Part 23

"Then you can talk with Madame Jarnouillard, a woman of much intellect--although it doesn't appear. We also have Madame Remplumé, her husband and her daughter--very _comme il faut_ people! Mademoiselle is very good-looking, although slightly humpbacked; but when she is facing you, it is less apparent; still it has kept her from being married; men don't take to the _hump_! Ha! ha!"

After a moment or two, Monsieur Luminot, discomfited to find that he was laughing all by himself and that his jests did not make the ladies gasp with merriment, rose to go, saying:

"Pardon me, ladies, for disturbing you in your household duties; I do not desire to intrude. I leave you, hoping that you will permit me to cultivate your delectable acquaintance."

"Whenever it is agreeable to you, monsieur," said Honorine, rising to show her visitor to the door.

"Those women are very good-looking," he said to himself as he went away, "but they don't seem to be very cheerful."

"Mon Dieu! what a foolish man!" cried Agathe, when Monsieur Luminot had gone. "If that's a fair specimen of the society of the place, we shall do well to deprive ourselves of it."

"My dear girl, we must not be too severe; everything is relative. It may be that this gentleman is very agreeable in the circle that he frequents; we are not yet accustomed to his language, but perhaps we shall end by laughing at it with the rest."

"Let us hope that we shall never reach that point."

"However, I am fully persuaded that he did not consider us agreeable, because we failed to laugh at what he said."

Not five minutes after the former dealer in wines had taken his leave, Poucette announced that Monsieur Jarnouillard desired to know if he could see the ladies.

"This is our day for callers," said Honorine; "let us see Monsieur Jarnouillard; he is married, and he comes first, which surprises me; he must be anxious to know us.--Show the gentleman in."

The newcomer was a man of some fifty years, very thin, very ugly, and very slovenly in his dress, although it was plain that he had tried to make himself clean for his visit to his neighbors. He wore a cravat that was almost white, and a shirt collar almost black; a long _redingote_, which fell to his heels, and might at need be used as a dressing-gown; shoes half blacked; and a broad-brimmed straw hat like those worn by women who work in the fields.

Monsieur Jarnouillard had a long, pointed nose, a square, protruding chin, prominent cheek-bones, tawny, furtive eyes, thin, compressed lips and an earth-colored complexion, like one who deems any sort of ablution superfluous.

All this formed an ensemble which did not prepossess one in his favor.

He bowed almost to the floor as he entered the room, as if he were executing a Turkish salaam. But even while he saluted the two young women before him, his eyes found time to make the circuit of the room in which they received him, to scrutinize each article of furniture, and perhaps to estimate its value.

"Mesdames, pray permit me to pay my respects," said Monsieur Jarnouillard in a clear, metallic voice, pronouncing every syllable distinctly. "Jarnouillard, land-owner and annuitant; it is several years since I retired from business and came to this place to live, with my wife. She will come to pay her respects to you; she did not come with me to-day because we have a stew for dinner and she had to stay at home to watch it; we have no servant, my wife does everything; it amuses her and distracts her thoughts. I have asked her several times: 'Do you want a maid? if so, take one.'--But she replies: 'Indeed I will not! to have everything stolen!'--It is true that servants are a vile lot; one is very lucky when one can do without them."

"Since it suits yourself and your wife, monsieur, you are very sensible to adopt that course; one should always follow one's own tastes, and not worry about what people may say."

"You are perfectly right, madame, you speak very wisely. I think that you will like this neighborhood, although there are very few people to associate with."

"We did not come here for the society, monsieur."

"You have bought this house of Courtivaux's, it isn't large, but it's large enough if there are only you two."

"And one servant, monsieur; we are not afraid of being robbed, you see."

"Everyone must do as he or she pleases. You have taken into your service that tall Poucette girl, niece of Guillot the farmer; poor people--very destitute!"

"An additional reason, monsieur, why we should be happy because we are able to employ someone belonging to them."

"Yes, when they know how to serve; but I doubt very much whether that tall girl knows how to do anything; where can she have learned?"

"She will learn with us, monsieur, and I congratulate myself every day on having taken her into my service, for she is exceedingly zealous, willing and intelligent."

