Chapter IV: Part 4

Honorine meanwhile had told Poucette that her aunt could replace in the house all the things that she had bought with the purpose of giving them back to her.

But the peasant, who deemed herself rich now, ran after Madame Dalmont and said:

“You too are very kind to us, madame, but now we’re not poor any more, thanks to the kindness of the gentleman from the Tower, so please let us pay back what you gave for all those things.”

“No, indeed,” said Honorine, “I too wish to have some share in your happiness; and if I had not the power to do as much as monsieur, surely you know that I had the inclination.”

Paul was within a few yards of Honorine, and the peasants speedily informed him what that lady had done for them at the sale. Thereupon he turned and bowed very low to her, saying:

“I am fortunate, madame, to have been able to imitate you in something!”

“You have done much more than I, monsieur,” Honorine replied, lowering her eyes.

“The merit of a good deed, madame, consists not in its money value, but in the way of doing it.”

And, after gazing earnestly for several seconds at the young woman, Paul bowed again to her and Agathe, and walked away, calling his dog, who was loath to leave Agathe and the farmer’s family, whom he seemed to look upon as old acquaintances.

Then Honorine took her friend’s arm, saying to her in a voice trembling with emotion:

“Let us return home; I am well satisfied with my day’s work!”

“And I trust that you will not think ill of Monsieur Paul any more now?”

“Hush! what are you talking about?”

“For my part, I am awfully sorry that Monsieur Edmond did not see all that took place here; I am sure that he would have been pleased with the happiness of that poor family. But we will tell him all about it.”

Madame Droguet also left the spot with her party.

“I didn’t expect to be paid in full!” said Monsieur Jarnouillard, who was annoyed because the farmer’s house had not fallen to him.

“Madame Dalmont gave Guillot’s wife everything that she bought!” said the doctor. “That was a very pretty idea!”

“Pray don’t tire us out with your pretty ideas, doctor! Those people were acting a comedy--nothing else; they were all in concert, like thieves at a fair! Don’t you think so, Monsieur Luminot?”

“I do; and I will say more; I am entirely of your opinion!”

“_Bobonne_, this bellows won’t work; I can’t get any wind!”

“Very good, monsieur, that will do; you say that just to annoy me! Beware! there are other bellows than that!”[A]

[A] _Soufflet_--a bellows--means also a box on the ear.

VIII

HOW CHAMOUREAU HONORS HIS NEW PROPERTY

A short time after the sale on execution, the result of which was so favorable to the Guillot family, an exciting piece of news gained currency in the little village of Chelles, and set the tongues of all the gossips of the locality in motion once more. For, you know, the smaller a place is, the more pleasure the people take in meddling with other people’s business.

It was the former dealer in wines, the facetious Luminot, who appeared at Madame Droguet’s one morning, crying:

“Have you heard the news--the great news?”

“Dear me! no, we haven’t heard anything; how do you expect me to hear anything, with Monsieur Droguet thinking of nothing but his horrid Lancers quadrille, which he will never learn.--Tell me, Monsieur Luminot, what is it about?”

“You know that delightful estate, located in the pleasantest spot in the whole neighborhood--that lovely villa which was built for a former artiste from the Vaudeville, who sold it to a Parisian confectioner, who became insolvent?”

“The Goldfish Villa, you mean? so called because there’s a pond full of them there.”

“I didn’t know that; that’s an additional advantage of the property.”

“Well, what about the house?”

“It was sold a few days ago--to some very distinguished people, so it seems, and necessarily very rich, for nobody else could indulge in such a country house.”

“Mon Dieu! it’s no château; I believe they wanted sixty thousand francs for it; they probably sold it for fifty.”

“Well, fifty thousand francs for a country house, where you don’t live all the time, is no trifle; and think of all you have to spend when you buy a place! There’s a park of ten acres----”

“It isn’t a park, it’s a garden with a clump of trees.”

“I beg pardon--a garden of ten acres! that’s too big for a garden.”

“If you insist on calling it a park, I’ve no objection. Well, who are these distinguished people who have bought the Goldfish Villa?”

“They have a carriage.”

“They have a carriage!--with horses?”

“Yes, indeed, with real horses! There are just the husband and wife--no children. They live in great style, and they say the lady’s extremely pretty--and so stylish!”

“All right; we shall see how that is. I doubt whether this person dresses any better than I do. Did you see the dress I had on last Tuesday, Luminot?”

“I must have seen it!”

“The man didn’t so much as notice it! a gray damask with green stripes.”

“Oh, yes! it was magnificent; you were at least twelve feet round.”

“I am not talking about how large round I was; I am talking about the material of my dress, which cost twenty francs a yard; and it’s so stiff that it stands alone! it’s superb!”

“You were simply gorgeous!”

“Bah! you men think of nothing but novelty; you go into ecstasies beforehand over a woman you don’t know.”

“I am not going into ecstasies over her; I am simply repeating what I have been told; and I am very glad to see nice people flocking to our part of the country.”

“What are the names of these nice people?”

“Wait a moment--they told me the person’s name--it’s an odd name--that of a place in the outskirts of Paris--a well-known place.”

“What! these distinguished people bear the name of a place?”

“Why not?--It isn’t Saint-Cloud.”

“Ha! ha! Monsieur and Madame Saint-Cloud! that would be amusing!”

“It isn’t Vaugirard--the devil! I did know the name. It isn’t La Villette!”

Luminot was interrupted by the arrival of Madame Remplumé, who rushed into the room as eagerly as he had done.

