Part 23

"Poor Gustave! I know all! My sister has disappointed you again! It is horribly hard!"

"What! you know already that she refuses to marry me! Who can have told you?"

"Why, she herself; she came here yesterday to tell us that, as soon as her mourning is at an end, she is going to marry----"

"She is going to marry, you say?"

"Why, didn't you know it?"

"Finish, in God's name! She is going to marry----"

"The Comte de la Beriniere."

Gustave dropped upon a chair, repeating between his teeth:

"The Comte de la Beriniere!"

But there was more surprise than anger in his tone; for, on learning that it was a man of sixty to whom Fanny gave the preference, he realized that it was no newborn passion that had caused the change in her heart.

"So," he exclaimed, after a moment, "that woman is always guided by selfish considerations! it is a fortune, a title, which she prefers to me! For this man is rich, I suppose?"

"Yes, very rich! And as Fanny doesn't propose to be left in poverty if she should be widowed again, it seems that the count settles twenty thousand francs a year on her when he marries her. But do not believe, my friend, that we approve her conduct: when she told us of her latest plan, father told her that the way in which she was treating you was utterly disgraceful, and that he never wanted to see her again, countess or no countess."

"And what did she reply?"

"She said that she could not imagine how we could blame her, and she went away repeating that we cared nothing for her happiness. It seems that the count had courted her before, and declared that he deeply regretted her marriage to Auguste. That is why, when she saw him again----"

"Enough, my dear Adolphine; I don't care to know anything more. I was mistaken in thinking that she loved me. As if anyone would ever love me! No; there are some people who were born to love alone, never to meet a heart that understands them."

"Why do you say that to me, Gustave?"

"Well, what does it matter, after all? a man cannot change his destiny. Adieu, Adolphine!"

"Are you going away, Gustave? Where are you going?"

"Oh! I don't know, but I feel that I must leave Paris again. I cannot be here when she marries the count. I am a fool, I know it perfectly well; your sister deserves no regret; but one does not lose all one's illusions without suffering. Adieu! give my respects to your father."

"But you won't stay away so long this time, will you? and when you return, you will be able to come to see me without fear; you won't meet her here again."

"Yes, you will see me. Adieu!"

Gustave took leave of Adolphine, whose eyes were full of tears as she looked after him; but he did not understand their language. He went to his uncle, told him what had happened, and expressed a desire to go to England and stay there for some time.

Monsieur Grandcourt said simply:

"That woman will end by sending you round the world. But let us hope that this will be your last trip. Go to England, go where you please--but don't return unless you are cured of your idiotic passion."

Gustave soon completed his preparations for departure; he had but a few hours to remain in Paris, when he met Cherami.

"Where are we going so fast?" cried Beau Arthur, taking Gustave's hand. "What has happened? Our countenance is not so cheerful and happy as it was the last time? Can it be that anything has happened to interrupt the course of our loves?"

"My friend," replied Gustave, with a sigh, "there has been a great change, indeed, in my affairs since we last met. There is to be no marriage; the love affair is at an end. Fanny has betrayed me again. Ah! I ought to have expected it! But, no; it is impossible to conceive such perfidy in a woman who looks at us with a smiling face, who tells us that she loves us!"

"What's that you say, my boy? The little widow has slipped out of your hand again? Nonsense, that can't be so!"

"It's the truth. She is going to marry the Comte de la Beriniere, an old man, but very rich. She is to be a countess--she has no further use for me."

"Why, this is perfectly frightful! A woman doesn't play skittles like that with an honest man's heart! And you haven't killed your rival?"

"No; for that wouldn't make Fanny love me any more. But I am going away; I don't propose to be here again, as I was at her first wedding. No, indeed; once was enough."

"You are going away? where?"

"To England and Scotland; but I shall not be away so long."

"Sapristi! my dear fellow, don't go away; the affair can be fixed up, perhaps."

"No, no, it's all over, all over! Fanny will never be mine. Adieu, my friend! it's almost train time. Au revoir!"

