Part 17

"Ah! you are as amiable as ever! you doubt your little brother's probity!"

"Because I know what you are capable of!"

"You know--or you don't know; that's a question. I don't say that I won't put you in a way to solve it some day; that will depend on the way you behave toward Bibi!"

"What do you mean? Is that a threat?"

"Oh, no! I never threaten. Come, come! a fellow laughs and jests a bit, and you flare up right away! I should have supposed that wealth would make people more amiable."

"Wealth! why, I have no wealth; I have enough to live on and no more."

"Oh! I expected that; you haven't got any money, and you live in a magnificent apartment, you have splendid furniture and servants at your beck and call, you're dressed like a stage princess."

"What does all that prove? You know well enough that in Paris a person can make a great show without being rich; that sometimes all this display serves simply to cover up debts and straitened circumstances."

"Yes, yes; and another thing I know is that this is no furnished lodging house, and, that being so, you have your own furniture; that everything I see is yours; and look--with nothing but that clock and those candelabra on the mantelpiece, I could get enough to fit myself out new and go on a good long spree."

Thélénie contracted her black eyebrows and made an impatient gesture.

"Come," she cried, "tell me what you want of me? Why have you come here?"

Monsieur Croque lounged easily on the couch and replied, smoothing his beard:

"Oh! you have a shrewd idea, little sister; I won't insult you by thinking that you haven't guessed. After all, isn't it perfectly natural? Your brother is unlucky, he hasn't a sou, he's wretchedly dressed, as you justly observed just now, and it's hard on one's self-esteem to go out in the street like this! But this brother has a sister who is in very happy, fortunate circumstances. I don't say she's a millionaire; dear me, no! that would be too grand! but she has enough to dress very stylishly. Well, then; she can't let her brother go in rags. Of course not! that wouldn't be decent! And so this brother goes to see his sister and says to her: 'You've got money, and I haven't; give me some of what you have; I won't give you any of what I have because I have nothing, but I'll bear your image in my heart.'--How's that? do you get my meaning now?"

"Oh, yes! I knew well enough that it was money you wanted."

"If you knew it, what made you ask me what I came here for? You wanted to make me laugh a bit, you rogue!"

"It was money that you came for five years ago, and then you were to obtain employment, to reform and behave yourself."

"Bah! my dear love, are we able to direct events to suit our pleasure? Certain things happened which disarranged the course I had marked out for myself--that's the whole story."

"Nine years and a half, almost ten years ago, I found a suitable place for you; how did you lose it?"

"Oh! you mean the place of secretary to Monsieur Duronceray?"

"It was a pleasant place; you wrote very well, and that was all that was necessary; you had very little to do and a salary of fifteen hundred francs."

"Magnificent!--I aimed higher, I was ambitious."

"And to gratify your passions, you dared to rob----"

"Enough! enough! that affair happened a long while ago, and it's no use to talk about it now; besides, I have something to remind me of it that will never disappear, I'm afraid!"

As he said this, Thélénie's brother put his hand to his left cheek, where the scar was; then he continued:

"However, then as now, nobody knew I was your brother; you had recommended me to that gentleman as a protégé of yours."

"Thank heaven!"

"By the way, what has become of that Monsieur Duronceray?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you never see him now?"

"No, not for a long time."

"Do you know whether he's in Paris at present?"

"I tell you that I know absolutely nothing about him. Why do you ask me all these questions?"

"Oh! because I am not at all anxious to meet that gentleman--although he probably wouldn't recognize me, misfortune has changed my features so! But he had a certain animal that might recognize me.--Ah! that infernal dog!"

And again Monsieur Croque put his hand to his left cheek.

"The villain! if ever I get a chance to settle his hash! But perhaps he's dead! I should like it as well if he was dead. Ever since then I've had a horror of dogs.--But never mind all that; the present business is to provide for the little brother; that's the most urgent thing; do you understand, little sister?"

The beautiful brunette was silent for some time; at last she muttered:

"To be economical, to take the pains to save enough to live on, by depriving oneself, and then to have that money squandered by lazy vagabonds, by people who do not know what decent behavior is--do you know that that is decidedly unpleasant?"

