Chapter VI: Part 6

“Here, in this very village; they occupy a small house--quite isolated; I will show it to you.”

“You let me know what you want, and things will move; express train, no stops!”

“Oh! we must act prudently; I don’t know yet what I shall do; the main point now is for you to establish yourself in this place.”

“Am I not all right here in your house?”

“No; you may come here, but it will be better for our plans that you should have lodgings elsewhere. First of all, to act up to the character you have assumed, you must begin by dressing differently. I receive a great many people here, and everybody isn’t as stupid----”

“As your husband?”

“Exactly. Here are five hundred francs to replenish your wardrobe. Return to Paris and get yourself suitable clothes.”

“Never fear; I shall be superb!”

“And when you speak, don’t drop into slang, as you did just now.”

“There are some people in the best society who talk slang--as a joke. It’s admissible.”

“Don’t swear by ten thousand cabbages! that’s horribly vulgar!”

“I should say that it was extremely German.”

“And then, don’t be forever playing the windmill with your cane; you look like a merry-andrew.”

“Enough, beautiful princess; I will be perfumed, curled and corseted; in fact, I will be very _comme il faut_ in my dress as in my speech.”

“Very good; go back to Paris and come here to-morrow with a proper wardrobe.”

“I will be very _chic_. So I don’t dine here to-day?”

“No; you will need time to make your purchases, and you must come back to-morrow.”

“But what about that dear De Belleville, who counts on finding me here?”

“Oh! don’t let that disturb you; I will tell him that you absolutely insisted on going to Paris to change your clothes.”

“’Tis well; I go then, and I return to-morrow.”

“Yes; and I will set about finding you a little place near by.”

“Au revoir then. To-morrow the Baron von Schtapelmerg will do credit to Madame de Belleville.”

Croque took leave of Thélénie, went away by the avenue of lindens, and, overjoyed to have five hundred francs in his pocket, could not resist the temptation to play the windmill with his cane.

XIII

THE WARNING

Edmond had been in Paris several days, because he had been led to hope that he would be appointed to a place to which a handsome salary was attached; he had gone through all the manoeuvring that is indispensable when one is seeking employment. And then the place had finally been given to another, who had taken very little pains to obtain it, but who had the patronage of a petticoat.

Edmond returned to Chelles, to Agathe, who saw by the expression of his eyes that he had been disappointed.

“You have failed to obtain the place that you expected, haven’t you, Monsieur Edmond? Well, you must not be cast down on that account; we can afford to wait, it seems to me. I am so happy, now that my dear good friend has said that I shall be your wife, that I feel as if I could not be any happier.”

Edmond did not feel the same way, and he could not restrain a sigh; but he kissed Agathe’s hand and promised to be patient.

The girl lost no time in telling her friend what there was new at Chelles since he went away.

“You must know, Monsieur Edmond, that a fine estate on the other side of the town, known as Goldfish Villa, has recently been sold. The people who have bought it are very rich, so they say; they have carriages and saddle horses. They have already given a great dinner, to which all the principal land owners of the neighborhood were invited; so that nobody speaks of them now without a reverence.”

“I presume they called on you to invite you?”

“No indeed!” cried Honorine; “we have only a tiny house! We are not worthy to be admitted to such dazzling heights!”

“What you tell me gives me a very low opinion of these people to begin with. Are they young?”

“Yes!--that is to say, we have seen only the wife; but it seems that the husband is young too. As for the lady, she is very good-looking, a brunette with black eyes and an elegant figure; and she rides superbly.”

“She rides, you say?”

“She does nothing else, and she passes our house every day.”

“Yes, and one day when I was at the window of the little summer-house at the end of the garden, she stared at me so persistently! Oh! I am quite sure that she will know me again.”

“Probably she didn’t expect to find such a sweet face in this part of the country.”

“I don’t know what she expected, but her manner of staring at me was not at all agreeable.”

“And I,” added Honorine with a laugh, “nearly had a duel with her.”

“A duel! this is worse and worse! How came you to quarrel with this woman?”