Gustave hurried away, and left Cherami standing there bewildered by his sudden departure. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then tapped his leg with his switch and said:

"Morbleu! my friend Gustave unhappy! the woman he loves snatched away from him a second time! and I am to endure it! I, his Pylades, to whom he loans money without taking account of it!--No, par la sambleu! I will not endure it. Ah! my little widow! you play fast and loose with a fine fellow like that! You think that you can make fools of people in that way! But, patience! I am on hand, and I have my cue!"

L

A GENTLEMAN IN BED

About noon the next day, Cherami was walking in front of Madame Monleard's house.

"I don't know where he perches--this Comte de la Beriniere, whom Gustave told me about yesterday; but by doing sentry duty in front of this house, I can't fail to find out; this count will undoubtedly come to pay his respects to the little woman he's going to marry; he's rich, he will come in his carriage, and I am an awkward fellow if I can't learn the master's address from a servant."

Everything happened as Cherami had anticipated: about one o'clock, a stylish coupe drew up in front of Fanny's door, and a gentleman, who was no longer young, alighted from it; despite his years, he was dressed in the latest fashion and exhaled a powerful odor of perfumery.

"That's my man!" said Cherami to himself; and, having watched the count enter the house, he accosted the footman, who was yawning against a post.

"Wasn't that Monsieur le Comte de la Beriniere whom I just saw get out of this carriage?"

"Yes, monsieur; it was he."

"Ah! I said to myself: 'Why, there's an old acquaintance of mine!' yet I was afraid of making a mistake, so I didn't dare to speak to him; but I will go and renew my acquaintance with him to-morrow morning. Where does the dear count live now?"

"Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, just at the beginning, near the Madeleine."

"Very good; I can see it from here. How late can I find the count at home in the morning?"

"Monsieur gets up late. He seldom goes out before noon."

"Infinitely obliged. I am sure that the dear count will be delighted to see me to-morrow morning."

"If monsieur would tell me his name, I would tell my master."

"No; bless my soul, no! I want to surprise him; don't say anything to him about it."

Cherami returned to his Hotel du Bel-Air, saying to himself:

"Gustave doesn't choose to fight with his rival, but I'll wager that it's from some lingering feeling of delicacy, of kindness for that little sinner of a Fanny! He says to himself: 'Let her be a countess, if that will make her happy.'--Infernal nonsense, I call it. And as I have no reason for being agreeable to that lady, I trust that I shall be able to prevent her putting this new affront on my young friend."

The next day, having dressed himself with care, Cherami took the Paris omnibus and exchanged into one for the Madeleine; at half-past ten, he arrived at the Comte de la Beriniere's door, recognized the footman of the preceding day, and said to him:

"Here I am; take me in to your master."

"Monsieur le comte is still in bed."

"Very well! wake him."

"He's awake, for he has already had his chocolate."

"As he's awake, there's no need of his getting up to receive me; I can talk with him perfectly well in bed. Go and tell him that an old friend of his wishes to see him."

"Your name, monsieur?"

"I have already told you that I wanted to surprise him; consequently, I don't choose to send in my name."

The servant went to his master and delivered the message. Monsieur de la Beriniere had not begun to think of rising; he had taken the young widow to the Opera the night before, and had played the attentive gallant all the evening, and he was at an age when such service is very tiresome. So he was reposing in bed from the fatigues of the night.

"That young widow is an adorable creature," he mused. "Marriage will make me settle down; I shall lead a virtuous life, and it will do me good."

He was somewhat annoyed, therefore, when his servant announced an old friend who wished to speak with him.

"Neither old friends nor new ones ought to come so early," he exclaimed. "What the devil! they ought to let people sleep in peace. What's the name of this old friend who's such an early bird?"

"He refused to send in his name, in order to surprise monsieur."

"He deserves to be turned away without seeing me."

"He was in the street last night when monsieur went into Madame Monleard's. He recognized monsieur when he stepped out of the carriage."

"Well! let us see this man of surprises."

The servant ushered Cherami into his master's bedroom, and withdrew. Monsieur de la Beriniere, with his rumpled silk nightcap on his head, and his eyes still half-closed, was curled up in bed, covered to his nose by the bedclothes; and in that position he was entirely destitute of charms. So that Cherami, after eying him for a few seconds, said to himself:

"What! it was this old baked apple who was given the preference over my good-looking young friend Gustave! Damnation! women care even more for money than we men do! for our reason for wanting it is to get wives with it, while they take it to throw us over."

