Part 7

My man came to me and led me into his hermitage, where he dashed into the subject at once, without waiting for me to question him.

"Her name's Caroline."

"I know it."

"She makes flowers."

"I know that too."

"She's eighteen years old."

"So I should think."

"She hasn't any lover."

"So I hoped."

"She means to remain virtuous."

"I doubt it."

"She has noticed you."

"I think it likely."

"She is attracted to you."

"I am glad to hear it."

"She works on Rue Sainte-Apolline, from eight in the morning till eight in the evening."

"That is all I want to know."

I rewarded the invaluable soothsayer and returned to the garden, which was beginning to be deserted. I walked in the direction of the exit, enchanted to know at last where I could find Mademoiselle Caroline.

As I passed before a silhouette booth, I imagined that I heard a voice which was not unfamiliar to me. I stopped. People were disputing in the small oiled-paper studio, and I recognized my neighbor Raymond's voice. What in the devil was he doing there? I listened; the maker of silhouettes said:

"It's half-past eleven, monsieur; everybody's gone, and I must shut up shop, too."

"One more silhouette, my friend, and I'll go."

"You've been here in my studio more than two hours, monsieur; I have cut you out seventeen times already."

"Well, this will make eighteen. Oh! I can't have too many portraits; I shall find places enough for them! everybody's asking me for one."

"I tell you that I must close my shop, monsieur."

"Close it, if you choose; I'll stay inside; I don't propose to go yet."

"You will go, monsieur."

"One more silhouette!"

"No, monsieur, you can't have it."

I could not restrain a roar of laughter, aroused by the desperate decision of Raymond, who, in his fear of being arrested for all the stupid things he had done during the evening, had sought shelter in the silhouette booth, which he was absolutely determined not to abandon. But my laughter caused great perturbation in my neighbor's soul.

"Hark!" he said to the painter with scissors; "didn't you hear? There's somebody close by. You told me the garden was empty."

"Pay me, monsieur, and be off; or I'll go and fetch the guard to put you out."

The threat of the guard made Raymond shudder; he realized that he must leave the friendly shelter of the booth; but before venturing into the garden, he thrust his head out of the door, to see if anyone was on the watch for him. The first person he saw was your humble servant, whose inclination to laugh was vastly increased at sight of the pale and discomposed features of his neighbor. Raymond was uncertain whether he had better hide again or not, when he saw me; but he made the best of the meeting, and, being certain that I would not impose upon his unfortunate plight, he clung to me as to the anchor of salvation.

"My dear Monsieur Dorsan, how delighted I am to meet you! If you knew all that has happened to me to-night in this infernal garden!"

"Oh! I know! it's made noise enough."

"Mon Dieu! do they mean to arrest me?"

"Why, it's very possible. The man that you hurt is in a very bad way; the young men whose coats you ruined are collected at the gate; the damage you did in the garden amounts to considerable, and----"

"Oh! what an unlucky devil!"--And Raymond rushed back into the silhouette booth, despite the remonstrances of the proprietor, who seized him by the coat and tried to put him out.

"Save me, neighbor, I have no hope except in you!"

"Very well, I'll do it; although you played me a most contemptible trick last night."

"Oh! I promise you--I swear--it was mere chance. I will contradict all that I said, if that will gratify you; I will say that the girl slept with me."

"No, no; if you please, Monsieur Raymond, you will be careful never to mention her.--But let us begin by leaving this silhouette emporium. Follow me."

"I am with you, my dear neighbor.--Give me my portraits; how much are they?"

"Seventeen, at forty sous, makes just thirty-four francs, monsieur."

"The devil! that's rather dear!"

"It's the regular price."

"Come, come," I said to Raymond, whose lugubrious face was not worth thirty-four francs at that moment; "you can make a lot of your friends happy with them; that's some little compensation."

Raymond paid, with a sigh, and seized my arm, imploring me to protect him.

"I ask nothing better," said I; "but you must appreciate the fact that I can't stand my ground alone against half a hundred young men who are waiting for you at the gate, and are to all appearance determined to make it bad for you."

