a very dainty affair; let's see what there is in it. A hundred-franc note! Damnation! I have my cue! I shall have enough to pay for my breakfast.--What are these other papers? Broker's memorandums: 'bought by order of M. Monleard; sold by order of M. Monleard.'--These are of no importance, and there's nothing else. Can it be that our young capitalist has been unlucky in speculation, and has vamosed, as they say?--It's very possible. Well! I shall know all about it before long; at least ten minutes must have passed. Let's take a drink of kirsch. That little scamp of a Narcisse has nicked my switch all up. Children are very nice--when they're well brought up.--I can't keep my eyes off that letter. Time never dragged so with me! Suppose I ask for my bill--that's a good idea.--Waiter!"

"Did monsieur call?"

"Yes; bring me my check. Add three more kirsches--I shall drink them before I go--and, when you come back, tell me what time it is."

"Yes, monsieur."

The waiter returned with the bill, which he handed to Cherami, saying:

"It's a quarter past two, monsieur."

"Only a quarter! Sacrebleu! you make a mistake; it isn't possible that it's only a quarter past!"