CHAPTER XV

LOVE AND INNOCENCE. A SHOWER OF RAIN AND THE TALISMAN

Urbain reentered his old dwelling in a state of rapture and intoxication difficult of description. The sight of Blanche, the sound of her sweet voice, her charm, her youthful candor, her touching grace and simplicity, had increased his love; what he had seen of the beautiful girl, had immeasurably exceeded the expectations he had formed of her, from the slight glimpse he had obtained of her on the previous occasion, heightened though it was by a lover's imagination; and when he now reflected that he should see her again on the morrow,--on many morrows, perhaps--that he should hear her and speak to her again, that her soft hand would again rest without fear in his, he could hardly contain himself.

And yet he could not but feel what a pity it was that he could not confess to the lovely child his real identity and the feeling with which she had inspired him, at first sight. For Urbain was painfully conscious that he must not hurry the disclosure of his secret for fear of alarming the timid girl, and that he should first seek to win Blanche's confidence; in his feminine costume that would be very easy, she had already said that she loved him. It is true that the confession of this sentiment was made to Ursule, but, in fact, it was Urbain who had inspired her with it.

During the day the bachelor resumed his masculine garments, and as soon as night returned he attired himself in his feminine costume, in which he had already begun to acquire more ease of manner; besides, the young servant was always ready to help the youth when he wished to disguise himself, she was very obliging to him, and did not neglect to give him lessons. Urbain profited by them, because a young man understands better how to tear a kerchief than to put it on, and a youth who is foolishly in love has many grave distractions, so that the help of the young servant was very necessary to him. Urbain was very prompt at his rendezvous, and Marguerite introduced him with the same ceremonial as on the evening before. Blanche gave him a most amiable welcome. She went to meet him, and as he was making her a modest curtsey the artless child kissed him on each cheek. Urbain was overwhelmed and in the ardor of his joy, had not the voice of Marguerite recalled him to himself, he would have pressed Blanche to his heart, and would have returned a hundredfold the kisses he had received. But the old woman, always eager to hear a story of extraordinary adventures, particularly when it related to a talisman, pushed Urbain to the side of the hearth, and said,--

"Come, children, don't waste time with idle ceremony; you know how quickly it passes when one is relating interesting things. Let us sit down and Ursule will tell us the adventure which her mother experienced."

Urbain, still much moved by Blanche's kiss, began a story which he had composed in the morning, and which delighted Marguerite, because it proved the marvellous powers of the talisman. The story finished, the old woman asked to be allowed to look at the relic; she was persuaded that after having touched it the evening before she ran less danger during the night in her room. Blanche then chatted with Urbain and sang to him in a low tone one of the songs which she knew. The ingenuous child had only known the pretended Ursule since the evening before, but she already regarded her as a sister, called her "my dear," and related to her all that concerned herself; for Blanche, brought up in retirement, had not learned to hide her feelings or to feign those which she did not experience; her heart was pure and her words were only the expression of what she felt.

Blanche did not fail to sing to Urbain her favorite refrain, and the latter trembled with pleasure on seeing that, despite the precautions of the barber, his accents were graven on Blanche's memory, who said to him,--

"The first time that I heard you speak, it seemed to me that I still heard the voice which had sung at night under my window. That was a very pretty voice, and yours, Ursule, resembles it a little. What a pity that you don't know the romance that they were singing."

"I do know it," said Urbain; "at least I think I know it, for I have often heard it sung, and that makes me remember it."

"How fortunate! Sing it to me, Ursule, I beg."

"But if M. Touquet--"

"Oh, he is in his room; besides, you can sing very low. Wait! Just as I expected, Marguerite is asleep; now she won't be able to scold us."

In fact her deep contemplation of the little scrap of Urbain's smallclothes had put the old servant to sleep. Urbain was almost alone with her he adored. His heart palpitated with joy, long sighs issued from his breast, and he was obliged to turn away his eyes that they might not meet Blanche's adorable gaze.

"Well, now," said the amiable girl, pouting a little, which rendered her still more seductive, "aren't you going to sing to me? That would be very naughty, for it would give me a great deal of pleasure to hear that song. I should like to learn it myself. I beg of you, Ursule; you see Marguerite is asleep; come, don't refuse me."

"I refuse you anything? Of course I'll sing for you, mademoiselle."

"Oh, you are very obliging, and I will kiss you with a good heart."