"Yes, yes, I can see that; but I can't pass the night here; I have no hat, and I should certainly take cold; and to-morrow night I am to sing the aria from _Joconde_ at a musical party."

"This is very embarrassing. Do you want to risk going out at the gate?"

"No, indeed! These young men, when they get excited, are very brutal."

"I see but one way, then, and that is to climb over the wall."

"But suppose I am taken for a thief?"

"Never fear; I have a scheme in my head. Come!"

We took the darkest paths. Raymond followed me in fear and trembling. I led him to the wall on Rue de Clichy, and bade him sit on the ground behind a clump of trees.

"Stay here; I'll go out of the gate and come around to the opposite side of the wall on Rue de Clichy. When there seems to be an opportune moment for you to climb over without risk, I will give the signal."

"What signal?"

"I will clap my hands twice."

"Agreed. The wall's rather high; but still, rather than be beaten to a jelly--I can't hesitate."

"Adieu! patience; don't make a noise, don't stir, but wait for the signal."

"Oh! I won't fail. You couldn't lend me your hat, could you?"

"Impossible; I have to sing in a duet to-morrow."

"Then I'll put my handkerchief over my head."

"That will be very wise."

"By the way, if they question you at the gate, you must say that I've gone."

"That goes without saying."

"Don't leave me too long."

"Of course, I shan't suggest your showing yourself while I see anybody prowling about."

"Dear Dorsan! I am tremendously obliged to you."

"Adieu! I go to keep watch for you."

I took my leave of Raymond, laughing inwardly at his plight and his poltroonery. At last I left the garden; it was high time, for they were just going to close the gates. As I passed, I glanced down Rue de Clichy, where my neighbor supposed that I was doing sentry duty in his behalf; and I strolled leisurely homeward, leaving dear Raymond to wait for my signal. His conduct of the preceding evening merited that little retaliation; moreover, the most speedy revenge is always the best.

XI

BY MOONLIGHT

I pursued my homeward way, congratulating myself on my little game, and laughing at the thought of Raymond's fright and of the figure he must cut waiting for me to rescue him. But soon my mind reverted to a more agreeable subject. I thought of the charming Caroline. I had no doubt that she had read my note, and on the morrow I would go to her shop and find out how far I might hope. A not very moral scheme, I agree! I proposed to try to seduce a girl, in order to gratify a caprice that would last only a moment. But what would you have? I have some grievous faults; I believe that unmarried men were put into the world to make love to girls. Those girls who desire to remain virtuous should do as Nicette did--refuse to allow themselves to be seduced.

Musing thus, I reached my abode. It had seemed a short walk to me. To be sure, the weather was magnificent; the moon was quite as fine as on the preceding night; but my thoughts were not upon the firmament. I was on the point of knocking, when a person who was sitting on the bench near the porte cochère rose quickly and came toward me.

"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Dorsan; I was waiting for you."

I recognized my little flower girl, whom the sight of Mademoiselle Caroline had banished from my memory. She had not forgotten me; she was waiting for me in the street! and it was nearly twelve o'clock!

"How long have you been here, Nicette?"

"Since nine o'clock, monsieur."

"Why did you wait so long for me?"

"Oh! monsieur, please forgive me, but I couldn't stand it; I wanted to thank you again, and tell you what I have done with my money."

"My dear girl, that wasn't necessary; I am sure that you are behaving as you ought."

"Don't you like it because I waited for you, monsieur? If you don't, I'll go away----"

I knew by the sound of her voice that she was ready to weep. Had I spoken harshly to her? She was going away with a heavy heart, but I took her hand and detained her. She heaved a deep sigh. Poor Nicette! could it be for me? If so, I pitied her. In truth, I did not deserve to be loved by a sensitive, faithful heart; and yet, I wanted women to adore me and to be faithful to me: reconcile the two, if you can.

"Come, my dear Nicette, tell me all you have done since last night?"

"Won't it bore you, monsieur?"

"No, of course not; don't you know that I am interested in everything that concerns you?"

"Oh, monsieur! if you--but here goes: in the first place, I went home to my mother's, because, after all, she is my mother, and, although she turned me out of doors, I still owe her respect."

"That is true; you did very well. How did Madame Jérôme receive you?"

