Part 24

"That don't prove anything, my dear girl; in the first place, as he was leaving Paris, he didn't need any furniture; and then there are people who prefer to live in furnished lodgings. For my part, I've sold my furniture four or five times, and yet I stay in Paris; you see that every day.--But after all, in which direction has the fellow gone? Didn't he tell you, monsieur le concierge?"

"Yes; he's gone round the world."

"The deuce! that's a definite address! Think of writing: 'To Monsieur So-and-So, going round the world!'--And he's taken Bertrand with him, has he?"

"Yes, I'm fery sorry for it, because Pertrand was just beginning to work fery gut."

"Bertrand, work? at what, pray?"

"At making preeches, bantaloons; it was me who taught him."

"My dear man, I think you must be dreaming now. Bertrand, the old soldier, Auguste's faithful servant, make breeches?"

"Like a horse."

"You're crazy!"

"No, no, I ain't; Pertrand, he did work. He passed every night working, and my wife told me he did it to help his master, who was throwing away all his money."

Virginie was speechless, but Denise exclaimed:

"I understand only too well. Dear old Bertrand! I knew he was a fine fellow! He worked to help Auguste, who didn't know anything about it, probably."

"Oh, no! he was going to sew up my tongue if I said a word."

"Well, madame, if Monsieur Auguste hadn't been without means, would Bertrand have worked at tailoring--worked all night?"

"Faith, my dear girl, I don't understand it at all. The last time I saw Auguste he treated me to punch, and yet he must have moved up to the fifth floor even then. To be sure, he had such a kind heart, he was so generous!--Well, well! there she is crying again! My dear Denise, you'll make your eyes as red as a rabbit's; and that won't bring Auguste back. Poor child! how she loves him! Those ne'er-do-wells must have some kind of magic power, to inspire such passions. Don't get excited, Denise--he'll come back, he hasn't gone away forever. You'll see him again, I'm sure of it; and when he knows how much you love him, I propose that he shall love you and cherish you; I'll tell him what grief and torture he has caused you; I'll tell him how good, how gentle and sweet you are. Come, don't cry any more. Kiss me, Denise; Auguste will love you, for you well deserve it."

Virginie was deeply moved; Denise's suffering had melted her; for the first time in a very long while, genuine tears fell from her eyes as she threw her arms about the village girl.

Nothing pacifies the wretched so quickly as to find that someone else shares their distress. Denise listened to Virginie's entreaties; she exerted herself to summon her courage; she wiped her eyes, rose, and said with a long-drawn sigh:

"I'll go back to the village then."

"Yes, my dear girl, that's the wisest thing you can do."

"But suppose he should come back, madame?"

"Well, I'll let you know, I'll come and tell you; I promise to do my utmost to learn something about him."

"Ah! how good you are, madame!"

"Why, no--the trouble is that you're a slip of a girl who ought to be kept under glass."

"Monsieur le concierge," said Denise, "if you hear anything about Monsieur Auguste, don't forget to ask where he is, and find out where a person can write to him."

"Ja, mamzelle."

"Don't you be afraid, little Denise: I'll come often and ask Dutchy if he knows anything. He's a good fellow, though he does smoke all the time, is Monsieur--What's your name?"

"Schtrack."

"Schtrack! Oh! what a name! Schtrack! I believe that that means blackguardism in German. Never mind--au revoir, Monsieur Schtrack. Come, my love, I'll walk to the diligence office with you."

Denise left Auguste's late abode, and, with her arm through Virginie's, returned to the diligence office, carrying the bag of money which she had no choice but to take back to the village. Virginie offered to take the trip with her, but the girl declined her offer with thanks, and, after urging her to try to find out something concerning the man whom she had hoped to find in Paris, she entered the stage and rode sadly back to Montfermeil, saying to herself:

"Alas! I am not lucky in my trips to Paris."

XXI

THE TRAVELLERS' FIRST ADVENTURE

Auguste and Bertrand had taken the Lyon diligence. The young man was inside, and his companion on the box,--in order to enjoy the fresh air, so he told Auguste, but in reality as an economical measure.

