Part 13

On receipt of this message, Dame Ragonde instantly made preparations for her journey; the famous inheritance being at stake, she felt that she must not hesitate! But as she was about to start, she thought of Bathilde, whom in her absorption she had forgotten. Should she take her or leave her with her father? To trust the old trooper of Henri IV to watch over a young girl was imprudent, perhaps. But, on the other hand, to take on a journey the child whom she had guarded so carefully up to that time was to expose her to the risk of listening to the chatter of every comer; of being the object of gallant attentions, perhaps even of bold enterprises, on the part of their fellow travellers. For Dame Ragonde had not the means to travel in a litter; and in those days travel was so slow, the means of transport so difficult, that one was obliged to pass a long time in a coach or other vehicle, even when one had not a long distance to travel. And then there was the matter of expense, which was of great importance to the bath keeper's wife. It cost a great deal to travel; and the expense would be doubled if she should take her daughter.

The result of her reflections was that Dame Ragonde set out alone, but not without saying to her husband many times:

"Keep a sharp eye on your daughter! Don't let her leave the house or receive any visits; make no change in the order which I have established in our household, so that no one may notice that I am absent! And always tell everyone that I am coming back in the course of the day."

If the person who goes away knew how soon her injunctions are forgotten, she would not take the trouble to repeat them so many times. It is not always disinclination to comply with them on the part of those whom you leave in your place; but when you give your instructions, you cannot at the same time impart your habits, your intelligence, your rigidity, your searching glance, your observant mind--in a word, your nature; and everyone acts according to his nature.

Landry, despite his moustaches and his surly manner, had a softer heart than his wife; and then, too, this persistent watching, this making one's self a spy upon one's daughter, is much more consonant with a woman's habit than with a man's. Moreover, as the old soldier had not the slightest doubt of his child's virtue, he did not understand why he must be incessantly on his guard, as with a prisoner who is always trying to escape.

The first days that followed Dame Ragonde's departure brought about no change in Bathilde's usual mode of life, for it did not occur to her to ask leave to go out, and no one came to divert her.

But one morning Ambroisine came to Landry's establishment, and was much surprised to be able to reach Bathilde's room without meeting her mother's sour face and hearing her say:

"My daughter is busy; don't stay long, for it disturbs her."

When she learned that her friend's mother was away from Paris, Ambroisine uttered a cry of joy, and said to Bathilde:

"What! you have been free for several days, and you haven't sent me word or come to see me?"

"You know very well that I never go out."

"Because your mother is not willing; but when she is away----"

"Oh! father wouldn't let me go out, either; mother is sure to have told him not to!"

"Well, I will bet that he would; I will bet that your father will not be so strict, that he will understand that you have no pleasure, no distraction at all, and that it is not fair that a poor girl should pass her best days shut up in her room. Look you, I have a godmother, a nice old woman, a farmer's wife, who lives in the village of Vincennes. I never have time to go there, nor does my father; and yet Mère Moulineau--that is my godmother--often sends us little cheeses and cream, and begs us to come to see her. The poor woman is old and infirm and can't come to Paris. Every day, I say to father: 'To-morrow I will go to see my godmother Moulineau;' and he says: 'Go, my child.'--Well, Bathilde, if you like, I will take you with me, and we will sleep at godmother's. Ah! she will give us a warm welcome; she will be so glad to see me!"

"Oh! father wouldn't allow me to sleep away from our house."

"After all, perhaps you would find it tiresome at my godmother's.--By the way, it just occurs to me--the day after to-morrow is the day for the Fire of Saint-Jean on Place de Grève. Father has promised to take me there; I have never seen it, and they say it's beautiful; will you come with us?"

"Will I! Why, you know very well that I should be overjoyed--I who know nothing and have never seen anything. But I shall never dare to ask father to let me go; he would refuse."

"Perhaps so, if you asked him; but if my father, his friend, his comrade, should undertake the mission----"

"Your father! do you think that he would be willing to ask him that?"