"Very badly, monsieur! oh! very badly! She didn't so much as ask me where I'd passed the night. But she proposed to me again to marry Beauvisage, and said that then she'd forgive what she called my _caravanes_.[A] Has there been any _caravanes_ between you and me, monsieur?"

[A] In French slang, "love adventures."

"Certainly not; and then?"

"Oh! I refused; because, when it comes to marriage, I'm obstinate, too. Then she beat me again, and that time you wasn't there to stop her."

I could not restrain a smile at the artless way in which Nicette reminded me of the blow I had received in her behalf; but I was distressed by Madame Jérôme's hard-heartedness: to think of turning her daughter out of doors, beating her, and abandoning her, utterly without resource, at the age when the simplest and often the only means of support are to be found in prostitution! Ah! there are mothers unworthy of the name!

"Well, Nicette?"

"Well, monsieur, I packed up my clothes and left the house, without seeing my sister, who didn't dare to show her face before me. I says to myself: 'I mustn't whine about it; I haven't done anything to be sorry for. I refused the pork man, that's true; but when it's a matter of a girl's whole life, surely she has a right to do as she pleases.'--So I went off with my little bundle. I don't know how it happened, but after walking a while I found myself in your street. I looked round for a booth, and found one over yonder, close by, on Rue Saint-Honoré, near the boulevard. I bought a bed and a chair; that's all I need. To-morrow, I'll get a table for my bouquets; as to the flowers, I know where to get them. I'll set up a stand on the corner of the street, on the boulevard; and when you want a bouquet, monsieur, I shall be there, close by your house; and it will be easy enough for you to let me know. Have I done well, monsieur?"

Nicette had finished speaking, but I still listened. I was touched by her attachment. She had wanted to be near me, I could see that; and there was something so simple and ingenuous in the way she told me about it, that it seemed that in acting thus she had simply done her duty.

"You don't say anything, monsieur; is it because you're angry at my leaving my old quarter to come--to this one? If that's it, why, I'll look for another room to-morrow; I'll go far away, ever so far, and you'll never find me in your path again!"

"What do you say? I, angry because you are near me? It's very wrong of you to say that, Nicette! I thought that I had shown you how deep an interest I take in you."

"Oh! I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dorsan, I beg your pardon; perhaps I ought to have asked your permission--for you are my patron."

"Hush! what a child you are! I am very glad that you live in this quarter. I shall see you often, and always with pleasure."

"Oh! monsieur, and so shall I. But I won't take the liberty again to wait for you at your door. I only did it to-day because I wanted to tell you what I'd done, and to let you know where I am now."

"Don't apologize, my dear girl; I am so glad to see you! Ah! Nicette, what a cruel, yet delicious, night I passed so near you! I shall never forget it as long as I live. I know that I shouldn't have so much courage another time."

"Let's not say anything more about that, Monsieur Dorsan. I must go home, for it's very late, and I'm keeping you from your sleep again. To be sure, this is the last time it will happen."

"Dear Nicette, your alluring charms, your graces, and your delightful frankness, will always be with me in that room, where I should be glad to see you again."

"Oh! don't say that, I beg of you, Monsieur Dorsan. I'm too far away from you--a poor flower girl!"

"Ah! Nicette; if you chose----"

"Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan! adieu!"

She said _adieu_, but she did not go. I held one of her hands; she repelled me and drew me toward her at the same time. My eyes were fixed upon hers; we said nothing; but if my porte cochère had been open, I believe that Nicette would have gone with me again. A sudden outcry aroused us from that pleasant situation. A man ran along the street, shouting _thief_! Nicette withdrew her hand, bade me a very affectionate good-night, and fled. I tried to detain her, but she was already far away.

I knocked at my door and was just about to enter, when the man whom I had seen running toward us, all alone, and whom I had taken for a drunken man, rushed through the porte cochère and fell headlong in the courtyard, crying:

"Safe at last!"

I recognized Raymond's voice; I was curious to learn the end of his adventures. The concierge, hearing the uproar, arrived on the scene with a light, and we saw Raymond, his trousers torn from waistband to knee, lying at full length in the courtyard, gasping with fatigue, and trying to recover his breath.

