Part 14

"As there was no further obstacle to my passage, I entered the sick man's room at last. I saw a man, still young, lying in bed; he was very pale, with a very forbidding expression; and as he wore a full beard and enormous moustaches, together with a great quantity of brown hair which lay in disorder about his forehead, he really was not unlike a man of the woods or an orang-outang of the larger species."

"So this man is very ugly, very repulsive to look at?" inquired Honorine.

"It is not so much that he is positively ugly, madame, but that savage look--you know. However, he did not give me much time to examine him, for I had hardly reached the middle of the room when he cried:

"'Who are you, monsieur, and what do you want?'

"'Monsieur,' said I, bowing politely, 'I am Doctor Antoine Beaubichon, long a resident of Chelles, and favorably known hereabout, I venture to say. I attend the whole neighborhood, even a long way beyond the Marne.'

"'Well, what difference does it make to me whether you attend the whole neighborhood?' retorted the sick man in an impatient tone. 'Why have you come to my house? I didn't send for you, I don't need a doctor.'

"'Monsieur,' I said, 'I took the liberty of coming here only because I was requested to do so, requested most urgently.'

"'By whom?'

"'Mère Lucas, your servant, who is much concerned about your health, and who realizes that you are sicker than you think.'

"'Mère Lucas is meddling in something that doesn't concern her. I know my own business best. I tell you again, monsieur, that I do not need a doctor, and that you may go.'

"As you can imagine, mesdames, not being accustomed to that sort of reception, I was already near the door, ready to take my leave and sorely vexed that I had put myself out for such a boor, when I heard him calling to me:

"'Monsieur! monsieur! one moment!'

"'Aha!' thought I, 'he thinks better of it; he is in pain, no doubt, and realizes that there is nobody but myself who can relieve him. I will go back, for we must be indulgent to invalids.'

"I turned back toward the bed; the bearded man was sitting up, and his great dog was beside him, also sitting on his haunches. I was preparing to feel the invalid's pulse, when he abruptly drew his arm away, and said:

"'It isn't for myself, monsieur. My dog here hurt his shoulder some time ago passing through a holly bush, and he still suffers from it. What ought we to put on the wound?'

"When I found that it was for his Newfoundland that he had called me back, I drew myself up to my full height and said to the unmannerly fellow:

"'Let me tell you, monsieur, that I am no dog doctor! If you called me back on this animal's account, you might have saved yourself the trouble.'

"'Why are you unwilling to prescribe for my dog, pray?' he rejoined in a savage tone; 'your visits will be paid for as generously as if you came for me.'

"'I repeat, monsieur, that I attend men, not beasts!'

"Would you believe that he had the impertinence to reply:

"'In most cases, monsieur, men are the beasts, and dogs are much better than they are!'

"Faith! mesdames, I had no desire to hear any more, so I put on my hat and left the Tower, vowing never to put my foot inside its doors again so long as this Monsieur Paul should be the owner."

"For all that," said Père Ledrux, who had returned to the door of the salon, "if he had asked me for a receipt to cure his dog, I'd have given him one, and a good one, too. Still, his Newfoundland got well by himself, and so did his master, too! Ha! ha! You can't deny that they didn't need you for that, monsieur le docteur!"

"What does that prove, Père Ledrux? simply that nature is sometimes as powerful as science."

"Oh, yes! and if science had taken a hand in it, perhaps the two invalids wouldn't be so smart to-day."

"So you don't believe in medicine, Père Ledrux?"

"I don't say that. I believe in anything you want; but I say just this, that medicine sometimes makes mistakes, but nature--oh! she never makes a mistake!"

"Now, mesdames, from these facts you may form your own opinion of the proprietor of the Tower, and judge whether he is unjustly called a bear and a disagreeable neighbor."

"It is evident, monsieur, that he avoids society," said Honorine; "probably he has reasons for that. Doubtless he has had much to complain of at its hands. But, nevertheless, his old servant said that he was an excellent man."

"Mère Lucas is very hard of hearing; she often hears wrong.--However, in addition to what happened to me and to Madame Droguet and Monsieur Luminot, we have had many other opportunities for judging this gentleman. On several occasions he has shown that he is really malicious. Once, Jaquette, Catherine the laundress's daughter, a child of nine, went home crying with her little sister; one cheek was bright red. They asked her what the matter was, and she replied:

"'I met the man with the dog and he slapped my face hard because he said I made faces at him.'