Monsieur Croque swayed to and fro on his couch, singing between his teeth:

"When one knows how to love and please, What else need one desire?"

"A man says to himself when he has a relation with some little means: 'I don't need to work; I'm a great fool to bother my head about the future; when I am out of funds, I'll go to see my sister, I'll appear before her, covered with dirt and dressed in rags, with a long beard--in fact, in a state to arouse compassion; and then I'll tell her that I've been unfortunate, through no fault of my own, and that she must come to my aid.'--That's about what you said to yourself, isn't it?--But suppose this sister should get tired of always coming to the aid of a man whom she has tried more than once to lead back to a decent mode of life; suppose she should say to him: 'I don't propose to have my savings wasted by you again; I won't give you anything!'"

Croque rose and, walking toward Thélénie with a threatening air, cried as loud as his hoarse, rough voice permitted:

"If you should do that, Titine, why, I would go through your apartment, through the hall, and through the courtyard, shouting at the top of my voice that you are my sister; everybody should know it: the neighbors, your concierge, your servants----"

"Enough, Croque, enough! not so loud!"

"I would add that I haven't anything to eat, and that you refuse me a piece of bread."

"Hush! hush, I say!"

"And I would follow you through the streets, and say to everybody: 'Do you see that beautiful lady covered with silk and velvet; the one who has jewels on her neck, ears, arms, everywhere? Well, that's my sister, and she lets me go barefoot!'"

"Once more, monsieur, hush! and tell me what you need, how much you want."

"Good! well said! Now we are getting to be agreeable again; and that's the way I love you; for I do love you, I feel that nature appeals to me in your behalf, and that the same blood flows in our veins. Would you like to embrace me?"

Thélénie hastily drew back and repeated her question:

"Tell me how much you need?"

"Bless my soul! my dear love, in my present plight, you understand, I need everything; I must get an entire new outfit, and then I must have time to find lucrative employment. I have several things in view, however; but still you wouldn't want me to be obliged to come back in a fortnight and tell you that I have nothing left."

"No, indeed! I want you to promise to leave me in peace hereafter."

"Well then, I won't beat about the bush, but I'll tell you at once that you must part with a thousand-franc note! because with that I shall have plenty of time to turn round and start an industrial enterprise, in shares,--with or without a premium; I haven't decided yet; that will depend."

Thélénie put her hand to her forehead; but at last she made up her mind, opened her desk and then the drawer which she used as a cash-box. She took out a thousand-franc note, saying to her brother:

"This is the only one, monsieur; you may look and satisfy yourself."

But Croque rejoined with a smile:

"When a woman is as pretty as you are, my dear love, you shouldn't worry; when you have no money, there's plenty more to come."

"Here--take this, and forget me from this moment."

"Thanks a thousand times, beloved sister! If you should ever need me for--no matter what--I am game for anything; remember that I am devoted to you, and that I shall be very glad to do you a favor in my turn."

As he spoke, the fellow took the bank-note and bestowed it with care in a pocket of his coat, then picked up his hat, opened the door and went out.

Thélénie followed him, keeping her eye upon him; but, in the maid's presence, he assumed a respectful demeanor, bowed to the floor, and said to his sister:

"Accept once more, madame, the assurance of my profound respect and gratitude."

"At last he has gone!" said Thélénie to herself when the door had closed upon her brother. "The wretch!--But he will come again before long! It will be useless for me to change my residence, he will always succeed in finding me. What can I do to throw him off my track?--Luckily no one knows that he is my brother!"

"No one but me!" muttered Héloïse, who, with her ear glued to the door, had listened to what was said in the bedroom.

XVIII

A SPEAKING HEART

Honorine and Agathe returned from the notary's well content and very happy. The pretty house at Chelles had become their property. They were at liberty to make plans for the future without fear of being unable to realize them.

"Now that the house is ours," said Madame Dalmont to her young friend, "we must go there again to-morrow, to inspect it more carefully, from top to bottom. I will examine the furniture and see what part of it I can keep and what I must bring from Paris."