"Why not? Father is kind-hearted, he loves me dearly, he sees no harm in his daughter having a little enjoyment sometimes. When it is a respectable kind of pleasure, where is the harm? Because one enjoys one's self a little, does that prevent one from behaving decently. Never fear--I will send him here, to your father, to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow you will come with us."

"Oh! if it might be true!"

"I have made up my mind, and it shall be. I have a will of my own, you see!"

And in fact, on the day following this interview, Master Hugonnet, to gratify his daughter's wish, betook himself to his confrère Landry's shop, and, while emptying a jug of wine with him, said:

"I have a request to make of you, comrade."

"Speak; you know that if I can be of service to you in any way, I am at your disposal--I and my old blade, which is still serviceable at need!"

"Oh! I know the worth of your blade and the strength of your arm, but there is no question of them in what I have to ask.--You know that my girl is a friend of yours, that it is her greatest joy to be with her--for they have known each other a number of years; they were children when their acquaintance began; but now they are big girls, and their friendship has grown like their bodies!"

While Master Hugonnet was speaking, Landry played with his moustache, but did not frown.

"I know all that," he said at last, when his friend paused to take a drink. "Well! what then?"

"Well! I myself seize every opportunity that presents itself to provide my daughter with a little pleasure; for Ambroisine deserves it! The wench keeps my house in fine shape! she has brains and activity and character! She's a good girl, I tell you, and doesn't let the coxcombs and gallants, no, nor the grands seigneurs themselves,--and many of them come to my shop, God knows!--talk nonsense to her. When they try to be too free in their manners with Ambroisine--jernidié! she has a tongue and nails, and a stout fist. You should see how she makes them dance!"

"She does well. But what then?"

"Why, to-morrow is the ceremony of the Fire of Saint-Jean on Place de Grève; Ambroisine has never seen it, so she asked me to take her there, and I promised; but she told me, too, that she would be much happier if her young friend Bathilde could come with us, because she knew it would be a great pleasure for your daughter, who--who--who has none too many! You see, comrade, it isn't right to work all the time and never have any amusement; on the contrary, when one is young is when one should enjoy one's self. We old fellows still make merry once in a way, when we have an opportunity; and then, after all, where's the harm in a young girl having a little amusement, when it's with the knowledge of her parents and under their eyes? To cut it short, comrade, the purpose of all this is to ask you to confide your daughter Bathilde to me to-morrow, in the latter part of the afternoon, so that I may take her with Ambroisine to see the Fire of Saint-Jean; unless you will come with us, which would be much better."

As he listened to this request from his old friend, the ex-trooper's brow became clouded, and he caressed his gray moustache for a long while before replying:

"But, you see, I promised Ragonde not to let Bathilde go out."

"Alone! I understand that; but won't she be as safe with me and my daughter as with you? Come, come! jernidié! let us not be so strict with our children; if our parents had always been so with us, it wouldn't have tended to make us worship them."

"Well!" Landry said at last, after a moment's hesitation; "come to-morrow and fetch Bathilde; I will try to join you later."

You know now by what concatenation of circumstances Bathilde found herself on Ambroisine's arm on the square where the Fire of Saint-Jean was to be celebrated.

XVIII

THE CROWD

"I say, Bahuchet! come this way; we can see the show explode much better!"

"Just wait, Plumard; before I can pass, this lady in front of me will have to move; and her equilibrium is stable, I tell you! Once planted, she's like the tower of Notre-Dame! there's no way of moving her."

"What's that you say, blackguards, ne'er-do-wells, miserable little Basochians! You come here to insult ladies! you're good for nothing else! The idea of moving for such gentry!"

"Oh! mon Dieu! madame seems to be getting excited! because she has a fine new petticoat with fal-lals on it, and a silver buckle on her belt!--I say, Plumard, I thought there was an edict providing that only strumpets and pickpockets might wear gold or silver on their clothes?"

"Oh, yes! an edict of Henri IV. But perhaps this stout lady is within her rights!"

"Ah! you little villains, if the watch was passing, I'd have you apprehended!"

"Oho! the watch!"

"Aha! apprehended! she must be an attorney's wife."

"Don't push me, or I'll box your ears!"

"If you don't choose to be pushed here, you should come in a sedan chair."

