Part 8

"I will not presume to ask monsieur le comte how he passes his time in Paris; that is his business, and I never meddle in other people's affairs! But I venture to say that I should be an invaluable guide for a stranger who wished to become acquainted with the pleasures, the merry gatherings, of the capital. I go about a great deal in the best society. I am a jovial companion, a sturdy toper; all the dandies, all the young noblemen who love to fight and drink and make love to the fair, are my friends. Does anyone need a second for a duel, a fourth for a party of four, Passedix is always there! I do not like to boast, but I could mention exploits of my own which the Amadises and Renauds would not have disavowed!"

"One needs only to see you, chevalier, to entertain no manner of doubt that you would be successful in whatever you might undertake!"

"Monsieur le comte is too kind! But it is quite true that I count only victories, sandioux!"

"If I remember aright," murmured the little widow, carefully placing a bit of toast in her egg, "you were on your back a fortnight as a result of the blows you received the last time that you tried to rob several bourgeois on Rue Mauconseil of their sleep!"

Passedix cast a savage glance at his landlady, as he cried:

"No, no! you are wrong, Dame Cadichard. I covered myself with glory in that affair; and if I did keep my bed for some time after, it was only because, in the heat of the affray, I gave myself a strain which kept me from going to my usual resorts for a few days. Your eggs are too hard, _belle dame_, you will never be able to dip your toast in them. I advise you to eat them as a salad."

"They are all right, monsieur le chevalier; I like them this way.--Mon Dieu! how sorry I am, monsieur le comte, that my servant keeps you waiting like this!"

"There is no harm done, madame, I am in no hurry."

"If only I had something to offer monsieur le comte; but this breakfast is not worthy of him."

"I should think it very nice, if I had not already eaten mine."

"In any case," observed Passedix, "you wouldn't offer your tenants boiled eggs, I trust; for these are as hard as rocks--like Easter eggs."

"Oh! what a tease you are, monsieur le chevalier! But I think that you know very little about cooking!"

"Sandioux! Dame Cadichard--on the contrary, I know a great deal about it. My godfather Chaudoreille used to give his friends banquets that lasted a whole week; I remember that he used to have delicacies from the four quarters of the globe, and he was not satisfied unless his guests had indigestion.--If Monsieur de Carvajal has no restaurant to which he is attached, I could take him to a cabaret where they serve the most delicious calves' heads, and stewed rabbits _en crapaudine_--you would swear they were hares."

"I thank you, chevalier; but I do not take my meals at wine shops."

"I understand--I understand. You prefer darkness and mystery, with some fair lady who awaits you in her _petite maison_; for we have ladies who have them, as well as men; I know something about it, for I have supped in more than one of those enchanting retreats--near Porte Saint-Antoine, on the other side of the Fossés Jaunes. I am not inquisitive, I do not mean to ask you indiscreet questions; but, between us, monsieur le comte, I will take the liberty to give you a piece of advice; it is this: it is not very safe in certain quarters of Paris at night; people are attacked, robbed, and sometimes murdered, without anyone interfering to prevent it. I warn you of this, because our landlady told me that you went out very late, and returned at very advanced hours of the night. That is imprudent! extremely imprudent!"

"Ah! madame told you that, did she?" rejoined the stranger, with a glance at Widow Cadichard that arrested one of the pieces of toast on its way to her mouth.

"I," murmured the little woman--"I said--that is--no, I said nothing. I don't know why monsieur le chevalier brings me into all the fables he invents. He would do better to pay the rent he owes me!"

"What is that, Widow Cadichard? I believe that you dared to say that I invent!--Cadédis! that is too much! I, invent anything!--I suppose that you didn't tell me also just now that monsieur had asked you for a duplicate key to the street door, so that he could go in and out at night without disturbing anyone; and that he had forbidden Popelinette to sit up for him; and that it was the fashion in Spain to walk the streets at night? To which I replied that it was not so warm in France as in the beautiful land of the Andalusians.--Ah! I invented all that--sandioux! If all that I have just said was not told me by you, I hope that this egg will choke me while I speak!--Look! didn't I tell you that they were all hard? But I am an ignoramus, I don't know anything about cooking. And this one is just the same; as they all are!"

