Chapter XVII: One of the Dregs

The fair Thélénie returned to her apartment, accompanied by her friend Héloïse, about an hour after Chamoureau had taken his leave under Monsieur Beauregard's escort. As she entered the room she tossed aside shawl, hat, gloves and the rest, with the angry gesture characteristic of her. Then she threw herself on a couch, while her friend Héloïse picked up the hat and gloves from the floor, saying:

"You must admit that you take very little care of your things. Such a pretty hat, almost new! and that's the way you treat it! Why, I would make this hat last till June. Bless me! I haven't the means to buy them as often as you do! How much did this one cost? At least fifty-five francs, I'll bet; milliners are getting to be out of reach. Did I guess right?"

"For heaven's sake! Héloïse, let me alone; you must see that I'm out of humor."

"Oh! you're always out of humor now; you make a great mistake to torment yourself all the time;--it will change your whole appearance, it will make your complexion yellow. If you want to remain pretty, you must never lose your temper. A medical student told me that. He ought to know a lot, for he attended lectures ten years. He also told me that if I wanted to be well, I must be gay; for there's nothing that's so healthy as gayety."

"Every ten years' student ought to know that gayety can't be administered at pleasure, like a syrup or a drug. To tell a person to be gay is as foolish as to tell him not to have a headache! However, I know perfectly well that I am not sensible; but when I saw Edmond drive by in a cab with his new passion, I could not restrain a spasm of anger."

"Yes, and you nearly caused us to be run over by a coupé."

"But that little flower-maker is a horrid-looking creature; it makes one ashamed to be deserted for such a fright."

"Horrid-looking! oh! that's nonsense. She has a cunning little way with her, and a saucy face such as men like."

"She is as common as one can imagine. If Edmond had left me for a very pretty woman, I would forgive him."

"That is not true; you would be even more put out. Oh! I know all about that; it's always some little compensation to be able to say to yourself: 'I am certainly prettier than she is, and his new love won't last long.'"

Thélénie rang for her maid and Mademoiselle Mélie appeared.

"Has anybody been here while I have been out?"

"Yes, madame, that gentleman who came a few days ago, and who was so amusing when he went away; who had torn his coat, and--another part of his clothes."

"Ah! Monsieur Chamoureau?"

"That's the name, madame: Monsieur Chamoureau."

"What did he want?"

"Why, to see madame; he seemed very much disappointed not to find her and asked me if madame would be out long; he wanted to wait."

"The idiot! does he propose to wear me out with his calls; however, as soon as he bores me too much, I shall have no hesitation in forbidding him my door. Very well; leave me."

"He is the Spaniard of the Opéra ball who kept pulling up his boots, isn't he?" said Mademoiselle Héloïse, when the maid had left the room.

"Yes, and the great clown, whom I instructed to tell me everything that happened at a certain supper after the ball,--I knew that he was to sup with Edmond and his friends and their ladies. What do you suppose Monsieur Chamoureau did? he went to sleep in the middle of supper, and when he woke, everybody had gone!"

"He was drunk, probably!"

"And then he comes to see me, and makes me an impassioned declaration of love!"

"Accompanied by diamonds or a cashmere shawl?"

"By nothing whatever! What do you suppose he proposed to me? Oh! it's enough to make one die of laughter!"

"To mend his linen?"

"To marry him--to become Madame Chamoureau!"

"Well! you want a position in society."

"A pretty position that would be! My gentleman makes four thousand francs with his office; and as I have ten thousand francs a year, I should be the one to enrich him. Fancy me making Monsieur Chamoureau's fortune!"

"But in that case the fellow isn't as stupid as he looks."

"Oh! he has no selfish designs. He is really very much in love with me--according to what he says, at least.--Madame Chamoureau! what an absurd name!"

"Well, I am not so particular as you are; if he wants to marry me, I'll take him. I am not such a bad writer, I'll be a clerk in his office."