"Or on your husband's mule."

"With his junior clerk.--Well! I must pass, all the same."

"You are treading on my foot, monsieur!"

"Why do you put your feet on the ground? in a crowd like this, you should stand on the air or perch on your neighbors."

"Oh! look yonder, Bahuchet! there's a lady with a mask!"

"Because she is ugly; that is why she doesn't choose to show her face."

"Or else she is here on the sly."

"Look you! I prefer to look at the faces of those two little hussies in blue caps."

"Yes, they are very pretty; but I know them by sight; they come here to meet a couple of pages; I often meet them walking with their lovers on the Pré-aux-Clercs."

"I say, Plumard, do you know whether they are going to broil any cats in the fire to-night?"

"Why, no; don't you see that there isn't a single basket hung on the great tree?"

"Well, if they have stopped burning cats, there's no more sport! That's the way that all our noblest customs are being allowed to fall into decay! If I had known that, I'd have brought a bag of mice!"

"Do you sell mice?"

"No; but my landlord is very fond of them, for his house is always full; I believe he eats them."

The two young blades who were conversing thus in the midst of the crowd as unconcernedly as if they were alone were two attorney's clerks, but of the class that one meets more frequently in the streets, in front of shops and open-air theatres, than in the employer's office; genuine idlers, who, in the excitement of playing a joke on some passer-by, entirely forget the errand on which they have been sent, important though it may be, and who always remain under clerks, unless their parents have the means to buy them an office.

Bahuchet was very short--less than four feet nine; he had a wretched figure, in addition to his shortness, and an ugly face as well; his forehead was low, his too retroussé nose displayed two nostrils of enormous size, which played a very important rôle in his countenance; his mouth was too wide and his eyes too narrow; but in those small eyes there was an intelligent and mocking expression, which his cunning smile intensified.

Monsieur Bahuchet, albeit he was always disposed to laugh at other people, took in very bad part the jests that were aimed at his person; he lost his temper very easily. As a general rule, short men are much more choleric than tall ones; why? Rabelais will give you the explanation, which I dare not quote here.

Plumard, Bahuchet's friend and usual companion, measured just the five feet necessary for military service; but beside his comrade he considered himself a fine figure of a man, and ostentatiously looked down on him.

Monsieur Plumard, while he was not handsome, was less ugly than Bahuchet; he had a nose of respectable appearance; an ordinary mouth, but of modest dimensions; and his eyes, level with his face, might have attracted attention by their size had it not been that they did so first of all by the utter idiocy of their expression. But all that did not prevent Monsieur Plumard from esteeming himself a very good-looking youth.

There was something, however, that poisoned the enjoyment of this diminutive Apollo; his hair did not correspond with his other physical advantages. At the age of twenty-seven, the young clerk of the Basoche, who had never possessed more than a few scanty locks, saw with dismay that that scant supply was diminishing; an affection of the skin had already caused three-fourths of it to drop out. He had for a long time flattered himself that it would grow again, but he found that even the little that remained was growing less.

In vain did the clerk rub himself--in default of pomades, which were then very expensive--with all the greasy substances that he thought capable of restoring the fertility of his scalp; the fatal round spot, having appeared on the summit of his head, had grown so much larger, and the brow had so extended its limits, that Monsieur Plumard was almost bald.

The result was that he wore almost always the small cap, in the shape of a hood, which the clerks of the Basoche then affected, and removed it only when he was absolutely obliged to do so.

Bahuchet, who knew his comrade from top to toe, and knew that his hair was the subject on which his self-esteem was most sensitive, often amused himself by attacking him at that point. It was not very manly; but Plumard retaliated by jeering at his comrade's small stature and his nose. Thus the two friends were quits, if we may call two persons friends who continually make fun of each other. But I am inclined to think that we may, for those who call themselves friends nowadays behave in much the same way.

"Are you in a good place, Bathilde? Can you see the pile?" Ambroisine asked her young friend, who had not eyes enough to look about the square, which was lighted by a vast number of torches which the shopkeepers had placed in front of their shops, and by lanterns which had been brought there by order of the lieutenant of police.

