Part 19

"There are only two of us, my young friend here and myself; so that you will have only us to wait upon, and you will not have very severe mistresses to get along with. Tell me if you think that it will suit you to live with us. We have just seen your aunt, who thinks that you will do well to accept; but she leaves you entirely free to refuse the place if it does not please you."

"And you'll have your board and lodging and washing and they'll give you ten francs a month besides; that's not bad, eh?" said Père Ledrux.

Poucette's face became radiant.

"Oh! certainly the place does suit me!" she cried; "and I don't ask anything better than to take it. In the first place it'll be a relief to my uncle and aunt, who have to support me now; but if I earn money, I can help them in my turn, and that will make me very happy."

"I see that you are an excellent girl, my child; and if, as I hope, you serve me faithfully, I promise to increase your wages later."

"You are very kind, madame; I'll do my best. But, you see, I don't know many things, and if I've got to cook, I'm afraid I am not very clever."

"If you are willing, that is enough; I will show you, and you will soon learn."

"As for the will, madame will see that I have plenty of that."

"Well, then, it's a bargain. You accept, do you not? I may rely on you?"

"Certainly, madame, with great thankfulness!"

At that moment they heard a plaintive sort of groan soon followed by sobs. It was the little girl with the head like a hedgehog, crying like a baby.

"Dear, dear! what's the matter, Claudine?" inquired Poucette, turning toward the child, who replied between her sobs:

"You're going to go away from our house, and I shan't see you any more! I don't want Poucette to go away, I don't!"

This outburst of artless, sincere grief moved the two friends, who tried to pacify the little peasant by saying to her:

"Why, my child, you will still see Poucette; she isn't going to leave Chelles, for we are coming here to live. You can come to see her whenever you have time; we shall never prevent you; on the contrary, we shall be very glad when you come."

"Do you hear, Claudine? these ladies will let you come to see me, and you can help me when I clear up the garden!"

"The garden! oh! that's my business," muttered Ledrux; "you won't have anything to do with taking care of that; you don't know anything about it; a fine mess you'd make of it!"

The little girl looked at the two ladies and sighed. Agathe unfastened a velvet ribbon that she wore about her neck and placed it about the girl's, saying:

"See, this is to console you a little."

Instantly the child smiled through her tears and cried:

"Oh! look, Poucette! the lovely ribbon! see how pretty it is!"

"Yes, you see that these ladies are very kind to you already!"

"Pardi! if you give 'em gewgaws and finery," said the gardener, "you'll soon make friends with 'em."

"So much the better, Père Ledrux; that is what we want. I am sure that this child cares more for the bit of ribbon than for rabbits."

"Am I to go with you right away, madame?" said Poucette, dropping her spade.

"No, my child, not yet; we are going back to Paris for a few days. But when we return to Chelles for good, you must come to us at once."

"Shall you return soon, madame?"

"As soon as possible; I think that in a week we shall have done all that we have to do in Paris. But meanwhile I will give you your earnest money."

Honorine had taken from her pocket a dainty purse, and was about to open it, when an enormous dog suddenly appeared in the middle of the field and bounded toward Poucette, glancing with a most impertinent expression at all the other persons present.

"Look out! look out! that's the dog from the Tower!" cried Père Ledrux, retreating several steps.

"Yes, it's Ami," said Poucette; "oh! I ain't afraid of him, nor Claudine either; he knows us well and he ain't a bit ugly! Don't be afraid, mesdames, he won't hurt you."

The two friends gazed curiously at the dog, of whom they had already heard. Ami was of the Newfoundland breed, but seemed to have a trace of shepherd blood. His eyes indicated a degree of intelligence which many people deny to the Newfoundland, which, they claim, is good for nothing but to fish up a drowned man or save people from falling over a precipice, which, in our judgment, would be a sufficient proof of intelligence.--But in addition to these qualities, the dog from the Tower possessed all those of all other breeds; moreover, nature seemed to have endowed him with the gift of divination; for he would divine a given person's sentiments for his master, and his instinct never deceived him. He knew better than his master himself who were his friends and who his enemies. That extraordinary perspicacity--of which men are rarely possessed--proved that prodigies of intelligence may be found among dogs of the Newfoundland breed.