While Cherami indulged in this reflection, the count scrutinized his visitor with interest, and said to him at last in a slightly nasal voice:

"My dear monsieur, it's of no use for me to examine you from head to foot, or to search my memory: I do not recall any friend of mine who resembles you in the least."

Cherami bowed with an affable smile, and replied:

"Don't try, monsieur le comte, don't take that trouble; it would be a waste of time; for the fact is that this is the first time I have had the pleasure of being in your company."

"What's that? deuce take me! what does this mean? In that case, you are not the old friend that you held yourself out to be?"

"That is to say, monsieur, I ventured to tell that little falsehood in order to be more certain of obtaining an interview with you this morning."

Monsieur de la Beriniere frowned and scowled, which did not add to his beauty; he scrutinized Cherami with evident suspicion, and rejoined sharply:

"What have you so important, so urgent, to say to me, monsieur, that you presume to disturb me so early, to resort to a trick in order to be admitted?"

"You shall know in a moment; but, first, allow me to sit. The matter in hand deserves that I should take the trouble to be comfortable."

Without awaiting a reply, Cherami took an armchair, placed it beside the bed, and stretched himself out in it. The ease of his manners, which did not lack distinction, began to dispel the suspicions which had assailed the count's mind for a moment; his curiosity was aroused by the whole aspect of the strange individual who sat facing him.

Cherami, being seated to his satisfaction, began thus:

"Monsieur de la Beriniere, you see before you Arthur Cherami, the intimate friend of young Gustave Darlemont. You know Gustave Darlemont, I believe?"

"Faith! no; but, stay! Gustave---- Do you refer to the young man who was an old play-fellow of Madame Monleard, and whom I saw at Monsieur Gerbault's the other evening?"

"The same; that is, I don't know whether Gustave was Madame Monleard's play-fellow, but I do know that he had become her heart's fellow. However, without going into that, he was on the point of marrying the young widow, when your appearance changed everything. You are a count, you are rich; the little woman is a flirt of the first order; she whirled about like a weathercock. By the way, this isn't the first time she has taken the same turn. King Francois I said: '_Souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s'y fie._'[D] Which proves that that king had made a careful study of the fair sex--a study which cost him rather dear! but, never mind that; thus you, monsieur le comte, are the cause of Madame Monleard's having abruptly given my friend Gustave the mitten, instead of marrying him. And now, do you begin to suspect what brings me here?"

"Why, yes, I fancy so; you are sent by this young Gustave, who desires to fight with me?"

"That isn't it exactly. You are burning, but you're not quite there. This is how it is: Gustave has no thought of fighting; not that he lacks courage; oh! he's brave enough, I would answer for him as for myself!--but he has such a soft spot in his heart for the widow that he's afraid that, by killing you, he might distress her. The poor boy is in despair; and when he's in despair, he leaves Paris, he goes abroad, seeks distraction in other climes--and what I don't understand is that he comes back as dead in love as when he went away; for I must tell you, monsieur le comte, that you're not the first to cut the grass from under his feet, as they say; he was to have married Mademoiselle Fanny Gerbault, when Monsieur Auguste Monleard came upon the scene; he had the prestige of wealth and fine social position, and poor Gustave was shown the door. To-day, therefore, we have a second performance of the same play, with this difference: that now my young friend has an excellent position in his uncle's banking-house; but that you have a title and a fine turnout, and are much richer than he."

"Well, monsieur, as your young friend doesn't think of fighting--which is very wise of him, by the way, for I fancy that it wouldn't increase the widow's affection for him; and, between ourselves, as he had been rejected once, I am a good deal surprised that he came forward a second time----"

"I agree with you, par la sambleu! I wouldn't have been the man to act in that way! A woman who had slighted me for another man--that's much worse than deceiving! Men are deceived every day, and it's forgiven; but slighted, disdained! However, what would you have! passions are passions! Gustave is to be pitied."

"I pity him with all my heart; but I return to my question: that being so, what can have brought you here?"

