Part 6

"Ah! I recognize them by that. They'll sit at table till ten o'clock, those people; the petty bourgeois sing at dessert, which is very bad form. However, I confess that I have sometimes gone so far as to hum a ditty myself; I have even composed one on occasion, one which Panard or Colle wouldn't have been ashamed to father. But I like a touch of smut myself; don't talk to me of your insipid ballads about roses and zephyrs and the springtime; no, nor your political ballads either; I abominate them; and yet, that's the kind of thing that makes great reputations; and I know men who would have been nothing more than common ballad-mongers, if they hadn't flattered parties and passions, and who have reached the very pinnacle of fame because they always end their couplets with the words _fatherland_ and _liberty_. O Armand Gouffe! O Desaugiers! you didn't resort to such methods, so very little is heard of you. You are none the less the real French ballad-makers; your fruitful and vigorous muse has discovered innumerable varied subjects and described them in song, which is much more difficult than to keep harping on the same refrain."

"But, my dear Monsieur Arthur, now that I am waiting for the return of the bride, to whom I shall say adieu forever, if your affairs call you elsewhere, do not hesitate to go. Leave me; I have abused your good-nature too far already."

"I, leave you! No, indeed! What do you take me for?--What! after accepting your suggestion that we should dine together, leave you all of a sudden at dessert? Fie! Only a cad would do that; and, thank God! I know what good-breeding is. Tell me, do I annoy you? Is my presence distasteful to you?"

"Ah! far from it, my dear sir; you have shown an interest in my affairs, which I shall never forget."

"We were born to be friends, and we are; that is settled, your affairs are mine, what concerns you concerns me. Wherever there is danger for you, it is my duty to look after you; and, you understand, if, while you are talking with the bride, her new husband should happen to come prowling about here, I will just step in front of him and say: 'I am very sorry, my boy, but you can't pass!'"

"Oh! a thousand thanks for your devotion to me! Waiter! waiter! our bill!"

"Here it is, monsieur."

"You pay for the dinner; that's all right; but as we are to stay here some little time perhaps, we must have something to keep us busy."

"Order whatever you want."

"Waiter, make us a nice little rum punch; it's excellent for the digestion; the English eat a great deal, but they drink punch at dessert, and they're all right. Would you like to play cards, to kill time?"

"Thanks, it would be impossible for me to put my mind on the game."

"I don't insist. I am rather fond of cards, but I don't carry that passion to excess. Pardieu! I don't say that I may not take a hand by and by at the Blanquette function. Did I tell you that I knew them? They're linen-drapers; that sort of people play rather high; but that doesn't frighten me. Ah! here's our punch! I divine it by the odor; the table is excellent at this house."

Cherami lost no time in partaking of the punch. Gustave refused it at first, but finally consented to take a glass.

The night had come; the lights were lighted on all sides. With the darkness, the unhappy lover's thoughts became more gloomy, his suffering more intense; he buried his face in his hands, muttering:

"It's all over! O Fanny! Fanny! you will belong to another! Ah! I shall die of my grief!"

"Sapristi!" said Cherami to himself, swallowing several glasses of punch in rapid succession; "this youngster is very lachrymose; he isn't lively in his cups. With me, it's different; I feel in the mood to dance at all the wedding parties, and to play cards too--only I shall have to borrow a few napoleons from my new friend, in order to be able to tempt fortune. I have an idea that I shall have a vein of luck! I say, my dear friend, aren't we drinking any more?"

"Oh! no, thanks, monsieur!"

"Then I will drink for both of us. This punch is too sweet! Here, waiter, put in more rum, a lot of it!"

"But, monsieur, there's no more punch in the bowl."

"Well! then make another bowl, but make it stronger."

The other bowl was brought.

After drinking two more glasses, Cherami tried to rise, but was obliged to hold on to the table to keep from falling; however, although he felt that his legs were wavering under him, he determined to maintain his dignity, and did his best to keep his balance as he walked toward the door.

XIV

THE PUNCH PRODUCES ITS EFFECT

"They are a long while coming back, those ladies!" muttered Gustave, coming and going from the room to the corridor.