"I had an idea that you weren't very strong in spelling. One day you wrote me, being short of money: 'Are you in funds? can I go to your cash-box?' And you spelt _cash_ with a _q_."

"Well! what difference does it make whether it's a _c_ or a _q_ so long as the pronunciation's the same? Besides, I've heard it said that nowadays people write as they choose, and that it's much more _comme il faut_ not to bother about spelling, because in old times the great nobles didn't know anything about it."

"For my part, I don't consider it good form to make blunders in speaking."

"Why, did you have such a very fine education, Thélénie? I thought you'd never been to school; I had an idea that your mother sold cooked sausages in a shop where there was always a long line of people waiting; there was a stove----"

The lovely brunette flashed a savage glance at Héloïse and replied, smiling bitterly:

"Ah! so you propose to be nasty too, do you? Be careful, my poor Héloïse, you won't have much chance with me."

"I have no intention of saying anything nasty! Between ourselves, you can't make me believe that you're a duchess's daughter. I have been told that your mother sold sausages fried on a stove, but I don't see any harm in it. It's as good a trade as another."

"And you threw that at me because I told you that you spelt _cash_ with a _q_."

"Oh! nonsense! what do you suppose I care for a _q_ more or less! what a fuss about nothing! I assure you, Thélénie, that I hadn't the slightest intention of making you angry; that would be very stupid on my part. You take me to the theatre and to drive with you, and sometimes you lend me money when I haven't any; so why should I try to get up a quarrel with you?"

"Then try to curb your tongue, Héloïse, for you may happen to say before witnesses something that I would never forgive. Between ourselves, I certainly do not undertake to make myself any better than I am; my birth was very humble, I don't deny it; but as I grew up, and especially when I began to know well-bred men, with gentlemanly manners, I realized that if I wanted to _arrive_, I must first of all put myself in a position to hold my own with them. So I hired teachers and studied; I was determined to know my own language. I also learned a little English and Italian, and I assure you that then I felt much more at my ease in the society of men of the world, who are very glad to take a pretty, fashionably-dressed woman to drive in a calèche, but who blush for her when she uses bad grammar before their friends and acquaintances.--What is it, Mélie? what do you want of us now?"

"I beg pardon, madame," replied the maid, who had just entered. "I forgot to tell madame that another gentleman came almost at the same time as Monsieur Chamoureau."

"Who was it?"

"Monsieur Beauregard."

At the name of Beauregard, Thélénie's brow grew dark and she made an impatient gesture, muttering:

"Aha! Monsieur Beauregard! Well, what did he want of me? what did he say to you?"

"The gentleman seemed doubtful at first whether madame had really gone out; he was about to come in without listening to me; but when I told him that he could look into the salon and madame's bedroom, he didn't come in, but went away, leaving word that he would come again."

"That person seems to be very unceremonious!" exclaimed Héloïse; "the idea of his having the face to enter your apartment to see if you were really there!"

"Oh! he's a very old acquaintance--an eccentric fellow; but he would do well to spare me his visits; I confess that I hardly enjoy them. I had not seen him for several years; I don't know what has possessed him lately, and why he has taken to coming again.--Didn't he say anything else, Mélie?"

"No, madame; he went away at the same time that Monsieur Chamoureau did, and I saw them from the window walking away together and talking."

"Beauregard talking with Chamoureau?"

"Yes, madame."

"That is very strange; but after all, it makes no difference to me!--Ah! someone is ringing, I believe."

"Perhaps one of those gentlemen has come back. Shall I say that madame is in and admit him?"

"Yes, if it's Monsieur Beauregard."

"And if it is Monsieur Chamoureau?"

Thélénie had not decided what reply to make when the bell rang again, with great violence.

"The devil! this one's in a big hurry!" said Héloïse.

"I am quite sure that it is not Monsieur Chamoureau who rings like that," said Thélénie. "Go and look, Mélie, and tell me who it is."

The maid opened the door; she was amazed, almost terrified at the aspect of the personage who stood there.