Generally speaking, there is no rule without an exception. Some people claim that men with low foreheads are deficient in wits, while a high forehead is the appanage of genius. We have known some very intellectual low foreheads, and some high ones behind which there was nothing but dense stupidity.

Ami was white, except for a few brown spots on his back, and one on top of his head. His tail ended in a large plume; his muzzle was broad, his ears of medium size, and his black eyes gleamed with extraordinary fire; they seemed to long to speak. He understood perfectly whatever was said to him and did whatever his master ordered, much better than most servants. Such was the dog that suddenly appeared in Guillot's field.

His appearance was so unexpected that Madame Dalmont, who was opening her purse at the moment, was unable to restrain a movement of alarm, and in that movement she dropped a two-franc piece from her purse. She had not discovered the loss when Ami picked the coin up with his teeth and placed it at her feet, as if to say:

"Take your money, which I have picked up for you."

"Oh! the beautiful dog!" cried Agathe; "see, dear, he picks up the coin you dropped and returns it to you!"

"That's so, on my word!" said Ledrux. "I tell you, everybody wouldn't be as honest as he is! But, I say, as the dog's here, the master can't be far off."

"No, no, Monsieur Paul isn't far away," said Poucette; "I see him coming over there toward the mill."

"The owner of the Tower? Oh! where is he? show him to us!" cried the two friends almost at once.

"I don't see but what you're almost as curious as Madame Droguet!" chuckled the gardener. "But never you fear; you'll see my gentleman, and near to at that, for he'll certainly pass here on his way home."

"Do you think he will pass by here?"

"Yes, madame," said Poucette; "Monsieur Paul is going across the bridge and home by way of Gournay. If he wasn't coming this way, his dog would have left us before this, sure."

The two friends looked toward the mill and saw a man wearing a cap with a long vizor and dressed in hunting costume, with a gun over his shoulder, walking rapidly along the bank of the river.

"I thought that hunting was prohibited now," said Honorine.

"Yes, madame," said Poucette; "but he don't hunt; he carries his gun as he would a cane. Nobody says anything to him for that, because he's well known all about here now, and everybody knows he ain't a poacher."

"He don't always carry his gun," said little Claudine. "Day before yesterday I met him by the Maison Rouge, and he didn't have anything in his hand but a stick."

"He's coming nearer; you can see his face now."

"None too well," said Agathe; "for my part, my dear, I can see nothing but his beard. Great heaven! what a beard! it's enough to frighten one!"

"Ami, there's your master; go after him.--Why, that's funny! he don't pay any attention to me; he seems to be all taken up with mamzelle!"

Ami, in fact, kept his eyes fixed on Agathe; he walked all about her as if to examine her on all sides, then returned to his place in front of her and gazed at her anew.

"Good dog! I have a good mind to pat you!" said Agathe; "for it seems as if you were inviting me to, and as if you would like it; but I don't quite dare to risk it, I might mistake your intentions."

"Oh! there's no danger, mamzelle," said Poucette; "it's plain enough that you've won Ami's heart! If he didn't like you, he'd growl so that you couldn't make a mistake; you can tell right away when he's in a bad humor.--Why, look! he's rubbing his head against you now! that's funny; I never saw him so friendly with anyone!"

"Perhaps mamzelle has something to eat about her," said the gardener slyly.

"No, Père Ledrux, I have nothing about me!" retorted Agathe; "and you slander this dog by suggesting that gluttony has anything to do with the friendly feeling he shows me.--Come, Ami, come; let me pat you; I am very glad to have made your acquaintance, for hereafter I shall know that I needn't be afraid of you."

As she spoke the girl patted the dog, who made no objection and wagged his tail in token of satisfaction.

Meanwhile his master approached, walking very fast and looking straight before him. But when he arrived at Guillot's field, he glanced aside and saw his dog surrounded by five persons; whereupon he immediately called him in a loud voice:

"Here, Ami, here! come at once!"

The noble beast, obedient to his master's voice, turned his back on the little group; but as he trotted away he turned several times and looked back at Agathe.