It was the first time that Auguste had ever found himself in a public conveyance; accustomed as he was to drive in a light cabriolet, drawn by spirited horses, and to follow naught save his own desires and stop whereever he chose, it was not without a feeling of disgust that he found himself compelled to travel with people whom he did not know, to be pushed by this one, elbowed by that one, and forced to listen to conversations which had no interest for him.

At his left was a stout party of some fifty years, with a cotton cap on his head, surmounted by a red handkerchief, and over it all a helmet-shaped cap trimmed with fur, with vizors before and behind. At his right was an old woman, whose face luckily was concealed beneath a shabby black satin bonnet, over which was thrown a green veil that no one was tempted to raise.

The vehicle had barely started when the man on Auguste's left began to perform like neighbor Mauflard, and the lady on the right followed his example. But in his sleep the stout gentleman dug his elbow into Auguste's ribs, and the old lady dropped her head on his shoulder. Finding his hands full with repelling the elbow of the one and avoiding the other's head, he said to himself: "It's great fun to travel by diligence! Oh! my pretty cabriolet, which Bébelle drew so swiftly through the dust, where art thou? Alas! if I had been more prudent, I should still possess thee; for if I had not begun to anticipate my income, I should not have encroached on my capital; if I had not done that, I should not have dreamed of disturbing my funds, which were safely invested; and I should have found that twenty thousand francs absolutely assured was better than thirty thousand due solely to speculation.--Pray remove your head, madame, if you please.--In that case, I shouldn't have put my property in the hands of that knave of a Destival, who consequently would not have run away with it; and then I should still be as rich as ever. I should have been able to do good with my money; and I would have gone to Montfermeil again and kept my promise to that pretty boy; I would not have made love to Denise, as she loves some man in the village who is probably married to her before now; but I would have seen her married, and would have reminded her in jest of that fall from her donkey in the woods; perhaps--Oh! for heaven's sake, monsieur, keep your arms still--you are breaking my ribs!"

Auguste's opposite neighbors were two gentlemen and a lady. The latter, who sat between the two men, was directly opposite Auguste; but as she wore a very large hood, and as she kept her head lowered, he could not see her face.

"Probably she isn't pretty," said our traveller to himself, "or she would have raised her head before this."

The lady's dress was very simple--a travelling costume. The two men beside her were travelling salesmen, one in wines, the other in linens; they had begun a conversation which seemed likely not to end before they reached Lyon.

Auguste was dazed by their constant chattering about casks, _veltes_, _jouys_, Rouen silks, good years and failures; and, disgusted by the proximity of the sleepers, he was regretting that he was not with Bertrand, and longing for the first halt, when the lady in the hood moved her foot and touched Auguste's. A "pardon, monsieur" was instantly pronounced in a very pleasant voice. This incident roused Auguste from his despondency, inspiring the wish to see the face of his vis-à-vis; and as his legs were in close proximity to hers, he moved them slightly and said a few words as to the lack of space in diligences;--an excuse for beginning a conversation. The lady replied with a "Yes, monsieur," but did not raise her head; whereupon our young man's curiosity became all the keener. She did not seem disposed to talk, but she did move her knees, which touched those of her vis-à-vis. Auguste was conscious of a desire to press one of those knees between his own, but was deterred by this thought: "Suppose she should prove to be ugly! How I should regret having made her acquaintance!"

Notwithstanding, the young man ventured to press one knee gently; she did not withdraw it, but she did not raise her head; and Auguste, secretly enjoying the knee-play, said to himself: "Perhaps it's as well that I can't see her features, for I can at all events imagine that she is charming, adorable. With that idea in my mind, the mere rustling of her dress causes me a pleasant sensation, and it helps me to forget the tedium of the journey. Ah! madame, if you are ugly, do not look up, I pray, for you would thereby put an end to a too delicious illusion."

As they descended a hill, a violent jolt nearly overturned the diligence. The stout man and the old lady woke with a jump. At the same moment the hooded lady uttered a shriek of alarm and raised her head. Auguste saw a pretty face of twenty to twenty-five years, fresh and blooming, regular features, expressive eyes--in short, a charming ensemble which delighted him and caused him to press more tenderly the knee that was between his.