As he spoke, the Gascon took up an egg and dexterously stripped it of its shell; after which, he made but one mouthful of it, and was about to do as much with a second one, when the landlady angrily pounced on the plate in which the others were and put it in her lap, saying:

"Well, monsieur, have you nearly finished swallowing my eggs as if they were little tarts? Really, you don't stand on ceremony! If it wasn't for my respect for monsieur le comte, I would tell you what I think of your conduct."

"What would you tell me, alluring Cadichard?--that I am a libertine, a scatterbrain, and that I owe you for four quarters? Cadédis! that is no crime; every day, gentlemen of good family find themselves short of money; and a few days later they roll in gold and doubloons.--Isn't that so, Monsieur de Carvajal?"

"It is, in truth, a common occurrence, monsieur le chevalier."

"At this moment, I know several noble lords who are in my plight. Among others, the young Comte Léodgard de Marvejols, of whom you have heard, doubtless?"

"Yes, the name is not unknown to me."

"It is one of the oldest families of Languedoc. The old Marquis de Marvejols is very rich, but he is a little strict with his son, although he has no other child. To be sure, Léodgard did run through the fortune he got from his mother rather rapidly. He's a young buck who travels fast--a gallant of my stamp; he loves cards and wine and the ladies.--Yes, sweet Cadichard, we love the ladies; but they must not fly into a passion when we condescend to taste a little egg in their honor.--To return to Léodgard, he has had hard luck of late! He had won a very neat little sum at cards, contrary to his custom, and was returning to his house at night, when he was attacked by Giovanni, that famous brigand, you know, who is at this moment the terror of the capital. You must have heard of him, monsieur le comte?"

"No; this is the first time that I have heard that name."

"You surprise me! Sandioux! Giovanni already has a tremendous reputation in this country. He must be very skilful with the sword to have beaten young Marvejols, who fights--almost as well as I do.--The result is that everybody is afraid of the man. But so far as I am concerned, the contrary is true; indeed, I would like very much to meet this famous robber!"

"Oh! that's because you are not afraid of being robbed!" said the little landlady, pressing her lips together spitefully.

"Always some piquant little remark, sweet Cadichard!--I overlook them, I overlook anything in the fair sex!"

"And why would you like to meet this--this Giovanni, monsieur le chevalier?" asked the stranger, playing with his sword hilt.

"Why, monsieur le comte, because I flatter myself that I should be more fortunate than poor Léodgard! And that infernal knave would receive at my hand the reward of his brigandage! I would give myself the pleasure of burying six inches of Roland in his throat. Ah! sandioux! I can see from here the wry face he would make!--Does that make you laugh, Monsieur de Carvajal?"

"Why, yes, because it occurs to me, too, that in such a battle as you suggest one of the two would, in fact, be likely to cause the other to make a strange grimace."

"One of the two! Do you doubt that I should triumph?"

"I in no wise doubt your valor, monsieur le chevalier; but as for your triumph, permit me to think that it is better not to make any assertions beforehand--the most valiant are conquered sometimes; fortune is capricious to fighting men as well as to lovers."

Passedix bit his lips and drew his eyebrows together. The hostess, who had decided to remove the shells from her eggs, said to the tenant of her first floor:

"In any case, monsieur le comte, it is always prudent not to go out at night unless you are well armed; for my part, I don't dare to go to the theatre at the Hôtel de Bourgogne, because it ends too late! It's half-past eight sometimes when they finish the beautiful tragedy of _Sophonisbé_, by Monsieur Mairet, which I would have liked to see, all the same!"

"_Sophonisbé!_ Faith! I prefer his last tragedy, the _Duc d'Ossone_--the verses are more sonorous, the subject more warlike.--What say you, monsieur le comte?"

"I do not go to the play."

"Where in the devil does the Spaniard go?" thought Passedix, draping himself in his cloak; "never to the court, never to a wine shop, never to the play! He wants to make us think that he's always shut up with some petticoat!"

And the Gascon swayed to and fro on his chair and caressed his chin, as he continued:

"For my part, I am a great frequenter of the theatre."