"Yes, my dear."

"Then we will come back here; I will sell all I do not need to keep, and we will pack up, leave Paris for good, and settle down in our own home. Oh! how lovely it is to be able to speak of _home_! I can understand already the love of the soil."

"Yes; we can arrange and disarrange our furniture without fear that we shall be found fault with.--By the way, my dear, I fancy that, but for that young man, Monsieur Edmond Didier, the transaction wouldn't have been concluded so quickly."

"I agree with you; especially as that Monsieur Chamoureau, the agent, doesn't seem to listen to anything one says to him. I am very glad to have done with him. However, his charges are not high; he refused to accept any fee, saying: 'We will let it go in with something else.' But as I have no desire to employ him for anything else, I paid him.--Besides, one doesn't buy a house every day."

"He certainly didn't exert himself very much about this affair; Monsieur Edmond was the one who did everything; it was very lucky that he happened to be at Monsieur Chamoureau's the last time we went there; and it was very funny that he should have put himself out as he did, on the instant, to be useful to us; for he didn't know us, he had never seen us.--Had you ever seen him before, dear?"

"No indeed! Where do you suppose I could have seen him? Don't you go everywhere with me?"

"Yes, of course; and I should have seen him too. Everybody isn't as obliging as he is; for he threw over his own engagements; he was to go to the Bois de Boulogne, and he dropped everything to be of service to us."

"That proves that he is very polite."

"It does, indeed; don't you consider it rather extraordinary, Honorine?"

"Why, no; God be praised! there are still some men who take pleasure in rendering a service to ladies! They are becoming rather scarce, especially since men think of nothing but smoking; for courtesy and tobacco do not go well together! but still, you see that one sometimes meets such a man."

"And perhaps Monsieur Edmond doesn't smoke."

"Come, let's make a list of the furniture that I care most for and that I intend to take into the country. I will call it off, while you write, Agathe."

"Yes, my dear."

Mademoiselle Agathe procured writing materials, but she did not choose to drop the previous subject of conversation.

"Honorine, that gentleman is musical."

"What gentleman?"

"Monsieur Edmond Didier."

"Indeed! do you think so?"

"I am sure of it. Why, don't you remember that he told us that he sang?"

"No, I didn't notice."

"Yes, yes, he sings; I feel confident that he has a nice voice."

"What makes you think that, pray?"

"Why, because--because he has a very sweet speaking voice."

"That is no reason; there are people whose speaking voices are very harsh, but who sing very pleasantly."

"Oh, yes! but when one's voice is sweet to begin with----"

"Come, write; are you ready?"

"To be sure."

"First of all, this little mahogany cradle--the one my poor little boy slept in. Ah! I shall never part with this cradle!--Next, the little desk, with drawers, downstairs; I shall keep that, too."

"And the piano, dear; we mustn't forget the piano."

"That goes without saying; for we shall not find one there."

"And we will play a great deal, for music must be even more agreeable in the country than in Paris."

"Why so?"

"Because, in the first place, we can hear each other better."

"This old easy-chair--what they call a _ganache_; it's very convenient when one isn't feeling very well; you can sleep very comfortably in it."

"We will carry all the music. What do you think about buying some new songs, Honorine?"

"We have quite enough."

"But we haven't the new ones."

"This somno, which can be used as a table if necessary."

"To be sure, we don't know what the prettiest ones are."

"And my whole library--all my books! One never has too many of them!"

"But then Monsieur Edmond can tell us, as he is coming to see us. Oh! you did well to ask him to Chelles; for it wouldn't have been polite not to invite him after all the trouble he took for us."

"I did what courtesy required. Now, the young man may come or may not; we need not worry about that."

"Oh! he will come, my dear; I am very sure that he will come."

"Why are you so sure of it, pray? what makes you think so?"

"Why--because he looked so happy when you invited him to come; his eyes expressed such pleasure!"

"Very well! if he comes, we will receive him.--Have you put down my library?"

"Yes, it's all down. He has a very courteous manner."