“I was out on the road and I heard shrieks; it was that little boy we have told you about--the lost child, as he is called by the peasants--whom the beautiful amazon was thrashing with her hunting crop because he didn’t get out of her way quickly enough. Naturally I took the child’s part, which made the lady very angry with me. I must confess that the boy put himself in the wrong by throwing a lump of earth which struck the horse in the head; he reared, and his rider was furious. I don’t know what she would not have done to little Emile if a defender had not arrived in the person of Ami, Monsieur Paul’s dog, who bravely championed the cause of the weaker, and forced the amazon to beat a retreat. Since that day Ami comes very often to see us; he has no difficulty in making us hear, for he scratches, or rather knocks, at the small garden gate, until it is opened; he passes a quarter of an hour with us, then goes back to the little gate and gives us to understand that he wants it opened; he looks at us both, sitting down in front of us, and offering us his paw like an old friend. That is by way of bidding us adieu, and then he trots off without further delay.”

“And his master?”

“His master doesn’t come himself, but he allows his dog to come; that is a good deal for him.”

“I should be very glad to see that man; what you have told me about him has aroused my curiosity.”

“We very rarely meet him; but it is probable that you will soon see Madame de Belleville.”

“Madame de Belleville, did you say?”

“Yes, that’s the name of the newcomers who have made so much stir. Do you know them?”

Freluchon had once told Edmond that Chamoureau called himself Monsieur de Belleville; but Thélénie’s former lover had paid no attention. And yet the name sounded familiar to him; he tried to recall where and when he had heard it.

“Well,” continued Agathe, “you don’t answer me. I asked you if you knew Monsieur and Madame de Belleville?”

“I am trying to think, mademoiselle; the name is not unfamiliar to me.”

“Try hard; something tells me that you do know that lady.”

“What can make you think that, dear Agathe?” asked Honorine.

“The extraordinary way in which she stared at me.”

“Really?--Then I hope to see her soon, in order to be able to tell you that you are mistaken.”

“Tutu--turlututu.”

“Ah! here’s Père Ledrux,” said Honorine. “Well! did you carry off the black hen?”

“Yes, madame; and not a minute too soon! She was making the others as bad as herself. We shall have to watch now and see if the rooster hasn’t taken a spite against another one. Because, you see, when the rooster is down on a hen, he thrashes her till she dies--and that makes the others feel bad.”

“Really, Père Ledrux, I wouldn’t have believed that there were so many crimes committed in a hencoop.”

“Oh, yes! and everywhere else. Animals, you see, they ain’t any better or worse than us humans; they hate each other and they fight!”

Agathe had become pensive; Edmond meanwhile was wondering if Madame de Belleville could possibly be Thélénie.

The gardener, who loved to gossip, continued:

“This little place of ours is getting well filled up; and more swells, too--a baron! nothing less.”

“What do you say, Père Ledrux? there’s a baron in the village?”

“Just that--a real baron, who’s hired a little belvedere within a couple of days; it’s about the size of a dovecote, but Monsieur Remplumé calls it a belvedere. It’s right at one end of his land, and he’s let it to this German baron, who’s an intimate friend, so they say, of the owners of the confectioner’s place, or Goldfish Villa; he’s dined there twice already.”

“Why, you know everything, Père Ledrux.”

“I tell you! I’ve seen the baron walking arm-in-arm with Monsieur de Belleville. So then I says to myself: ‘It seems that they know each other and are good friends.’”

“What sort of looking man is this German?”

“Well! he’s neither young nor old; he ain’t much to look at; in fact, he’s terrible homely; but he’s got rings on his fingers, gold fal-lals on his watch chain, and a fine cane with a gold head too. Oh! he looks as if he was well fixed. Monsieur Remplumé says he’s a nobleman from the Bavarian country.”

“And his name?”

“Wait a minute; it’s a hard name to pronounce; Baron _j’tape_--and then a _merg_! I could never get the name right. But look, I see him now on the road--yes, here comes this newly-arrived baron, walking with Madame de Belleville. If you want to get a look at them, all you’ve got to do is to go up to your little summer-house.”

“Really, it’s too good an opportunity to lose. Come, Monsieur Edmond,” said Honorine; “you shall see Madame de Belleville and this newcomer who, we are told, is a German baron.”

The party entered the little summer-house and went to the window. Thélénie, who was on foot this time, was walking very slowly, talking with her brother, but she had not taken his arm.

Croque was dressed in a brand-new black _redingote_ and trousers; his boots were polished, his hat, although cocked over his ear, was new and glossy; he wore kid gloves, on which he kept his eyes fixed, and well-starched shirt-cuffs, which he made haste to pull down when they disappeared under his sleeves.