"Oh! my dear fellow, when a woman's at her toilet, one can never be sure how long a time she'll spend over it. One day, I remember, in the time of my splendor, I was waiting for my mistress, to go to the theatre, to see a new play. I believe it was at the Opera-Comique--but, no matter. She had finally got dressed,--it had taken her a long while,--when, happening to look in the mirror, she cried: 'My wreath of blue-bottles is too far down on my forehead--I must change it--it's just a matter of putting in a pin.'--'All right,' said I; 'put in your pin. I'll wait'--My dear fellow, that pin, and all the others that she put in after it, took an hour and a half! and when we reached the theatre, the new play was over."

Observing that his young companion had fallen into abstraction once more, and was paying no heed to him, Cherami decided to leave the private room and try his fortunes in the corridor, saying to himself:

"I feel the need of a little fresh air; it's as hot as the tropics in these private dining-rooms. Ah! what do I see yonder? Ladies--many ladies. I must go and cast an eye in that direction. The fair sex attracts me--it's my magnet."

The ladies of the Monleard party were beginning to return, arrayed for the ball. To reach the room where they were to dance, they had to pass along the corridor to the main staircase. Cherami took his stand at the head of the staircase, and there ogled the ladies, bowed to them all as if he knew them, and spoke to each of them as she passed.

"Charming, on my word! A divine costume!--White shoulders that would drive Venus to despair!--Ah! how we are going to flirt!--A very pretty head-dress; bravo!--Ah! here's a mamma who proposes to play the coy maiden. Dear lady, you will find difficulty in getting partners, I warn you. There are pretty faces here that will monopolize all the cavaliers. Oho! what fine eyes! they are like carbuncles. Who will deign to accept my hand or my arm? I am at your service, fair ladies!"

But the ladies, instead of accepting the hand which my gentleman offered them, passed him without replying, or shrank from him, because there was in his whole aspect a seediness entirely out of harmony with their ball-dresses; moreover, he smelt so strongly of punch and liquors that it was impossible to pass him without receiving a whiff of the odor.

Several ladies put their handkerchiefs to their faces as they hurried by, and some exclaimed: "Why, who can that man be? Where did he come from? He is drunk!--Surely he is not one of Monsieur Monleard's wedding guests. What is he doing there, like a sentinel? He speaks to everybody, and with an astonishing lack of ceremony. He poisons the air with wine and liquor. Can't somebody send the horrible creature away?"

These complaints soon reached the ears of the gentlemen who had remained to play cards. Some of them rose and walked into the hall, saying:

"Parbleu! we will find out who this fellow is who takes the liberty of speaking to ladies whom he doesn't know!"

Cherami had just offered his hand to a pretty little woman, who had refused it and instantly put her handkerchief to her nose. This pantomime, having been frequently repeated in front of the ex-beau, began to offend him, and he suddenly exclaimed:

"Deuce take it! what's the matter with all these prudes, that they hide their faces with their handkerchiefs? Can it be because they think that I have any desire to kiss them! Ah! I've seen prettier women than you--who didn't run away from me, my princesses!"

"To whom are you speaking, monsieur? Is it these ladies to whom you dare to address such language?"

"Hallo! who's this? where did he come from? Ah! what a noble head!"

"It is for you, monsieur, to answer those questions. Off with you, at once, or I'll put you out-of-doors."

"Out-of-doors, eh? Understand that I dined here--with my friend Gustave--Gustave something or other--and that I have as much right as you to stay here--that I won't go away."

"I forbid you to speak to these ladies."

"Thanks! I have my cue."

The ladies interposed to prevent a dispute, and succeeded in taking their champions away with them, saying:

"You can see that the man's drunk. What satisfaction do you expect to obtain from a man who hasn't his senses? Leave him there, and pay no more attention to him."

The men yielded to this request, and they left Cherami standing there and entered the ballroom.

Meanwhile, the waiter who had served the dinner in the private room ran up to Cherami.

"The gentleman who dined with you is going away; someone has come for him."

"What! my friend Gustave going away? Why, it's impossible! He won't go without me; besides, he's waiting for the bride; we must have the bride; she's been promised to us."

"He's going, I tell you."