Urbain needed not the temptation of so sweet a recompense. However, he wished immediately to deserve it. He sang, and Blanche listened with rapture; the young man, yielding to the emotion of his heart, sang with much expression and feeling, but his voice no longer resembled that of a woman, and any other than the ingenuous Blanche would have perceived the change; but the latter was far from suspecting the truth, and with her head turned towards Urbain, remained motionless, her eyes fixed on him and seeming to fear lest she should lose a word, while she exclaimed from time to time,--

"Mon Dieu, that is it! that's the same thing! That affects me just as it did the other night. Ah, Ursule, sing again."

However, the songs ceased, for Urbain had not forgotten the promised recompense. For some moments Blanche remained motionless, seeming to be listening still; at last she aroused herself from her ecstasies, saying,--

"It's very singular what a strange effect that romance has upon me."

"Is it disagreeable?"

"Oh, no; if it were I should not want to be always hearing it, and still it makes me feel rather sad; it makes me sigh; but all the same, Ursule, you will teach it to me, will you not?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; but you promised me--"

"To kiss you. Oh, I'll do that willingly."

Without further asking, Blanche imprinted her cherry lips on Urbain's burning cheek. This time the latter was about to return her kiss, and had already taken the young girl in his arms when Marguerite, in sneezing, just missed falling into the fire, and awoke herself with a start, crying,--

"Dear good patron saint, save me; I see the black man and the sorcerer of Verberie."

"Where is he, dear nurse?" said Blanche, leaving Urbain, who was vexed that he had not sooner finished his singing.

"Where?" said Marguerite, rubbing her eyes; "where is what? What did I say?"

"You said you saw the sorcerer."

"Ah, that is because I was thinking of him, apparently. Come, Ursule, it is time for you to go, my child."

"That's a pity, I was going to tell you of an adventure which happened to my aunt which was even more marvellous than the others."

"Oh, that's delightful; that will be for tomorrow," said Blanche. "That will suit you, dear nurse, won't it? You see my good friend suspects nothing; besides, if he should see Ursule and be angry, well, I'll take all the blame on myself and I can pacify him."

"Come, then, tomorrow night, and we will learn all about your aunt's adventures."

"Yes, Mademoiselle Marguerite, but will you have the goodness to give me back my talisman."

"Yes, my dear child, that's right. O my God! what have I done with it? Has Satan tricked me out of it? I was holding it just this minute."

"Wait, dear nurse, here it is," pointing to the hearth, "you have let it fall in the cinders."

"Faith, so I did," answered the old woman, picking up the little scrap of cloth. "Oh, my goodness! it's a little scorched."

"Oh, that's all right, mademoiselle," said Urbain, "that won't have taken away any of its virtue."

"No, assuredly not, my dear child, and if it had been burned its ashes would have retained the same properties."

Urbain took his talisman, said "good-by" to Blanche, repeating to her, "I shall see you, tomorrow," and left the barber's house.

Several days rolled away and every evening the young bachelor had the good fortune to see Blanche. He was incessantly inventing new stories to pique Marguerite's curiosity, and the old woman regularly opened the door of the alley at seven o'clock. The fictitious Ursule's presence had become necessary to Blanche and Marguerite. The latter experienced great pleasure in hearing her relate the doings of the magicians, and the young girl in learning her cherished romance; but Marguerite did not always go to sleep, and even when she was awake Blanche wished Urbain to sing; the latter obeyed her, but in order to prevent the old woman from suspecting him he was careful to disguise his voice, and Blanche exclaimed with vexation,--

"That's not at all good! You don't sing so prettily as usual today, and it doesn't give me the same pleasure."

While Urbain was elated with the happiness of seeing Blanche, and drinking from her eyes the sweetest sentiment; while the young girl was giving herself, without restraint, to the pleasure which Ursule's society afforded her, and in confiding to the latter her slightest thoughts; and while old Marguerite, her head filled with frightful stories and miraculous deeds done by the sorcerer of Verberie, was securing herself against the snares of Satan by rubbing between her fingers every evening the little scrap of the bachelor's breeches,--what was passing in the little house of the Vallee Fecamp? was the brilliant Julia still there? and was the Marquis de Villebelle taking the trouble to feign a little love in order to subdue the young Italian.

The barber, having received the price of his services, disquieted himself very little as to what was passing in the small house. Chaudoreille, who never left the gambling-houses while he had money in his pocket, had not appeared at the barber's for a month, but at the end of that time he appeared at his friend's towards the middle of the day. The Gascon's face was longer then usual. His ruff, all in rags, had been stained in several places, and the feather on his hat had been replaced by the gold-colored rosette which formerly decorated Rolande's handle. Chaudoreille's piteous face made the barber smile.