"My _étagère_."

"And very _comme il faut_!"

"The small dining-table; we may need it."

"He expresses himself very well."

"And this desk, this blotting-pad."

"How old should you say he was?"

"My blotting-pad?"

"Why, no; Monsieur Edmond Didier."

Madame Dalmont's expression was almost stern as she said:

"My dear girl, don't you propose to think of anything but Monsieur Edmond?"

"I! Why do you ask me that?"

"Because ever since we came back from the notary's, I suppose you are not conscious of it, but you have talked of nothing but him; you are thinking of him all the time."

Agathe blushed to the whites of her eyes and stammered:

"Mon Dieu! if I have talked about that young man, it is only because he was so obliging to--you, that it seemed to me quite natural to be grateful to him. But if it displeases you, that is enough; I won't mention him again."

"Let us not exaggerate things, my dear love; the thing that might displease me would be to see you thinking too much of a person whom we hardly know; who showed himself most willing to be of service to us, it is true; but who is none the less a stranger to us."

"A stranger! why he told us all about his family and his means, and what he did."

"Yes, that is true; and I noticed that the first use he made of the sixty thousand francs left him by an uncle, was to leave his place."

"Because he does business on the Bourse now."

"It would have been much wiser of him to keep the place he had.--But after all, my dear girl, this doesn't concern us. In my judgment, we have had quite enough to say about this gentleman, and I ask you now whether you will or will not help me to prepare an inventory of the furniture I propose to keep?"

"Am I not writing what you tell me to? I am waiting for you to dictate to me. I won't say another word."

Mademoiselle Agathe had assumed a little pout which made Honorine smile.

They went on with the inventory without a word on any other subject; and during the rest of the day Edmond's name was not mentioned; but it was easy to see that Agathe checked herself sometimes as she was on the point of speaking, probably because it was about him.

Early the next morning the two friends went to the station where they took the train for Chelles. It was not a long journey, but they had plenty of time to talk. It was not difficult to discover that the girl was burning to talk about Edmond, but she dared not; and Honorine, who could easily read the thoughts of her whom she had almost reared, made a point of avoiding everything that might lead the conversation to the young man who had been so obliging to them.

But at sixteen years, a girl has much difficulty in concealing what she feels, in holding back what she is burning to say. She has not yet acquired that habit of dissimulation which is the result of experience and of familiarity with the world.

Agathe, consumed with the longing to recur to her favorite subject, said abruptly to her companion:

"Do you know, my dear, I believe that I have guessed why Monsieur Edmond Didier suddenly showed so much zeal in making himself useful to us?"

"Ah! you have guessed why it was? Well, what motives impelled him, do you think?"

"Why, I think that it was probably because he had fallen in love with you."

Madame Dalmont turned toward the girl and looked her straight in the eye.

"Agathe," she said, "you don't mean a word of what you are saying; and it is not kind to lie to your friend in the hope of concealing your real thought from her. Instead of that, why not tell her frankly--what I noticed clearly enough, by the way--that that young man looked at you a great deal, that his expression seemed to imply that he thought you pretty, and that you were flattered by it; indeed that it turned your head a little, so that you have thought of nothing but Monsieur Edmond from that moment? Come, don't tell me any more falsehoods--have I not guessed right?"

Agathe quickly hung her head and took her protectress's hand in hers; and tears began to fall from her eyes. Honorine saw the tears and kissed the girl affectionately, saying:

"Come, this is all mere childishness, let's say no more about it. You will readily understand that a young man may show great alacrity in obliging a person who is most attractive, and the next day forget that person entirely, because he meets others who fascinate him no less; that happens every day; and the young person in question would be very foolish to burden her mind with something which is of no consequence whatever. But my little Agathe must never again conceal her real thoughts from her friend by pretending to have other thoughts.--Now let us think of nothing but the pleasure we are going to have in the country; and here we are at Chelles already!"

As they were now familiar with the road, they went at once to the village and to Père Ledrux's.

