Part 26

"Not just in Paris, but in the outskirts. So, as he took his charmer's fancy, he brought her back with him, and he's going to marry her. That's why I'd like to have you come to the wedding, to tell me what you think of my nephew's choice."

Auguste would have liked to make the acquaintance of the bride whom Monsieur Cadet Eustache had found in the suburbs of Paris. He thought of Denise, and imagined that Monsieur Rondin's nephew had found some young village maiden as fresh and pretty and alluring as the little milkmaid. That thought made him sigh.

"Perhaps she too is married!" he said to himself; "for she was in love with someone; she told me as much when she said that she would never love me."

Auguste had ceased to smile since his memories had taken him back to Montfermeil. The peasant, surprised by his neighbor's melancholy, dared not suggest again his coming to the wedding, and Bertrand said under his breath:

"It would certainly be good fun to stay at table for a whole week; but there's always some pretty face at a wedding party, and I musn't expose my lieutenant to the risk of running off with another woman, for I shan't always have the good fortune to fall in with a leather merchant."

Nothing more was said, and the _carriole_ crawled on. In four hours they made but one league. At the end of that time, Père Rondin, who was fond of talking, said to Auguste:

"If you're going to Italy on business, it's safe to say you won't get there in time. Be you an attorney?"

"No, I am a painter and a musician."

"A painter and a musician! Jarni! that's just what we want! you could play for our girls to dance, and paint a picture of the bride! That would be a nice surprise for Eustache!"

"Parbleu!" thought Auguste, "it would be funny enough if I should make the first trial of my talents on these good people!--What do you say, Bertrand? I rather like the idea of painting the bride's portrait."

"You see, Cadet wrote me as how she's a fine figure of a girl," said Père Rondin. "Be you good at catching resemblances?"

"Why, I haven't tried anything else as yet. However, I'll paint whatever you wish.--Come, Bertrand, this decides me. We'll go to the wedding."

"The wedding it is, monsieur. But for God's sake, don't do anything foolish, but remember your resolutions."

"Never fear, you will be satisfied with me."

Père Rondin was overjoyed that he had induced the travellers to attend the wedding; he was even on the point of inviting the driver too, when the vehicle, which was moving at a snail's pace, was overturned into a ditch, the only one by the road at that time, and the travellers rolled over one another. Luckily they got off with a few bruises, and the driver calmly busied himself with getting his horses on their feet, informing his passengers that he was sorry that he had not warned them, but that ever since he had been driving over that road he rarely failed to be upset there, because his horses had fallen into that habit.

That accident put the finishing touch to the travellers' disgust with the wretched _carriole_.

"It ain't only a day's walk from here to our place," said Père Rondin; "let's foot it. We'll get there a blamed sight quicker if we walk."

The peasant's suggestion was accepted. They left the _carriole_. Bertrand took one valise, Auguste absolutely insisting on taking the other, and they started.

It was a lovely country. They were delighted that they were travelling on foot. Père Rondin was familiar with the roads. They halted only once for refreshment, and the next morning they arrived at Monsieur Cadet Eustache's farm.

They were not a hundred yards away when a tall youth rushed out and threw himself on Père Rondin's neck, crying:

"Here's uncle! come on, uncle! I'm only waiting for you to get married! and I tell you, I just long to be!"

"Good-day, Cadet. See, I've brought along a couple of good fellows, my boy; this gentleman who makes pictures and music, and Monsieur Bertrand, who drinks straight, I warn you."

Monsieur Cadet Eustache bowed low to the two travellers, then said to his uncle:

"Haven't you brought anybody else?"

"What do you mean by that, my boy?"

"Why, if you'd had some more too, it would have been all the better, because we mean to have some fun, you see! But never mind--they make two more, anyway."

"Haven't you got many people at your wedding?"

"Oh! there's eighty of us already."

"That's doing pretty well, seems to me."

"Oh! but we must have some fun! I want to have some fun! and it takes a lot for that; for my part, I never laugh unless there's at least a dozen in company."

"I told you my nephew was a joker," said Père Rondin to Auguste, who looked at Bertrand and smiled, while the latter muttered:

"This bridegroom impresses me as a big idiot."