It was a man perhaps forty years old; but his repulsive appearance and dilapidated costume made it difficult to judge of his age. He was of medium height, thin of body and fleshless of face. His small, sunken eyes, rimmed with red, had a very bold and cynical expression, mingled at times with a threatening ferocity. His nose was long and thin and slightly curved like a bird's beak; his mouth, almost without teeth, was pinched and retreating, and the lips were hardly visible; thick eyebrows, red like his hair, bristled over his eyes. His forehead was low and sloping. He had a great abundance of badly combed, or rather uncombed, hair, which fell at random over his shoulders and his forehead; and although he wore a full beard and moustaches, a large scar was visible at the base of his left cheek.

This villainous-looking person was dressed in a long coat which had once been nut-brown, but of which it was now very difficult to distinguish the color. The coat lacked several buttons; it was worn through at the elbows, covered with spots and torn in several places; olive-green trousers, horribly soiled and ragged at the bottom, were in perfect harmony with the coat. A red handkerchief, twisted rope-fashion, served as a cravat; his footgear consisted of immense shoes, covered with mud, one of which was tied with twine and the other not at all. Lastly, on his head he wore one of those shocking low-crowned hats to which one may give any conceivable shape, because they have no shape.

"_Cré nom d'un bouffarde!_ my beauty! you take your time about opening the door! Are your stumps asleep?"

As he spoke thus to the lady's maid, the visitor twirled in his hand a stout blackthorn stick, which he handled with the dexterity of a drum-major.

"What do you want, monsieur? You have probably made a mistake; I am very sure that it wasn't our door that the concierge pointed out to you."

While speaking, the maid held the door only half open, as if to prevent the man from entering. But he replied with a smile peculiar to himself, which made his face even more repulsive:

"No, no! I ain't mistaken in the door, _larbine_! otherwise called servant! This is the place where Madame Sainte-Suzanne lives, isn't it?"

"Yes, this is the place."

"Well, then! don't make so much fuss and feathers! Madame Sainte-Suzanne is the one I want to speak to."

"You, monsieur?"

"Yes, me! What in the devil's the matter with the girl that she makes eyes at me like a cat that's been taking physic!"

"What can you have to say to my mistress?"

"What have I to say to her? Look you, my love, that don't concern anybody but her and me, and I won't let my words fly till we are together in the closest possible confinement, as the president of the criminal court says."

"My mistress only receives people she knows, monsieur; and as she certainly doesn't know you, she won't receive you."

"You're crazy, my girl! You stand there chattering like a magpie and you don't know what you're saying. Your mistress knows me and knows me well, too, I flatter myself; consequently she will receive me; and I don't advise her to refuse to see me, for then there'd be a row at papa's!"

As he spoke, the man pushed the lady's maid before him little by little; and she, being afraid of him, had allowed him to reach the middle of the reception room. There he stopped and glanced about, saying:

"_Bigre!_ it's rather neat here! it's bang up! They didn't deceive me when they said there was fat times at Madame Sainte-Suzanne's. So much the better! this suits me! I love luxury and style, I do!"

"One would hardly think so to look at you," said the maid.

"That proves, my beauty, that you mustn't judge by appearances.--Just go and tell your mistress that I want to talk with her a bit; and to make sure that she won't refuse to see me, you may tell her it's Croque who has looked in on her to bid her good-day as he passed."

"What name did you say, monsieur?"

"I said Croque."

"Is that your name?"

"It seems to be!"

"I am very sure that madame won't receive you. Whom do you come from?"

"Whom do I come from? why from myself, and that's enough. Come, come! do what I tell you, girl; and if we are satisfied with you, we'll give you a kiss."

The maid hastily left the room to tell her mistress.

Thélénie was beginning to be impatient because she had not learned who had ventured to ring her bell with such violence as to break the cord; the alarmed expression of her servant redoubled her curiosity.

"Well! who was it? why were you so long about coming to tell me?"