Monsieur Jarnouillard simply bowed, while he inspected once more everything within his range of vision. Then he resumed:

"Madame is a widow?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Without children?"

"Alas! yes, monsieur! I had a son, but I lost him!"

"The old fool!" muttered Agathe; "to revive my dear love's sorrow with his questions! What an inquisitive man!"

"We haven't any children either, my wife and I, and we congratulate ourselves on it every day! it's just so much less turmoil and trouble!"

"And I, monsieur, do not pass a day without regretting the son whom I lost; to my mind, it is so much less of happiness and of the purest love!"

Monsieur Jarnouillard bowed again; then he continued:

"You didn't pay a high price for this house--that is, if you bought it for fifteen thousand francs cash, as I understand."

"Twenty thousand, monsieur, and I do not consider it dear."

"Pardon me--the garden is small, and it yields nothing; you haven't enough rooms to let----"

"It has never been my intention, monsieur, to try to let rooms to strangers. My house is quite large enough for my friend and myself, and that is enough."

"Oh! that makes a difference. You have furnished it very nicely; it was furnished already, but you have added various things; this couch was Monsieur Courtivaux's, but that étagère wasn't here, or these easy-chairs--Oh, yes! they did belong to Monsieur Courtivaux, but those two pictures weren't his."

"I should say, monsieur, that you had taken an inventory of the property. You must know how many trees there are in the garden?"

"Not exactly, but very nearly; and wretched trees, too--worth nothing! oh! miserable trees!"

"Monsieur doesn't know much about trees, I judge," exclaimed Agathe angrily. "We have the finest lindens it is possible to imagine!"

"Oh! excuse me, mademoiselle, but I consider no trees good that do not bear good fruit and in large quantity. The linden bears nothing--oh, yes! they do make an infusion of the leaves, but you can buy a great quantity for two sous! As a general rule, the land hereabout is poor; it's very stony."

"That being so, why did you come here to live, monsieur?"

"Oh! as a matter of business, you know. I still do a little something. When I can accommodate people, I never refuse, although it's very dangerous, they are all so tricky!--There's a piano which certainly was not here in Monsieur Courtivaux's time. Are you ladies fond of music?"

"Very, monsieur."

"It's very nice for people who have nothing to do. My wife used to play the guitar a little, but I put a stop to it; she broke too many strings; and then, when a woman wants to look after her housekeeping, she must give up music. I said to her: 'My dear love, you must choose: if you keep on playing the guitar, your dishes will be badly washed.'--She realized the force of that reasoning, and the instrument was sold."

"That does credit to your good wife, monsieur, but everybody hasn't so pronounced a fondness for washing dishes; my friend and I are not conscious of a vocation for that--are we, Agathe?"

The pretty blonde smiled at her friend, and Monsieur Jarnouillard regarded Agathe for some moments.

"Is mademoiselle related to you?"

"No, monsieur, she is my friend."

"Ah! I see--her parents placed her in your care?"

The two ladies, who were beginning to be annoyed by their visitor's questions, thought fit not to answer; but their silence did not deter him.

"Is mademoiselle an orphan?--I beg pardon, I ask that because, as a general rule, it is well to be informed. For example, mademoiselle is naturally in the matrimonial market; well, when one knows the antecedents, the social position, the means, one may be able to propose a suitable match, and----"

"If I ever marry, monsieur," said Agathe, "it will be according to my own taste, and not by the interposition of strangers."

"We can't tell, mademoiselle, there's no knowing. I have arranged several marriages; they didn't turn out well, it is true, but one can never answer for results.--Really, you are very comfortable here, it is quite elegant. Let us see the other rooms."

And the gentleman rose and was about to walk into an adjoining room; but Honorine closed the door, observing somewhat curtly:

"Pardon me, monsieur, but that room is not arranged yet, and no one can go in."

"Oh! that makes a difference; some other time then. I must go home, for I am afraid my wife has forgotten to skim her stew."

"That would be surprising on the part of a person who washes dishes so well."