"But take us into the house, Cadet; we're tired, and we want something to eat and drink."

"Oh! excuse me, uncle; you see, my wife that is to be is on my brain.--Ah! messieurs, you'll see, that's all I've got to say; you'll see such a fresh and blooming young woman! She's like a poppy! And a figure! oh! I tell you--round and plump everywhere!"

"Ah! you rascal! you seem to have found out about all this while you was bringing her home."

"Oh, uncle! I should never have thought of such a thing, because she's innocence itself, you see, and she'd have given me a good crack! and she's a strong one, my girl is. She's a good stout sample of virtue. However, she's my choice, and as you've got here, we'll have the wedding to-morrow."

During this dialogue they had arrived at the farm-house, which was a substantial one and indicated that its owner was in comfortable circumstances.

"Jérôme," said Monsieur Cadet to one of his men, "go and let everybody in the neighborhood know that the wedding will be to-morrow, and that we're getting everything ready for the supper and the ball; and go and tell the musicians I've engaged.--I'll go and get my bride that is to be; she and mother are at one of the neighbors', but I want you to see her right away, and these gentlemen too."

"The fellow's terrible far gone," said Père Rondin as he escorted the travellers into the house and invited them to be seated.

Madame Eustache soon appeared; she kissed her brother, then proceeded to kiss the new arrivals; for that is the way acquaintances are made in the country.

"But where's the bride?" queried Père Rondin; "ain't we going to see her?"

"In just a minute, brother; she's gone to prink up a bit for the company. Ah! my eye! she's a fine girl, and Cadet knows what's what!"

"Has she got any money?"

"She's got a nice little pile that the gentleman she worked for gave her; and he told my boy he was giving him a real _rosière!_[G] And Cadet's a shrewd one, you know, and wouldn't let anybody take him in."

[G] _Rosière_ is the name given to the maiden who is awarded the prize for virtue in a village competition.

"Morbleu!" whispered Bertrand to Auguste, "if the rosière corresponds with the bridegroom, I'll bet we're going to see some stout Pontoise cowherd."

At last they heard Cadet Eustache's voice introducing his chosen bride to the guests, and Auguste was not a little surprised to recognize Mademoiselle Tapotte, Monsieur de la Thomassinière's gardener.

Mademoiselle Tapotte had grown taller, and she was still very plump; she was, in truth, a fine figure of a girl, and, as formerly, she kept her eyes on the floor and bowed without looking at anybody.

"Superb!" cried Père Rondin; "bravo! you've made a great find, Cadet, on my word! And it's a fact that you can still see on her cheeks the down of chastity."

Monsieur Cadet received these compliments with a smile and said:

"I have the honor to present Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte, who will be Madame Eustache to-morrow if God lets us live."

Everyone kissed the bride--that is also the custom--and Bertrand, who knew nothing of Auguste's adventure at Fleury, was reassured at sight of the maiden and flattered himself that she would not lead his master into any fresh folly.

But, when it came Auguste's turn to kiss Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte, that young woman, despite her ingenuousness, raised her eyes, and a little shriek escaped her when she recognized the young man.

"I am very awkward," said Auguste instantly, "to tread on your foot! I beg your pardon, fair fiancée!"

"Oh! was that what made her cry?" said Cadet, laughingly; "when anyone treads on the feet of our girls about here, they don't yell; they know what it means. They ain't like Suzanne! By the way, monsieur, uncle says you make portraits; do you make faces too?"

"What do you suppose that I make?"

"Why, I mean a head, with eyes and a nose, et cetera."

"I generally find nothing else to paint."

"Pardi, monsieur, if you had time to catch the likeness of my bride, just the face alone, I'd like it mighty well."

"I haven't anything but my pencils in my valise, but I can try to draw her."

"Draw her! Will that be just the same?"

"To be sure."

"Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte, monsieur is going to make your portrait; he's going to catch you."

The bride made some objection to allowing herself to be drawn; but Monsieur Cadet was obstinate about it, and she finally consented to lend her face to Auguste, who asked for a room where he could work quietly and without being disturbed.

