Part 24

"Oh! mon Dieu! my excellent and worthy friend, who said anything about breaking your cane? There is nobody throwing skittles at your legs at this moment, and I fancy that this switch is worth quite as much as your cherry stick."

"Did this one come from China, too?"

"No, my boy. Do not revive my sorrow! My Chinese switch will never be replaced; but enough about canes. I have a very great favor to ask of you, my dear Monsieur Courbichon, one of those favors which a man of honor never refuses to grant."

"I have no money with me at this moment, monsieur; and it would be impossible for me----"

"Who the devil said anything about money? Mordieu! do I look like a man who borrows money?"

Monsieur Courbichon examined Cherami, who had made himself as fine as possible for his visit to Monsieur de la Beriniere; and he took off his hat, murmuring:

"I beg your pardon; indeed, I had not noticed---- But what is the favor you wish to ask me, monsieur?"

"A nothing, a mere bagatelle--to act as my second in a duel, to-morrow."

"A duel! it's about a duel! and you dare to propose to me to take part in it! What have I done to you, monsieur, that you should suggest such a thing to me?"

"I tell you, Monsieur Courbichon, it's a mere matter of form; the seconds don't fight."

"I, be present at a duel! Understand that I never fought a duel, monsieur! I would rather die than fight!"

"You are like Gribouille, then, who jumped into the water for fear of the rain."

"It's an outrage, your proposition to me! I will request you, monsieur, not to speak to me hereafter. I do not consort with men who fight duels, not I! Don't detain me, or I shall call for help."

The little bald man almost ran away. Cherami shrugged his shoulders, saying to himself:

"Old guinea-hen! I might have guessed that the simple word _duel_ would frighten him! He won't be my second. Sapristi! I haven't my cue!"

Cherami was almost at the end of Boulevard Beaumarchais, when he heard a voice exclaim:

"Yes, yes, it's him; there he is--the man who keeps us waiting for dinner, and never comes! God bless my soul! it takes you a long time to smoke your cigar."

At the sound of those familiar accents, Beau Arthur turned, and saw Madame Capucine, attended as always by her two brats; the elder still wearing his Henri IV hat, with the feathers falling over his eyes; the younger eating gingerbread, and finding a way to stuff his fingers into his nose at the same time.

"Ah! upon my word, it's the lovely Madame Capucine," said Cherami, joining the group.

The stout woman, glancing at her debtor's fashionable attire, smiled amiably, as she rejoined:

"I ought not to speak to you again, by good rights! That was a very pretty trick you played us at Passy: to leave us on the pretext of smoking a cigar! Oh! monsieur would only be gone a few minutes; and it was eleven months ago!"

"I was blameworthy, I know it; I treated you badly! But if you knew what events were in store for me that day in the Bois de Boulogne!"

"My aunt bears you a grudge! Oh! she's furious with you."

"I will make my peace with the venerable Madame Duponceau. And the first time that I go to the Bois de Boulogne----"

"No, no; you needn't go to the Bois de Boulogne for that. My aunt isn't at Passy now; she didn't like it there. It's a place where you have to dress too much; it's enough to ruin you."

"Ah! so the dear aunt has changed her villa once more? She is just a little bit fickle. And whither has she transported her sheep--that is to say, her rural Penates?"

"To Saint-Mande. You see, we're just going to take the omnibus to go there."

"What! you are going to your aunt's? How funny! It seems to be written that I shall always meet you, lovely creature, when you are on your way to your aunt's. But this isn't Saturday?"

"No; but to-morrow is my aunt's birthday, Saint Elisabeth's day; and it's our duty to go to wish her many happy returns."

"Ah! yes, I understand; Madame Duponceau's name is Elisabeth."

"Do you want to make your peace with her? Here's an excellent chance. Come with us; you can congratulate my aunt, and dine at Saint-Mande. My husband is coming to join us there at five o'clock."

Cherami reflected for some minutes. He remembered that Capucine was a corporal in the National Guard, and thought that he might perhaps consent to act as his second. That hope decided him; he smiled at his stout friend, and replied:

"You do whatever you please with me. I had important business in Paris; but your husband can help me about it, I think. I am at your service. Ho for Saint-Mande!"

"Good! you are very obliging. If you go on as you have begun, I will forgive you, too."

These words were accompanied by a languishing glance of immeasurable length. It made Cherami shudder.