"You go to Brioché's theatre on Pont Neuf!" laughed Madame Cadichard; "there's a show outside; that doesn't cost anything!"

"I go where I choose, madame! It seems to me that I am entitled to. Brioché's marionettes are not to be despised, and the proof is that great crowds go there--leaders of society and idlers, _belles dames_ and _bourgeoises_. But that does not interfere with my being one of the most assiduous spectators at the Hôtel de Bourgogne; I know all Alexandre Hardy's plays, and I believe he has written over six hundred; he is my favorite author, and I prefer him to this Jean Mairet, who is laden with favors by the Cardinal de Richelieu, the Duc de Longueville, and the Comte de Soissons, because he has written a dozen or so of tragedies! A fine showing, forsooth, beside Hardy's six hundred plays!--Ah! cadédis! if I had ever undertaken to write, it would have been a different story!--But I prefer the sword to the pen; one must not derogate from his rank!"

At that moment, an old servant of more than sixty years, whose skin had such a dark-yellow tinge that she might at need have been passed off as a Moor, entered the room and approached the stranger. It was Popelinette, just returned from performing her commission.

"Here are all the things you told me to get, monsieur le comte--gloves, perfumery--the nicest and daintiest I could find; and _mouches_ and paint; and here is the money that is left."

"Very good; keep that for your trouble."

"Oh! you are very kind, monseigneur! I thank you very humbly!"

"Does the fellow mean to disguise himself as a woman?" Passedix thought, glancing furtively at Popelinette's purchases, which she had placed on a table. "Paint! _mouches!_ perfumery! Fie, fie! all those things do very well for shepherds in Arcady. I begin to conceive a very singular opinion of this Spaniard!"

"It took you a very long time to do the errand monsieur le comte gave you to do!" said the plump Cadichard to her servant. "You must try to make your legs work a little livelier when you go out."

"But, madame, I went to the best perfumer on Rue Saint-Honoré, near the Couvent des Capucines; that's a long way."

"Monsieur le Chevalier Passedix has been waiting impatiently for you; he needs your help--some buttons to sew on his doublet."

"Again!" muttered Popelinette, with a most disrespectful gesture.

"What do you mean by that?" cried the Gascon, raising his head; "I should like to know if you are not here to wait upon the tenants? I consider your reply a little impertinent, my girl!"

"Mon Dieu! don't be angry, monsieur le chevalier; I don't refuse to do what you want; but I meant that your doublet has been patched and mended so often that the buttons I sew on are likely not to hold, for lack of material to sew them to."

"It is easy to see, old Popelinette, that you no longer have your eyes of twenty years! otherwise, you would not abuse thus a garment which is almost new, and which owes the numerous patches that cover it solely to the sword thrusts I have received in single combats and others. But they are titles to renown, and that is why I am fond of this doublet; if I should buy a new one, within a week it would be riddled by sword thrusts as this one is; one doesn't go to the water without getting wet.--Well! my girl, take a needle and thread and let us have done with it, for the day is advancing, and I should already be somewhere else!"

The old servant grumblingly took what she needed to repair the Gascon's doublet. For some moments, the stranger had been examining what Popelinette had brought him; at last he carefully replaced all the articles in paper and put them in his pocket one after another, as if he were preparing to take his leave.

"Yes, sandioux!" cried Passedix, partly unbuttoning his doublet so that the servant could work more conveniently; "yes, I long to pursue a certain adventure, the heroine of which surpasses the Venus of Medici!"

"Oh! monsieur le chevalier makes Venuses out of every retroussé nose he meets!" said Dame Cadichard, shrugging her shoulders.

"Do you think so, charming hostess? I should say that I have never given you reason to think that my taste was bad!"

The landlady turned her little eyes on the Gascon, like a person who does not know whether she ought to take in good or ill part what is said to her. Passedix continued:

"By the way, I made her acquaintance in such singular fashion!--Ah! be careful, Popelinette, you are pricking me as if I were a pincushion!"

"Goodness! it isn't my fault, monsieur; you keep moving all the time!"