“Madame Droguet, I’ve heard some news----”

“My dear woman, I fancy that your news isn’t news to me. The Goldfish Villa is sold, isn’t it?”

“Ah! you know it! but it’s just out.”

“I have only known it a minute; neighbor Luminot came to tell us.”

“How in the world does he make out to get all the news first?”

“Oh! I walk about here and there and everywhere, mesdames.”

“The new owners are to come to-day to take possession of their property, where they mean to pass the whole summer.”

“Ah! that is something we didn’t know. And what is the name of these people? Monsieur Luminot can’t remember.”

“Their name--wait a minute; I heard what it was; it’s near La Courtille.”

“Their name is near La Courtille! Really, I don’t understand.--Well, Droguet, have you finished your pirouetting? I have zigzags before my eyes, it makes me see stars to watch him whirl round like that; when I married him I didn’t get a husband, but a teetotum--nothing else!”

Madame Jarnouillard soon increased this amiable party by her presence.

“My compliments to the company,” she said; “I came to inform you that the confectioner’s estate is sold at last; but I’ll wager that you all know it.”

“Yes, yes--we know it.”

“But no one can remember the purchaser’s name.”

“Monsieur de Belleville.”

“That’s it, yes, that’s it; didn’t I tell you it was in the outskirts of Paris?”

“Why, you didn’t tell us so at all; Monsieur Belleville; that’s a real name.”

“_De_ Belleville!”

“Is there a _de_?”

“Yes, they are nobles.”

“It’s to be hoped that they will be decently polite; that they will call on us, and not act like those minxes at the Courtivaux house.”

“Oh! there’s no danger! On the contrary, it seems that the lady intends to give some gorgeous fêtes, and invite the whole neighborhood!”

“Really! How do you know that so soon, Madame Jarnouillard?”

“Oh! because the last time the purchasers came in their carriage to inspect the property--that is to say, the lady came alone; no one has seen the husband yet--Jarnouillard, who happened to be passing, led their coachman into conversation, in order to get some information.”

“That was an excellent idea, very prudent; in that way one finds out who people are. Did the coachman say anything more?”

“His masters are very rich; they live in the Chaussée d’Antin in Paris.”

“Oh, well! if they live in the Chaussée d’Antin, I have the very highest opinion of their morality!”

“And they are to take possession to-day?”

“So it is said.”

“Jarnouillard will take occasion to walk by the Goldfish Villa, and he will find out whether the new owners are there.”

“Really, Monsieur Jarnouillard is a most invaluable man for obtaining information!”

That same day, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a fine open calèche rumbled noisily through the little village of Chelles. The coachman had received orders to crack his whip constantly, and he acquitted himself of that duty so zealously that the children shrieked and fled as he passed, the hens had barely time to reach their dung-heaps, the dogs barked, and everybody ran to see what was happening.

On the back seat of the calèche sat Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.

Thélénie, in a fascinating morning costume, assumed the careless air, accompanied by disdainful movements of the head, which the belles of the demi-monde always have at their command, to throw dust in the eyes of fools. Chamoureau sat very straight and stiff; he might readily have been taken for a man of wood placed there to do escort duty.

The front seat was occupied by the lady’s maid, Mademoiselle Mélie; and the cook sat on the box beside the coachman.

Then there was a multitude of boxes, packages and trunks; Chamoureau held four boxes on his knees, the maid three, and madame none.

Thélénie had wasted no time after the conversation with her husband, in which he had told her that Edmond had a love-affair at Chelles and had hired a house there; she had started at once for that quarter, and on arriving had inquired concerning houses for sale or for rent in the village. There was nothing for rent except some small apartments unsuited to her new position. But the confectioner’s house was for sale, and was pointed out to her as the most desirable estate in the place.

Thélénie went at once to inspect the Goldfish Villa. It had been built for one of our fashionable actresses, so that it was certain to please Thélénie, and on leaving it she went at once to the person in whose hands the estate had been placed for sale; the bargain was soon struck and an appointment made for the next day, at a notary’s in Paris.

Thélénie, who carried the key to the cash-box, paid cash for her purchase; so that Chamoureau, when he brought the _Petites-Affiches_ to his wife the next day, that she might make a selection among the estates offered for sale in the suburbs, was greatly surprised to learn that everything had been done, and that he was the owner of a fine country house at Chelles.

“I say! at Chelles!” cried Chamoureau; “that’s funny enough.”

“What is there funny about it, monsieur?”

“Why, Chelles is the very place where Edmond Didier has hired a house, in order to be near Madame Dalmont and her young friend.”

“Well, monsieur, what difference does that make to us? is it any of our business? Because Monsieur Edmond is carrying on an intrigue in that neighborhood, should that prevent me from buying a charming estate in a lovely country which I like immensely?”

“Certainly not, my dear love; I didn’t mean anything of the kind; I simply made the remark.”

“Another time keep your remarks to yourself; but make all your purchases and preparations; in five days we will go down to take possession of our new estate. I require that length of time to have the dresses made and the bonnets that I want to take with me.”

The five days having passed, Chamoureau came to take possession of a country house which he had never seen. When they drove through the village, where many of the streets were narrow, dirty and ill-paved, he did not fail to exclaim:

“Charming country! delightful country! It reminds me of Switzerland.”

“Have you been in Switzerland, monsieur?”

“No, but I had a client who used often to talk to me about it. How delicious the country air is! what a pleasure to breathe it!”