"Where do you come from," said he, "and what have you been doing since I saw you last?"

"I've been very unfortunate," said Chaudoreille, heaving a big sigh, and drawing from his belt the old silk purse, which he shook without producing a single sou. "You see, my friend, I'm reduced to zero."

"How's that? do you mean to say that nothing remains to you of the sum I gave you."

"Not a penny, my dear fellow. I've been robbed in a shameful manner."

"That is to say, you have been gambling."

"Yes, that's true; I've played, but with robbers. They have tricked me in an infamous fashion. If, at least, they had been amiable about it, one knows well that among people accustomed to play there are a thousand little ways in which one can make fortune favorable, but to despoil a friend, a comrade--it's horrible! I'll never play again in my life. Say now, don't you want me to go to the little house to see my dear friend Marcel?"

"On the contrary, I forbid you to do so. Without the marquis' order nobody should allow himself to go there."

"That's vexatious, and how did the adventure end?"

"What does that matter to you? For the matter of that I have not seen the marquis again, but from the moment I ceased to be employed the intrigue was nothing to me; besides, it will end like all the others. It is a caprice which will last for some days and will be succeeded by another."

"That's correct; but the little one appeared to me to have some strength of mind. She said some very peculiar things to me; she asked me, among other things, if I knew your parents."

"My parents," said the barber, with visible emotion, "that's singular."

"Yes, very singular. I told her you were from Lorraine and that that was all I knew about you."

"My parents," repeated Touquet, striding about the room. "I am almost certain that I have none. My poor father is undoubtedly dead. Oh, I was a very worthless fellow in my youth! Precocious in my passions, a taste for play and a thirst for gold caused me to commit a thousand excesses."

"Yes, the follies of youth. I know all about that. As for me at six years old I was flogged for having stolen a leg of mutton out of the dripping-pan. At ten for having, in a fit of abstraction, taken my grandmother's purse to go and play at little quoits; at twelve years old I took a rabbit off the spit and put in its place my old aunt's cat; but in my ardor to hide my larceny I forgot to skin the cat, which was roasted with its hair on. Happily my father was short-sighted, and he thought it was a little wild boar; at fifteen years--"

"What does it matter what you did?" cried the barber, impatiently. "Did the young woman say anything else about me?"

"No, but if you like, I'll go and draw it from her, adroitly."

"Idiot! you forget that she is the marquis' mistress? When her reign is ended I shall see her, and I shall know." The barber said nothing further and would not answer Chaudoreille, and the latter, after having uselessly repeated several times that he had been fasting since the evening before, on perceiving that Touquet paid him no attention left the shop in an ill-humor, murmuring between his teeth,--

"People who become rich are always niggardly and stingy. That's a fault that I shall never have."

Some hours after this conversation, the barber, returning to his customers, met near the Louvre the brilliant Villebelle, who, wrapped in his mantle, seemed to be still in high feather.

"I have succeeded, my dear fellow," said he, drawing Touquet under a portico, where no one could hear them. "Julia has given herself to me; but truly the conquest was more difficult than I had thought. The young girl is passionate, romantic; she wishes to be loved, and I have made her believe that I love her. In fact her singular character, her pride, united with her tenderness, her strange conduct, and her speeches, nearly enthralled me. She spoke to me about Estrelle. I don't know how she knew that adventure."

"The young girl knows everything, evidently," said the barber to himself.

"For the rest," resumed the marquis, "she doesn't seem to love you much, my dear Touquet; you are in her black books. She says that you are a master knave."

"What, monseigneur?"

"She refuses my presents; she wishes nothing but my love, it's truly superb. Despite that, I am living with her; I did not care for her to remain in the little house, that would have embarrassed me. I believe upon my honor that I love her a little. But I see two very pretty women going into the jewelry shop down there. I must go there in order to see them nearer." While saying these words the marquis departed hastily, and the barber returned home, thinking of Julia and vexed that he had not learned from the marquis where he had lodged his young Italian.

Chaudoreille had left Touquet's house in a very bad humor. An empty stomach is usually accompanied by a melancholy spirit. The Gascon chevalier while making philosophical reflections on the egotism of man, the caprice of fortune and the manner in which one could win at piquet while slipping the aces to the bottom of the pack, arrived at the Saint Germain fair. Beside the different spectacles assembled in this place to attract idlers, strangers and young gentlemen came there to play different games of cards, of dice, ninepins and skittles.