"Yes, yes, my dear Ambroisine, I am all right; I can see enough. I see so many things! all these people, all these costumes--it all seems so strange to me! Oh! but it is amusing!"

"If you like, children," said Master Hugonnet, "we might go somewhere and sit at a table? At one of yonder wine shops, we should have a very comfortable place to wait for the fire, and you would be sitting down, at all events, instead of standing all the time."

"Oh, no! my dear father, I see what you are aiming at--you would like something to drink. Upon my word! that would be very nice! When you have two girls to take care of, you don't drink, father--do you hear?"

"Ah! you would have me catch the pip, then?--And to think that devil of a Landry promised to join us! To be sure, he may be on the square; I should like to see anyone find an acquaintance in a mob like this! If we could find him, he would relieve me for a while. This crowd causes a heat that--that makes one thirsty."

"Ah! sandis! what a pleasant meeting! 'Tis the haughty Ambroisine, with her worthy father, whom I see before me!"

"Oho! it is Monsieur le Chevalier Passedix!" replied Ambroisine, as the long, lean gentleman planted himself in front of her. "Have you also come to see the Fire of Saint-Jean?"

"Ah! little do I care for these celebrations. The fire that burns in the depths of my heart would eclipse all possible Saint-Jeans. Do not be alarmed, cruel girl! it is no longer to you that those words are addressed. You spurned me, and I have carried elsewhere my sighs and my prayers!"

"Oh! I know it, monsieur le chevalier, and I congratulate you."

"You know it? Ah, yes! I remember; you even know for whom I sigh. You know Miretta?"

"Do I know her! Oh! she is my friend, too. I am very fond of her! She has shown such gratitude to me for the trivial service I rendered! She comes to see me now and then."

"Pardieu! I know it. The little one doesn't take a step without my knowledge, without having me at her heels!"

"She told me so, monsieur le chevalier, and I warn you that she dislikes it extremely. She has said to me several times: 'If that tall, thin, yellow man continues to follow me as soon as I set foot in the street, I shall be obliged to tell him that he is wasting his time and his steps.'"

"Ha! ha! ha! First of all, I will wager that Miretta did not say: 'that tall, thin, yellow man'; those are your own words, cruel tongue! Oh! I know women! They complain when we follow them; but they would be sorely disappointed if we did not follow them!"

"Well! try to disappoint Miretta; that will gratify her."

"I hoped to meet her here.--Bigre! I had not noticed; you have a most charming young lady on your arm!"

"Is she not? This is Bathilde, my closest friend. I suppose, of course, that you will at once fall in love with her too?"

"Oh, no! it is all over with me! You judge me ill, fair Ambroisine; I have given my heart to Miretta! For her alone do I propose henceforth to perform doughty deeds.--Sandis! what in the devil is this slipping between my legs like a lizard? Is it a man? is it an eel?"

"Don't disturb yourself, seigneur," replied Bahuchet; "I have got through. You must understand that I couldn't remain behind you; you are as tall as a giant!"

"And you are a dwarf, apparently! Ought atoms to be allowed in the crowd? Someone will crush you without noticing it, my little fellow!"

"Ouiche! I won't allow myself to be flattened out without saying _beware_!--I say, Plumard! do you hear this long asparagus stalk, who thinks that I am to be crushed like a grain of salt?"

Plumard was a few feet away, gazing at Bathilde, and apparently speechless with admiration.

"Plumard! Plumard! _ubi es_?--Ah! there he is!--Why don't you answer? What's the matter with you, pray? One would say that you were changed into a wooden man!"

Plumard simply motioned with his head, calling his comrade's attention to the fascinating girl. Whereupon Bahuchet looked at Bathilde and said, with a wink:

"Ah! famous! that's famous!--You see, Plumard, when I see such an attractive young woman, I begin by saluting her, to show my respect. Do as I do."

And Monsieur Bahuchet took off his cap to Bathilde, who paid no attention to him.

But Plumard, who did not choose to uncover his head, made an impatient gesture and moved a little farther away, muttering:

"I have a cold in my head."