"I am terribly afraid," he thought, "that she would like me to take up Ballot's duties."

Madame Capucine called Jacqueline. An old servant, all twisted and bent, came limping along, with an enormous basket on her arm.

"Tudieu!" thought Cherami; "here's a soubrette who will hardly divert the attention of the haberdasher's young clerk."

"Is the 'bus there, Jacqueline?"

"It's just comin', madame."

"Let's hurry up and get seats, Monsieur Cherami. Will you take Aristoloche by the hand?"

"With pleasure."

"My! what a pleasant surprise this will be for Aunt Duponceau! She's very fond of you, you fickle man!"

"She has no ingrate to deal with, in me."

They entered the omnibus, and Cherami agreed to hold young Aristoloche on his knees, in order to save his mamma six sous. She tried to provide for Narcisse in the servant's lap, but the conductor declared that he must pay, which seemed to cause Jacqueline the keenest satisfaction. At last they started, and in due time arrived at Saint-Mande.

Madame Duponceau's latest purchase was at the entrance to the avenue. The house was even smaller than that at Passy; and there was no garden: it was replaced by a courtyard in which naught could be seen, in any direction, save rabbit-hutches; it was a veritable library of rabbits.

The aunt appeared, shaking her head as always. She uttered a cry of surprise when she saw Cherami, then offered him her cheek, saying:

"Kiss me; I forgive your disappearance at Passy."

The penalty seemed to Cherami a little severe, but he submitted to it; and while he was in training, Madame Capucine offered him her cheek.

"Do the same for me," she said; "I forgive you, too."

"The devil! this dinner comes pretty high!" said Beau Arthur to himself, after kissing both ladies.

"You must come and see what a pretty little place I've got," said Madame Duponceau; "what a pity that you always come in winter!"

"I don't see what difference that makes here, as you have no garden."

"But I have rabbits."

"Are they finer in summer than in winter?"

"No; but they show themselves more, because they ain't cold."

"They show themselves quite enough as it is, in my opinion. I should be glad of a little refreshment."

"And then you must tell us what happened to you at Passy that kept you from coming back to dinner with us."

Cherami allowed himself to be taken all over the house; he was not even spared an inspection of the attic. He found everything charming, admirable, even the lean-to where the servant slept. At last, when the inspection was at an end, they begged him to tell them his adventures in the Bois de Boulogne. He told the whole story, taking care not to mention names; and when he had finished, Madame Duponceau cried:

"That's what it is to fight a duel with pistols!"

"Corbleu de mordieu!" thought Cherami; "what an idiot I am to take the trouble to tell anything to such mummies! This will teach me a lesson; I ought to have told them about Blue Beard."

The dinner hour arrived, but Monsieur Capucine did not. They waited another half-hour; but the two boys complained so loudly of hunger, that it was decided to adjourn to the table.

First came a thin soup, then a rabbit-stew, then a roasted rabbit.

Cherami, seeing nothing but rabbit, made a wry face, and muttered under his breath:

"Apparently they are on a rabbit diet here. And that miserable Capucine doesn't come! To have nothing to eat but rabbit, and not obtain a second! what, in God's name, did I come to this hole for?"

By way of vegetables, of which there were none, a dish of minced rabbit, stuffed with chestnuts, was served.

"It's very strange that my husband doesn't come!" said the corpulent dame; "he must have had some order to be filled in a hurry."

"And then, perhaps he doesn't like rabbit?" suggested Cherami.

"Oh! yes, he eats it."

"What's that? Par la sambleu! I eat it, too, and I've been eating it for an hour, but I don't like it any better for that."

"You don't like it? What a pity! there's more of it coming!"

"A rabbit-cream, perhaps?"

"No, a pie."

"Thanks; if you will allow me, I will take some cheese, as a pleasant substitute. Gad! I don't wonder that your yard is carpeted with rabbit-hutches; they are productive evidently."

"Much more so than fruit trees."

"Well, well! I see that you will end by preserving them. But your wine is good, that's something."

"Here's my aunt's health!"

"With great pleasure. Vive Elisabeth!"

"Aristoloche and Narcisse, now recite your congratulations."

"What! have the dear children learned something by heart?"

"Yes, aunt; we'll show you."

"Oh! the dear loves, how sweet of them! Who wrote them?"

"My husband, aunt; they are in poetry!"

"Your husband writes poetry? I didn't know he had that talent; how long has he been a poet?"