"That is my nature; I could not keep still for a moment; that is due to the heat of my blood--to the smoking lava that flows in my veins! I am a volcano! and then, the image of that Italian was well adapted to make my legs twitch!"

"Ah! your conquest is an Italian, is she, monsieur le chevalier?" said the stranger, who had taken a step or two toward the door, but who turned at that and looked at Passedix.

"Yes, monsieur le comte; that is to say, she isn't exactly an Italian, although she wears the costume of a Milanese; she was born in Béarn, but it seems that she has lived in Milan many years. I give you my word that she is a dainty morsel, that little Miretta!"

When he heard the name Miretta, the foreigner could not restrain a gesture of surprise; but he recovered himself instantly, walked back to the easy-chair he had just left, and resumed his seat, saying:

"Really, monsieur le chevalier, you make me very curious; and if I were not afraid of being indiscreet in asking you how you made the acquaintance of this girl, who, you say, is so pretty, I should take great pleasure in hearing of it."

"There is no indiscretion in your request, count; indeed, the affair took place in the presence of numerous witnesses and made quite a sensation this morning. I will stake my head that it will be the talk of the court and the whole city this evening. I will tell you all about it.--Go on, Popelinette; it needn't prevent you from sewing on my buttons."

Thereupon the Gascon chevalier described what had taken place that morning in front of Master Hugonnet's house; and in his narrative, carried away doubtless by his interest in the pretty Milanese, Passedix embellished the truth with a number of episodes which he deemed likely to heighten the effect. For instance, he did not fail to say that on several occasions he had saved Cédrille from certain death by throwing himself in front of the swords that threatened him; in a word, it was due to his courage that the two travellers succeeded in escaping from the fury of those who surrounded them.

The foreigner listened to the Gascon with the closest attention. When the latter had finished, the other looked fixedly at him and said:

"Now, what do you expect to do, chevalier?"

"What! By Venus! follow up the adventure, watch for the little one to come out, join her, declare my passion, soften her heart--a mere trifle! The rest will go of itself."

"No doubt!" muttered Dame Cadichard; "if the girl is a good-for-nothing who listens to the first comer!"

"Whom do you call a first comer, madame? do you dare to apply those words to Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix?--Sandioux! you are pricking me, Popelinette! do be careful!"

"I mean to say, monsieur, that this girl does not know you; and if she is virtuous----"

"Cadédis! all women are virtuous before they have sinned; and since the days of Eve, who allowed herself to be tempted by a serpent, how many women have stumbled---- Oh! this old woman is determined to spit me like a roasted hare!"

"But in order to watch for this Italian," observed the Spaniard, "it is necessary first of all that you should know where she lives in Paris."

"Oh! I know that; I know where Miretta is at this moment; I even know why she has come to Paris. I am perfectly informed--but upon this matter you will allow me to keep silent. The little one is too dainty a morsel for me to show her nest to other men, and I am sure that you will consider that I am right to act thus."

The foreigner rose and bowed to the Gascon.

"Good luck in your love affairs, Chevalier Passedix!"

"Infinitely obliged! Much pleasure in your nocturnal walks, monsieur le comte!"

The foreigner took his leave. The landlady renewed her humble reverences, and Passedix muttered:

"A singular man, this Monsieur de Carvajal!"

"You are all sewed up, monsieur," said Popelinette; "but, bless me! I won't swear it will hold long, the stuff is so rotten!"

"Very good! all right! I didn't ask you about that!--He buys paint, _mouches_, perfumes!--he's an effeminate creature!"

"I don't think," said the little hostess, "that it is so unpleasant to perfume one's self, and to leave an agreeable odor behind one as one passes!"

"I have never needed that to please the fair! And when I eat wild duck, I don't like to have it smell of musk!"

The Gascon hurried from the room and went up to his fifth floor, while Dame Cadichard exclaimed:

"Ah! if I only had a loft over his room!"

Popelinette put away her needle and thread, muttering:

"Oh, no! he doesn't smell of musk, that fellow! he doesn't need to deny it!"