"Mon Dieu!" cried Madame Dupont; "what has happened to you, Monsieur Raymond? a pretty mess you're in!"

"What! is it you?" said I, in my turn; "why did you leave Tivoli without waiting for my signal?"

"Oh, yes! I fancy I should have had to wait a long while for your signal!"

"You're too impatient."

"I had been crouching in that corner for an hour, when I saw some men making the rounds of the garden. Faith! that gave me a fright, and I determined to scale the wall. But I was in such a hurry that I got caught on some broken glass; I tore my trousers and cut the base of my spine. On Rue du Mont-Blanc, I was insulted by some drunken men; indeed, I think they meant to rob me; but I ran off, shouting for help, and here I am in port, God be praised! But I shall remember Tivoli!"

"You must bathe your back in warm water, monsieur," said Madame Dupont.

"Yes, I'll do that in the morning."

"You saved your silhouettes, I hope?" said I.

"I believe I lost some of them when I dropped from the wall."

"The devil! that's a pity! they'll testify against you, and it will be easy to recognize that profile of yours. I advise you to wear a false nose and spectacles for a fortnight or so."

My neighbor, who knew very well that I was making sport of him, took his candle and tramped upstairs without a word to me. When we were on our landing, I nodded to him, with a smile, and entered my lodgings alone, where I slept soundly. Nights follow but do not resemble one another: that is what all women say a fortnight after marriage.

XII

VEXATIONS

My first thought when I woke was of my two young women. I cannot say whether Nicette or Caroline first presented herself to my imagination; I know that I was attracted by both of them. But Nicette was an honest girl and desired to remain so; thus far I had acted honorably with her; I determined not to try to ruin what I had done. I would be her friend, were it only for the sake of experimenting upon a novel sentiment toward a woman.

As to Mademoiselle Caroline, I had formed a different estimate of her: I did not believe her to be a novice; her little innocent air with Monsieur Jules did not impose on me; she was on the lookout for a husband, but she did not love that poor fellow; if she did love him, would she listen with a smile to all the insipid nonsense that I whispered to her? if she loved him, would she dance with other men? Mademoiselle Caroline was a great coquette, and, in my judgment, decidedly shrewd. And yet, she had treated me cavalierly enough when I followed her on the street; to be sure, she was cross because I had rumpled the finery she had prepared for the following day, which was at that moment much more interesting than a new conquest, since it might be worth a great many to her. But I should soon know what to expect.

At noon I betook myself to the shop that my sorcerer had indicated. He had not deceived me: among a number of saucy faces, I recognized my charming dancer. The young women all lowered their eyes at sight of a young man; but they all scrutinized me furtively. Caroline recognized me; I could tell that by a certain embarrassment, by her evident longing to look at me, and by the assiduity with which she attacked her work, the better to conceal her confusion. It was necessary that I should pretend to have visited the shop for some purpose: I asked for flowers, wreaths, trimmings; they were all shown to me, but it was a man who was obliging enough to spread before my eyes all the treasures of the establishment, and the young women did not stir.

That did not meet my desires, but I realized that I could not remain there all day. I bought fifty francs' worth of artificial flowers, for which I paid cash; and I left my address, asking that they might be sent to me during the day, as I was to leave for the country in the morning. The man promised, and I left the shop. Caroline must have understood me; but would she come? that remained to be seen.

I returned home, informed my concierge that I expected some parcels I had just bought, and that the messenger was to bring them up to my room. I went up myself, and fretted and fumed like all young men awaiting their first assignation, like all young women whose mammas keep them in the house when they are burning to go out. An hour passed, and no one came. Another hour had nearly elapsed, and I was on the point of going back to the shop, when my doorbell rang. I reached the door with one bound and threw it open; there stood Monsieur Raymond, laden with an enormous pasteboard box.

"What do you want, Monsieur Raymond?"

"My respects to you, neighbor!"

"But what brings you to my door, pray?"

"I will explain. Allow me to come in and put down this box."

And, without awaiting my reply, he entered my reception room and seated himself on a chair. I remained standing in front of him, hoping that that would make him cut his visit short.