"Since we have had for a customer a literary man who writes mottoes; he brings us some every time he comes to the house. Come, Aristoloche, begin. Go and stand in front of your aunt; and pronounce your words plain."

LII

MADAME CAPUCINE'S LITTLE SONS

The little fellow tried first of all to obtain possession of the visitor's stick, and to gallop round the table astride it; they could not succeed in making him behave except by promising him that, if he would repeat his verses nicely, he should play with a rabbit which was very gentle and which was sometimes brought into the salon to entertain the company.

At last, Master Aristoloche took his stand in front of his great-aunt, and recited without stopping to take breath:

"'Ah! quel bonheur, en ce beau jour, De vous prouver tout mon amour! Du plaisir, je suis dans l'attente, Quand je dois aller chez ma tante! En amour comme en amitie Sachez tout mettre de moitie.'"

"It is easy to see that our papa knows a maker of mottoes," thought Cherami.

"What do you think of my husband's poetry?" asked Madame Capucine.

"It is the more ingenious in that it can be adapted to any possible occasion."

"And you, aunt?"

Madame Duponceau was delighted with the verses, and said to the boy, after giving him a kiss:

"Go and find the maid, and tell her to give you Coco to play with."

Master Aristoloche disappeared; it was his brother's turn to recite his congratulations; but young Narcisse was sulky; he rebelled.

"Well, monsieur," said his mother, "come and repeat your poetry to your aunt."

"No, I won't; it makes me sick."

"What do I hear, Monsieur Narcisse? What is the meaning of that answer?"

"I mean what I say; you always let Aristoloche play with Coco, and never let me."

"Will you hold your tongue--a great tall boy like you! just beginning to learn to write. You, want to play with the little rabbit!"

"Yes, I like rabbits, and I want to play with 'em."

"It seems to me," said Cherami, "that you ought not to be too hard on the child for liking rabbits; this is a good school for that. By dint of eating a thing, one sometimes ends by acquiring a taste for it. When I was a boy, I remember, I could not endure bread-soup, but they made me eat it every day to force me to like it."

"And you ended by liking it?"

"No; I detest it!"

"Come, Narcisse, come and recite your poetry to your dear aunt--if you don't, she won't give you another beautiful hat with feathers."

"I don't want any more of her feathers; they make me blind. Somebody told me that I looked like a trained dog in that hat."

"Look out, Monsieur Narcisse, or we shall be cross with you! Your poetry, this minute!"

"No, I won't!"

"Ah! we'll see about that, you little rascal!"

Madame Capucine left the table, seized Cherami's switch, which was standing in a corner, and advanced upon her son; but young Narcisse, when he saw what he was threatened with, began to run around the table, thus compelling his mother, still armed with the formidable switch, to run after him, striking blindly in every direction. Thinking that she was chastising her son, she twice brought the switch down on Cherami's shoulders, who found the manoeuvre executed by the stout woman and her son far from amusing, although it reminded him somewhat of a circus performance.

At last, seeing that he was on the point of being captured, Narcisse changed his tactics, and slipped under the table. Madame Capucine, although disconcerted for a moment by this evolution, soon found a way to profit by it; she thrust her switch under the table, striking at random to right and left. Thereupon, the old aunt began to cry out: her niece was switching her legs. Luckily, Cherami succeeded in pulling Narcisse out from under the table; he was forced to stand in front of Madame Duponceau; and his mother stationed herself by his side, with her stick in the air, saying in a threatening tone:

"Your poetry, quick!"

Master Narcisse, although still in the sulks, decided to obey, and muttered in a drawling voice:

"'Ah! que je suis--Ah! que je suis donc content! De vous--de vous--de vous----'"

"_De vous_, what, idiot?"

"I forget."

"You just wait, and I'll freshen your memory, you bad boy!"

"'De vous feter, objet charmant----'"

"It can't be _objet charmant!_ I know that's wrong."

"Why do you think it can't be _objet charmant_, niece, I should like to know?" said Madame Duponceau, pursing up her lips.

"Because, aunt, I am perfectly sure it's something else."

"In my judgment," interposed Cherami, "_objet charmant_ should be allowed to remain; the expression is most appropriate."

The old aunt was so delighted by the compliment, that she left her seat and embraced her guest again.

"That will teach me to hold my tongue!" said Cherami to himself.