At that moment Thélénie was holding her handkerchief to her face because they were passing a heap of offal and muddy water which emitted a most offensive odor.

“You are not happy in your observations, monsieur; there is a horrible smell here.”

“That’s nothing, madame; a pond stirred up by the ducks--that’s all; it’s gone already.--There are some very pretty houses. Ah! this one is built in imitation of a chalet; that’s an original idea.”

“Have you ever seen any real chalets, monsieur?”

“No; but one of my clients drew a sketch of one for me.”

“Monsieur de Belleville, I trust that you will soon stop talking about your clients; you must try not to say such things before company. Why need you let people know that you were once in business? You are stupid!”

“Why, madame, I might have been an advocate; that’s a fine profession!”

“Ha! ha! an advocate! you an advocate! Great heaven! who would believe it?”

“Everybody is running to their doors and windows to see us pass, madame.”

“Good! they are quite right!”

“Shall I bow, my dear?”

“I should say not! Why should you bow? Do you imagine yourself somebody of importance--a prefect--a general?”

“I am not, but I might be! Well, then, I will content myself with smiling at the people.”

“No, no, monsieur; don’t smile either, I beg you; it’s not necessary.”

“But I must do something.”

“Look out for what you have on your knees; that’s the best thing you can do.”

“Ah! the landscape becomes positively enchanting. Are we approaching our property?”

“Yes, monsieur; look--on the right--you can see it from here.”

“What! that magnificent house, with a terrace and jars of flowers?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“And that beautiful avenue of lindens in front is ours too?”

“To be sure; it goes with the house.”

“And we are going to drive through that avenue?”

“Of course; would you prefer to fly over it?”

“Madame, I am dazzled--enchanted.”

“Don’t look so enchanted, monsieur; one would think that you never had seen anything before.”

“But there’s a gate at the end of the avenue; ah! it’s open; is there somebody at the house?”

“There is the gardener, who acts as concierge too, and whom I have retained.”

“Very good. Yes, I see a man by the gate; he expects us, no doubt.”

“I sent him word that we should come to-day.”

The calèche arrived at the gate, at which stood an old peasant with a rake over his shoulder, who bowed humbly to his new masters when their carriage turned into the avenue.

Chamoureau, bewildered by all that he saw, exclaimed:

“Why didn’t he fire?”

“Fire what, monsieur?”

“His gun.”

“In order to do that, he would have to have one.”

“Wasn’t that a gun over his shoulder?”

“No, monsieur, it was a rake.”

“Oh! I thought it was a gun; a gun would have been better, for he could have fired it on our arrival.”

“Once more, monsieur, remember that you are not the lord of the manor, that you should be received with a salvo of musketry!”

“That makes no difference, madame; a servant always has the right to discharge his gun when his masters come home.”

“If all servants did that every time that their masters came home there would be an incessant fusillade everywhere.”

At last the carriage drew up in front of a pretty stoop. The maid alighted; Chamoureau, who was in a hurry to inspect his property, attempted to do the same and dropped on the ground all the boxes and packages that he had on his knees.

Thereupon Thélénie made a great outcry and applied some far from complimentary epithets to her husband. To escape that deluge of abuse, the new proprietor darted up the steps, through the vestibule, up a flight of stairs, and disappeared.

Thélénie bade the maid pick up the boxes, which contained elaborately trimmed bonnets and caps--hence her wrath against her husband. They were all taken up to the apartment which madame had chosen for her own.

Mademoiselle Mélie went into ecstasies over the elegance and convenient arrangement of the rooms, and the beauty of the view, while she dressed her mistress, who began operations by changing her costume; then the maid went to her own room.

Thélénie, alone in a dainty boudoir adjoining her bedroom, opened a window from which several of the houses in the village were visible, and glanced at them a moment, saying to herself:

“I shall soon know where Edmond lives, and those women whom he goes to see. Why should I not find out now?--Mélie!”

The maid answered the call at once.

“Go and bring the concierge to me; if he is not downstairs, you will find him in the garden.”

The concierge speedily obeyed his new mistress’s summons.

“First of all, what is your name? I have forgotten it.”

“Thomasseau, madame, at your service.”

“Tell me, Thomasseau, do you know this country well?”

“Like my pocket, madame.”

“There was a house, belonging to one Monsieur Courtivaux, which was purchased by a lady a few months ago?”

“Yes, yes--by Madame Dalmont; she took Poucette, Guillot’s niece, into her service.”

“That’s the very one; and she has a young woman with her----”

“Mamzelle Agathe--a fine slip of a girl!”

“Well, tell me, Thomasseau, in which direction is that lady’s house?”

“Oh! it’s at the other side of the village, in sight of the railroad.”

“And I can’t see it from this window?”

“No, madame, there’s too many houses in between.”

“Do you know also where a young man from Paris lives--a very fashionable young man, who has hired a large house just for himself alone?”

“A nice-looking, dandified young gentleman? that must be the one who’s hired Monsieur Durand’s house.”

“His name is Edmond Didier.”

“That’s it, Monsieur Edmond; well, he lives not far from Madame Droguet’s, on the main street.”

“Can I see his house from here?”

“No better than the other; it’s on the other side, where the land slopes off a little; the village ain’t as even as a mirror.”

“Very well; thanks.--I cannot see their houses,” thought the beautiful brunette, “but that won’t prevent my knowing what they do on the other side of the village. I will go out and walk about my garden; it’s quite extensive and there must be other points of view.”