"Mesdames, I renew my compliments; enchanted to have made your acquaintance. My wife will come to see you soon; we do not often entertain, because our house is very small, but we are pleased to accept invitations. We are not ceremonious people, who keep a strict account of calls, like Madame Droguet for example; she is terrible for that! We do not insist at all that people shall come to see us, but when we are invited to dinner, we can be relied upon to come.--Mesdames, I have the honor."

Honorine escorted the visitor to the door, and bowed, but did not utter a word. As soon as he had disappeared, Agathe cried:

"Oh! what a horrid man! so inquisitive and presuming! He has a bad word for everything."

"You see, Agathe, that, as compared with Monsieur Jarnouillard, we are driven to regret Monsieur Luminot!"

"That is so; he may be a fool, but he hasn't such a nasty, sneering way. Mon Dieu! if Madame Jarnouillard is like her husband, she must be perfectly ghastly!"

"There was no need of his being so emphatic about not insisting that people should call on him; he need have no fear--we shall never set foot inside his door."

A quarter of an hour after Monsieur Jarnouillard's departure, Poucette appeared once more, with a smile on her face, saying:

"Now it's Monsieur le Docteur Antoine Beaubichon, who asks permission to salute the ladies."

"Evidently they have passed the word along," said Honorine; "but this time, at all events, we know whom we have to deal with; show in monsieur le docteur."

XXV

THE LOST CHILD

The short, stout, puffy little man, who gasped for breath when he had climbed a flight of stairs or walked a little faster than usual, appeared in his turn, and saluted the two ladies as old acquaintances.

"It is I, madame, come to pay my respects--that is to say, if I don't disturb you; if my presence at this moment is inopportune, pray tell me, and I will go at once."

"No, monsieur le docteur, your presence is not inopportune; on the contrary, we hope that it will make up to us in some measure for the visit we have just received."

"Ah! have you had visitors from Paris?"

"Not from Paris, but from the neighborhood: first, Monsieur Luminot; he seemed to us to be very jovial, although his jests are not always in the best taste; but after him there came a certain Monsieur Jarnouillard.--Really, we could very well have done without his visit! Everything about the man is disagreeable,--his face, his dress, his language; and his curiosity is beyond words!"

"Oh! as to that, mesdames, it's a common failing in small places; there are few people here, and everyone wants to know what his neighbor is doing. I won't deny that I myself am reasonably curious; it's a disease that grows on one here.--Well, here you are among us; are you still satisfied with your purchase?"

"More than ever, doctor; and our house pleases us so much that we never leave it."

"Haven't you seen our square yet, the Poncelet promenade?"

"No, but it seems that it is very pretty, for we have already heard of it."

"Why, yes; it's a square worthy of a large city.--And then you mustn't judge our society by Monsieur Jarnouillard; we have some very pleasant people--large land-owners; to be sure, they stay at home and rarely come to our houses.--Have you been to walk in the direction of the Tower yet?"

"Not yet; but we already know the owner of the place, doctor."

"Really? you know him?"

"That is to say, we met him and his dog on the bank of the Marne, on our way to Poucette's uncle's field."

"Well, what do you think of the man? Hasn't he something savage in his expression?"

"Why, no; he has the look of a man who doesn't care for society, and who doesn't shave; but, as he walked by very rapidly, I couldn't examine him closely."

"But I," said Agathe, "won the heart of his beautiful dog. He looked at me and caressed me. His master had to call him, to induce him to leave me."

"You astonish me, for he's a rascal who seldom caresses strangers. However, I must admit that this Ami--that is his name, you know--is really endowed with extraordinary intelligence. Only three days ago he saved a child who was drowning."

"Oh! the good dog! how grateful the child's parents must be to him!"

"Parents?--the little fellow who was drowning hasn't any; it was the lost child."

"The lost child! Mon Dieu! what does that mean?"

"The peasants have given that name to the little fellow, because no one, not even his nurse, knows to whom he belongs. It's a mysterious story."

"Tell us about it, doctor; you always have interesting things to tell, and we enjoy them ever so much."

"You see--the local disease, curiosity, is taking hold of you!"

"That's very possible; but tell us about the lost child."