"Come, monsieur; go on with your poetry," continued Madame Capucine.

"'De vous--de vous--feter en ce moment,'"

began Narcisse.

"You see!" cried Madame Capucine; "I knew it wasn't _objet charmant._"

"It's hardly worth while to interrupt just for that, niece. Go on, my boy."

But young Aristoloche had entered the dining-room, holding in his arms a little white rabbit, which he was tickling with a stick. That spectacle sadly distracted the attention of Master Narcisse, whom his mother continued to threaten with the switch to make him finish his lines. But Narcisse, as he recited, kept turning to look at his brother.

"'Quand je me trouve a votre table--a votre table----'

I'll fix you, if you don't give me the rabbit when I get through."

"No, they gave the rabbit to me--see!"

"'A votre table--a votre table-- Ah! que le temps----'

I'll box your ears----

'est agreable!'"

"Mamma, brother says he'll lick me!"

"Don't listen to him, darling; he's the one who'll be licked, if he doesn't say his poetry better for his aunt. Come, Monsieur Narcisse."

"'Voulez-vous lire dans mon coeur----'

Wait till you want my battledore again!"

"I don't want it; papa'll give me another."

"'Dans mon coeur----'

Let Coco go."

"No, I won't let him go."

"All right; I'll fix you in a minute----

'Dans mon coeur--vous y verrez mon ardeur.'"

"You said that as badly as you could, monsieur! but you'll have to say it better at breakfast to-morrow."

"Oh! mamma, mamma; he's trying to take Coco away from me."

Narcisse, having finished his congratulations, had run after his brother and was trying to obtain possession of the rabbit; Madame Capucine, to put an end to the dispute, turned her elder son out of the dining-room, with an accompaniment of kicks in the posterior; then returned to her seat beside Cherami.

"And, after all," she said, "my husband didn't come!"

"And he probably won't come now, for it's almost nine o'clock. I am very sorry for that; I wanted to speak to him."

"About that little bill? Oh! there's no hurry about that."

"It was about something else."

"Well, I am going to have a very uncomfortable night of it. You must know that I'm very timid in the country. It's foolish of me, I know that well enough; for nothing ever happens to my aunt, who lives here alone with her servant; but what can I do? one can't control those things. When my husband's in bed beside me, that gives me courage, and I can sleep a little. But without him--why, I can't close my eyes. If we only had a man in the house; but nothing but women and children! What would become of us if we should be attacked?"

"What's the meaning of this attempt to entrap me?" thought Cherami, stroking his whiskers; "I can see myself passing the night here, to eat more rabbit to-morrow morning! On the contrary, I can't be off soon enough."

"Well, Monsieur Cherami," continued Madame Capucine, with a tender glance at her neighbor, "do you refuse to watch over us to-night? You are your own master; what is there to prevent you from sleeping here? If you would, I should feel perfectly safe, and I should have a quiet night. There's a guest-chamber just opposite mine."

The last words were accompanied by a sidelong glance ending in a sigh. Cherami began to cough in a significant fashion, and whispered:

"On the same floor?"

"Yes; you can understand what a relief it will be to me."

"I understand perfectly."

"Then you'll stay with us, won't you? When the children have gone to bed, we'll play a game of loto."

"That is a very seductive prospect."

"You shall draw the numbers."

"You will see how well I do it!"

At that moment, Madame Duponceau's servant rushed into the dining-room and exclaimed in dismay:

"O madame! madame! if you knew!"

"What is it, then, Francoise, for heaven's sake? You frighten me!"

"There's reason enough!"

"Is the house on fire?"

"Is it robbers?"

"No; but your rabbits. That little scamp of a Narcisse has opened all the hutches, and the rabbits are all loose; they're running everywhere--into the yard, and the cellar, and upstairs."

"Oh! mon Dieu! what do you mean? We must catch them! Niece, Monsieur Cherami, come quick, I beg you! Bring candles! Oh! my poor rabbits!"

Everybody hurried into the yard. In the confusion, Cherami did not fail to take his hat and cane; but, instead of going to the yard, he headed for the front door, crying:

"There go two of them into the road! I'll run after them."

"Do you think so?"

"I saw them."

"How could they have got out?"

"Under the gate. They scratched till they made a hole. But don't be disturbed; I'll catch them, if I have to chase them to Vincennes!"

And Cherami ran out into the road, leaving the ladies and the servant to hunt the rabbits.