His master had reached the bridge and was almost across, when the dog stopped in the middle, turned toward Agathe and began to bark loudly, as if to send her a last adieu.

"That's funny! that's funny!" exclaimed Poucette; "that the dog from the Tower should take such a liking to mamzelle right off."

"Dear me! we shall miss the train!" said Honorine; "it goes at four o'clock; doesn't it, Père Ledrux?"

"Yes, madame, but it ain't that yet."

"But we have to go back to the station, and it's some distance. Here, my child, take these three francs; it's your earnest money."

"Oh! madame is too kind! Look, Claudine, she gave me three francs!"

Little Claudine was engrossed by the velvet ribbon that had been placed about her neck.

"Now let us go, Agathe.--Good-bye, Poucette; we shall see you soon."

"I will be ready when madame comes."

"Very good; au revoir."

"Good-bye, Claudine."

The little hedgehog-headed one smiled, but could not find a word to say in reply; her ribbon absorbed all her faculties.

The two friends hurried off to the station; and as the gardener left them he said:

"Now it's all settled, I may as well take the rabbits away; that will relieve you just so much."

"Yes, yes, Père Ledrux, take the rabbits."

"As for the hens--why, you can see about them later."

"I have already said that we would keep the hens."

"I know; but if you should ever change your mind--however, it will be time enough then."

Honorine and Agathe took the train, the former still thinking of the savage aspect of the owner of the Tower; the other recalling with pleasure Ami's caresses.

XXI

AN ASSIGNATION IN A COUPÉ

After an absence of several days, Freluchon returned home one morning.

He came from Rouen alone, having left the young Pompadour there, making eyes at the _jeune premier_ of the Grand Theatre; as Freluchon was beginning to weary of his conquest and was on the lookout for an opportunity to break with her, he did not fail to seize that one. After a tremendous outburst of jealousy, on leaving the theatre where the _jeune premier_ had made a great hit in _An Odd Bet_, a vaudeville from the _Variétés_, Freluchon had abandoned his faithless fair and taken the train for Paris.

When he entered the courtyard of his house, he cried:

"How dear to every noble heart one's native land! With rapture I once more behold this blest abode!"

His concierge interrupted him in the middle of his declamation to say:

"Monsieur, your friend Monsieur Edmond Didier has been here almost every day to ask for you."

"Indeed! dear Edmond! Is he in such haste to see me?"

"And then another one of your friends, Monsieur Chamoureau, whose clothes you have kept since Mi-Carême, and who is very angry with you. He often comes twice a day to know if you have returned."

"What's that? Chamoureau angry! Oh, well! he'll calm down! Why, one would think he hadn't any other clothes to put on--a man with a real estate office!--Poor Chamoureau! I would have liked to find him still dressed as a Spaniard; I should have enjoyed that! But, to console him, I'll give him a stick of sugar-candy that I brought from Rouen, where they cost more than they do in Paris; to be sure, they're made in Rouen."

Freluchon had not been at home an hour, when his doorbell rang violently; he went to open the door, saying to himself:

"That's Chamoureau, I'll bet; if he's still out of temper I'll talk to him about Eléonore and make him weep."

But it was not the business agent, it was Edmond who entered his friend's apartment.

"Well, you have returned at last!" he said; "that's fortunate! I have been longing for you; I wanted to see you!"

Freluchon planted himself in front of Edmond, who had thrown himself on a couch, and gazed at him with a look of amazement, as he replied:

"This eager desire to see me flatters as much as it surprises me! not that I doubt your friendship, but between young men friendship never goes so far as ennui because of absence; we have too much to distract our thoughts. Something has gone wrong in your love-affairs. Amélia has indulged in some new escapade!"

"As if Amélia had anything to do with it! I haven't seen her for a week."

"Have you had a row?"

"Oh, no! I think no more about her than if I had never known her."

"Ah! that is better, and I congratulate you. But if you have ceased to think of her, I'll stake Chamoureau's coat against twenty-five sous that it's because you are thinking of somebody else!"