"Another time it was Thomas Riteux's son--a little boy of eleven, and a very sly rascal--whom my gentleman kicked more than once in--somewhere--because he happened to be in his way."

"Oh! that is very bad!" cried Agathe. "It seems that he detests children then."

"Did the parents complain?"

"Nonsense!" said the gardener; "what's the sense of believing everything this one or the other one says! There's people who heard Jaquette's little sister say that Jaquette was beating her and eating her cherries, and that was why he came up and slapped her. And as for Thomas Riteux's son, he's a little devil. So far as he could see Monsieur Paul's dog, he began to throw stones at him. Monsieur Paul saw it and told him not to throw any more stones at his dog, because the beast didn't like it. The little scamp is obstinate, and he began again when he thought he wouldn't be seen. But the dog ran at him, and faith! he had him by the breeches and things looked bad for the boy when Monsieur Paul ran up and made him let go. That was when he kicked the boy and said: 'You oughtn't to get off so cheap!'"

"But this puts an entirely different face on the matter," said Honorine. "Don't you agree with me, monsieur le docteur?"

"It is possible, mesdames; I know that children sometimes tell false stories; but I persist none the less in my opinion concerning the owner of the Tower. He's a low fellow, whom I believe to be entirely uninformed and uneducated. And as Madame Droguet--a very bright woman, by the way--well said:

"'That man shuns society because he realizes that he would be out of place in society.'

"I trust, mesdames, that this will not have any influence upon your decision with regard to this house. Thank heaven, this Monsieur Paul will hardly be what is called a neighbor to you, for it is fully half a league from here to his place; and I venture to believe that you will find in Chelles ample compensation. Society here is numerous but select. You will find material for a game of whist or of Pope Joan. Of late, too, we have taken up bézique. Madame Droguet gives receptions which all the notabilities attend; sometimes there is dancing; she has a piano, and when Monsieur Luminot brings his flageolet, there is a complete orchestra. Recently they have tried the Lancers quadrille; they haven't succeeded in dancing it through, but they will in time, especially as Monsieur Droguet is passionately fond of dancing."

Honorine rose, as did her companion. The young woman thanked the doctor for all the information he had been obliging enough to give them, assuring him that it had only confirmed her in the plan she had formed of purchasing Monsieur Courtivaux's estate.

Then the ladies left the house, to return to the railway station, saying to the gardener:

"To-morrow morning we shall see the agent, and doubtless the bargain will soon be concluded."

"Very good!" said Père Ledrux, "and meanwhile, as I told you, you know, I won't show the house to anyone, because sometimes it happens--Well! someone who happened to want it would only have to offer a little more than you. Men never think of anything but their own interests, you know; and it would slip out of your hands. But the way I'm going to do, there's no danger; it's just between you and me. And then I'm going to keep on with the garden, and I'll keep an eye on the hens; there's one black one that fights the others; hum! I'll watch her! You see, she might keep 'em from laying!"

XV

THE GENTLEMAN WITH THE SARCASTIC LOOK

Chamoureau was in an execrable humor when he left Madame Sainte-Suzanne's. As he could not walk home with his coat all open behind, he had to take a cab, and when he stepped in, the accident that had befallen his trousers was so aggravated that when it was time to alight he was reduced to the necessity of taking off his hat and holding it glued to the unfortunate garment in front.

His concierge, who passed a large part of his time in his doorway, stared with all his eyes again when the tenant of the second floor appeared, this time holding his hat in front of his trousers instead of wearing it on his head.

In fact, even Madame Monin, his servant, seeing her master return with his clothes torn from his head to his heels, said to herself:

"In God's name, what kind of a life is Monsieur Chamoureau leading now, to come home in this state? The man is getting to be very dissipated!"

