Part 9

"Henceforth this house is open to you, seigneur," Bathilde replied. "You will honor me by coming here; you will make me happy by taking an interest in my daughter."

At first the Black Chevalier availed himself sparingly of the permission accorded him by the young mother. But as little Blanche developed, as her features became more individualized, as her eyes began to beam with something different from the vague expression of infancy, she became so lovely, there was so much sweetness and charm in her glance, that it was impossible not to feel the keenest interest in her, or to leave her without a secret determination to see her soon again.

As he gazed at little Blanche, Jarnonville tried to discover in her features some likeness to the child he had lost, and it rarely happened that he did not succeed; for in early childhood the little creatures almost always make use of the same cries, the same language, to express joy, grief, and pain.

Thus the chevalier's visits gradually became increasingly frequent, for with every day that passed his affection for little Blanche strengthened.

And then Ambroisine, who loved the little girl almost as dearly as her mother did, rarely let a day pass without coming to see Bathilde's child; so that, when he went to the Hôtel de Marvejols, Jarnonville was almost certain to meet the fair godmother there; which was an additional motive for him to go thither often.

Bathilde saw with pride and rapture that her daughter became every day lovelier and sweeter; she was happy in the affection which everyone manifested for the child; but in the midst of her joy, surrounded by her faithful friends, with her child in her arms, she sometimes raised her eyes toward heaven and sighed, saying:

"Ah! if her father could see her, I am very sure that he too would love her!"

XXXVIII

THE ORANGE CHEVALIER

We left the Chevalier Passedix, dressed in his orange-colored costume, just as he parted from the two clerks who had sold him his second-hand clothes, intending to exhibit himself for admiration in the streets of Paris, and, above all, to try to fall in with Miretta, of whom he was still deeply enamored, and whose favor he flattered himself upon winning in his new costume.

But to no purpose did the Gascon chevalier scour the streets during the whole afternoon and a large part of the night; he did not see the woman whom he burned to meet.

By way of compensation for his bad luck, Passedix finished the night in a low resort which closely resembled a bawdy house; and there he became completely drunk by dint of treating all the habitués of the place who complimented him on his costume and on the noble way in which he wore it.

For some time Passedix continued to lead a jovial life, turning night into day, passing a great part of his time at the table, and parading through the streets during entire evenings; then betaking himself to the wine shop, treating his acquaintances and even perfect strangers, getting tipsy regularly every night, and returning at daybreak to the Hôtel du Sanglier, where, the next morning, old Popelinette, with the utmost zeal, administered tea or some other calming potion of the sort that is often necessary to a man who leads such a disorderly life.

But sometimes, on the morrow of a more highly spiced debauch than usual, our Gascon, as he drank the cup of tea prepared by Popelinette, would heave tremendous sighs, run his hands through his hair, and stare at the ceiling, crying:

"Sandis! I would never have believed it! Ah! Popelinette, so it is true that wealth does not bring happiness!"

"Bah! is it possible, monsieur le chevalier?"

"The fact that I say it proves that it is possible! Now I have my pockets full of gold; I can indulge myself with the most exquisite dishes, the rarest wines."

"And you don't stint yourself, I should say!"

"Of course I do not stint myself! I must needs make the crowns dance, and do myself credit with my wealth! I breakfast for four, I dine for six, I sup like the greatest epicure in France; I receive eloquent glances from all sides until I am fairly bewildered; I gamble; I often frequent tennis courts; I am very strong at tennis--I always lose, but I am very strong at it; you should see how I send back the _esteuf_! People flock to see me play at the courts in Rue de la Perle and Rue Cassette, and especially at the fine court in Rue Mazarine. In short, Popelinette, I lead what is called a joyous life."

"Oh! as to that, there's no doubt!"

"Well! I am not joyous at all; amid all these pleasures, I sigh, I languish.--Sandioux! your tea is devilishly insipid this morning; put some more sugar in it!--Yes, I would give all these parties, all these banquets, for a glance from my love!--Alas!"

"Aha! so you have a love who won't look at you, monsieur le chevalier?"