"Yes, yes! I am thinking of somebody else! but this time--Ah! Freluchon, this is no mere caprice, no amourette; it isn't one of those passions to which desire alone gives birth; ah, no! I feel that I am truly in love, in love for the first time; and this love bears no resemblance to the others! If you knew how it changes one, how timid, humble, respectful one becomes! how little it takes to make one happy! how a trifle causes one to feel the keenest, sweetest sensation! But I can't make you understand all that; no, it's impossible. To form a conception of love, you must be in love yourself; without that, you cannot comprehend the happiness and the torments it causes."

"Sapristi! here's a kettle of fish! What, can it be you, Edmond, that fickle, heedless youth, who have got caught in this fashion! And who is the lady with the camellias, or with the white carnations, who----"

"Ah! Freluchon, you are all wrong; there is no question here of one of those great coquettes or of those fashionable courtesans who take delight in making numerous conquests and to whom all men do homage. No, it is not a woman of the world--_monde_--or of the demi-monde; it is a carefully reared, virtuous girl, and pretty--ah! as pretty as the most beautiful of the angels!"

"Oho! that makes a difference! Where did you find this jewel?"

"At Chamoureau's."

"What! Chamoureau has documents of that sort in his office, and has never shown them to me! that surprises me very much."

"For heaven's sake, Freluchon, stop your joking a minute, and listen to me!"

"Speak; I am like a mute of the harem."

Edmond told his friend how he had made Agathe's acquaintance and by what means he had been able to make himself useful to Madame Dalmont. Freluchon listened attentively and without interrupting him; when the lovelorn youth had finished, he said:

"Well, it's all up with you, I understand that. This young lady is charming, I have no doubt; she possesses all the talents, all the virtues; I am convinced of that. But what do you expect to do now?"

"I haven't any idea, and that is why I was consumed with anxiety to see you. In the first place, I felt that I must talk about my love, relieve my heart; for it was suffocating me. Then I wanted to ask your advice."

"I'll give you some advice that I'll bet you won't follow."

"Why not? Speak."

"As the girl in question is respectable and virtuous, of course you do not expect to make her your mistress?"

"Oh! perish the thought! it has never once come into my mind."

"In that case, my dear fellow, as it would be rank madness for you to think of marrying before you have some position in the world, a fortune, or at the very least some employment which will take the place of a fortune, you must cease to think of the young lady, and you must never see her again."

"Not think of her! not see her! Ah! tell me rather to cease to live!"

"You see that I was right when I said that you wouldn't follow my advice. It was hardly worth while to ask me for it."

"It would be madness, you say, for me to think of marrying.--No, it would not be madness, if I had a fortune or at least a suitable position to offer that fascinating girl; for I should be so happy with her! But, as you have too well said, I have neither! That sixty thousand francs that my uncle left me, I have spent more than half of now, in amusing myself; and what I have left isn't enough to justify me in offering myself as a husband to any woman."

"That depends. Is your young woman rich?"

"No; at least, I think not. The two ladies are going into the country in order to live economically; and the charming Agathe, who is an orphan, has no friend or protector but this Madame Dalmont, who is a widow of very modest means."

"Forget this young woman, my friend; forget her at once; that is the best thing that you can possibly do."

"No, I cannot, I will not forget her!"

"Sapristi! then don't ask me for advice!"

"My friend, when I have given those ladies time to get settled in their country house, I shall go to Chelles, and I shall call on them; they have invited me to do so."

"Do what you please."

"You will come with me."

"What for? Do you mean to present me to them? But suppose I should fall in love with your damsel?"

"No, I shall not present you. I am not intimate enough with them yet to take the liberty to introduce anyone; but you will wait for me somewhere in the neighborhood, we will pass a few days there----"

"Ah! what a captivating plan! That is to say, you propose to keep me on a strict diet, while you utter heart-rending sighs!--No, thanks!"

"If you refuse, I will take Chamoureau. Poor Chamoureau! he will understand my torments, for he too is in love."

"Really! There seems to be an epidemic of it just now."

"But by the way--I haven't told you.--Gad! it's a most amusing thing! You would never guess whom he's in love with."

"His concierge?"

"No; but that magnificent conquest he made at the Opéra ball, and refused to open his mouth about."

"I remember his mysterious air, his reticence, his hints when we talked about his charmer."