The ex-beau decided to return to the private room, and found at the door his young friend and a man of mature years, short of stature, but with a cold, stern face which imposed respect. They were on the point of leaving.

"Well, well! what does this mean?" cried Cherami. "What! my dear Gustave, going, and without me--your intimate friend, your Orestes, your Patroclus?"

"Who is this new friend of yours, whom I don't know, whom I have never seen with you?" the short man asked Gustave, whose arm he held fast.

"It's a gentleman who has been kind enough to take some interest in me, uncle," faltered Gustave;--"I was so unhappy--and to keep me company."

"And whose dinner you have paid for, I presume? Your friend did not spare himself."

"What do I hear? Monsieur is your uncle?"

"Yes, monsieur; I am Gustave's uncle."

"Then you are Monsieur Grandcourt?"

"Just so."

"Oh! Delighted to make the acquaintance of my friend's uncle."

"I am obliged to you, monsieur; but we are going."

"What! you are going? Pray, do you not know that your dear nephew desires to speak once more with the bride, the faithless Fanny?"

"Indeed, I do know it, and it was for the express purpose of preventing that interview, which might result in a scandalous scene, that I came here and that I am taking my nephew away."

"But her little sister, the charming Adolphine, would have obtained an interview for us in secret."

"You are mistaken, monsieur; for it was Mademoiselle Adolphine herself who sent word to me that my nephew was here, and begged me to exert my authority to take him away and prevent his seeing her sister; that young woman realized all the impropriety of the proposed interview."

"What! it was the little sister who sent word to you? Ah! the little mouse! These women are all leagued together to fool us."

"On this occasion, monsieur, Mademoiselle Adolphine showed as much good sense as prudence, and she deserves only praise from us. Come, Gustave, say adieu to monsieur, thank him for the service which he intended, I doubt not, to render you, and let's be off."

"So it's all over, uncle, is it? you drag me away without allowing me to see her once more?"

"Really, nephew, you disgust me with your love and your regrets for a woman who has treated you with contempt, played with you like a child. Be a man, for God's sake! Repay contempt with contempt, scorn with scorn! and blush to think that you placed your affections so ill. Let us go."

"One moment, dear uncle of my friend: I desire most earnestly to know you more intimately. Gustave will tell you that I am worthy of your friendship. I do not accompany you, because I am going to the Blanquette wedding feast, which is on the second floor. Give me your address, please; I will call and breakfast with you to-morrow."

"It is useless, monsieur; to-morrow, we shall be at Havre."

"At Havre? Very good! it's all the same to me; I will go there with you. Ah! my dear Gustave, do let go of the dear uncle's arm a moment; I have a word to say to you in private, just a word; but it's very important."

But, paying no further heed to Cherami, Monsieur Grandcourt led his nephew away at a rapid pace, and they left the restaurant while Gustave's friend was still talking to them in the corridor.

XV

THE ECARTE PLAYERS

When he finally discovered that he was alone, Cherami returned to the private dining-room, sat down at the table, looked into the bowl, where there was still some punch, and poured out a glass, saying to himself:

"After all, I shall have no difficulty in finding them again. The uncle doesn't seem quite so amiable as the nephew; there's a something stiff and cold in his face. He fell in here like a bombshell. It's a pity; I felt just in the mood to kidnap the bride before the noses of the Athenians and of all those hussies who hid their faces with their handkerchiefs. Suppose I go and clean out the whole crowd? No, they're not worth the trouble. I prefer to pay a visit to the Blanquette festivity; there I am known, they won't treat me as an intruder. Sapristi! what a pity that I hadn't the time to borrow a few napoleons from my new friend. He would have loaned them to me; there's no doubt about it. Ah! I waited too long; but I couldn't suspect that an uncle would arrive all of a sudden--just as they do in vaudevilles, to bring about an unexpected denouement. Aha! what do I hear? Music, they're playing a quadrille. Gad! it seems to me that I could make a pretty figure at a little contra-dance. That music puts me right in the mood for it. O power of music! _Emollit mores nec sint esse feros._ I think I'll go and say that to the bucks who are dancing upstairs! They'd think I was asking them for a cigar.--Pretty music! Sapristi! it shall not be said that I remained alone in this room, like a bear in its cage, while everybody else in the place is enjoying himself. Here goes for a look in at the Blanquette function."