Thélénie wandered through the garden and through the little wood, which might have passed muster as a park. She ascended several low hills on which were built pretty summer-houses, whence one could overlook the surrounding country; but as she was not familiar with it, she made no progress.

After a long stroll the lady with the great black eyes returned to her apartment, which she examined more in detail; then she gave orders for the dinner to be hurried forward, the change of air having sharpened her appetite.

All this had taken time, and Thélénie suddenly remembered that she had not seen her husband since their arrival. She concluded that he was sulky because she had abused him so on the subject of her bandboxes, and she gave no further thought to him.

Meanwhile time passed, and madame was informed that dinner was served.

“Very well,” said Thélénie; “tell monsieur that I am going to dine.”

“But where shall I find monsieur, madame?”

“Where will you find him? why, in his apartment, I presume.”

“Where is his apartment, madame?”

“Just opposite mine--in the right wing, on the first floor.”

Mademoiselle went in search of her master; but she soon returned and said:

“I have been to all the rooms you mentioned, madame, and I haven’t been able to find monsieur.”

“Then he must be in the garden; that man is intolerable--to make us hunt for him like this! he must know that it’s dinner-time. Tell Thomasseau to look for monsieur in the park, and let Lapierre help him; I am dying of hunger, and I am going to dine.”

Madame seated herself at the table and ate her soup. She came to the _hors d’œuvre_ and still Chamoureau did not appear; but the gardener and the coachman reported that they had looked everywhere and that monsieur was certainly not in the garden or in the wood.

“This is very strange! Where has he hidden himself? Can he have fallen into some hole?”

“Oh! madame, there ain’t a single hole on your whole estate just now.”

“But the pond?”

“The pond’s only two feet and a half deep; you’d have to work pretty hard to drown yourself in it!--Besides, Monsieur de Belleville ain’t a child.”

“Madame,” said the maid, “monsieur was the first one to enter the house, and we haven’t seen or heard him since. It’s a very strange thing! He didn’t know the house, for it’s the first time he ever came here; he must have got lost in the cellar.”

“It is hardly probable that Monsieur de Belleville began by rushing down to inspect the cellar as soon as he got here. But no matter, let someone go and look.”

The servants went down into the cellars, which were quite extensive; they went through every part of them, calling their master, but they found no one.

“Now let’s go up under the eaves,” said Mademoiselle Mélie; “for I am convinced monsieur is in the house.”

They visited the attics, then the loft, but they did not find Chamoureau.

“It must be that monsieur’s fallen into one of the wells,” cried the gardener; “there’s two in the garden!”

And they were going down to inspect the wells, when, as they reached the second floor, Mademoiselle Mélie thought that she heard a voice coming from the end of a corridor which led to the toilet rooms.

“Wait a minute!” she said; “I heard something that sounded like a voice calling; it came from this direction.”

They walked along the corridor, and soon they heard Chamoureau’s voice distinctly, crying:

“Holà! help! this way! come and let me out! Sapristi! I’ve been shut up here since morning, and I can’t get out!”

“Oh! mon Dieu! monsieur is shut up there! let’s hurry!”

The little _cabinet_ was at the very end of the corridor, and was lighted from above only; to open the door, one had simply to push it, then it closed automatically. But there was nothing inside to take hold of--neither knob nor latch--so that the person who entered the place, if he allowed the door to close, could not get out until someone came to set him free.

The new proprietor, on entering his house, with which he was entirely unacquainted, had begun by going over the first floor, then had gone up to the second, and, unluckily for him, had noticed the corridor first of all, and walked to the end of it to find out where it led. He had opened the door and found himself in the little toilet-room, and, as owner of the house, had deemed it proper to see if it was comfortably arranged. But the infernal door had closed, and, in his struggles to get out, Chamoureau had tried in vain to open it with his fingers and even with his nails. Then he had begun to call and shout, thinking that they would notice that he was missing and would search for him.

But Thélénie had something else in her head, and not until the dinner hour arrived did she remember her husband. So that the new owner of the house had passed more than six hours in the little toilet-room--from half-past twelve until a quarter to seven; for his voice, stifled by the thick door, was not strong enough to reach the end of the long corridor, upon which several rooms opened, but all were unoccupied.

“_Credié_; this is very lucky!” cried Chamoureau, as yellow as a quince after his prolonged stay in the little room; and he rushed out into the corridor so quickly that Mademoiselle Mélie fell back on the coachman, who fell back on the gardener, who, having no one to support him, fell on his centre of gravity, saying:

“What! the bourgeois has been in that closet since morning! He must be feeling pretty bad!”

“What animal, what ass, what brute, ever had the idea of putting on a door that closes of itself, without a knob or a latch to open it on the inside?” cried Chamoureau. “Sapristi! I shan’t forget that sitting very soon! To-morrow I will have three knobs put on that door and have it fixed so that it can’t close itself.--Didn’t you people hear me shout?”

“No, monsieur, of course not; if we had heard you, we shouldn’t have had to look for you very long.”

“Well! this has been rather an unpleasant apprenticeship; it’s been a terribly long day to me. If I have got to pass my time in the country this way, I’ll go back to Paris at once!”

“Dinner was served long ago, and madame is waiting for monsieur at table.”

“She’s waiting for me at table! She doesn’t seem to have been very anxious about me! Well, I’ll go to dinner; I need refreshment.”

“Poor dear man!” muttered the gardener; “I should think so!”

“Here you are at last, monsieur! Where on earth were you hiding? what pretty behavior now! to make us scour the whole place for you!” said Thélénie when her husband appeared in the dining-room.