"What a blockhead you are, Popelinette!--She doesn't look at me, because I am not before her eyes. It is a century since I saw her; I cannot succeed in meeting her. In fact, she has not seen me since I have had this elegant costume, which all the women dote on, and thanks to which I make conquests at every step. Not a woman who does not turn to look at me!"

"Bless me! it's true enough, monsieur le chevalier, that you're very funny-looking in those orange-colored clothes!"

"Funny-looking! what do you mean by funny-looking, old woman?--Pray try to use more elegant language; you talk like a goose, Popelinette, and you serve me hot water instead of tea! Take away this drug, and prepare me an emollient not to be taken through the mouth--do you understand?--Go, old witch, and be careful not to call me funny-looking again, or I will bury Roland in your half-moons!"

The old woman withdrew, grumbling, and Passedix paced his room as if he were rehearsing a scene from a tragedy.

"O Miretta!" he cried; "caprice of my heart! Shouldst thou but see me now, I cannot believe that thou wouldst be so cruel; women love fine apparel upon themselves and upon those who pay court to them. I was infernally seedy when thou didst know me, and that must have done me much discredit in thy sight.--And to think that I cannot meet her! I have planted myself like a sentinel twenty times in front of the Hôtel de Mongarcin, but she has not come out. I cannot stand there all day long, especially as I attract too much attention--the women gather about me in flocks!--No matter! I will see my fascinating brunette again--I swear it by Roland!"

About midday Passedix issued forth once more, saying to himself:

"I will turn my steps in another direction; perhaps chance will be more favorable to me."

And for two hours the orange chevalier traversed the Saint-Honoré quarter and the Halles in all directions. Then he changed his route, and, turning toward the Cloister of Saint-Merri, entered Rue Brisemiche, then in very bad repute, being specially assigned for the residence of prostitutes. At the end of the fourteenth century, the Provost of Paris had, at the request of the curé of Saint-Merri, issued an edict expelling the _golden girdles_ from Rue Brisemiche and Rue Tire-Boudin; but certain bourgeois resisted the execution of this edict and insisted upon maintaining the prostitutes in possession of those streets. And the Parliament, by a decree of January 21, 1388, ratified the opposition of the bourgeois!--What do you think of the _good old times_?

Passedix had just passed a dark second-hand clothes shop of very grimy aspect, when a little man, advanced in years, but thickset and powerful, who was taking the air on the threshold of the shop in question, having scrutinized the chevalier for a moment, set up a screech worthy of a peacock, and, darting after the saunterer, overtook him and seized him by his cloak.

"Ah! I have him! here he is!--Oh! you won't get away from me, my buck!"

Surprised by this sudden attack, the Gascon turned, eyed the clothes dealer with a disdainful air, and tried to release his cloak, saying:

"Who in the devil are you seizing, my good man? You have certainly made a mistake; you should try wearing spectacles.--Let this cloak alone, cadédis! you will rumple it!"

But the dealer had strong hands; he did not release the cloak, and so detained Passedix, shouting all the while:

"Let you go, you thief, you brigand! Oh, no! you shall not get away from me! This is my merchandise: cloak, doublet, short-clothes, and even the girdle--nothing is missing!--What an impudent knave you must be, to walk about with it all on your body!--Help, friends, neighbors! Help! Watch! watch! Come and help me arrest a thief!"

"A thief!" the cry was echoed on all sides; people ran to the spot, and in a trice a compact crowd surrounded the two struggling men.

"He takes me for a thief!" exclaimed Passedix, addressing the witnesses of the scene. "I should find it very amusing, if I were not afraid that this clown would tear my cloak! Sandis! if he makes the slightest rent in it, I will make him pay for it!"

"He will make me pay for what is mine, what he stole from my own nephew!" exclaimed the shopkeeper. "Ah! you villain! you don't belie your reputation.--My friends, messieurs, mesdemoiselles, do you know who this man is? He is Giovanni! the celebrated Giovanni! the Italian robber who has been working Paris for a long while, and whom the police can never catch! Well! I have caught him, I have! And I promise you that I won't let him go.--It's a great capture! Help me take him to the guardhouse at the Châtelet; we shall render a great service to society!"