They were walking quite slowly and Thélénie seemed to be speaking with much earnestness. Croque, as he listened to her, strutted proudly along in his new clothes, and twirled his cane.

Although they were still at some distance from the window at which he was standing, Edmond instantly recognized Thélénie. Noticing his momentary embarrassment, Agathe said to him:

“I guessed right, did I not? You know that lady?”

“Yes, I think that I have met her and her husband; I knew her husband the better of the two.”

“Ah! her husband. Well, why do you leave the window? are you afraid to have her see you with us?”

“Oh! mademoiselle, everywhere, before the whole world, I should be proud and happy to be seen with you.”

“Very well! then stay at the window. She is coming near now; we shall see whether she will stare at you as she stared at me.”

“Bless my soul!” cried Honorine; “I don’t know whether that man is a great German nobleman, but he certainly is very ugly! and he cuts a most curious figure!”

Thélénie, although she pretended not to look in the direction of the summer-house, saw that there were people at the window; she touched Croque’s arm and whispered:

“Look carefully; there are those women.”

“I see; but there’s a young man with them.”

“A young man!”

Thélénie looked up and saw Edmond. Her face became ghastly pale. But, making a mighty effort to conceal her emotion, she stopped in front of the summer-house, bowed to the young man and said with a gracious smile:

“Why! it’s Monsieur Edmond Didier! I am delighted to meet you here. I hope that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you occasionally. We have bought a place here and mean to stay all summer.”

Edmond bowed very coldly, but made no reply.

Thereupon the beautiful brunette nodded her head to him very familiarly, and, as if she had not noticed the two ladies who were present, turned to Croque and said:

“Come, my dear baron, we must walk faster; my husband will not know what has become of us; he must be worried.--Au revoir, Monsieur Edmond!”

The pretended baron raised his hat and bowed very respectfully as he passed the window, muttering:

“_Bigre_! a pretty morsel, that young blonde! I wouldn’t object at all to that game!”

“Very well! take her, I give her to you,” said Thélénie, contracting her heavy eyebrows.

“You give her to me? that’s all right, so far as it goes. But unfortunately she isn’t at your disposal.”

“Can it be that Croque has lost all his imagination, ingenuity, audacity? Make a conquest of that girl, I tell you, and on the day that you furnish me with proof that you have succeeded,--that she has yielded,--I’ll give you three thousand francs!”

“Three thousand francs and such a sweet little phiz to win! I’ll do it or forfeit my name; not Schtapelmerg, but my real name.”

“What a brazen air that woman has!” said Agathe, when the brother and sister had disappeared. “She spoke to you just as if you were alone; she didn’t condescend even to bow to us. Shall you go to her house?”

“Oh no! no, indeed! I assure you that I haven’t the slightest intention of doing so.”

“Why, you are unreasonable, Agathe,” said Honorine; “if Monsieur Edmond is intimate with this lady’s husband, why do you wish him not to go to their house?”

“I knew Chamoureau before he married that woman, madame; now----”

“Chamoureau? why, that is the name of the real estate agent to whom we went to buy this house, and who would never have done anything about it, I fancy, but for you.”

“Just so, madame; he is the very man, who, after inheriting twenty thousand francs a year, married Madame Sainte-Suzanne.”

“What! he is the husband of that magnificent amazon? But in that case her name is Madame Chamoureau.”

“To be sure.”

“And why does she call herself De Belleville?”

“Because the name of Chamoureau did not seem to her sufficiently distinguished.”

“Ha! ha! ha! this is delicious! What a discovery! Just let her stare at me so obstinately again, and I’ll say: ‘Has Madame Chamoureau anything to say to me?’”

“That would be the best way to put her to flight, I assure you! But you must excuse her; she is bewildered by the position she occupies; and the high and mighty airs she assumes prove how unused she is to her newly-acquired wealth.”

Night had come, and Edmond remained at Madame Dalmont’s to dinner. In the bottom of his heart he was displeased to find Thélénie in the same place with the girl he loved; something whispered to him that his love for Agathe was one of the motives which had brought his former mistress to Chelles. He was conscious of a vague uneasiness; for that woman had sworn to be revenged upon him, and he knew that she was capable of defying heaven and earth to keep her oath.