"Well, that charmer is Thélénie, the superb, the brilliant Sainte-Suzanne!"

"The deuce! your ex-mistress?"

"The same."

"And you say that Chamoureau has made the conquest of that elegant creature, who adored you, who continued to run after you?"

"And who runs after me still, alas!"

"Then Chamoureau is an idiot. The woman probably wanted to talk with him because she knew that he knew you, and because she hoped to obtain from him information concerning your conduct. That is not hard to guess."

"I believe that you are right, especially as she expressly forbade him to mention her name to us. He seems, however, to have little success in his amours; he is constantly groaning and complaining. The poor fellow is really in love with Thélénie, who treats him, he says, with extreme cruelty."

"I am glad of it; that will teach him to stop lamenting Eléonore! The beautiful brunette is making a fool of him, there's no doubt about that; and you say she is still running after you?"

"Mon Dieu! yes; and I avoid her. See, here's a letter that was handed me just now when I left the house; it's from her, I know, I am familiar enough with her writing, but I haven't even broken the seal. What's the use? I'll just throw it into the fire."

And Edmond was on the point of tossing into the flames a letter that he took from his pocket, when Freluchon caught his arm.

"What! you propose to destroy this missive without finding out what is inside?"

"My dear fellow, I know beforehand what is inside: reproaches, complaints, followed by entreaties and burning words! And all this to lead up to the statement that she expects me to call because she absolutely must speak to me."

"She must have a very impassioned style, that woman. Will you let me read her letter?"

"You are at liberty to do so, if you care to."

"It won't annoy you?"

"How foolish you are! Thélénie is not a married woman, so that one is obliged to respect her secrets; furthermore, she makes no mystery of her sentiments toward me."

"Oh, no, indeed! the only mystery she makes is in the matter of her feeling for Chamoureau. Let's see your Ariadne's epistle."

Freluchon broke the seal of the letter and read:

"Ungrateful Edmond:

"Do you mean to kill me with grief? have you no pity for my suffering? is there no longer in your heart a single spark of that fire which you once swore burned there for me?

"I cannot believe it; I love you too dearly to be forgotten thus! You have ceased to see that flower-maker, Amélia, I know; you could not love such a woman long. I forgive you that whim, I promise, I swear to you that I will never mention it. Let the past be nothing more than a dream.

"Come back, dear Edmond, come back to her who cannot exist apart from you, and to whom you have made known a sentiment that will end only with her life.

"This evening, at nine o'clock, I shall drive in a coupé on the Champs-Elysées. My carriage will stop in front of the Jardin d'Hiver, on the other side of the road. Open your left hand twice to my coachman, and he will open the door.

"You will come; I insist--no, but I entreat you.

"THÉLÉNIE."

"Well," said Edmond, "did I not guess right: reproaches, entreaties, oceans of love, and a rendezvous?"

"To which you will not go?"

"Most assuredly not; for I should be very sorry to renew a liaison which had lost all charm for me, even before I knew Agathe! All the more so, now.--What are you thinking about?"

"I am thinking of the unlucky Chamoureau, whom this fair lady is making a fool of. As you don't mean to go to this rendezvous, we must send him in your place."

"The deuce! do you mean it?"

"Indeed I do! It bores you to receive passionate notes from this Thélénie every hour in the day, does it not?"

"Ah, yes! it bores me terribly, and I would give anything in the world to induce her to leave me in peace."

"Well! this is the best possible way to put an end to the persecutions of your Hermione. When you have sent Chamoureau to her in your place, I'll answer for it that she won't make any more assignations with you.--And then suppose it should result in making the poor fellow happy, in making him the happy vanquisher of the woman he adores--where would be the harm? Will you let me go ahead?"

"I have no objection, on the condition that you go to Chelles with me."

"You still hold to that plan, do you? What on earth shall I do there?"

"Eat _matelotes_ at Gournay. They are very famous."

"That argument persuades me. I have never been able to resist a _matelote_.--I hear the bell; I'll bet it's Chamoureau."

"Bless my soul! I remember now that he forbade me to tell you of his love for Thélénie."

"He'll be very glad that I know about it, in a little while."

This time it was in fact Chamoureau who entered Freluchon's room.