"Oh! mon Dieu! it's easily explained. I am Gustave's devoted friend; he forgives insult and treachery, but I do not choose that he shall be insulted or betrayed. The wrong that is done him wounds me, insults me; and as I have never swallowed an insult, I fight.--I have come, therefore, to demand satisfaction at your hands for the little widow's perfidy--of which you are the cause; that is to say, to speak more accurately, the little widow is the real and the only culprit in this affair. It was she who made a fool of Gustave in a much too indecent fashion; but as it's impossible to demand satisfaction of a woman, I have come to demand it of you, monsieur le comte, as her accomplice and representative in this affair."

The count put the whole of his head outside of the bedclothes, in order to obtain a better view of the person who had made this proposition to him; and, after scrutinizing him carefully, he replied, in a mocking tone:

"It makes no difference how closely I examine you, my dear monsieur, I do not know you at all."

"We will make each other's acquaintance by fighting."

"Why should you expect me to fight with you? You haven't insulted me in any way."

"If an insult is all that is necessary to induce you to fight with me, never fear, I'll insult you; but I confess that I should prefer to have the affair pass off quietly, courteously, as becomes well-bred people; and, although I am not, like you, monsieur le comte, of noble birth, I beg you to believe that you will not cross swords with a churl. I am of good family, I was well educated, I inherited a very pretty little fortune; but I made a fool of myself for that charming sex which is decidedly fond of cashmere shawls and truffles. I have ruined myself, pretty nearly, but I haven't forgotten how to use a sword; as poor Auguste Monleard had reason to know."

"What's that? you fought with my pretty widow's first husband?"

"The day after the wedding; and I gave him a very neat sword-thrust in the forearm."

"Ah! that fall that he claimed to have had on the stairs?"

"That was the result of our duel."

"Gad! monsieur, it seems that you have sworn the death of all the captivating Fanny's husbands."

"If she had married my friend Gustave, I promise you that I wouldn't have fought with him!"

"You will permit me to inform you, monsieur, that your conduct is utterly absurd."

"Why so, monsieur, I pray to know?"

"Because one doesn't take up the cudgels in this way for another man who is old enough to attend to his own affairs. Your friend Gustave doesn't see fit to fight; why should you take it into your head to fight for him?"

"I explained the reasons of my conduct a moment ago. If you didn't listen, I will repeat them."

"It's a waste of time, monsieur; I shall not fight with you."

With that, the count pulled up the bedclothes, turned his face to the wall, and curled himself up so that he made but a large-sized ball.

Cherami rose and paced the floor; then went to the fireplace and warmed his feet at the fire that burned briskly on the hearth, saying:

"It's quite sharp this morning; you were very wise to order a fire lighted in your bedroom; one takes cold so easily. To be sure, this room is tightly closed, but the least draught does the business so quickly!"

After a few minutes, annoyed to find that his visitor did not take his leave, the count turned over and sat up in bed.

"I say, monsieur," he exclaimed testily, "do you intend to pass the day in my bedroom? Do me the favor to go away and let me sleep."

"And do you, monsieur le comte, do me the favor to cover yourself with the bedclothes again; you'll take cold."

"A truce to jesting, monsieur! I have told you that I would not fight with you; I repeat it. There is nothing to keep you here, therefore."

"O my dear Monsieur de la Beriniere--I believe that is your name, De la Beriniere, is it not?"

"Yes, monsieur; that is my name."

"My dear Monsieur de la Beriniere, when I take it into my head to do a thing, I assure you that it has to be done. I have promised myself to fight with you--unless, however, you give me your word of honor to renounce your project of marrying Auguste Monleard's widow. In that case, I am content. Does that suit you?"

"On my word, this is too much!"

"What is it that's too much?"

"You disgust me,[E] monsieur!"

"Do I, indeed? Gad! you are not to be pitied, in such weather as this. So you won't give her up?"

"What do you take me for, in God's name?"

"Then you agree to fight?"

"Go to the devil!"

"In that case, I must resort to decisive measures."