“I did not hide for my own amusement, madame. I have been a prisoner in a place which I certainly should not have selected for a prison.”

“A prisoner! what do you mean by that?”

Chamoureau explained to his wife what had happened to him. When she learned where her husband had passed the day, she laughed so loud and long that it seemed as if she would never stop. This outburst of hilarity seemed decidedly unseasonable to Chamoureau; but he wreaked his vengeance on the dinner; he ate enough for four, so that Thélénie said to him:

“For heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you want to give yourself an attack of indigestion?”

“I have a right to, madame! When a man has passed six hours in that place, he owes himself some compensation.”

IX

THE GOLDFISH

On the following day Thélénie said to her husband:

“Monsieur, you will be dressed at two o’clock, when we will have the horses put in the calèche and go to pay some visits.”

“Visits! to whom, pray, madame? we don’t know anyone here.”

“That is the very reason why we must make acquaintances. We do not propose to live like bears, I presume?”

“My dear love, I never pretended to pass for a bear; in the first place, I haven’t that animal’s hairy coat.--We will go then; and where shall we go?”

“Don’t worry about that; I have obtained through Mélie a list of the principal people of the village.”

“Does your maid know them?”

“You don’t understand, monsieur, that servants go to the fruit-shops and the butchers, and in ten minutes learn all they want to know.”

“That is true; I am a donkey.--Shall I dress in black?”

“Why not?”

“White cravat?”

“To be sure; don’t you know that it is the dress which commands consideration, before all else?”

“I shall be most imposing, madame.”

“Do your utmost, monsieur.”

At two o’clock, Thélénie was arrayed in a lovely gown, made in the best possible taste; the carriage was ready and waiting in the courtyard. Madame came down and looked about for her husband.

“Where is monsieur, pray?”

“We do not know, madame.”

“What on earth does this mean? I told him to be ready at two o’clock, and it’s after two. Probably he hasn’t finished dressing. Go and tell him to hurry. I am waiting.”

The maid went up to monsieur’s apartment. In a moment she returned and said:

“Monsieur is not in his room, madame, but he must be dressed, for I saw on the chairs the clothes he had on this morning.”

“He is dressed, and yet he is not here! Really Monsieur de Belleville is becoming insufferable; always having to be hunted for! Can it be that he is a prisoner again in--you know, the place where he was yesterday? Let someone visit all the toilet-rooms in the house; then, if monsieur is there again, we shall find him.”

The servants executed their mistress’s orders; meanwhile Thélénie stepped into the calèche, murmuring impatiently:

“Mon Dieu! what an idiot I have married! but after all, he is just what I needed.”

The servants returned, having visited all the most secret corners of the house and failed to find their master. This time it was certain that he was not in the house. They were about to look for him in the garden, when he suddenly appeared in the distance, drenched to the skin, with his hair glued to his face, and covered with mud from head to foot.

“Oh! monsieur! what a sight you are!” cried Thélénie; “where have you been, then? Don’t come near me; you are disgusting.”

“I am dripping wet, it’s true. I fell into the pond, my dear love. You know, we have a fine pond on our place.”

“Yes, monsieur, I do know it; but I should say that it was visible to the naked eye, and that it can hardly be mistaken for a lawn in broad daylight.”

“And so, madame, I saw perfectly well that it was a pond.--I was dressed before the time, for I did not want to keep you waiting; and, seeing that I had a few minutes to spare, I walked about our magnificent gardens. I spied the pond--I didn’t see it yesterday; I went close to it and looked in. What did I see? red, cherry-colored, orange fishes! It was a fascinating sight; I was dazzled. I saw one that gleamed so that its scales seemed to be gold! Faith, in my curiosity to see him nearer, I leaned over to catch him; he slipped through my fingers; I leaned over farther, and _pouf!_ I fell in among the fish and came near drowning; there’s a lot of water there!”

“Oh, no! monsieur--only two feet and a half.”

“Three feet, madame; and then, the fish blinded me; I couldn’t find the bank. However, I succeeded in getting out.”

“And in a pretty state! You don’t expect to come with me in that condition, I take it?”

“No, madame; I am going to change.”

“Make haste. What an idea, to try to catch one of those fish! Really, monsieur, you are worse than a child!”

“Ah! I have no luck in this place.”

“Go, quickly, and change your clothes.”

Chamoureau went up to his room. He was obliged to make an entire change. However, as he had but one black coat and his wife had told him to dress in black, he had no choice but to put that one on again; but he wiped it so carefully and rubbed it with so many towels, that it was soon in condition to be worn, and indeed was as glossy and shining as a new one.

Chamoureau entered the calèche, but, although he was well cleansed, madame required him to sit opposite her, not by her side. She found that he retained from his bath an odor of goldfish which made her sick.

They drove first to Madame Droguet’s; she was at the head of the list which Thélénie consulted.

When the calèche stopped at Madame Droguet’s door, it caused a general turmoil in the house. Everybody ran upstairs or downstairs, crying:

“A carriage for us!”

“The new owners of Goldfish Villa!”

“Monsieur and Madame de Belleville coming here!”

“Joséphine, my cap with bunches of jasmine.”

“Yes, madame.”

“Monsieur Droguet, run and put on a black coat.”

“Yes, wife. Must I change my waistcoat too?”

“Yes, if you have time. Mon Dieu! here they are! and I haven’t my jasmine cap! Joséphine, let them wait a moment in the salon. Say that I--that I----”

“I will say that madame is washing her hands.”