From time to time Ambroisine turned, and her eyes seemed to seek someone in that multitude, made up of people of all ranks and classes, who seemed to have appointed to meet on Place de Grève.

"Do you see Landry?" Master Hugonnet asked his daughter, who shook her head, murmuring:

"No, father, no, I don't see Monsieur Landry."

But was it Landry for whom she was looking? Was it not rather Miretta, who had told her that she too would try to go to see the Fire of Saint-Jean? Indeed, I would not swear that the _belle baigneuse_ was not looking for someone else, for there was in her eyes a certain expression that might have aroused the suspicions of a jealous husband.

"Well! aren't they going to light the fire this evening? Are they going to make us wait till Saint-Martin's? I say! Plumard! Plumard! are you still playing the wooden man?"

"Come here, Bahuchet; this is a much better place, it's nearer the fire."

"What! do you dare to go so near as that? Look out, Plumard! the flame may singe your hair. Give me a lock first; I am sure that before long it will bring a high price, your hair! and, even so, everyone won't get it who would like some of it."

"You have forgotten something, Bahuchet!"

"What is that?"

"The two corks that you put in your nose when you go out on a windy night. Look out! there's a man with a torch beside you; don't turn, your nose would blow it out."

"Ah! Monsieur Plumard is pleased to be sarcastic.--However, you have a right to swagger; you know that I won't take you by the hair."

"Wait! just wait! I will give you a drubbing, you miserable dwarf!"

The two clerks approached to exchange blows; but as the Chevalier Passedix was between them, they used him as a rampart behind which to shelter themselves, and that rampart received many of the blows which the young gentlemen intended for each other.

"Sandioux! here are two rascals fighting between my legs now! Have you nearly finished, pygmies? If you force me to draw Roland from its sheath, I promise you that you will both be spitted like starlings!"

The two clerks, trying to run away in order to escape the effects of the Gascon's wrath, collided with two women from the market, who pushed them away with so much force that Monsieur Plumard fell to the ground, and, to put the finish to his misfortunes, he lost his cap in the fall, so that that youthful head was disclosed to view, already almost bald, having only a narrow band of vegetation left, just above the ears.

A general laugh arose, and the merriment was increased by the furious manner in which the unfortunate clerk ran through the crowd on all fours, looking between every pair of legs, and shouting:

"My cap! my cap! don't step on it!"

XIX

TWO MEN ON ALL FOURS

Ambroisine laughed like the rest when she saw Monsieur Plumard's bald head. She turned toward her friend, to see if she had noticed that sight; but she was thunderstruck by the strange expression presented by Bathilde's face at that moment.

The charming girl seemed happy and confused at the same time. Her eyes, half lowered, but in such wise that she could look out of the corners, were more brilliant than usual. Her cheeks wore a deeper flush, her mouth was half open in a smile. All this was not natural; and Ambroisine, with the knowledge that she possessed of the human heart, tried to discover what could cause her friend's emotion. Thereupon Master Hugonnet's daughter saw at Bathilde's left a young man wrapped in a cloak, his head covered by a broad-brimmed hat adorned with waving plumes, and beneath that hat a very comely face, haughty and distinguished, but most seductive when it chose to take the trouble, and that is what it was doing at that moment.

"Mon Dieu! it is Comte Léodgard!" said Ambroisine to herself, as she recognized the young man who held Bathilde as if fascinated by the eloquence of his glance; and almost instantly, as if she divined the danger that threatened her friend, she seized her arm and shook it, saying:

"Well, well! what is the matter? what are you thinking about, Bathilde? I speak to you, and you do not answer!"

"I, Ambroisine? oh! forgive me! I did not hear you."

"You seem confused, excited; has anyone been pushing you or incommoding you? would you like to take my other arm?"

"Oh, no! no! nobody has troubled me; nothing is the matter."

"But I say that there is; it is that young gentleman beside you, who keeps his eyes on you all the time! It is intolerable, isn't it?"

"Oh! it doesn't trouble me; just look at him, Ambroisine, without seeming to; you will see what a handsome man that gentleman is."

"I don't need to look at him again; I know him perfectly well!"

"You know him?"