And Cherami jumped to his feet, put his hat on his head, took his little cane, and rushed from the room. When he was in the corridor, he lurched against the wall more than once; but, with the instinct of a man accustomed to frequent over-indulgence, he drew himself up and steadied himself on his legs.

"What does this mean?" he said.--"You stumble for a glass or two of punch? Come, come, Arthur, I shouldn't know you, my boy; you're not drunk, you can't be drunk."

Thereupon the mind steadied the body, and he walked to the stairway with a somewhat less uncertain step. There he could plainly hear the orchestra of the elegant Monleard ball. He paused a moment, saying to himself:

"Suppose I should enter abruptly, and make a scene with the perfidious Fanny, in behalf of my young friend Gustave--what a stunning coup! what an effect I would produce!--Yes, but those people don't know me; they don't know that I once had thirty-five thousand francs a year, and that I have been the most popular man in Paris. They would be quite capable of treating me as an intruder! I should talk back--and then, duels! Let's not end in sadness a day so well employed. _Dies fasti_, as the Romans used to say. It's surprising how the punch brings back my Latin! Let's go up a floor, and join the Blanquette wedding party; there, at all events, I know the bridegroom slightly, and the uncle very well. I owe him four or five hundred francs for cloth--an additional reason why he should receive me well; a man never closes his door to his debtors."

Having arrived on the second floor, Cherami heard the strains of another orchestra; he passed through a large room where he saw nothing but men's hats hanging on hooks, and immediately hung up his own and placed his cane beside it.

"I must show my breeding," he said to himself; "one doesn't appear at a wedding party as at a messroom. Ah! what do I see in that corner? a very fine yellow glove, on my word! Pardieu! it arrives most opportunely! It's for the left hand, but, no matter: I can keep the other in my pocket. It fits me, it really fits me beautifully! What a pity that the man who dropped it didn't drop the right-hand one too! No matter; this one gives a sort of dressed-up, coquettish air, which sets off the wearer. I will keep my right hand under the tail of my coat--nay, I will skilfully hold both tails in my hand, and people will think I'm in full dress. Forward, charge their guns!"

Cherami passed into a second room, which was occupied by card-players: there were two tables of whist and one of ecarte. With the exception of two elderly women at one of the whist tables, there were only men in the room; and as they were all busily engaged in playing, or watching the play, nobody noticed the arrival of the party in plaid trousers.

Cherami smiled at everybody, although he saw no one whom he knew; there were very few persons about the whist tables--only one or two enthusiasts watching the games--so that one could easily approach them. It was not the same with the ecarte table; there was a crowd of young men about it, and it was very difficult to see their hands.

Cherami walked about for some minutes, daintily scratching the end of his nose with his gloved hand, and holding the other behind his back, under the skirt of his coat. Suddenly one of the players cried:

"Twenty francs lacking! Come, gentlemen; who'll make it good?"

"Not I, by a long shot!" said a young man, turning toward Cherami; "they're having extraordinary luck! They have passed six times over there! But I know Minoret; he's a lucky dog! When he sets about it, he's quite capable of passing twenty times in succession."

"Still twenty francs lacking," the same voice repeated; "who makes it good?"

"I," cried Cherami, in a loud voice. "I make it good; I trust to Monsieur Minoret's luck."

This remark attracted general attention to Cherami. The young men scrutinized him, then smiled, and said to one another:

"Who the deuce is this fellow?"

"What an extraordinary figure!"

"And his dress is even more extraordinary. Who ever heard of going to a wedding in plaid trousers and waistcoat!"

"And they're far from new."

"He wasn't at the supper, I'm sure."

"No. I would like right well to know who he is. He seems to know Minoret."

A moment later, the player addressed as Minoret spoke again:

"Well! who is it who makes good the twenty francs? Why doesn't he put up the money?"

"I am the man, monsieur, who makes it good," replied Cherami, still louder than before; "and, sapristi! when I say that I make it good, it seems to me that it's the same thing as if I had put up the money! But perhaps you'll give me time to find my purse, which has slipped into the lining of my waistcoat."