"First of all, I must tell you, mesdames, that about four years ago the widow Tourniquoi won a prize in a lottery. I don't know just what lottery it was, but that makes no difference to our story--the important point is that the widow Tourniquoi, who was not rich, and who had two children to bring up, won, I believe, about twenty thousand francs. To a peasant that is a large fortune! Thereupon this woman, who has an excellent heart, wrote to a sister of hers at Morfontaine, near Ermenonville; this sister was a widow also, and was not fortunate; so Madame Tourniquoi wrote to her to come to her; to leave Morfontaine, where she had no regular work, and come to live with her.

"Naturally the poor sister asked nothing better than to join her sister who was wealthy, or, at least, in comfortable circumstances. So she arrived at Chelles one fine day with a little boy about three years and a half old.

"'Hallo!' said Madame Tourniquoi to Jacqueline--that is her sister's name--'I thought you didn't have any children, that you lost your only one when he was only a year old. But never mind, you and your son are welcome.'

"'This little fellow isn't mine,' replied Jacqueline, 'it's a foster-child that was placed in my charge, and left on my hands. I'll tell you how it happened. I was nursing my boy, who was four months old, and as we weren't rich, I said to my husband, who was alive then: "I'm going to Paris, to enter my name at the nurses' bureau, and then I'll wait for a child to nurse."--He agreed, so I started for Paris. When I got there, I asked a lady who was passing, what way I should go to get to the nurses' bureau. The lady, who was dressed very simply, examined me for some time, then she says:

"'"You mean to go to the nurses' bureau and enter your name and get a child to nurse?"

"'"Yes, madame," I says, "I've come to Paris just for that."

"'"Where do you come from?"

"'"I live at Morfontaine, ten leagues from Paris."

"'"Well! your lucky star put you in my path, for if you are looking for a child to nurse, I am looking for a nurse--for a very rich lady who lay in three days ago of a fine little boy who's as good as a charm. She meant at first to bring him up on the bottle, but she's changed her mind, and I'll take you to her; so you don't need to enter your name at the nurses' bureau, which is very lucky for you, because in this way you'll save a lot of expenses."

"'I listened to the lady with joy in my heart; I was delighted to find what I wanted just as soon as I got out of the stage, and I was glad, too, to get the child of a rich person, because they always pay better. So I told the lady that I asked nothing better than to go with her; then she took me to a big square where there was lots of carriages, told me to get into one of them with her, said something quietly to the driver, and we started.

"'I don't know anything about Paris, and I don't know where they took me. At last the carriage stopped; we were in a narrow, dirty street, and I says to myself: "It's a funny thing that rich people in Paris should live in such nasty streets!" But the lady says to me:

"'"We're going in at the rear of the house, because the noise of the carriage can't be heard so distinctly and it don't bother madame la baronne so much."

"'"Good," says I to myself, "the child's mother's a baroness--that's fine."

"'We went into a house, not a very handsome one, and up a dark staircase; then my companion took me into quite a handsome, well-furnished room. She told me to sit down and left me, to find out whether her baroness was ready to see me.

"'I waited quite a long time; at last she came back after me and took me into another room, where I saw a handsome lady stretched on a beautiful couch with a pile of cushions under her. Oh! she was terrible pretty, that lady was! she was dark, and her long black hair was combed smooth and fell over her shoulders on both sides. And her eyes! oh! what eyes! they were big and black, and I never saw such bright eyes, but they weren't soft. By the lady's side, in a dainty little cradle, was the little three days old boy; he was strong and healthy, I tell you, although he'd never had anything but the bottle. But when I offered him the breast at a sign from his mother--my word! you should have seen how the little rascal bit at it!

"'While the child was nursing, the handsome lady seemed to be doing a lot of thinking. At last she says to me:

"'"I see that this child will be in good hands with you, and I place him in your care. How much do you want a month?"

"'I made bold to ask for thirty francs; I didn't expect to get it, but the lady agreed right off; she took a purse from under a cushion and took out a hundred and fifty francs in gold, and gave it to me.