However, Edmond did his utmost to conceal his pre-occupation, but it is difficult to dissemble successfully before the eyes of those who love us. Agathe’s eyes often rested on the young man, and she sighed as she said to herself:

“How that woman smiled at him! how she looked at him!”

Suddenly Honorine’s attention was attracted by a scratching as of claws, and blows on the small garden gate.

“I will wager that Ami has come to see us!” she cried.

“He doesn’t usually come in the evening,” said Agathe.

“No matter; it is he, I am sure.”

And the young woman hastened to the gate which opened into the fields.

It was in fact Ami who had knocked; he rushed into the garden, then ran back to Honorine and gambolled about her. She put her hand on the dog’s head, saying:

“What, Ami! is it you? so late? How does it happen that you come to Chelles in the evening? Is your master in the neighborhood?”

Ami listened attentively, then ran into the living-room on the ground floor, where Agathe and Edmond were.

“Honorine was right,” said the girl, as she went to pat Ami, “it is Monsieur Paul’s dog--the owner of the Tower. Make his acquaintance, my dear; he is very fond of me, and I am sure that he will love you too.--Come, Ami, look at Monsieur Edmond. Do you see, I put my hand in his, to show you that you must love him as you do me. Come, give me your paw; that’s right; and let monsieur shake hands with you.”

Ami looked earnestly at Edmond, but his eyes were full of kindliness, and he did exactly what Agathe told him.

“Now I am happy,” she cried; “for you may be sure, Monsieur Edmond, that you have now a new friend, who will be perfectly well able to defend you, if he should see that you were in danger.”

“It is very strange, however, that the dog should come so late to call upon us,” said Honorine; “it makes me feel uncomfortable. Do you suppose that his master is sick--that he has come to ask for help?”

“Oh! my dear, you are very foolish to be alarmed; just see how lively and contented Ami is! If he were the bearer of bad news, he wouldn’t play about us like this.”

“I agree with mademoiselle,” said Edmond. A moment later, he added: “It’s a very dismal thing to call one’s fiancée ‘mademoiselle.’ Don’t you think so, madame?”

Honorine smiled, while Agathe hastily rejoined:

“And I think it’s horrible to say ‘monsieur’!--It’s so ceremonious, monsieur!”

“Well! what prevents you from calling each other Agathe and Edmond simply?”

“Oh! madame! have we your permission?”

“I see no harm in it, when you are engaged.”

“Oh! what joy, my dear good friend! How sweet it will be, Edmond!--Do you hear, Monsieur Edmond?”

“No more ‘monsieur,’ dear Agathe!”

“True; but one dares not begin all at once. Never mind; I shall soon get used to calling you Edmond--just Edmond.”

“And I--Agathe, my beloved Agathe!”

“Oh! monsieur, my dear friend didn’t sanction the ‘beloved’!”

“But she didn’t forbid it, mademoiselle!”

“Well, well! now he’s calling me ‘mademoiselle’ again!”

“You called me ‘monsieur.’”

“Hush, child!” cried Honorine; “someone knocked at the garden gate.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Agathe.

“I am certain that there’s someone there; and see, Ami is running in that direction, and he doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Who can come so late?”

“Late! why, it isn’t nine o’clock.”

“That is late for the country; we will go with you and see who it is. Poucette is singing upstairs and did not hear.”

“Stay here; I’m not afraid; besides, Ami is with me.”

Honorine soon reached the end of the little garden. The dog was jumping against the gate, wagging his tail and uttering short, joyous little yelps. There was no possibility of mistake as to the person who was outside, and Honorine soon found herself face to face with the owner of the Tower.

“Excuse me, madame,” said Paul, as he raised his hat to the young woman. “It is rather late for me to call upon you; but I have been to see Guillot’s family and the good people kept me longer than I thought; time passes so quickly with those who are glad to see one! When I left them I discovered that Monsieur Ami had deserted me. I thought that there was no other house but yours in this part of the country, to which he could have come, and I see that I was not mistaken.--Really, madame, I am afraid that the dog is a nuisance to you; his visits are becoming too frequent; you must send him away when he is unwelcome.”

“No, monsieur, we shall not send him away, because we are fond of him and his visits give us pleasure.--But will not you, monsieur, pass through this gate? shall we never have a visit from anybody but your dog?”

Ami’s master replied by entering the garden, and Honorine was conscious of a feeling of gratification which she did not try to conceal.