But she had already dropped her head again. The scare was at an end, the commercial travellers resumed their conversation, Auguste's neighbors closed their eyes once more, and he, enraptured by what he had seen, moved constantly nearer to his vis-à-vis, who allowed him to place his feet on hers.

"She is lovely," thought Auguste, "but her actions are very strange. If she allows me to press her knees like this, it must be that she likes it, or that she doesn't dare to take offence. In the first case, she is a woman who is not inclined to avoid adventures; in the second case, she is an innocent young thing, who has never travelled by diligence before. I will satisfy myself that the second conjecture is the true one; we should always look at the best side."

The diligence stopped at Corbeil. The two salesmen hastily left the vehicle; the stout man extricated himself from his corner with difficulty; the old woman of the green veil dropped into the arms of the man who held the door open, and Auguste, having alighted, offered his hand to the young lady in the hood. But she replied with a faint sigh:

"Thanks, monsieur, I am not going to get out."

"She isn't going to get out!" repeated Auguste to himself, as he stood by the door. "Poor thing! she isn't coming to the inn to dine, which ordinarily indicates obligatory economy."

"Coming to dinner, lieutenant?" inquired Bertrand, who had climbed down from his seat on the box, and was awaiting Auguste at the inn door.

"Yes, yes, here I am."

"Have you left anything in the diligence?"

"No, but I would have liked----"

"Do you hear that? they say that the passengers must hurry."

Bertrand came forward to see what was keeping his master by the diligence; he spied the young lady and muttered:

"Morbleu! another! I might have known that there was a petticoat at the bottom of it! Remember, lieutenant--we left Paris in order to be good, to reform."

"You are right, my friend," said Auguste; and he turned regretfully away from the vehicle and followed Bertrand to the inn.

The travellers' dinner was soon at an end; urged on by the driver, they all returned to their places, the old lady carrying her dessert. Auguste gazed with renewed interest at the young woman, who probably had dined on a modest loaf, and he placed his knees against hers once more with greater respect than before, because the idea of misfortunes puts thoughts of pleasure to silence.

The old woman requested Auguste to break some nuts which she had brought from the table, the stout man offered him snuff, the commercial travellers entered into conversation with him, everyone trying to become better acquainted with his fellow-passengers. The little lady in the hood alone held her peace. But darkness began to fall. Auguste longed for it; his neighbors dozed, the salesmen did likewise, and he moved his knees forward, trying by that means to establish an understanding with his vis-à-vis, and saying to himself:

"If she is unfortunate, I must try to comfort her. Moreover, I squeezed her knees this morning, and should I act as if I thought her less attractive just because she hasn't the means to dine at inns? That would be worthy of Monsieur de la Thomassinière."

As he did not wish to give his vis-à-vis such an opinion of him, the young man tenderly pressed the limb which she abandoned to him, and ventured to take a hand, which she did not withdraw. Night does not always bring gloomy thoughts, and Auguste looked forward to obtaining a kiss from the little lady, who seemed of so yielding a humor. But his two neighbors embarrassed him; at the slightest motion on his part toward leaning forward, the old lady and the stout man fell across his back, and he could not return to his place until he had thrust them back into their corners. The two salesmen, too, in their slumber, leaned against the young woman who separated them, and their heads frequently came in contact with her hood.

"Riding in a diligence is not all pleasure," said Auguste in an undertone.

"Oh, no! it isn't all pleasure, monsieur," replied the young woman.

But, in order to enjoy greater pleasure, the young man leaned forward again and bestowed a loving kiss on one of the salesmen, whose face was at that moment in front of the hood. The salesman woke, trying to guess the source of that mark of affection, and Auguste was amazed to find that the young woman's chin was less soft than her hand.

The salesman could see nobody save his neighbor who was likely to have kissed him while he slept; and although he was unaccustomed to inspire passions, he was convinced that he had kindled a flame in the heart of the young woman by his side. As he did not choose to be behindhand with her, the young man, who had hitherto had no thought for anything but his samples, and the duties imposed on his wares, began to think of something different, and to play with his hands on the young woman's knees. She made no resistance, while the two men, who seemed to be playing the _pied de boeuf_, seized each other's hand and pressed it with a vigor which surprised them both.