“No, indeed! that would be nice! You will say that I am taking a foot bath; that is much more _comme il faut_.”

Meanwhile Monsieur and Madame de Belleville had entered the house and given their names to the concierge, who performed the duties of footman as well.

Joséphine came to say that her mistress was taking a foot bath, and requested them to have the kindness to wait a moment in the salon into which she ushered them.

Thélénie proceeded at once to take a survey of the room, while Chamoureau gazed at the two full-length portraits, life size, representing the master and the mistress of the house.

“It’s very fine here,” he murmured; “handsome furniture, rich paper, and a superb clock!”

“Hush, monsieur! all this is in execrable taste, and the portraits alone are enough to tell us what sort of people they represent--rich grocers, I fancy. Never mind; let us be very agreeable; we must dazzle all these people, and it ought not to be very difficult.”

Madame Droguet soon arrived, with her cap a little too much over one ear; but that gave the ex-vivandière a martial look which was not unbecoming to her.

Monsieur Droguet came at his wife’s heels, in a very short coat and a too long waistcoat, which lacked several buttons; but he had not had time to notice it.

They bestowed a most affable welcome on their new neighbors; it was easy to see that Thélénie’s genuine refinement produced a deep impression on Madame Droguet, who confounded herself in compliments and courtesies, at the same time saying to her husband in an undertone:

“Button yourself up!”

And he, thinking that his wife referred to his waistcoat, murmured with a contrite expression:

“The buttons are missing.”

Thélénie informed Madame Droguet that she proposed to give dinners, receptions, festivities of all sorts, and that she should hope for her company as well as her husband’s.

The corpulent dame was beside herself with joy, and Monsieur Droguet wrenched off one of the two remaining buttons of his waistcoat.

They then proceeded to discuss the question of the other persons to be invited. Madame Droguet named her own particular friends, and Thélénie asked with an indifferent air:

“Haven’t you a certain Madame Dalmont here--a so-called widow, who has a young woman living with her?”

“Yes, we have,” replied Madame Droguet with a sneering smile. “But, between us, dear Madame de Belleville, I don’t think that they are people worthy to be received at your house. In the first place, they are not polite. When they came here to live they did not call upon us as is customary.”

“That indicates at once a lack of _savoir-vivre_.”

“Does it not, madame? Then they have struck up a friendship with a very low-lived person, a sort of wolf, whom nobody in the neighborhood cared to know, and who seems to be on the best of terms with them already. He walks home with them at night. And then----”

“What! isn’t that all?”

“A young man from Paris, named Edmond Didier, hired a house here in Chelles, soon after those strangers came here. And since he’s been here, he passes almost all his time at their house, until it’s got to be a perfect scandal. I am not evil-minded certainly, but there are things one can’t help seeing.--Let your waistcoat alone, Droguet, and button yourself up!”

“What you tell me on the subject of these women, madame, does not surprise me in the least,” cried Thélénie, delighted by what she had heard. “We have known Monsieur Edmond Didier a long while; my husband was once very intimate with him----”

At this point, Chamoureau, who had not been able as yet to put in a word and had confined himself to watching Monsieur Droguet as he felt for the missing buttons or wrenched off the others,--Chamoureau thought that he saw an opportunity to speak.

“Yes,” he said, “I used to know Monsieur Edmond Didier--that is to say, through Freluchon, who used--at the time when----”

Thélénie made haste to cut him short:

“In fact, madame, we heard in Paris that Monsieur Edmond had formed a liaison unworthy of him, which distressed his family; for what you have told me of this Dalmont woman corresponds perfectly with what people think of her in Paris, where she is looked upon as a scheming adventuress; and doubtless her young friend is little better; birds of a feather flock together.”

Madame de Belleville, who was doing her best to play the _grande dame_, forgot that it was not good form to quote proverbs; but it was as right as possible in the eyes of Madame Droguet, who was radiant with delight and exclaimed:

“You hear, Droguet; they’re adventuresses, nobodies! I was sure of it, myself; I am never mistaken in my conjectures; didn’t I say so, only last night, to Doctor Antoine, who undertook to stand up for them!--Just be sick, Droguet, be sick, my dear man; I tell you beforehand that I won’t send for the doctor.”

Monsieur Droguet, who had finally found one button of his waistcoat firmly attached, had just buttoned it with an air of proud satisfaction, and seemed to pay little heed to what his wife said.

At that moment Chamoureau was seized with a paroxysm of sneezing, which ended in a shower and spattered his neighbors; he hurriedly drew his handkerchief, to make his nose presentable; but in his haste to unfold it, he threw into Madame Droguet’s face an object which slid down that lady’s cheek into her bosom, where it disappeared. She uttered a shriek, her husband jumped backward, and Thélénie glared sternly at Chamoureau, as she demanded:

“What was that you threw at madame?”

“I, threw something at madame! why I had nothing to throw.”

Meanwhile Madame Droguet had thrown herself back in her chair, shrieking frantically:

“Oh! take it away! oh! the horrid beast! what kind of a creature is it? It’s still there; it’s slipped down inside my corsets! Take it away! take it away! or I’ll scratch someone!”

Chamoureau stared at her with a terrified expression, but he did not move. Monsieur Droguet let his wife shriek, while he tried obstinately to put another button through its buttonhole.

“Well! does neither of you propose to assist madame?” Thélénie asked them.

“It seems to me,” muttered Chamoureau, “that it isn’t for me to go fumbling in that lady’s corsets; that’s her husband’s business.”