"Oh! madame, it is--if you knew! I am all upset."

"Explain yourself, I say."

"There's a man there, who looks just like a thief; I believe he is one; he has every appearance of it. Oh! what a horrid man! he frightens me to death! He has on a long coat with holes in the elbows, and a face--an expression----"

"Well! what does this man want?"

"He wants to speak to madame--in private; and if you knew how insolently he talks; one would say that he thought he was in his own house."

"Send the man away; it must be some beggar who has come to ask alms; I don't see such people; send him away."

"And quickly, too," suggested Mademoiselle Héloïse, "for he is capable of stealing something in your reception room. I shouldn't suppose your concierge would let poor people come upstairs. Is the man a dumb idiot?"

"I don't know if the man will go away," said Mélie. "'You will tell your mistress,' he says, 'that it's Croque who wants to speak to her.'"

When she heard that name, Thélénie turned ghastly pale; she was evidently deeply agitated; her features contracted; she seemed completely crushed, and muttered between her teeth:

"Oh! mon Dieu! he is still alive! I hoped that he was dead!"

"Croque! what a name!" exclaimed Héloïse; "why not Croque-Mitaine and be done with it? Then we should know at all events that he doesn't mean to scare anyone but children!"

"I will go and tell the horrid man to go away, that madame refuses to receive him," said Mélie.

But Thélénie hurriedly arrested the maid, crying:

"No, no; don't do that, Mélie; on the contrary, go to this--this gentleman, and show him in. I am curious to know what he has to say to me.--Do you, Héloïse, step into the salon a moment."

"What! you propose to receive this man? You are not afraid to be left alone with him?"

"No, I am not afraid; do what I tell you; and you, Mélie, go and bring this stranger to me."

The maid obeyed, not trying to conceal her amazement at her mistress's sudden change of front; and Mademoiselle Héloïse walked toward the salon, remarking as she went:

"Keep your eye on the mantel all the time, and look out that your friend don't pinch something."

When the wretchedly-dressed personage was ushered into Thélénie's bedroom, he bowed to her most respectfully; she motioned to her maid and to Héloïse to leave them, then carefully closed and locked all the doors. Thereupon Monsieur Croque dropped carelessly upon a couch and tossed his hat on the floor, saying:

"Damn my eyes! my dear love, it takes a lot of trouble to reach you! it's worse than it is at a minister's office! What a get-up! what style! what a dust!"

The beautiful brunette gazed loweringly at the person before her, and said at last in a faltering tone:

"What! is it you? I thought----"

"You thought I'd kicked the bucket, didn't you? and I'll bet you didn't weep very much over me. But no, the little man's still alive; and he hasn't the slightest inclination to die. What a pity it would be! at forty years! just the prime of life for a man!"

"But what has become of you these five years past? for it is fully five years since I last saw or heard of you.--Mon Dieu! what do you look like!--how can you possibly show yourself dressed like this?"

"Why, I have to do it when I haven't anything else to put on my back, and not a sign of anything to buy duds with."

"How did you ever allow yourself to fall to such a low condition?"

"How did I allow myself to fall! ah! that's a good one, little sister! the dear sister, who don't throw her arms round her dear brother's neck. Look you, that isn't pretty of you; for, after all, I'm your brother, my dear love, and what's more, your senior, which gives me something very like the rights of a father or an uncle over you!"

"You have rights over me! I don't advise you to repeat that."

"Come, come, let's not get waxy, Titine--for your name used to be Titine, you know; you twisted that into Thélénie, and you did well, for Thélénie's more melodious, it sounds better to the ear. You see that if I had a swell apartment, like you, and a bully lot of togs, instead of calling myself just Croque, I'd take the name of Croquinosky or Croquignolle; but unluckily I haven't got so far as that. You ask me what I've been doing these five years. Bless my soul! my dear love, I couldn't come out, I was in the background."

"Ah! you have been in prison?"

"Something very like it."

"For debt?"