Chaudoreille walked among the groups formed around these games and looked with a hungry eye at the pastry exposed before the booths. He stopped near the eating places trying to breathe at least the odor of the cooking, but such delights have no power to fill an empty stomach.

"By jingo!" said Chaudoreille all of a sudden, pulling his hat down over his eyes and pulling his ruff up about his neck. "It shall not be said that I did not dine. A man of genius always has resources, and his wit should furnish him that which his purse refuses."

Immediately the chevalier, walking with a determined step, threaded the crowd and turned towards the neighborhood where some young provincials were playing skittles and drinking white wine. Chaudoreille looked at them out of the corner of his eye then, seizing his moment, he crossed the place where they were playing, in such a manner as to receive a blow upon the legs from a ball which one of the players was rolling.

"Look out! look out!" cried the young man who had hurled the ball; but Chaudoreille pretended not to hear and stopped only when he was struck. He made a horrible grimace on receiving the blow, and fell, murmuring,--

"Zounds! my dinner will cost me dearly."

The two players came up to him and picked him up, offering their excuses although they were not in the wrong. But Chaudoreille was so pale and appeared to suffer so deeply and made such pitiful contortions that the two young men were much moved; first they offered him a glass of wine to restore him. The wounded man accepted and drank three glasses, one after the other; he could not yet walk and they proposed to him to go into the wine merchant's, who would give him something to eat. He did not allow them to repeat the invitation; the two provincials ordered dinner and invited Chaudoreille to be of their party. Our man was therefore installed at a table with them, ate and drank for four, gave them some lessons in skittles, and perceiving that they were novices of an obliging humor, and not quarrelsome, he rose at the conclusion of the dessert and demanded a pistole from them to indemnify him for the stroke of the ball which they had given him.

The young men looked at him in surprise, perceiving that they had been duped and that they had entered into conversation with a gentleman of very little delicacy. Chaudoreille held himself very upright, his left hand on his hip and his right hand caressing the handle of his sword, rolling his eyes like the damned, while passing the end of his tongue over his mustaches. The poor provincials, not caring to have a duel with a man who appeared to have decided to split everyone in two if they did not satisfy him, hastened to present the sum demanded by their amiable guest. The latter received it with a gracious smile, then, with the tone of a man delighted with himself, he bowed to them, saying,--

"Good-by, my young friends, try to remember the strokes which I have taught you."

While saying these words the chevalier quickly departed, no longer remembering the blow which he had received. With a full stomach and a pistole in his belt, Chaudoreille was very well pleased with his day's work. The white wine which he had drunk had aroused his enterprise and inclined him to undertake some adventures. He felt especially carried towards love, but if it is the custom of Bacchus to render one enterprising, the odor of wine and the speech of a tipsy man are not auxiliaries favorable to love. It had been dark for some time when Chaudoreille left the fair, ogling all the women whom he met and murmuring between his teeth,--

"By jingo! I must make a conquest this evening. I am beginning to get tired of my portress, who is forty-five years old and has one leg shorter than the other; it is true that she overwhelms me with kindnesses. She bleaches my linen and repairs my ruff; but what does a little infidelity by the way matter, my Venus will know nothing about it."

Chaudoreille had reached the Rue Montmartre when he saw a woman pass by him, dressed like a country woman. She was alone; the chevalier ogled her and turned back to follow her. The carriage of the dame had something very decided about it, which was pleasing to Chaudoreille; but she walked with such long steps that he was obliged to run to follow her. On reaching her side the gallant tried to enter into conversation with her by making one of those pretty propositions in use among those gentlemen who make love in the streets, and seek their conquests by lantern light. She did not answer Chaudoreille, but walked faster. Our man was not at all abashed; he continued to trot by her side doing the amiable, putting his feet in the streams, which he did not see, and splashing his beauty while whispering sweet nothings. However, the person whom he was following had reached the Rue Saint-Honore, a short distance from the Rue des Bourdonnais. Chaudoreille, receiving no answer, and seeing that nothing was to be gained by his compliments, decided to attempt strong measures. He approached the country woman and pinched her sharply, and received in return a slap in the face, so well applied that it sent him up against a stone post four feet away.

Urbain was going according to his custom to visit Blanche, when on the way he made the conquest of Chaudoreille. After disengaging himself in so heroic a manner the young bachelor ran up to the barber's house, entering the passageway, where some one came immediately to open to him, and reached Blanche, still much agitated by the adventure.

"What is the matter with you, my dear Ursule?" said Blanche. "You seem excited."

"Just now in the street two men fighting frightened me."