The tone in which Cherami spoke imposed silence upon all those who surrounded the ecarte table. It rarely happens that one cannot, by talking loud enough, produce that effect on the multitude; and if the victory on the battlefield almost always remains with the greatest numbers, so in a discussion it almost always remains with the loudest voices.

So the card-players concluded to deal the cards and go on with the game. Meanwhile, Cherami went through a very curious pantomime. Having decided to withdraw his right hand from behind his back, he plunged it into one pocket of his waistcoat, then into the other, then into his trousers-pockets, pretending to be in search of something which he was very sure of not finding; but he went about it with a zeal which deceived the most incredulous, interspersing his investigations with such ejaculations as:

"Where the devil have I put my purse! It's inconceivable--as soon as you begin to look for a thing, you can't remember what you did with it! I certainly had it just now when I paid my cabman. Can I have dropped it beside my pocket, thinking that I put it inside? Let's try this side; it seems to me that I feel something. Yes--I have it at last. Oh! the devil! it isn't my purse, it's my cigar-case!--I believe I haven't looked in this pocket."

But, as our bettor hoped, the game came to an end before he had finished his search; and ere long these words reached his ears, and filled his heart with joy:

"I was sure of it; Minoret has won again!"

Cherami instantly rushed to the table, extended his left hand, closed, to the player on whom he had bet, and said:

"I have just found my purse: here's the twenty francs I bet on you, monsieur."

"You don't need to put up the money, monsieur, as we have won," replied Minoret; "on the contrary, here's twenty francs that belongs to you."

As he spoke, the player handed Cherami a twenty-franc piece; but in order to take it, he would have had to open the hand which he held tightly closed, and then they would have seen that he had nothing in it. Like the shrewd man he was, he realized the peril of his position, and boldly solved the difficulty by replying in his turn:

"Very good, monsieur; keep the twenty francs; I will bet on you again."

To those who consider that it was very imprudent for a man who had not a sou, to risk upon one deal the twenty francs he had just won, we reply that, as a general rule, those who are most in need of money play for the highest stakes. Moreover, in this instance, Cherami was excused by the embarrassing position in which he was placed.

Monsieur Minoret's luck did not change; he won six times more, and was not beaten until the seventh; and Cherami, who had continued to bet on the same side, found himself in possession of one hundred and twenty francs when he left the table, at which he had taken his place without a sou. There was a fitting occasion to speak Latin; and our gambler, after the sacramental "I have my cue," did not fail to add: "_Audaces fortuna juvat!_" Never was maxim more fittingly applied; indeed, one might perhaps consider that on this occasion Cherami was something more than audacious.

"I must confess that I did well to bet!" said Cherami to himself, jingling in his pockets the gold pieces he had won. "Pardieu! I am tempted to go and buy a right-hand glove. Bah! what's the use? I may well have lost the other. The first owner of this one must find himself in the same predicament. Let's go to the ballroom; I feel in the mood for a polka, and if there's any susceptible female there, I will fascinate her by my glances."

XVI

THE BLANQUETTE WEDDING BALL

The ballroom was long and narrow; a waltz was in progress at the moment selected by Cherami to make his appearance. He began by running into a couple who were waltzing in two-time, which means that they were out of step, as a waltz is always in three-time. Surely they who invented that style of dancing could not have had a musical ear. Now, waltzers in two-time always move very rapidly; indeed, that is the main purpose of the innovation. Cherami, colliding suddenly with the couple as they passed, stepped back and came in contact with some waltzers in three-time, who were abandoning themselves voluptuously to the charms of the waltz; the lady, letting her head hang languidly on one side, and keeping her eyes half-closed to avoid being dizzy; her partner, holding himself firm on his legs, pressing his partner's waist with an arm of iron, and gazing down at her with eyes that flashed fire.

Being abruptly aroused from their ecstasy by a person who bumped against them and threw them out of step, they cried:

"Pray be careful! Mon Dieu! how awkward some people are!"

"What's that! be careful yourselves!" retorted the man with one glove. "What the devil! you waltzed into my back."