"A little for debt, and for something else too--an unfortunate affair--a theft of shirts in which I was mixed up, although I was most innocent."

"Innocent! you! that is hardly probable."

"Ah! you are as amiable as ever! you doubt your little brother's probity!"

"Because I know what you are capable of!"

"You know--or you don't know; that's a question. I don't say that I won't put you in a way to solve it some day; that will depend on the way you behave toward Bibi!"

"What do you mean? Is that a threat?"

"Oh, no! I never threaten. Come, come! a fellow laughs and jests a bit, and you flare up right away! I should have supposed that wealth would make people more amiable."

"Wealth! why, I have no wealth; I have enough to live on and no more."

"Oh! I expected that; you haven't got any money, and you live in a magnificent apartment, you have splendid furniture and servants at your beck and call, you're dressed like a stage princess."

"What does all that prove? You know well enough that in Paris a person can make a great show without being rich; that sometimes all this display serves simply to cover up debts and straitened circumstances."

"Yes, yes; and another thing I know is that this is no furnished lodging house, and, that being so, you have your own furniture; that everything I see is yours; and look--with nothing but that clock and those candelabra on the mantelpiece, I could get enough to fit myself out new and go on a good long spree."

Thélénie contracted her black eyebrows and made an impatient gesture.

"Come," she cried, "tell me what you want of me? Why have you come here?"

Monsieur Croque lounged easily on the couch and replied, smoothing his beard:

"Oh! you have a shrewd idea, little sister; I won't insult you by thinking that you haven't guessed. After all, isn't it perfectly natural? Your brother is unlucky, he hasn't a sou, he's wretchedly dressed, as you justly observed just now, and it's hard on one's self-esteem to go out in the street like this! But this brother has a sister who is in very happy, fortunate circumstances. I don't say she's a millionaire; dear me, no! that would be too grand! but she has enough to dress very stylishly. Well, then; she can't let her brother go in rags. Of course not! that wouldn't be decent! And so this brother goes to see his sister and says to her: 'You've got money, and I haven't; give me some of what you have; I won't give you any of what I have because I have nothing, but I'll bear your image in my heart.'--How's that? do you get my meaning now?"

"Oh, yes! I knew well enough that it was money you wanted."

"If you knew it, what made you ask me what I came here for? You wanted to make me laugh a bit, you rogue!"

"It was money that you came for five years ago, and then you were to obtain employment, to reform and behave yourself."

"Bah! my dear love, are we able to direct events to suit our pleasure? Certain things happened which disarranged the course I had marked out for myself--that's the whole story."

"Nine years and a half, almost ten years ago, I found a suitable place for you; how did you lose it?"

"Oh! you mean the place of secretary to Monsieur Duronceray?"

"It was a pleasant place; you wrote very well, and that was all that was necessary; you had very little to do and a salary of fifteen hundred francs."

"Magnificent!--I aimed higher, I was ambitious."

"And to gratify your passions, you dared to rob----"

"Enough! enough! that affair happened a long while ago, and it's no use to talk about it now; besides, I have something to remind me of it that will never disappear, I'm afraid!"

As he said this, Thélénie's brother put his hand to his left cheek, where the scar was; then he continued:

"However, then as now, nobody knew I was your brother; you had recommended me to that gentleman as a protégé of yours."

"Thank heaven!"

"By the way, what has become of that Monsieur Duronceray?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you never see him now?"

"No, not for a long time."

"Do you know whether he's in Paris at present?"

"I tell you that I know absolutely nothing about him. Why do you ask me all these questions?"

"Oh! because I am not at all anxious to meet that gentleman--although he probably wouldn't recognize me, misfortune has changed my features so! But he had a certain animal that might recognize me.--Ah! that infernal dog!"

And again Monsieur Croque put his hand to his left cheek.

"The villain! if ever I get a chance to settle his hash! But perhaps he's dead! I should like it as well if he was dead. Ever since then I've had a horror of dogs.--But never mind all that; the present business is to provide for the little brother; that's the most urgent thing; do you understand, little sister?"