"She refuses to be my mistress!" reflected our widower, as he changed his clothes. "And she won't be my wife either! In that case, what does she propose to be to me? And why did she speak to me at the Opéra ball? Why did she herself urge me to call? She gives me permission to be her friend--much obliged! At thirty-five years of age, and with a volcanic temperament like mine, a man isn't content to be the friend of a fascinating woman! Besides, I love the woman. I adore her, since I saw her in her lovely velvet robe de chambre--or was it plush? I am not quite sure, but it doesn't matter. I feel that my passion has taken a new flight. It is all over with me; the image of that lovely brunette is here--engraved on my heart; it has replaced Eléonore's.--Poor Eléonore! If I should want to weep for her now, I could not. That is some compensation. But what am I to do? I am going to be very wretched now. She has ten thousand francs a year, so of course I am not a very good match for her. But if she adored me! Sapristi! if Freluchon were in Paris, I would go to him and ask his advice; nobody but he can tell me how I ought to act now toward Madame de Sainte-Suzanne."

That evening, Chamoureau did not fail to call at Freluchon's house, to inquire if he had returned. But his dear friend was still at Rouen.

The next day Honorine and Agathe called early at the agent's office.

"We have been to Chelles," said the young woman, "we have seen Monsieur Courtivaux's house and we like it very much. Be good enough to arrange the matter as quickly as possible, monsieur; we would like to be living there already."

"Very well, madame. You know that he asks twenty thousand francs?"

"I am ready to give that, monsieur."

"Yes, but perhaps he would take something off; you pay cash, which is a consideration. Then there are the expenses, the deeds and so forth; they will amount to at least a thousand francs, and are ordinarily paid by the purchaser. If we could induce the vendor to pay them at least----"

"Well, monsieur, do the best you can; I leave it to you."

"Never fear, madame. I will go to see Monsieur Courtivaux to-day; then I will call on you with his answer. I have your address--Madame Dalmont, Rue des Martyrs."

"But do not forget us, monsieur."

"I will devote my whole time to you, mesdames."

But when the two friends had gone, Chamoureau, after sitting for some time lost in thought, suddenly struck his forehead and exclaimed:

"I will see Monsieur Edmond Didier; he's a very enterprising young man with the fair sex! In the absence of that villain Freluchon, who confiscates my clothes, he will give me some advice--most excellent advice."

The agent was really enamored of Thélénie; the lovely brunette's great black eyes had turned his head; he did not cease for an instant to think of her whom he had hoped for a brief moment that he had captivated, and that passion caused him to forget absolutely the business which his clients placed in his hands.

But Edmond Didier was rarely at home. Chamoureau was no more fortunate in that direction than in respect to Freluchon. Thrice during the day he went to Edmond's rooms and failed to find him.

"What is the use of friends?" thought our widower in despair; "they're never at home when you want to consult 'em! What on earth do these fellows do? What good does it do them to have a home? One's at Rouen, the other goes out before ten in the morning and hasn't returned at eleven in the evening! No matter! To-morrow will be the third day since I called at Madame de Sainte-Suzanne's. I'll go again to-morrow--in a _redingote_! One is not obliged to wear full dress all the time. She doesn't want me to talk to her about love; I'll talk about the Boulevard de Sébastopol which is being built--that can't offend her. But for lack of words I'll try to make my eyes terribly eloquent; she can't prevent my having love in my eyes."

And the next day, instead of going to see Monsieur Courtivaux and attending to the business with which Madame Dalmont had entrusted him, Chamoureau passed an hour at his toilet. He tried to scatter over his forehead the tuft of hair that still embellished the back of his head, and having assured himself that he had hair enough for a single man, he perfumed his handkerchief with essence of Portugal and went to Rue de Ponthieu.

When he reached Madame Sainte-Suzanne's residence, our widower, who had been thinking all the way what he could say to the lady to account for calling again so soon, and had found nothing satisfactory, walked quickly through the hall, saying to himself:

"Never mind! I'll offer to take her to the theatre--whichever she pleases--that can't offend her."

And he ran up the two flights without even speaking to the concierge. He rang at Thélénie's door. The maid answered the bell, and could not help smiling when she recognized the gentleman who had left her mistress in such piteous guise, and torn in several places.

But our widower, who felt quite safe in his redingote and had no straps to his trousers, walked with an exceedingly unconcerned air and held his head erect with much dignity as he asked if Madame de Sainte-Suzanne were visible.

"My mistress has gone out," replied Mademoiselle Mélie, with the pert air which servants love to assume before courteous strangers.