"'"Here," she says, "here's five months in advance, and a supply of clothes which you are to take away with the child and the cradle. You will go back at once; the cab that brought you here is waiting below, and will take you to the stage office. I want you to leave Paris at once, because the air is bad here, and my child's health will suffer if he's kept here any longer."

"'I asked nothing better than to go right home, so I says:

"'"Yes, madame, I'll take the child and go; but first tell me the little one's name."

"'"Emile."

"'"And madame's name?--for I must know that, so that I can let her know how her son gets along."

"'The lady frowned, then replied:

"'"I am the Baronne de Mortagne. Here is my address on this paper; take it."

"'I took the paper and put it away carefully in my pocket; then I says:

"'"Now, if madame la baronne wants to write down my address, I'll give it to her."

"'The lady took a little book from a table--there was white paper and a pencil in it--and wrote down my name and address in full: Jacqueline Treillard, wife of Pierre Treillard, day laborer, Morfontaine. Then they gave me a good glass of wine and a cake, and when I had eaten, the person who had brought me there took the bundle of clothes and says:

"'"Now take the cradle with the child in it, and let's be off; I'll go to the stage office with you."

"'Before I took the child away, I lifted him in my arms and offered him to his mother, because I supposed she'd want to kiss him, and that she'd cry when it came to parting with him; but the beautiful lady didn't seem to feel it much; she just barely put her lips to the child's forehead, then handed him right back to me, saying:

"'"Take him away, and above all things don't amuse yourself by bringing him to Paris to show him to me; I don't like to have children carried round the country. I shall come to see you when I am able; here's twenty francs more for your journey."

"'"Faith!" thinks I to myself, "if this lady isn't very fond of children, I can't deny that she's mighty generous."

"'I got into the cab again with the lady who carried the bundle; we got safely to the stage office; I engaged a seat for four o'clock; and my companion was kind enough to keep me company; she didn't leave me till she saw me on board the stage that took me back to Morfontaine.

"'Well, when I got home, you can imagine my man Pierre's surprise to see me back so soon. When he learned what had happened, he was as pleased as I was. Bless me! a hundred and fifty francs in advance, and twenty francs for the journey that cost just seven francs ten sous! That was a windfall! I looked at the address they'd given me; but as I don't know how to read very well, I couldn't make it out, it was written so small. Pierre could read even less than I could; so I showed it to the schoolmaster. It said:

"'"Madame la Baronne de Mortagne, at her hôtel, Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint-Germain."

"'"The deuce!" I says to myself; "it seems that I've been in Faubourg Saint-Germain!"

"'Well, there was the child in our family, and he grew like a mushroom. Two months passed by, and I didn't hear anything from his mother.

"'"She doesn't have time to come," I says to myself; "I must let her know how her boy's coming on."

"'I had monsieur the schoolmaster write a letter, and I put it in the post, but I didn't get a word in reply. My man and I agreed that the lady knew her child was well, and that was enough for her; apparently she didn't have time to come to see him.

"'Two months more passed, and I sent another letter--no answer any more than to the first. Then I says to myself: "There's a mother that don't show much affection for her son! but when the five months are almost gone, she'll have to let us hear from her when she sends me my money. Perhaps she'll come and bring it with her; yes, that's probably what she's waiting for."

"'But the fifth month passed and no one came, and she didn't send any money. I had a third letter written, in which I asked for money. I didn't get any answer any more than to the other two, and it began to look queer to us. But about that time I lost my poor husband, and then, a month after, I lost my son! All the misfortunes fell on me at once, and I forgot all about little Emile's mother.

"'At last, when my grief began to get calmed down a little, I says to myself: "That lady must be sick, that I don't hear from her. I think I'll go to her house in Paris with her son; it's eight months now that I've had him; she owes me for three months and I need the money; besides she'll see that her son's in good health."

"'I got the schoolmaster to read me the address again; then I put it in my pocket and started. When I got to Paris, I inquired the way to Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint-Germain; someone showed me the way and I found the street. It was a fine, broad street, not at all like the one I went to before, when they took me to my foster-child's mother. But I remembered being told that we went in at the rear of the house, and I says to myself: "This must be the front this time, for sure."