"Giovanni! Giovanni!" cried the bystanders. And one and all pushed and crowded and stood on tiptoe, trying to obtain a better view of the famous brigand of whom everyone was talking, and of whom stories were told that made women and children, and often husbands and brothers too, quake with fear.

"What! is that the Italian brigand?" said a bourgeois; "I have heard that he has a horrible face. This tall fellow makes me more inclined to laugh."

"I was told he is a handsome young man," said a corpulent matron; "this man is very ugly and he isn't young."

"He hasn't a surly look at all, this cavalier," said a tradesman; "are you quite sure, neighbor, that you are not mistaken?"

"Am I sure!" cried the dealer in clothes; "why, it's very easy to explain.--I intrusted to my nephew Plumard, a solicitor's clerk, the complete costume, orange silk, slashed with lemon, which this man is wearing. My nephew Plumard came back and told me, with tears in his eyes, that he had been attacked and robbed in Rue des Bourdonnais by the brigand Giovanni, dressed in the costume in which he is always seen.--Now, then, as this man is wearing the complete outfit that I intrusted to my nephew, he must be the man who stole it; and he must have been very glad to put on this costume, because he knows that the police have his description in the other."

"Yes, yes, he's Giovanni, he's the robber!" cried the crowd, inclined, like all crowds, to find a culprit.

"We must take him to the Châtelet; we mustn't let him escape. Let's take away his long sword!"

"Sandioux! you are cowards all!" shouted Passedix, drawing Roland from the scabbard, and trying to force his way through the multitude. "This old clothes man is a fool--I don't know him! The clothes I have on I paid for in honest crowns--thirty pistoles, do you hear?"

"The proof that he lies," cried the second-hand dealer, "is that I asked only fifteen pistoles for the complete outfit, as it was second-hand."

"Ah! the blackguards! the reptiles! they cheated me!" rejoined the Gascon. "But I paid for the whole suit, none the less. Let the man who says I did not, come forward; I offer to fight him to the death--with dagger, sword, or partisan!"

But no one listened to the chevalier, because they were only too glad to be able to believe that they had Giovanni in their hands.

Meanwhile several soldiers and arquebusiers had forced their way into the crowd, and the unfortunate Passedix was speedily disarmed; they bound his hands behind his back and forced him to go with them to the Châtelet, while the crowd heaped insults upon him and beat him with their fists. The little clothes dealer headed the procession, which increased in size every moment, because all the passers-by and shop clerks on the route they traversed, when they heard someone say: "It is Giovanni whom they have arrested," hastened to join the crowd, hoping to obtain a glimpse of the brigand who had caused them to tremble with dread for many months.

XXXIX

THE MARQUISE DE SANTOVAL

While these things were taking place, a scene of a different sort was being enacted in a superb mansion in Rue Sainte-Avoie, which mansion belonged to the Marquis de Santoval, who had become the husband of Valentine de Mongarcin several months earlier.

When she married, the heiress had been compelled to leave her abode on Rue Saint-Honoré, to follow the spouse whom she had chosen. She had parted from her aunt, Madame de Ravenelle, without any very poignant regret, for their temperaments were in no respect sympathetic; nor did the old lady display any deep emotion when her niece left her.

Selfish people are happy in that they refer all their sensations to themselves alone; they love themselves too much to waste any love on others.

Valentine had taken Miretta with her, whom she treated as a friend rather than as a lady's-maid, and with whom she would not willingly have parted for anything on earth. This arrangement had been made without any difficulty. Monsieur de Santoval, proud of the preference which Valentine had accorded him over his numerous rivals, displayed the greatest zeal in gratifying his lovely wife's lightest wish; and he had lavished diamonds and other valuable gifts upon her.

He left her entirely at liberty, feeling sure doubtless that she would not abuse the privilege; perhaps, too, he had reserved the means of satisfying himself whether she did abuse it or not.

The marquis had one of those faces which always make one shudder when they assume to express confidence in a person.

The young Marquise de Santoval was in her dressing room, standing before a large Venetian mirror, which, in those days, filled the place of the modern psyche. She was trying the effect against her hair of a new set of rubies which her husband had brought her that morning. And as the reddish gleam of the stones harmonized perfectly with the brilliant gloss of her raven locks, Valentine could not restrain a smile of satisfaction at finding herself so lovely.