"What! Madame de Sainte-Suzanne is not in?" exclaimed Chamoureau, in a despairing tone.

"No, monsieur; madame has gone out; what is there strange in that?"

"I don't say that I think it strange; but it annoys me exceedingly."

"Had madame made an appointment with monsieur?"

"No; certainly she hadn't made an appointment with me; I did not presume to say anything of the sort."

"Well then, monsieur could not be sure of finding madame, especially as madame often goes out."

"Ah! she often goes out! then it isn't strange that I don't find her in. But will she return soon? If so, I might wait for her."

"When madame goes out, she never says whether she will stay out long. And then I must tell monsieur that she doesn't like to have anybody wait for her; she doesn't want anybody to make himself at home in her apartment when she isn't here."

Chamoureau bit his lip and stepped back.

"That makes a difference!" he murmured; "now that I know that it would vex Madame de Sainte-Suzanne, I will not wait for her; but you will be good enough to tell her that Monsieur Chamoureau came to pay his respects to her. Sapristi! I regret that I did not bring a bouquet--I would have left it. Will you remember my name--Chamoureau?"

"Never fear! If I should forget it, I would say: 'The gentleman who tore himself from head to foot the other day called again.'"

"It seems to me quite unnecessary to recall that unpleasant incident. I prefer that you should simply mention my name--Chamoureau."

"Yes, Monsieur--Chameau."

"_Fichtre!_ pray be careful! I didn't say Chameau; you must not confound me with that beast of the desert with two humps. For I flatter myself that I have never had one--although I am a widower."

"Monsieur is quite capable of it; but still a man sometimes wears one without knowing it."

"Do you think so, mademoiselle? If that had happened to me, my wife would have told me; she had no secrets from me!"[I]

"Oh! that makes a difference!"

"Understand, mademoiselle--Chamoureau, not Chameau."

"I will remember, monsieur."

And the maid, laughing in the gentleman's face, because he seemed to her excessively foolish, was in the act of closing the door, when another person appeared and hastily opened it again; then, elbowing aside Chamoureau, who was still standing on the mat, he entered the reception-room with the air of a master, and said abruptly:

"Is Thélénie here? I want to speak to her."

The agent raised his eyes to look at the person who had pushed him aside so unceremoniously. He scrutinized him with the greatest attention when he heard him ask for "Thélénie" simply, and not Madame de Sainte-Suzanne. Such familiarity was most offensive to Chamoureau, and when he saw that the man who indulged in it was fashionably dressed, he was more incensed than ever.

We will not draw the portrait of the newcomer, as we have already seen him at the Opéra, in the box of the lady whom he now asked to see. It was Monsieur Beauregard who had applied to the lady's maid, and she, suddenly become respectful, because he spoke to her in an arrogant tone, hastened to reply:

"Madame is not in, monsieur; she went out about an hour ago with her friend Mademoiselle Héloïse. I do not think that she will return to dinner."

Beauregard walked about the reception-room, then looked the maid in the eyes as he asked:

"Is it true that your mistress has gone out?"

"Yes, monsieur, it's the truth. But if monsieur wishes to go into the salon and madame's bedroom, he will see that I have not lied to him."

"No, it's all right; as she has gone out, I'll be off."

"Will monsieur give me any message for madame?"

"No, what I have to say to her cannot be said by anybody else. I will see her another time."

"If monsieur will tell me what day he will come, so that madame may wait for him----"

"It's not necessary. I do not know myself when I shall come again."

And the gentleman with the yellow complexion, turning toward the door, was about to leave the room, when he saw the business agent, who had remained standing, like a milestone, on the mat, and was scrutinizing him with an expression of mingled amazement and curiosity.

"Who's that?" Beauregard asked the maid, pointing to Chamoureau. And she replied with a smile:

"It's a gentleman who came to see madame."

Thereupon Beauregard examined more carefully the individual on the mat, and soon exclaimed:

"Ah! I recognize him; I know him now! He's the Spaniard of the Opéra ball, who kept pulling up his long boots. Exactly! yes! that's just who it is!"