"Poor child, but didn't you have your talisman?"

"Oh, yes, but in spite of that I was afraid."

"I can well believe it," said Blanche, "to see men fighting must be very unpleasant. Come, sit down, my dear friend."

Blanche's sweet words soon made Urbain forget his adventure. According to his promise, it was necessary that he should recount something singular which had happened to one of his cousins. He had promised to recite it the evening before, and Marguerite was in a hurry to hear it. The old servant needed distraction; she had had a frightful dream in the night and in the morning when she awakened she had seen a bat against her window, all of which was very disquieting, and since the morning she had not been easy.

Urbain commenced his story. He was interrupted by the rain, which fell in torrents, and which the wind blew violently against the panes.

"What horrible weather!" said Blanche.

"Yes," said Marguerite, drawing closer to the fire at each gust of wind, "this night will be difficult to pass. I do not know, but it seems to me that something extraordinary is going to happen; that bat that I saw--and in my dream all those people were riding to the sabbath on broomsticks. That surely indicates something."

"Certainly," said Urbain, and the old woman, to reassure herself, rubbed the talisman between her hands.

Urbain's story had lasted for a long time. Marguerite, however, had said nothing, as she was not anxious to go upstairs to bed. Blanche, who never saw Ursule leave without regret, had taken care not to observe that it was getting late and the young bachelor was not the one who would first think of breaking up the party. However, the clock struck, and they counted eleven strokes.

"O heavens! eleven o'clock," cried Blanche.

"O my God!" said Marguerite, trembling, "in an hour it will be midnight."

"But, dear nurse, Ursule cannot go so late and besides by the time she gets there--Wait! do you hear the rain, it is falling in torrents. How can she go to the Porte Saint-Antoine in such weather as this? It's impossible."

"It is certain," said Urbain, "that the roads are very bad. There are no lanterns and often one puts one's foot in holes that one does not see."

"Poor Ursule, her talisman will not prevent her from being drenched, will it?"

"It is true it doesn't guarantee one against the effect of rain," responded Urbain, sighing.

"What is to be done?" said Marguerite.

"It's very easy, my dear nurse, Ursule can sleep with me, and tomorrow, as soon as day breaks, she can go without making a noise. Will you, Ursule?"

Urbain was for some moments unable to answer, for these words of Blanche, "She can sleep with me," had so disturbed his whole being that he did not know what he was doing. At last he murmured in a changed voice,--

"If you think well of it, mademoiselle, I think well of it also."

"Most certainly I wish it, do I not dear nurse? We could not let her go out at this time of night. Why don't you answer?"

Marguerite saw no harm in the country woman's sleeping with Blanche, but rather hoped to gain an advantage thereby in keeping all night the precious relic; and, as her mind had been struck with the idea that some misfortune was going to happen to her, the possession of the little scrap of cloth seemed to her like a benefaction of Providence.

"It's true," said she, at last, "that the weather is frightful, and if Ursule will not forget to go away before daybreak--"

"Oh, yes, dear nurse, and if she is asleep I promise you I will wake her."

"Very well, then I'm willing that she should remain."

"Oh, how delightful," said Blanche, "we shall sleep together, Ursule. I have never slept with anyone. How we shall chat and laugh."

"No, indeed, no, indeed," said Marguerite; "on the contrary you must go to sleep without making any noise that monsieur could hear."

"Very well, we will go to sleep, dear nurse," responded the amiable child, and she added in Urbain's ear, "We will talk very low."

"Well, in that case I will go to bed," said the old servant hesitating to return that which she held in her hand. "My dear Ursule," she said at last, "you have nothing to fear here. If you would permit me to keep your talisman for this night only, because I sleep in a room that is not safe and I can't get that bat out of my head."

"Oh, keep it, Mademoiselle Marguerite," said Urbain, "may it do you much pleasure."

"Yes, keep it, dear nurse," said Blanche, "besides we have mine, that will be enough for us, will it not, Ursule?"

"But--yes, I believe so, mademoiselle."

Marguerite, delighted to possess a safeguard for the whole night, lighted her lamp and turned towards the door, saying,--

"Good night, my children, good night. Mercy, what a gust of wind. Ursule, you must go tomorrow before daybreak."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Go to bed as quickly as possible, and extinguish your light, that no one may suspect anything."

"Be easy, dear nurse," said Blanche, "we'll soon put it out."

Marguerite took her lamp and left the room. Blanche closed the door after her.

"Shut your door tight," said the old woman.

"Yes, dear nurse," answered the young girl, and she drew the bolt.