The first rays of dawn surprised the travellers in this situation. Auguste laughed heartily, the salesman testily withdrew his hand and the young woman her knee; but she glanced furtively at Auguste, and he promised himself compensation for the blunders of the night.

In the morning they arrived at Auxerre; again the young woman remained in the diligence. Toward evening they halted at Avallon, where they were to dine. The young woman alighted, but she did not enter the inn; having purchased a loaf of bread and some other things, she sat down a short distance from the inn. Auguste, who had followed her with his eyes, allowed Bertrand to go in alone, saying that he was not hungry as yet, and joined his fair fellow-traveller, with whom he entered into conversation.

"Are you leaving Paris, madame?"

"Yes, monsieur"--with a sigh.

"Have you lived there long?"

"I was born there, monsieur."

"And you are turning your back on your native place?"

"I have no choice, monsieur"--with another sigh.

"Are you going to live in Lyon, madame?"

"I don't know, monsieur."

"Ah! you have no settled plan?"

"I am so unfortunate, monsieur!"

"You arouse my profound interest, madame; but we can talk more comfortably elsewhere than on this road. If you will take my arm, madame, we might take a walk about the place until it is time to start."

"With pleasure, monsieur."

The lady took Auguste's arm, and they walked away from the inn, talking.

"If I were not afraid of being too inquisitive, madame, I would ask what makes you leave Paris."

"Oh! I am very willing to tell you, monsieur. I am the child of respectable tradespeople; they married me when very young to a man whom I did not love; but I felt bound to obey, in order to gratify my parents."

"That was very good of you, madame."

"There was a very agreeable gentleman who had courted me before I was married; I didn't love him either, but I listened to him to gratify him."

"I understand, madame."

"My husband didn't make me happy; he was never willing that I should go out, and I stayed at home because that gratified him. But sometimes I had visitors, among others the gentleman who used to court me."

"And that didn't gratify your husband?"

"Apparently not, monsieur; for not long ago, happening to find him with me, he turned me out of doors. I undertook to be angry, and he beat me, monsieur; and said he'd do it again whenever he chose."

"He is a man who has a most brutal way of procuring himself pleasure."

"As I didn't care to be beaten again, I left my husband, and started for Lyon, having barely enough to pay for my passage."

"I suppose then, madame, that you have friends in Lyon?"

"Oh! it was that gentleman who used to come to see me--he said that he was going there. However, I am no more anxious to go to Lyon than anywhere else. I wanted to get away from my husband, who made me so unhappy."

Meanwhile the fellow-travellers had reached a small restaurant. Auguste, remembering that his companion had not dined, proposed that they should go in and regale themselves, and she assented--to gratify him.

They entered the restaurant. Auguste asked for a private room, because one does not need witnesses to console a young wife whose husband has beaten her. He ordered as toothsome a repast as the place could afford, because he forgot as usual that he was no longer rich, and readily fell into his former habits. The Avallon restaurateur was put to his mettle to provide a dainty refection for the strangers who had honored his establishment. The dinner was served; Auguste urged the young woman to partake, and she, although she said that she complied only to gratify him, ate everything and did not need to be urged to drink freely of a native wine which the host declared to be of the vintage of the year of the comet.

Dining together, they became more and more friendly. At first Auguste seated himself opposite the young lady; but he reflected that they were much nearer than that in the diligence, and that it was, to say the least, unusual for two persons to keep at a respectful distance, tête-à-tête in a private dining-room, when they have pressed each other's knees before witnesses. So he took his seat beside the young lady, who sighed from time to time, but did not repulse the young man, who seemed most anxious to console her. He tenderly squeezed a very soft hand, expressing great surprise that a husband could be so brutal as to hurt such a charming woman.

"Men are cruel," said the young woman, who continued to keep her eyes on the floor.

"They are tyrants," rejoined Auguste, pressing her plump hand to his lips.