He was taken to a small room at the top of the house and furnished with all that he required. Monsieur Cadet brought his fiancée, who seated herself, with downcast eyes, beside the table at which Auguste was working. Monsieur Cadet was preparing to watch the process of catching his charmer's likeness when Auguste said to him:

"I am very sorry to send you away, but I cannot draw before anybody. If you want your wife's portrait, you must leave me alone with her; indeed, that is the custom; a painter doesn't like to have anyone see his work before it's finished."

"Oh, yes, that's right," said Cadet; "and then, if I watched you, I wouldn't have any surprise."

"That's so."

"All right, I'll go away. You needn't be afraid to stay alone with monsieur, Mamzelle Tapotte; he's an artist--he's going to catch you and surprise me. Ah! how nice that'll be!"

Mademoiselle Tapotte smiled without raising her eyes, and Monsieur Cadet left her alone with Auguste, while he went to oversee all the preparations for the wedding.

Bertrand was already at table with Père Rondin. They were soon joined by several farmers of the neighborhood. Neighbors, male and female, kindred and friends came to take up their quarters under Eustache's roof on the day before the wedding. Long tables were laid and covered with dishes and pitchers. They laughed and sang and shrieked and made a great uproar, for the hilarity of the peasant is exceedingly noisy. It seemed as if the wedding festivities had already begun; and Bertrand, who found the wine excellent and did not notice among the village girls any faces likely to inflame his master, concluded that they might safely pass a week at the farm.

But everybody asked for the bride, and Monsieur Cadet said:

"Someone's catching her just at this minute, getting up a surprise for me, copying her face. I guess I'll go and see how it's coming on."

Monsieur Cadet went up to the room where he had left Auguste and Mademoiselle Tapotte. But the door was locked, doubtless so that they might not be disturbed. The groom tapped gently on the door, saying:

"It's me,--is it done?"

"No, not yet," Auguste replied.

"Is it coming on all right?"

"Yes, it's coming on well."

"What are you doing now?"

"An ear."

"Is it a good likeness?"

"It will be very striking."

Cadet went down to the company, exclaiming:

"I couldn't get in; he was just doing an ear, that's going to be striking. Oh! that painter seems to be a smart one! I tried to look through the key-hole, but he must have her posed in profile, for I thought I saw an eye instead of an ear. I'm going to put my wife's picture in our big room opposite the one of the boar my grandfather killed."

At last, after two hours, Auguste appeared, leading the bride that was to be, who would not have raised her eyes to look at a diamond, and who was even more ruddy than usual. Everyone exclaimed at her beauty, her bloom, and her innocent air, and Monsieur Cadet swelled with pride.

The groom asked to see the portrait and Auguste exhibited a face which was as like that of the queen of clubs as one drop of water is like another. The guests all went into ecstasies over it, saying that the resemblance was striking, and furthermore that it had the advantage of resembling the groom and Père Rondin as well. Monsieur Cadet was overjoyed, and Auguste received compliments from the whole company.

The rest of the day passed in dancing and recreation; many guests did not leave the table except to go to bed, and Bertrand was among them.

The wedding day arrived at last. At daybreak the farm-house was astir. Monsieur Cadet donned a costume that he had had made in Paris: nut-brown coat, waistcoat and trousers. Mamma Eustache went to dress the bride. Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte was soon led in, armed with the virginal bouquet; whereupon they set out for the church, with the musicians at the head of the procession.

Bertrand enjoyed the festivities immensely; Auguste too, seemed not to be bored; he danced with the girls, while his companion kept the corks popping. The whole night was passed in games, feasting and carousing. But at midnight Monsieur Cadet led his wife away to the nuptial chamber, leaving the rest to drink and dance. Two hours later they were amazed by the apparition of the husband, in nightgown and nightcap, in the ball-room, crying:

"My friends, I am the happiest of men, that's all I've got to say."

And Monsieur Cadet returned to his spouse amid a shower of congratulations and jests from his friends, while Père Rondin said to Auguste:

"Didn't I tell you my nephew was a sly one, and that it's a sort of rosière, as you might say, that he's brought from Paris?"

Auguste added his congratulations to those of the other guests. At daybreak, weary of dancing and eating, he went to bed, leaving the dauntless Bertrand to hold his own with three farmers, two of whom were all ready to slide under the table.