And Cherami, raising his switch, caused it to whistle about the count's ears, but without touching him; that manoeuvring sufficed, however, to make Monsieur de la Beriniere straighten himself up and cry, in a furious rage:

"You are a villain, monsieur!"

"Aha! you're awake at last, are you?"

"You will give me satisfaction for this indecent behavior, monsieur!"

"That is just what I have been asking you for, for the past hour."

"Leave your address; my seconds will call upon you to-morrow at eight o'clock; see that yours are there, also."

Cherami scratched his ear, muttering:

"My seconds! Do we need any seconds? Why not settle the business at once, between ourselves?"

"Oho! monsieur, so you never have fought a duel?"

"More than you have, I'll wager."

"Then you should know that people don't fight without seconds; it is forbidden."

"I am very well aware that it is customary to have them; but we don't always conform to custom. For instance, Monsieur Monleard and I fought without seconds."

"But, monsieur, as I have no desire to find myself with a wretched affair on my hands on your account, I tell you that I will not fight without seconds."

"So be it! As you insist upon it, we will have them."

"Your address, monsieur?"

"Here it is: Cherami, Hotel du Bel-Air, Rue de l'Orillon, Belleville."

"Belleville! So you don't live in Paris?"

"I am in the suburbs. Does that disturb you?"

"It is a matter of absolute indifference to me; but my seconds will not call on you until ten o'clock, for I don't choose to make them get up at daylight."

"At ten o'clock, then, I will expect them. And now, monsieur le comte, permit me to offer you my respects."

"Good-day, monsieur, good-day!"

Monsieur de la Beriniere buried himself anew under the bedclothes, decidedly put out by the visit he had received. As for Cherami, he said to himself when he was in the street:

"I have my cue! He will fight--aye, but my seconds--I must have two; I absolutely must have them, or no duel. Where shall I find them? It's damnably embarrassing. I can't think of a solitary soul. Sapristi! where can I find two seconds? There's nothing to be said; I must have two, and two passably respectable ones, to-morrow morning!"

LI

THE DAY WITH THE RABBITS

On leaving Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, Arthur Cherami followed the boulevard in the direction of the Bastille; he did not take an omnibus--first, because he was in no hurry; and, secondly, because he had reflected:

"If I could happen to meet in the street some old friend, some good fellow, I would ask him to be my second. On a pinch, if it was necessary, I would sacrifice myself so far as to pay for his breakfast or dinner--but at a soup-kitchen only."

But Cherami arrived at Boulevard du Temple, without falling in with what he sought.

"Shall I go home?" he thought; "what's the use? My hotel is not the place to find what I want; the poor devils who lodge there seldom wear coats. I am sure that this Comte de la Beriniere will send me two very distinguished gentlemen; they will turn up their noses enough when they see the Widow Louchard's hotel; I must confront them with men who represent---- Damnation! I haven't my cue! it's infernally embarrassing! The devil take the obstinacy of that count, who insists on having seconds!"

As he walked on, Cherami saw a short man coming toward him, armed with a pretty cane of cherry wood.

"Here comes a grotesque figure which reminds me of a clown I have seen somewhere or other," he said to himself. "Pardieu! it's Courbichon. I must catch him on the wing."

The little bald man was speechless with surprise when he found his passage barred by a tall man; and he seemed by no means pleased when he recognized the gentleman with whom he had dined on the Champs-Elysees.

But Cherami seized his hand and shook it warmly.

"A lucky meeting!" he said; "it is my dear Monsieur Courbichon! _Bone Deus!_ So we are no longer in Touraine?"

"Ah! monsieur, I have the honor--no, as you see, I am in Paris."

"And fresher and lustier than ever! I am tempted to repeat the fable: 'How pretty you are! how handsome you look to me!'"

"You don't need to: I know it."

"That's a pretty cane you have there. It isn't the same one, is it?"

"No, monsieur; it certainly isn't the one you broke."

"Didn't you have it mended?"

"It wasn't mendable, monsieur."

"Nonsense! why, they even mend porcelain! This is cherry, I see; let me look at it."

Cherami put out his hand for the cane, but Monsieur Courbichon hastily put it behind his back.

"No, no," he cried; "I have no desire that you should break this one too; one was quite enough."