Madame Droguet, seeing that no one came to her assistance, concluded to put her right hand inside her dress. She brought to light a small goldfish which its enforced sojourn in a warm pocket had deprived of a great part of its activity.

“A goldfish!” murmured Madame Droguet in amazement. “What! monsieur,” she added, somewhat reassured when she found that it was not a frog which she had been warming in her bosom, “do you carry goldfish in your handkerchief?”

Chamoureau, as the explanation of the incident began to dawn upon him, turned as red as his fish, and did not know what to say. But Thélénie at once spoke up and told the story of the accident which had happened to her husband, and which explained the presence of an inhabitant of the pond in his coat pocket, unsuspected by him. Thereupon they ended by laughing at the episode, and to obtain full forgiveness for the fish, Thélénie invited the Droguet family to dinner on the Thursday following.

The invitation was accepted with profuse thanks and compliments, and Monsieur and Madame de Belleville took their leave; the Droguets escorted them to their calèche, and they parted well pleased with one another.

“Please examine your pockets, monsieur,” said Thélénie, “and make sure that there are no more goldfish in them, for I have no desire that you should throw any more of them in the faces of the people we are going to call upon.”

“I have no more in my pockets, madame.”

“I am not surprised that you have such a horrible smell of fish about you; why didn’t you change your coat?”

“Because I haven’t any other black one that fits me, madame.”

“Then you must have another one made, monsieur; I believe that you are rich enough to have more than one coat.”

On leaving Madame Droguet’s, Thélénie drove to the Remplumés, then to the Jarnouillards, then to the mayor’s, and to all the leading people of the place, who were extremely flattered by the courtesies and the invitations they received from Monsieur and Madame de Belleville. Thélénie overlooked neither Monsieur Luminot nor the doctor; she left at their houses invitations to dine with her on the Thursday following.

Then they returned to Goldfish Villa, and Chamoureau said to himself:

“I propose to stay quietly in my room, for fear some other unpleasant accident may happen to me.”

Thélénie, for her part, was well content with her day. She had begun a campaign of calumny against the persons whom Edmond visited, and she was persuaded that her spiteful words would soon be repeated and exaggerated, for calumny is the most agreeable pastime of fools. They would be of so little account in the world, if they did not speak ill of their neighbors.

X

AMI BRINGS CERTAIN PERSONS TOGETHER

When the lovelorn Edmond returned from Paris, his first thought always was to go to Madame Dalmont’s to pay his respects to the two friends and to indulge himself in the pleasure of reading Agathe’s thoughts in her eyes.

They did not fail to tell him the story of the sale, although Honorine attempted to pass over in silence the circumstances that redounded to her credit; but Agathe told everything.

“Why shouldn’t you tell of your own good deeds?” she said; “as they say so much ill of us in the neighborhood, that will be some little compensation.”

“Say ill of you! who has the presumption to do anything of the sort, when you deserve nothing but praise?” exclaimed Edmond with great heat. “I have known you only a short time, mesdames, but, thank heaven! I soon learned to appreciate you! You are not of those persons whose hearts are a mystery; yours are so kind, so humane!--What Madame Dalmont did for those people doesn’t surprise me in the least; if she were wealthy, I am sure that there would be no unfortunates in her neighborhood! I confess, too, that I feel strongly drawn toward that strange man, the owner of the Tower, concerning whom the people hereabout spread such absurd reports. When calumny is rife concerning a person whom I do not know, it always serves to commend that person to me. What he did for the farmer’s family was grand, noble, touching! it was like a gust of wind which swept away in an instant all the petty slanders that were current concerning him!--But I beg you to answer my question: who has spoken ill of you?”

The two friends were silent for some time; Agathe blushed and looked at the floor. At last Honorine decided to speak.

“Agathe thinks that we ought to tell you everything, bad as well as good; so we will speak frankly, once and for all; I believe, in truth, that that is the best course to follow.

“First of all, Monsieur Edmond, I must begin by reassuring you, by begging you to believe that the remarks which are made about us do not affect us in the least. You have heard of a certain Madame Droguet----”

“That inquisitive woman, who hid a whole day in the bushes, watching for Monsieur Paul to pass,” added Agathe.

“And who received Freluchon so ill because he called at her house to ask for me?”

“That is the woman; the specimens of her social circle who came to see us gave us no desire to know it in its entirety, so we have not called on Madame Droguet, or her friends Mesdames Jarnouillard and Remplumé. That was our first offence, but it was a very grave one! to fail to show to those ladies the consideration that was their due, and thereby to announce that we did not care for their society--that was an insult which they could not forgive. They began thereupon to discover that we were suspicious characters. Then, as you know, chance willed that we should, on two occasions, accept the escort of the proprietor of the Tower; he walked home with us one evening when a cow had frightened me almost to death, and another time when we were surprised by a violent storm in the country. In a small place like this, it rarely happens that one returns home without being seen by someone. We were noticed in the company of that gentleman, who has shown no desire for their company,--indeed, I believe that I was leaning on his arm, which necessarily intensified the wrath of those ladies,--and he who, during the nine years, more or less, that he has lived in this part of the country, has steadfastly refused all relations with the local notabilities, actually offers his arm to us--the newest of newcomers! That incident was the source of a thousand and one absurd remarks. I come now to another fact which has furnished a subject of calumny to all these people: you hired a house at Chelles shortly after we came here to live; you hired a whole house for your single self.”

“What business is that of theirs? I paid six months’ rent in advance.”