Chamoureau overheard all this; but uncertain how to behave before that person who had been eying him for several moments in a most impertinent way, he decided to leave the mat and beat a retreat. He had already gone downstairs, and was leaving the house, boiling over with wrath, when the gentleman whom he had left on the second floor, and who had descended the stairs behind him, appeared at his side.

Our widower had a very great desire to know who the man was who entered Madame de Sainte-Suzanne's apartment so unceremoniously, and asked for her by her Christian name simply. When he saw him so near, he ventured to bow. Beauregard returned his salutation with an air of mockery, saying:

"Your servant, monsieur!"

"Monsieur, like myself, has just come from Madame de Sainte-Suzanne's, I believe?"

"Yes, monsieur, I have come from Thélénie's. The lady's name is Thélénie."

"It is her Christian name, then?"

"As you say, it is her Christian name; didn't you know it?"

"No, monsieur; but, having known Madame de Sainte-Suzanne only a very short time, that is not surprising."

"Why do you call her _de_ Sainte-Suzanne? She never had a sign of a _de_ before her name."

"Oh! I thought that she was of noble birth."

"You are very much mistaken. In fact, I don't think she is much of a _saint_ either! So she ought to be called plain Suzanne; but that isn't sonorous enough for her; so give her the _de_ if it gives you any pleasure. I have no objection!"

"Has monsieur known the lady a long while?"

"Oh! yes, monsieur, a very long while."

Chamoureau hesitated awhile, but at last decided to falter:

"And monsieur is--er--intimately acquainted with--er--Madame de--Madame Sainte--er--Madame Suzanne?"

Beauregard laughed heartily as he replied in the satirical tone habitual to him:

"Do you know, monsieur, that your question is just the least bit indiscreet?"

"I beg pardon, monsieur; if it offends you, I withdraw it. I asked it as I might have asked: 'Do you smoke?'"

"Oh! not at all, monsieur; and it's of no use for you to try to conceal your cunning beneath that affable air. You asked me that because you are in love with Thélénie, and because you are afraid of finding a rival in me! Is not that the truth?"

"Faith! monsieur, you are so good at guessing that I see that it would be useless to try to dissemble with you.--I confess that I consider that lady enchanting, adorable!"

"You made her acquaintance at the Opéra ball, at Mi-Carême, did you not?"

"Yes, that is so; I was disguised as a Spaniard."

"Oh! I know it; I saw you pass with Thélénie on your arm. But how in the devil did you go about it to induce her to accept your arm? that is what I can't comprehend."

"The lady herself offered to walk with me; she spoke to me first in the foyer, calling me by my name, which surprised me greatly as I had never seen her before."

"It is very strange; she certainly did not accost you without some reason."

"Why, the reason was that it gave her pleasure, presumably."

Beauregard laughed ironically as he rejoined:

"Oh, yes! it gave her pleasure; and there was another reason too, I'll wager! Did you go to the ball alone?"

"No, I went with two friends of mine--Freluchon and Edmond Didier."

"Edmond Didier! good! now we are on the track; I understand it all now."

"What! what track are you on?"

"I'll stake my head that Thélénie questioned you closely on the subject of Monsieur Edmond."

"Why, yes; she asked me very often whom he was with, if his mistress was pretty----"

"That's it; and she forbade you to mention her to those gentlemen?"

"Really, it is extraordinary how you guess everything, monsieur; how you read Madame Sainte-Suzanne's thoughts!"

"It's because I've known her a long while, as I told you just now! I have been in a position to study her character, her sentiments and her mind. You asked me if I were intimately acquainted with this lady--Well, my dear monsieur--I beg pardon, but I don't know your name."

"Chamoureau--Sigismond Chamoureau."

"Well, my dear Monsieur Sigismond Chamoureau, I will tell you that I was once, but that I have not been for a long time."

The agent's face brightened, and he cried:

"As you no longer are, it's just as if you had never been."

"It isn't altogether the same thing, but I congratulate you on being so philosophical."

"In that case, monsieur, you don't bear me a grudge for being in love with Madame Sainte-Suzanne, and I need no longer look upon you as a rival?"

"I, bear you a grudge! oh! not the least in the world! I should have had my hands very full if I had been the rival of all those whom that lady's fine eyes have bewitched!"

"She has fine eyes, hasn't she?"

"Magnificent; and they have made many victims!"