"This is becoming to me, is it not, Miretta?" she asked, turning to her pretty maid, who stood behind her gazing at her with a sad expression.

"Yes, madame, it is admirable; it is perfectly suited to you. I do not think that it is possible to be more lovely."

"Aha! flatterer!--But it is possible to be less lovely and more attractive!"

"Monsieur le marquis is very gallant; his presents are magnificent!"

"He does no more than he should do! I think that he was much flattered by the preference I accorded him."

"Can it be that madame regrets it now?"

"Hush, Miretta, hush! there are some things that must never be said!--However, I have no regrets; I did what I was determined to do. It was not a caprice that guided my action. Nor, as you may imagine, was it love--although Monsieur de Santoval is still young, and a very handsome man. Indeed, there are some women who consider him superb. Not long ago, Madame de Grangeville whispered in my ear: 'I congratulate you on your choice! Monsieur de Santoval is one of the handsomest cavaliers at court!'"

"Did that flatter you, madame?"

"Flatter me? Bah! what difference do you think that it makes to me? When one has no love for a man, what does one care what people say about him?"

"Monsieur de Santoval seems to be very much in love, himself!"

"In love with me?--Hum! yes, perhaps he is; but he is very proud, very haughty, and, above all, very jealous of his honor!"

"And of madame too, probably?"

"Why, of course, as the two go together!--What a strange thing!"

"What is strange, madame?"

"Nothing! nothing!"

And Valentine smiled, as if she had had the thought which Beaumarchais many years later put into the mouth of Comte Almaviva in _Le Mariage de Figaro_.

"Has not Joseph returned, Miretta?"

"No, madame, not yet."

"How long a time that fellow takes to do such a simple errand! I sent him to Madame de Ligneulle's, only a few steps away, to ask if she expected to go to the Baronne de Beaumont's this evening; and it is more than an hour since he went! He amuses himself by the way, it seems."

"It surprises me, madame, for Joseph is usually very zealous and very prompt in the execution of madame's orders."

"I know it, and that is why I employ him. But Madame de Ligneulle's house is within five minutes' walk--and to take more than an hour in going there and returning!"

"They kept him waiting, no doubt."

"When a messenger comes from me, she never keeps him waiting."

"Does madame mean to go to Madame de Beaumont's this evening?"

"Yes, I shall go."

"Madame enjoys society since her marriage."

"You think so, because I go out a great deal. I have not yet found--what I am seeking; but it must happen sooner or later."

The portière of the dressing room was softly put aside, and a servant in rich livery showed his face, asking respectfully if he might enter.

"Ah! you have returned at last, Joseph!" cried Valentine. "Have you had an accident, pray, that you have been away so long?--Come in, and speak."

"Oh! yes, madame!" the valet replied, entering the room. "That is to say, I have not actually had an accident; but there was such a crowd in the street, so many people had collected to see him pass--they crowded and pushed----"

"What was the reason of the crowd? what was there to see that was so interesting?"

"Oh! can it be that madame does not know?--He is arrested, he is caught at last! It was high time, too!"

"Who is arrested at last?"

"The famous Italian brigand--the dreaded Giovanni!"

"Giovanni is arrested, you say?" cried Miretta, who had suddenly turned deathly pale; and she seized the valet's arm and pressed it violently. "Giovanni taken! Are you sure of it?"

"Certainly, mademoiselle; for they were taking him to the Petit Châtelet, and everybody crowded to see him."

"Ah! unhappy wretch that I am!"

And the girl, with a loud shriek, darted from the room, entirely forgetting her mistress and everything about her. In two or three seconds she had rushed through the salons, the vestibule, and the courtyard, and was hurrying along the street, roughly pushing aside everybody who came in her way.

But, as the orange chevalier drew near the Petit Châtelet, where many malefactors were then confined, three young noblemen, having just crossed the Petit Pont, noticed the crowd, and, hearing it said that Giovanni had been arrested, forced their way through the spectators until they reached the Gascon, at whom everybody was pointing, saying:

"That is the famous bandit!"