XII

VALENTINE DE MONGARCIN

Let us transport ourselves to Rue Saint-Honoré, to the interior of a magnificent mansion, where everything is eloquent of wealth, splendor, and refinement, where the furniture and hangings represent all that is most beautiful and dainty in the products of that age. There we shall find Madame de Ravenelle and her niece, Valentine de Mongarcin.

Madame de Ravenelle was seventy-two years of age; she had once been pretty, she was still fresh and plump; for the anxieties, the cares, the griefs, which often make one old much more rapidly than time, had never darkened her life, which had flowed on as placidly and gently as the waters of a stream hidden by tall grasses and never disturbed by the traveller's oar.

The old lady, blessed with a cheerful, heedless, and, above all, selfish disposition, had known how to submit philosophically to those petty disagreements from which no one is wholly exempt throughout the course of a long life. Having an excellent stomach, and very little susceptibility, she always sat down at the table with a good appetite, and never had recourse to the doctors. Incapable of doing anything unkind or spiteful, which would have disturbed the harmony of her temperament, she listened without emotion to the tale of another person's woes; and yet, she was quite ready to be humane, and often did a kind deed, when it was not likely to cause her either fatigue or trouble.

Valentine de Mongarcin had been brought up at a convent; but there, no less than in society, she had been fully aware that she was the sole inheritress of a great name and a great fortune; flattery, which insinuates itself everywhere, makes its way into convents; pretty, clever, but proud of her name and her rank, Valentine had discovered too early in life that people were eager to gratify all her desires; she had grown up with the idea that her will was never to be thwarted; and, although possessed of a sensitive heart, and of a noble soul capable of noble deeds, she had contracted a haughty, disdainful manner, which had made her but few friends.

At the age of eighteen, her figure had developed, her bearing had become noble and dignified, her features were regular, and the outlines of her face exquisitely pure; her hair was as black as ebony, and her great gray eyes, with their long black lashes, had a most seductive expression when they did not choose to express arrogance or scorn.

On leaving the convent to occupy her father's mansion, Valentine had not presented herself to her aunt in the guise of a timid girl who claims the support and protection of her only remaining relation; she had appeared like a conqueror making his triumphal entry into a city which he has compelled to capitulate; but she had to deal with a person who worried her head very little over the airs and tone which other people adopted toward her.

Madame de Ravenelle received her niece with the smile which had become stereotyped on her face; she considered her beautiful and well made, and was gratified that that was the case; but if Valentine had been ugly or deformed, the old lady would speedily have consoled herself. Between two persons of such temperaments, there was no danger that there would ever be any lack of harmony; for to every question that Valentine asked on her arrival, Madame de Ravenelle replied:

"Do whatever you please in the house; command and you will be obeyed, provided that you disturb nothing in my apartment and my personal service. I have my women, you will have yours; I shall not thwart you in anything, for my brother's daughter would be incapable of doing anything unworthy of her rank. And if the company I receive should bore you, you will be at liberty not to appear in the salon."

Mademoiselle de Mongarcin could not ask for more liberty or greater power; the confidence that her aunt manifested in her pleased her; she would have rebelled against a stern affection that would have tried to guide her, but she was amiable and affectionate with one who was simply indifferent to her.

Young Valentine considered the old hangings of the Hôtel de Mongarcin gloomy and repellent; she had them all changed or renewed, and the furniture as well. But nothing was disturbed in the apartment occupied by Madame de Ravenelle. Some of the servants having failed to carry out the girl's orders quickly enough, she dismissed them and engaged others; but her aunt's maid and her old male attendant were outside of her authority.

The Hôtel de Mongarcin became more fashionable; it assumed a more youthful, a gayer aspect; frequent entertainments were given there by musicians, jugglers, and gypsies; it amused Valentine, and it was all a matter of indifference to Madame de Ravenelle.

One day, however, the old lady said to her niece:

"By the way, Valentine, have you ever heard of the young Comte Léodgard de Marvejols?"

"The name is familiar to me, and I have an idea that my father often mentioned it.--Why do you ask me that question, aunt?"

"Because my brother was very desirous that young Léodgard should some day become your husband."

"Ah! my father desired it?"

"Yes; he told me so again just before he died. He was very closely attached to young Léodgard's father, who had the same wish."

"Well, aunt?"