“What business is it of theirs? why, monsieur, everything is the business of those who have nothing to do but to try to find out what is going on among their neighbors. Well, you come to see us--often; you call upon no one else in the place; therefore people are bound to think that you--that you take pleasure in our society.”

“Ah! madame, do you tell me this to make me come less often? Would you forbid my coming to see you?”

“I do not say that; but----”

Honorine seemed embarrassed; Agathe was trembling from head to foot; and Edmond hesitated no longer.

“Madame!” he said, “I like to believe that, seeing me come to your house so persistently, you have never supposed that I was led to come by a blameworthy desire, a frivolous sentiment. But I realize, nevertheless, that it is better that I should explain myself, that I should speak to you frankly, that I should follow your example in everything. I must not leave any basis for hateful suspicions. Madame, if I tell you that I love, that I adore Mademoiselle Agathe, I shall tell you nothing that you do not know; for you must have divined that love, which it would have been very difficult for me to conceal! But, when I avow my passion for her, is not that equivalent to saying that my sole desire is to call her my wife, and that that will be my greatest joy? If I have not told you earlier, it was because I wanted to know--I wanted to be sure if Mademoiselle----”

“He wanted to be sure that I loved him, you see, my dear!” cried Agathe, unable longer to restrain her joy. “And now he is very sure of it; that is what he was waiting for before speaking.”

“Why, Agathe! what are you saying?” exclaimed Honorine; while the girl, confused by what had escaped her lips, relapsed into speechless agitation.

But Edmond impetuously threw himself at Honorine’s feet, saying:

“In pity’s name, madame, do not reprove her, and do not force her to unsay those words which have made me so happy!”

Honorine gazed at the lovers for a few moments, then smiled and took a hand of each.

“Be calm, my children!” said she; “I do not look very stern, I imagine. Come, sit here beside me, and let us talk.--You love Agathe--yes, I do not doubt it; I had guessed as much; and it is because I have faith in your honor that I have allowed your visits. She loves you, too; why should I blame her for it, if this exchange of sentiments is to result in your happiness? You wish to be her husband, but first of all it is essential that you should know the whole story of her to whom you wish to give your name.

“Agathe bears only her mother’s name--Montoni. Julia, her unfortunate mother, was loved by a young man of noble birth, Comte Adhémar de Hautmont. He did not abandon the woman who had given herself to him; he loved her dearly and intended to make her his wife; but, in order to avoid a rupture with his family, he was waiting until circumstances should favor his projected marriage. Alas! the young man suddenly disappeared; Julia never saw him again, never heard from him in any way; and when he left her, it was with a promise to see her soon, and he covered his daughter, then six years old, with kisses.”

“Why, that is most extraordinary! Did he not return to his family?”

“No; Julia caused inquiries to be made; she was unable to learn anything concerning her child’s father, and six years later the poor mother placed her daughter in my care, saying:

“‘I am dying; take care of my Agathe, who has no one but you to love her.’

“That, monsieur, is all that there is to tell concerning her whom you desire to call your wife; and that it was absolutely necessary to tell you.”

“Oh! madame, you do not think, I trust, that that can in any degree lessen my love for her or my desire to make her the companion of my life.”

“You see, my dear, it doesn’t change his sentiments at all; I was sure that it would not!”

“Dear Agathe, your mother’s misfortunes can but make you the more interesting in my eyes. But your father’s sudden disappearance seems to me most extraordinary; it must be connected with some mysterious occurrence--with some crime, perhaps; who knows?”

“Ah! we have very often thought that.”

“And there has never been any clue, any circumstance to put you on the track of what happened to him?”

“Nothing; so long as my poor mother lived, she never ceased to seek information and make inquiries; but she could never discover a trace of the man who had sworn to love her forever! When she died, I was twelve years old; I could do nothing but weep for my dear mother, and love her who consented to take charge of the unfortunate orphan.”

Agathe threw herself into Honorine’s arms; the latter hastily wiped away the tears that were gathering in her eyes and said:

“Now, my young fiancés, for from this day I regard you as such, let us talk of serious matters. Let us for a moment forget love, which is a very pleasant thing, but insufficient to keep house upon. I am talking now like an aged guardian, am I not? But the old people are almost always right, for they have experience on their side--experience, that unexcelled source of knowledge for which one pays so dear that it ought to be of some use. My young friend Agathe has nothing--no dowry! Alas! I can give her none! And you, Monsieur Edmond--what is your position?--Remember that we have been entirely frank with you.”

“Oh! I do not propose to lie to you, madame, or to make myself out any better than I am. I received sixty thousand francs from an uncle; I invested the money and for some time I was content to live on the income. But soon, acquaintances--circumstances--follies----”

“Enough! we can guess the rest. You have spent the whole?”

“No, madame; I still have about twenty thousand francs. But I have hopes, I will obtain employment, a lucrative place--it has been promised me.”

“Well, Monsieur Edmond, don’t you think that it would be more sensible to wait until you have this place, before marrying? In the first place, you are very young, and Agathe will not be seventeen for two months! It seems to me that you can afford to wait a little while.”

“You are always right, madame. When I take mademoiselle for my wife, I wish to assure her a comfortable position in life, at least; I do not wish to have to tremble for the future. Now that I know that you consent to our union, now that we are engaged, I shall have the courage to wait; but I shall so arrange matters that the time will soon come when I shall be able to offer her a husband worthy of her.”

“Oh! I am not ambitious!” cried Agathe; “I don’t care about wealth!”