"My word! I was looking for you," he cried when he saw them, "and it's well for you that you've come. There's been lots of people to see the house, everybody wants to buy it; but as I promised you, I haven't shown it to anybody. I told 'em all sorts of fibs: that it was almost sold, and this and that; I even refused a good pourboire from a man who wanted to go over the house; but, I says to myself: 'Those ladies will make up to me for it.'"

"Hereafter, Monsieur Ledrux, you will not lie when you say that the house is sold, for the transaction is completed; the house is ours, and here is a letter from Monsieur Courtivaux, informing you of the fact and authorizing you to give us the keys; read it."

"Oho! so it's all fixed, is it? Well, my word! I'm mighty glad to hear it! it makes me feel good. So you've bought it, have you?"

"And paid cash, without even waiting for the mortgages to be discharged; the notary assured me that I needn't worry about that. But read the letter."

"Oh! it ain't worth while; I'll trust you. Still, I may as well read it; it don't cost any more. Yes, yes--that's what it says: 'You will hand the keys to Madame Dalmont, the new owner.'--And you're Madame Dalmont, are you?"

"To be sure."

"Then I'll go and get you the keys right away."

"And if you haven't time to come with us this morning, Père Ledrux, we know the way now, and we can go alone."

"Oh! yes, I can go with you all right; I've nothing pressing to do, and then, now that the thing's settled and the house is yours, I might as well take the rabbits right away; then you'll be rid of 'em. Tutu--tuturlututu."

They soon reached the house they had bought, and already they viewed it with more pleasure than before.

While the gardener went to take a look at the rabbits and hens, the two young women entered the house, went through all the rooms, opened the shutters, looked out of the windows, and began to discuss where they would place the furniture they were to bring from Paris.

Then Agathe ran into the garden; she examined it more carefully than before; she called the gardener and made him tell her the name of each tree and each flower; then she went back to Honorine.

"My dear," she said, "we have peaches, apricots, plums, cherries, grapes and gooseberries."

"Yes, yes," said Père Ledrux, "you have 'em when they grow, and they grow when they're well taken care of, well kept, well trimmed. Bless me! a garden requires care. You'll have string beans too if you plant 'em, and now's the time, just the right time to plant, if you want radishes--to tone up the salad--and artichokes."

"Very well; you must plant them, Père Ledrux. You can tell us what we must buy at Paris and we'll bring you the seeds."

"That ain't worth while; I've got all those things at home or right in the neighborhood; I'll supply you with what you want, and they'll be better than you'd get in Paris; because we fellows, you understand, know more about such things than you do; it's our business. Have you come to-day for good?"

"No, not yet; we have many things to do in Paris."

"When are you coming?"

"I hope that in a week, at the latest, we shall arrive, with such furniture as we shall bring from Paris."

"You're going to bring furniture, when it's here already?"

"That makes no difference."

"The devil! the house will be well furnished, in that case."

"But the mere having furniture isn't everything; we need something else that we can't do without; for the house is quite large."

"What is it?"

"A maid, a servant to keep our house clean and to cook for us."

"Ah! you want a maid who can cook?"

"Who can do everything, if possible."

"Do you want a first-class cook, like Madame Droguet's, who's a--a blue ribbon, so they say, and makes _soufflés_ and omelettes as big as balloons?"

"No, no, Père Ledrux, we don't ask for such talent as that; just find us a smart young girl, who likes to work and can sew a little. As for the rest, I will teach her what she doesn't know; with the desire to learn, one soon learns whatever one chooses. Let her be honest and virtuous--those are the principal points."

"Well--wait--I believe Poucette would just suit you."

"Who is Poucette?"

"She's Poucet's daughter, who used to work in the quarry and was killed in a cave-in three years ago; her mother died the year before, so the girl lives with her uncle, who's a farmer; but he has children enough of his own, and Poucette would be very glad to get a place."

"Very well; if she's a good girl, I will take her."

"As for being good, I'll answer for that; but when it comes to knowing how to cook, I won't answer for her."

"That makes no difference, I tell you; she will learn. How old is she?"

"Well! she might be about eighteen; but she's strong and solid; she'd make two of you."