Auguste and his faithful companion passed the week of the wedding festivities at Monsieur Eustache's farm; and during that time the bride gave the young man several more sittings, for she always found something to change in her nose or her eye or her ear.

At the end of the week the travellers resumed their journey, not without an invitation from Monsieur Cadet to repeat their visit.

"_Beati pauperes spiritu!_" said Auguste as they left the farm. To which Bertrand replied:

"Yes, lieutenant. Here is one place at all events where you have behaved yourself."

XXIV

A SKETCH OF ITALY

Auguste and Bertrand arrived at Turin, undelayed by any fresh adventure. They took rooms at a modest hotel, for, before continuing their journey, Auguste desired to make the acquaintance of that pleasant Italian city, where one may fancy oneself in France, and where reigns an attractive mixture of French manners and Italian morals. The ladies of Turin are pretty, agreeable and piquant; in addition to the charm of our Frenchwomen they have more fire in their glance, a more sensuous intonation to the voice, more abandon in their bearing. Bertrand, observing that his master gazed persistently at the Italian women, said to him again and again:

"Look out, lieutenant; we are travelling in search of fortune and not of conquests; we didn't come to Italy to admire black eyes and Greek noses."

"True, Bertrand; but as we find them here, there's no reason why we shouldn't admire them."

"Remember, monsieur, that the fine arts alone are to occupy your mind."

"The sight of a lovely woman kindles the flame of genius. Raphael was in love with his Madonna model."

"Perhaps that wasn't the best thing he did, lieutenant."

"Bertrand, you understand nothing about art."

"Perhaps not, but I know enough about it to calculate."

"I want to paint one of these charming heads that have caught my eye; I want to take for a model one of the piquant faces that I notice among the girls of this region."

"In that case you will do like Monsieur Raphael, you will fall in love with your model."

"So much the better, if it results in my producing a chef-d'oeuvre."

"I'm afraid that it will result in your producing something else."

"Have you heard them sing, Bertrand?"

"Who, monsieur?"

"The young girls in the suburbs, the villagers, the simple working-girls; they all sing with such taste and harmony! I hear delightful concerts every evening when I am walking. We are in the land of music, my friend."

"I should prefer to be in the land of gold mines."

"Here the common people, the workmen, are born musicians; the petty tradeswoman seeks recreation after her day's labor with her guitar. The boatman as well as the great nobleman, the peasant woman as well as the rich lady, blends her voice with the chords that she strikes on that instrument."

"It seems, then, that everybody plays it."

"And the Italian women have a nonchalant air when singing that forms such a striking contrast to the fire of their eyes."

"I certainly shall go back to Paris and make trousers, monsieur."

Auguste left Bertrand and went out to walk in the suburbs of the city. The season being farther advanced in that beautiful climate, there was already a wealth of verdure, shrubbery and fragrant groves, which the Italian regards with the indifference of habit, but which arouse the admiration of the stranger who sees for the first time that lovely sky, that delicious landscape, and those flowering orange trees which spread the sweetest of perfumes all about.

In a pleasant country everything is calculated to inspire pleasure. The climate of Italy seems to be the fitting climate of love. The aspect of a wild landscape, of a rugged and sterile country inclines the soul to melancholy and sadness; that of a verdant grove, of a valley studded with flowers, makes our hearts beat more gently and gives birth to no thoughts save of pleasure and of love.

Auguste, who did not need to be in Italy to have his imagination take fire, was conscious nevertheless of the soothing influence of the climate; he sighed as he glanced at the lovely women who passed him by; and as the young Frenchman was a comely youth, his sighs were answered by some very expressive glances.

Among the attractive young women whom he met in the street, Auguste noticed one, modestly but respectably attired, who usually had an older woman on her arm. The young woman's face was fascinating; but her timid glances, far from challenging the young foreigner's, were modestly lowered when they met. Auguste followed them, however. Sometimes the older woman turned her head, and, when she saw the young man, urged her companion to quicken her pace. When they reached a distant suburb of the city, the ladies entered a small isolated house. The young woman afforded Auguste one more glimpse of her lovely features as she furtively glanced at him; but the old woman closed the door behind them and the enchanting image vanished.