"Excuse me if I make myself at home; but my back is still painful. That wall was devilish high."

"What do you want of me? I beg you to tell me, for I am in a great hurry."

"Here goes: in the first place, I wanted to make my peace with you, because neighbors ought not to quarrel."

"Bless my soul! I have no desire to quarrel."

"I'm very glad of that; then that's all at an end. I was on the watch for an opportunity to come here to speak to you; the opportunity came, and I grasped it. Somebody rang at my door just now and asked for you."

"What's that? just now? Who was it?"

"A girl--very pretty, too; but not so pretty as the one the other night."

"A girl! what did she want? pray go on!"

"She brought this box for you, and said there was no message."

"Well! where is she? what did you say?"

"I took charge of the box, telling her that you had gone out, so that I might have the pleasure of delivering it myself and making my peace with you."

"Great God! is it possible? Must you always meddle in other people's business, just to drive me mad? I'll stake my head it was she!"

I opened the box, while Raymond stared at me in amazement; he did not know which way to turn, seeing the gleam of anger in my eyes when he expected thanks. I found all the flowers I had bought, and, in my rage, I kicked the box away. The bouquets and trimmings flew through the air, and a garland _à la jardinière_ lighted on Raymond's brow; he dared not remove it, because my outburst of wrath had stupefied him.

After storming about and crumpling and mutilating my flowers, I threw myself into a chair and my eyes fell upon my neighbor. At that sight my anger vanished; it was impossible for me to keep a serious face when I saw Raymond crowned with paper flowers and glancing about him in terror. I roared with laughter; that reassured him, and he followed my example, but his laughter was of that forced variety which resembles a grimace, and not that inextinguishable merriment in which the gods indulge when Vulcan fills their glasses.

"Vulcan to find involved in this debate, The gentle reader'd scarce anticipate."

"Well," said Monsieur Raymond at last, still trying to smile, "your angry fit seems to have passed over?"

"I must make the best of it."

"Aren't you satisfied with the goods they sent you?"

"Much I care for the goods, Monsieur Raymond! you will compel me to move."

"I, neighbor? Why so, pray?"

"Because you seem to be stationed beside me here to thwart all my plans, to drive me mad with rage!"

"I don't understand."

"Why, in heaven's name, when people ring at your door by mistake, don't you send them to me? Why do you say that I'm not at home when I am? Why did you undertake to deliver this box, when I desired to speak to the person who brought it?"

"My dear neighbor, I am distressed--I was entirely ignorant----"

"I beg you, Monsieur Raymond, as a favor, not to meddle in my affairs any more, or we shall have a serious falling-out! You have quite enough other occupation in the house, listening to the gossip of the cooks, keeping an eye on the women, playing the spy on the girls, and mixing yourself up in family rows, without disturbing yourself concerning my conduct."

"I assure you, neighbor, that someone has been slandering me to you. I am incapable--I love a jest, that's the whole of it; but I never gossip. In the first place, I am not talkative. If I were, I might tell you that the lady on the first floor has two lovers; that her husband keeps a mistress; that Monsieur Gérard, on the second, is in a bad way in business, and that I've seen summonses for him in the concierge's hands; that Madame Bertin gives evening parties in order to get husbands for her daughters; that her cook makes a handsome commission on her provisions; that the cook at the rear of the courtyard has a lover she carries soup to; that Gerville the government clerk is running into debt and doesn't answer the bell when his creditors ring; and a thousand other things. But it's none of my business; I have quite enough to do to attend to my own affairs, without bothering my head about other people's. I took this box, thinking that I was doing you a favor, and because I wanted an opportunity to make myself useful to you. It made you angry, and I won't do it again. After this, I'll send away people who want to speak to you, even when you're not in. I salute you, neighbor!"

"By the way, one other word, if you please. What sort of looking girl was it who brought the box?"

"Why, very good-looking--that is to say, attractive."

"How tall?"

"Medium."

"Dark hair?"

"Yes; dark or chestnut-colored."

"Black eyes?"

"Yes; that is to say, dark gray."

"Ah! it was she!"

"Who is she?"

"That doesn't concern you, Monsieur Raymond."