She escorted her guest to the living-room, where Agathe and Edmond had remained. The former sprang to her feet when she saw Paul, exclaiming:

“Oh! this is a pleasant surprise, monsieur!”

“You must not thank monsieur too much,” said Honorine; “if Ami had not come to see us, I fancy that monsieur would never have honored us with a visit.”

“Madame----”

“But it is wrong of me to say that.--You do not like society, and you lay aside your habits to-day, in our favor; we should be very grateful to you for it.”

Paul had remained in the doorway, looking at Edmond, whom he had not previously met.

“Allow me,” said Honorine, “to present Monsieur Edmond Didier; he is the only person who comes now and then to enliven our solitude; but he is entitled to do so, for he loves Agathe, and I have promised to let them marry when they are a little more sensible.”

Paul’s brow seemed to brighten; he bowed to Edmond and took the seat that Honorine offered him.

The conversation was a little cold and intermittent at first; but before long Switzerland was mentioned, and Italy; the owner of the Tower had travelled extensively, he described vividly the different countries he had visited, interspersing his narrative with curious anecdotes, incidents that had happened to him on the road and in public houses. And he told it all without ostentation, simply and with a facility that fascinated his hearers. The moments passed and no one thought of the time.

Suddenly Paul stopped, as if ashamed of having monopolized the general attention so long.

“I am afraid that I have abused your patience and bored you,” he said. “Forgive me; you see how dangerous it is to receive one who has been a long while without talking.”

“We should be very happy,” replied Honorine, “if you would come sometimes and bore us in this same way. It must be very sad to live alone all the time, to see no one. Are you a misanthrope?”

“I have abundant reason to be.”

“And you are determined to see only evil-minded persons about you?”

“Ah! I no longer say that, madame!”

“And will it always be necessary for your dog to come here in order to induce you to honor us with a visit?”

Paul was about to reply, when the dog, who up to that time had lain quietly at his feet, suddenly raised his head, pricked up his ears and gave a low, prolonged growl.

“Well, well! what is it, Ami?” said Agathe; “are you tired of staying with us? do you want to go?”

The dog seemed to be listening, and in a moment began to growl again.

“This is strange!” said Paul, “there must be a cause for this exhibition of temper on Ami’s part; his eyes are blazing and his hair is standing on end.”

Ami left the room abruptly and rushed into the garden, barking violently.

“There certainly is something wrong,” said Edmond; “perhaps some nocturnal prowler is passing the house.”

They had all followed the dog, which continued to bark, rushing against the wall, as if he wished to scale it.

“Mon Dieu! are we surrounded by robbers?” exclaimed Honorine.

“This is very extraordinary!” said Paul; “I have never seen him in such a fit of anger; he is ordinarily content to bark at people whom he doesn’t like or doesn’t know. But see what a frenzy he is in now; it is impossible to pacify him--he won’t listen to me.”

Ami ascended the steps leading to the summer-house, and from there he leaped over the wall, and darted along the road. Paul hurried to the gate and started in pursuit of his dog. Edmond would have followed him, but the two ladies held him back, for they were afraid and unwilling to be left without a protector.

XIV

THE PATH

“Well, monsieur,” said Thélénie to her husband, as he entered her chamber, “I gave you several commissions two or three days ago; I asked you to find out who that small boy was who threw stones at me, and who was the owner of an enormous dog that jumped at me; what have you found out?”

Chamoureau began by looking at himself in a mirror which happened to be in front of him--a habit common to many people, who, while they are talking to you, do not cease to ogle themselves; and those who do it are not the most comely!

“My dear love,” replied Chamoureau, after smiling at his image, “as for the small boy, I know nothing as yet. The peasants are not always inclined to give you information when you question them; they imagine that you’re making fun of them.--As for the dog, that’s a different matter; I haven’t found him yet--those that I’ve seen don’t correspond with the description you gave me.”

“I might have known that you wouldn’t be capable of discovering anything. Luckily, my friend the baron is here; I will place the matter in his hands, and he will be more skilful than you.”

“I don’t know whether Monsieur de Schtapelmerg will be more skilful than I--in fact, I doubt it. Still, it’s no wonder that I am preoccupied,--I have such an interesting question in my head.”

“For heaven’s sake, what have you in your head, monsieur?”

“The age of trees, madame, the age of trees, which I mean to succeed in determining exactly.”