"They cause all our misery!" added the young woman, as she allowed her companion to kiss her.

"Ah! they cause something very different!" cried Auguste, throwing his arms about her.

"They do! they do!" whispered the young woman, apparently no longer conscious what they do or what she did; but after several meagre repasts, it was no wonder that the wine of the comet year caused her to lose her head.

On recovering his wits, Auguste said:

"By the way--the diligence?"

"Oh! that's so--the diligence!" echoed the young woman, heaving a sigh, presumably from habit.

"I am inclined to think, my dear love, that it is high time to return to it."

"Very well! let us return, my friend."

As you see, the wine of the comet had established most friendly relations between the travellers. But as a general rule, affairs that are negotiated in diligences are speedily consummated.

Auguste summoned the keeper of the restaurant and paid for the dinner. The young lady replaced her hood, which was no longer on her head, I know not why. Then they left the private room and walked back, arm-in-arm, toward the inn where they had left the diligence.

As they walked Auguste talked with his companion, who seemed to him to have a very sweet disposition, but whose wit did not respond to the idea suggested by her decidedly expressive countenance. There are women whose wit is all in their eyes, and with them one must content oneself with pantomime.

As they approached the inn Auguste espied Bertrand, striding back and forth in front of the establishment, looking to right and left with gestures of impatience, and swearing energetically from time to time. When he caught sight of Auguste, he ran to meet him and made a horrible wry face at the young woman who was hanging on his master's arm.

"Here you are at last, monsieur! Sacrebleu! I thought that you'd left me here to chase the swallows!"

"Don't get excited, Bertrand, I am here. I am not lost, you see. Well, when do we start?"

"Start! start for where, monsieur?"

"Why, for Lyon, of course!"

"And is that why you let the diligence go--that you made me wait and call you and look everywhere for you?"

"What's that? the diligence has gone?"

"Morbleu, yes! more than an hour ago; but the time evidently didn't seem long to you!"

"The diligence has gone!" repeated Auguste, dropping his companion's arm; but she, evidently setting great store by its support, instantly took it again, saying:

"That's very amusing! isn't it, my dear friend?"

"It no longer seems so amusing to me," said Auguste; while Bertrand walked away, and muttered with an oath, stamping the ground:

"Her dear friend! Ten thousand bayonets! this is a very pretty mess!"

"But couldn't they have waited a little while for us, Bertrand?" asked Auguste.

"They waited two minutes, monsieur, and that's a long time for a diligence."

"And you didn't go?"

"Do you suppose that I would go without you? Ain't I attached to you, and to nobody else? What's the sense of my being at Lyon if you ain't there?"

"You did well, Bertrand. And our valises?"

"Oh! they're here. As I had a shrewd idea that there was something new, I wouldn't let them go without us."

"Bless my soul, my friend, we must make the best of this accident. After all, it matters not whether we go to Lyon or somewhere else; and whether we arrive there to-morrow or a week hence."

"Mon Dieu! my dear friend, it's a matter of indifference to me too," said the young woman.

Bertrand frowned and motioned to his master that he wanted to speak to him in private. Auguste succeeded in making the young woman understand that she must let go his arm for a moment, and he joined the ex-corporal, who said to him with a stern expression:

"I beg pardon, lieutenant, but who is this woman who sticks to your arm as if you had glue on your sleeve?"

"She's a young woman who was with us in the diligence."

"And why didn't she stay there?"

"Because I took her to walk with me."

"Who is the woman?"

"A very entertaining person."

"She didn't tell you what she is doing, did she?"

"To be sure: she's going to Lyon, in order not to stay in Paris."

"The deuce! if that's her only motive, I can understand that she doesn't care whether she goes there or somewhere else. But why is she leaving Paris? A young woman don't travel alone like this, just for the pleasure of travelling."

"Oh! she had a very urgent reason--her husband beat her."

"Perhaps he was justified, monsieur."

"Oh! Bertrand!"

"Why does she call you her dear friend so soon?"

"Because--because----"

"Oh, yes! because--I understand perfectly. But after all, monsieur, what do you expect to do with this woman?"