The beautiful brunette was silent for some time; at last she muttered:

"To be economical, to take the pains to save enough to live on, by depriving oneself, and then to have that money squandered by lazy vagabonds, by people who do not know what decent behavior is--do you know that that is decidedly unpleasant?"

Monsieur Croque swayed to and fro on his couch, singing between his teeth:

"When one knows how to love and please,
What else need one desire?"

"A man says to himself when he has a relation with some little means: 'I don't need to work; I'm a great fool to bother my head about the future; when I am out of funds, I'll go to see my sister, I'll appear before her, covered with dirt and dressed in rags, with a long beard--in fact, in a state to arouse compassion; and then I'll tell her that I've been unfortunate, through no fault of my own, and that she must come to my aid.'--That's about what you said to yourself, isn't it?--But suppose this sister should get tired of always coming to the aid of a man whom she has tried more than once to lead back to a decent mode of life; suppose she should say to him: 'I don't propose to have my savings wasted by you again; I won't give you anything!'"

Croque rose and, walking toward Thélénie with a threatening air, cried as loud as his hoarse, rough voice permitted:

"If you should do that, Titine, why, I would go through your apartment, through the hall, and through the courtyard, shouting at the top of my voice that you are my sister; everybody should know it: the neighbors, your concierge, your servants----"

"Enough, Croque, enough! not so loud!"

"I would add that I haven't anything to eat, and that you refuse me a piece of bread."

"Hush! hush, I say!"

"And I would follow you through the streets, and say to everybody: 'Do you see that beautiful lady covered with silk and velvet; the one who has jewels on her neck, ears, arms, everywhere? Well, that's my sister, and she lets me go barefoot!'"

"Once more, monsieur, hush! and tell me what you need, how much you want."

"Good! well said! Now we are getting to be agreeable again; and that's the way I love you; for I do love you, I feel that nature appeals to me in your behalf, and that the same blood flows in our veins. Would you like to embrace me?"

Thélénie hastily drew back and repeated her question:

"Tell me how much you need?"

"Bless my soul! my dear love, in my present plight, you understand, I need everything; I must get an entire new outfit, and then I must have time to find lucrative employment. I have several things in view, however; but still you wouldn't want me to be obliged to come back in a fortnight and tell you that I have nothing left."

"No, indeed! I want you to promise to leave me in peace hereafter."

"Well then, I won't beat about the bush, but I'll tell you at once that you must part with a thousand-franc note! because with that I shall have plenty of time to turn round and start an industrial enterprise, in shares,--with or without a premium; I haven't decided yet; that will depend."

Thélénie put her hand to her forehead; but at last she made up her mind, opened her desk and then the drawer which she used as a cash-box. She took out a thousand-franc note, saying to her brother:

"This is the only one, monsieur; you may look and satisfy yourself."

But Croque rejoined with a smile:

"When a woman is as pretty as you are, my dear love, you shouldn't worry; when you have no money, there's plenty more to come."

"Here--take this, and forget me from this moment."

"Thanks a thousand times, beloved sister! If you should ever need me for--no matter what--I am game for anything; remember that I am devoted to you, and that I shall be very glad to do you a favor in my turn."

As he spoke, the fellow took the bank-note and bestowed it with care in a pocket of his coat, then picked up his hat, opened the door and went out.

Thélénie followed him, keeping her eye upon him; but, in the maid's presence, he assumed a respectful demeanor, bowed to the floor, and said to his sister:

"Accept once more, madame, the assurance of my profound respect and gratitude."

"At last he has gone!" said Thélénie to herself when the door had closed upon her brother. "The wretch!--But he will come again before long! It will be useless for me to change my residence, he will always succeed in finding me. What can I do to throw him off my track?--Luckily no one knows that he is my brother!"

"No one but me!" muttered Héloïse, who, with her ear glued to the door, had listened to what was said in the bedroom.