LIII

CHERAMI'S SECONDS

Cherami went across fields to the village of Bagnolet, thence to Belleville, and returned to his domicile, consigning the Capucine family and its rabbits to the evil one.

"No seconds," he said to himself, as he went to bed; "and the count's will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow! No matter; let's go to sleep; it will be light to-morrow."

At seven o'clock, Cherami rose, dressed, and went to his window. It was just daylight, and Rue de l'Orillon was deserted. About eight o'clock, a water-carrier's cart came along. It stopped in front of Madame Louchard's house, and the master carrier and his man came upstairs with their pails.

Cherami opened his door, and scrutinized the two men closely as they came up.

"There are two stout fellows," he mused. "Sapristi! such seconds would just do for my affair! Why not? Pardieu! by making a slight sacrifice; and this is no time for economizing, but for going through with my duel in a dignified way. Gad! I am inclined to think that it's a good idea; I see no other way of obtaining seconds."

Cherami waited for the two men to come down the stairs; he stopped them as they passed, asked them into his room, and said to them:

"I have a favor to ask of you, messieurs."

The master, a tall, robust Auvergnat, replied, in the accent of his province:

"A pail to fill?"

"No."

"Do you want some water?"

"It is something out of your regular line. It will be a change for you."

"We must serve our customers."

"Listen to me first. If your customers should be served a little later than usual for once, it won't kill them. I have a duel to arrange for. Do you know what a duel is?"

"It's a clock that strikes the hours, ain't it?"

"You are a long way off."

The apprentice, a young Piedmontese, nearly six feet tall, suddenly exclaimed:

"Yes, yes, I know the vendetta, basta! I've seen friends who'd been out to fight with fists."

"Your young man understands rather better; yes, a duel's a fight, but not with fists."

"Where do you fight?" rejoined the Piedmontese.

Cherami made a wry face, muttering:

"Sapristi! I prefer the Auvergnat accent to that jargon.--Look you, messieurs, I just want you to be my seconds; I expect my opponent's seconds here at ten o'clock, and you must both be here then. I will give you a hundred sous each for the morning; and you will be free at half-past ten; for the fight will not come off till to-morrow, I fancy."

"All right! five francs; all right!"

"What have we got to do?"

"In the first place, my boy, you will be good enough not to speak at all; for you have a way of pronouncing your t's and s's which will produce a very bad effect. Your master can say that you're a Pole, and that you don't know a word of French. That's your role, then--to say nothing. But I must dress you, my friends; I can't have seconds in short jackets. Do you own a coat, my boy?"

"No, but I've got a much better jacket."

"I don't want seconds in jackets. My landlady must have some coats that belonged to her late husband; we will get one of them. Have you a hat?"

"I have a new cap."

"How you run your words together! We'll find a hat somewhere in the house.--And you, master--what's your name?"

"Michel."

"Good! well, Michel, have you any good clothes?"

"_Dame!_ I should say so; my new frock-coat--only three years old--which comes down to my heels."

"Then I'll make an old soldier of you. You must put on a black stock. Go and dress. Put your cask in a safe place, and come back at once with your man, whom I will dress. Be here at half-past nine, and I will tell you what you have to do; it will be very simple. You will agree to whatever is proposed by the men who come here."

"We will agree, if they'll pay for something to drink."

"There's no question of taking anything to drink. However, I shall be here; I'll prompt you. Go, and make haste."

"And the five francs?"

"Here they are; I pay in advance; you see that I have confidence in you."

"Oh! never fear; our word's sacred.--Come, Piedmontese. Let's go and take care of the cask."

"Where'll you put it?"

"In the next yard."

The water-carriers departed, and Cherami went down to his landlady.

"Have you a man's hat to loan me for this morning and to-morrow?" he asked her.

"A man's hat? What do you want it for?"

"Don't be alarmed; I don't propose to make an omelet in it, as the prestidigitators do; I want it for someone to wear."

"Yes, I have a hat that belonged to Louchard, which I am keeping to give my godson when he grows up."

"Do me the favor to loan it to me; I will take the best of care of it."

"I trust you will."

Madame Louchard left the room, and soon returned with a felt hat in reasonably good condition.

"Look; I call that rather fine, myself!"

"The devil! it's gray."

"Well! it's all the more stylish."

"I don't say it isn't, in summer; but in November gray hats are not worn much."