Thereupon, to the vast amazement of the multitude, the three young gentlemen roared with laughter; then they seized the malefactor's hands and pressed them cordially, while he exclaimed:

"Gad! this is very lucky! Sandis! here are some friends who know me, at last! It's Sénange and Monclair!--Can you believe, messieurs, that these people absolutely insist that I am the celebrated robber Giovanni?"

"You, Giovanni? Poor Passedix!"

"Poor! Deuce take it! he has not been poor since he inherited a fortune!"

"Who is it that is fool enough to take you for the Italian brigand?"

"That infamous little clothes dealer yonder! But, by Roland! I will have satisfaction for his insults!"

"Pardieu!" said Sénange, "it happens that Captain Raynold is on duty at the Châtelet, and he knows our friend Passedix."

A captain of archers came from the prison at that moment to inquire the cause of the commotion; when he saw Passedix, with whom he had more than once drunk and played cards at wine shops, he offered him his hand, which fully satisfied the crowd that they had made a mistake and that the prisoner was not Giovanni.

The captain administered a sharp rebuke to the men who had made the arrest, calling their attention to the fact that the orange chevalier's face and figure bore no resemblance whatever to the well-known description of Giovanni.

"But," cried the little dealer, in dire distress because of his error, "it is none the less true that those very noticeable garments came from my shop, and that they were stolen from my nephew, to whom I delivered them to be sold."

"One moment, old Jew," said Passedix; "what is your nephew's name?"

"Plumard; he is clerk to Maître Bourdinard, solicitor."

"Very good; now we are on the track; and he has a friend, another little villain, even smaller than you, whose name is Bahuchet?"

"That is true."

"And one of them has a plaster on his head, which makes him look like a sick cur?"

"It's my nephew who wears that plaster--in place of hair."

"Well, you damned clothes man, if you had listened to me, I would have told you that your nephew and his friend Bahuchet came to my Hôtel du Sanglier on Place aux Chats, and, knowing that I desired a complete new outfit and that I had inherited a large property, they brought me this orange costume, for which I paid them thirty pistoles in honest crowns."

"Is it possible? You gave them thirty pistoles?"

"I swear it on my honor! And these gentlemen will bear witness that I am to be believed."

"Yes, yes! palsambleu! Thirty pistoles--why, that is nothing to him now, for he doesn't know what to do with his doubloons."

"Pardon! a thousand pardons, monsieur le chevalier! Then it must be my nephew who robbed me."

"That is very probable. That little rascal, with his plaster, looked to me like a consummate knave, and I fancy that that Bahuchet is little better; but when I meet them, I will administer salutary chastisement to them. As for you, dealer in old clothes, I ought to shave your ears a trifle! You called the fine flower of chivalry a robber!"

As he spoke, Passedix seized the little man by one ear and shook him roughly. The young noblemen, who were highly amused by the scene, urged the chevalier to enforce all the rights of the victor; the terrified tradesman was beginning to whine and beg for mercy, when suddenly the Gascon's face became radiant, his eyes flashed fire, and he released the little man's ear, crying:

"There she is! it is she! I find her again at last!--Adieu, my noble friends! Do not follow me, I beg!"

It was indeed Miretta whom Passedix had espied; Miretta, who, after running hither and thither a long while, had succeeded at last in forcing her way through the crowd, and at the very moment when she expected to see her lover had heard people saying all about her:

"They have made a mistake."

"It isn't Giovanni that they caught."

"Oh! what a misfortune!"

"Who was it they arrested, then?"

"No one! Oh, yes! they arrested that tall, lank man dressed in orange; but it seems that he isn't a thief, as all those gentlemen know him, and the captain of the archers himself came up and shook hands with him."

"That old idiot of a second-hand clothes dealer is the cause of it all!"

"Down with the old clothes man!"

"To the gallows with the old clothes man!"

Miretta's heart swelled when she heard all these remarks, and, as she had run a long way, she leaned against a post and began to breathe more freely.

Then it was that Passedix appeared and struck an attitude in front of her, with a courteous bow, saying:

"At last, I see thee again! star of my soul, firmament of my heart, moon of my thoughts, planet----"

"Tell me, monsieur le chevalier, did they really take you for Giovanni?" said Miretta, breaking in upon her adorer's compliments.