Auguste stood some time in front of the house which the pretty Italian had entered; but at last, tired of staring at a door and windows that did not open, he returned to his hotel, saying to himself:

"She's an angel! she is ideally beautiful, the model of the Venus de Medici, of Girodet's Galatea, of Psyche, of Dido; and I must make the acquaintance of such charms."

The next day he went out to walk again, and again he saw the two ladies. Grown bolder, he approached them and, as a stranger, asked the older one for information concerning the first thing that his eyes fell upon. She answered courteously, and the young woman, without joining in the conversation, turned her beautiful eyes on the Frenchman from time to time. The old lady, who was very talkative, soon informed the young Frenchman that her name was Signora Falenza, and that her companion was her niece Cecilia; that they were far from rich, and for that reason lived in a retired quarter, and that they let a portion of their lodgings when they had applications from quiet and orderly people, because that enabled them to increase their slender income a little.

The old woman had not finished speaking when Auguste asked her to let the little apartment to him.

"I have come to Italy to study painting," he said, "and I have rather neglected it; I have nobody with me but an old soldier, and we are as orderly as young ladies. I flatter myself that you will have no cause to regret having us for tenants."

Signora Falenza made some objections; but Auguste was so urgent that she consented to show him the apartment. It consisted of two rooms, rather shabbily furnished; to be sure, the price asked was very moderate. Auguste expressed himself as delighted; he was satisfied with everything, and, after casting a passionate glance at the fair Cecilia, he hurried away to make his arrangements to return the same evening and take up his abode beneath the same roof with the two ladies.

"Pack our valises and pay our bill, Bertrand; we are going to move."

"Are we going to leave Turin, monsieur?"

"Oh, no, my friend; I am more pleased with it than ever!"

"In that case, why do we leave this hotel, where we are well accommodated, and at not too high a price?"

"For economy's sake, Bertrand; I have found much pleasanter lodgings, which will cost only half as much; I trust that you won't find fault with me this time."

Bertrand frowned and muttered:

"There's a petticoat under this, I'll wager."

However, he packed the valises, paid the bill, and followed his master, who led the way to the suburb.

"We don't seem to be moving into the fashionable quarter, monsieur," said Bertrand.

"What do we care, so long as the lodgings suit us?"

"True."

"See, there's the house."

"It's a long way from any other. Do you remember that we're in Italy, monsieur? It looks to me like a cut-throat sort of place."

"Do you mean that you're afraid, Bertrand?"

"Oh, lieutenant!"

"You are growing absurdly suspicious. This is a very pleasant house; the outlook is on fields and gardens. It's very quiet here, and that is what I like."

"Ah! you like quiet now, do you?"

"Very much."

Auguste knocked. The door was opened by Signora Falenza, at sight of whom Bertrand said to himself:

"If there's only faces like this one here, we shall certainly be very quiet."

The old woman escorted the strangers to their rooms, showing them every courtesy. As they passed through a passageway they met the fair Cecilia, who bowed pleasantly to the young Frenchman. Whereupon Bertrand heaved a sigh and thought:

"This is the economy the lieutenant mentioned!"

The travellers being installed in their apartment, Signora Falenza left them, saying:

"When you gentlemen wish for anything, you need only come to my room; my niece and I will hasten to offer our services."

"In that case," thought Auguste, "I hope that I shall frequently have occasion to seek them."

Bertrand inspected the two rooms, and at each object that he examined, frowned and muttered:

"This is very nice!"

"Isn't it, Bertrand?"

"Yes, indeed! a wretched bed and no pillows!"

"So much the better! we will go and ask for one."

"Two broken chairs!"

"So much the better! I'll go and change them."

"Closets that won't lock!"

"Bah! they're good enough for what we have to put in them."

"A desk that I can't find any key to!"

"I'll go and ask the ladies for it."

"Not a candlestick on the mantel!"

"The ladies will give us one."

"Not even a jar of water."

"Perhaps it isn't the custom in the country."

"Well! it's a very clean custom that don't allow a person to wash his hands! In fact, monsieur, we lack everything here."

"We shall lack nothing if we ask the ladies for it."

"The ladies! the ladies!"