“What good will it do, monsieur? what’s the use of knowing the exact age of a tree?”

“Why, madame, it will be a wonderful discovery, of the very greatest utility--for wood-choppers and dealers in wood! To be able to say the instant you see a tree: ‘It is so old--it was born under such a reign;’--why, it will be magnificent! and I shall succeed in doing it!--Ah! here’s our dear friend the Baron von Schtapelmerg.”

Croque entered the room; he was pale and haggard, and he did not walk with his usual swagger. He nodded to the husband and wife.

“Good-morning, noble baron,” said Chamoureau, offering him his hand. “You’re not ill, are you? You have rather a tired look this morning.”

“I slept badly; it doesn’t amount to anything; it will disappear after a few puffs of smoke.”

“What a fellow! he prefers a pipe to a cigar!”

“We old soldiers are used to a pipe.”

“Have you served, baron?”

“Yes, I made the campaign of--of--the war against the Turks.”

“Ah! you have fought against the Turks; no doubt that was when you received that wound on the left cheek, which left you that noble scar?”

“Exactly; it was a lance thrust.”

“Do the Turks fight with lances?”

“Always--unless they use some other weapon.”

“Give me your arm, baron,” said Thélénie, “and let us go for a walk while monsieur reflects concerning the age of trees.”

“I am at your service, _belle dame_.”

“What is there new?” inquired Thélénie, when she and Croque had left the room. “Your appearance is quite agitated.”

“_Sacredié!_ there’s reason enough! I had a scare last night, and I’m all of a tremble still.”

“What was the cause of this scare?”

“About ten o’clock I walked in the direction of our ladies’ house. I wanted to examine the locality, take a look at the walls, in short, find out where there was a good chance to get inside; because, of course, I don’t expect to fascinate the girl--I’m not good-looking enough, I do myself justice; if I want to arrive at my end, I’ve got to do it by surprise--by force.”

“Well--what then? what then?”

“I was prowling round the garden wall, and before long I heard a dog growling. I didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but as I was running my hands over a place where the wall is rather rickety, the barking got louder and fiercer; I discovered that the dog was close to me, that there was nothing but the wall between us. They called him from the house and tried to quiet him; time thrown away. I says to myself: ‘That’s a dangerous beast; let’s stand off shore!’--So I turned tail. In another minute what did I have at my heels but the infernal dog, who had leaped the wall, no doubt, and started after me. Fear gave me wings; I flew--and so did the damned dog! However, he only succeeded in getting hold of the tail of my coat, and it remained in his jaws; I managed to escape. But, _bigre!_ it was high time! Look, see this big piece gone out of my coat--the cloth was very stout and new, so the beast must have pulled hard.”

“Upon my word! I didn’t expect to hear anything like this; I thought you were brave and strong, one of those men, in short, whom nothing terrifies, who recoil before no danger! And here you are all upset and cowed because a dog ran after you! You make me blush! Didn’t you have your cane to beat the dog off with?”

“Oh! my girl! one minute! let’s not put on airs; let’s not act as if we wanted to make Bibi angry!--To be sure, I am bold; with men I don’t retreat, and I am not afraid; but with a dog--that’s another matter!--Besides, I have a good reason to be afraid of them; didn’t I come near being strangled by Monsieur Duronceray’s dog? Didn’t he make this wound on my face, that I’ve still got the scar of? And it’s deep, too! I don’t know why, but it seemed to me last night as if it was that same dog that chased me.”

“What nonsense! he must be dead long ago!”

“Why dead? he was very young then--not more than a year and a half; so he’d be ten or eleven now; dogs live much longer than that.”

“Well, after what you have told me, I see that it’s of no use to rely on you to undertake anything against the girl.”

“If those women always have that dog to guard them, it will be rather hard.”

“They have no dog in the house; their gardener, whom I took care to employ a few days ago, told me so. It was a mere chance that there was one in their house last night.--But this young man coming this way--it is Edmond! At last I have an opportunity to speak to him. Leave me, Croque--go away.”

“All right; I will join your estimable husband and breakfast with him.”

“Be careful not to get tipsy as you did the other day; for, when you do, you entirely forget your rôle.”

“Don’t worry, _belle dame_, I will retain my self-respect.”

Edmond was walking slowly along the road; he was thinking of Agathe, whose husband he ardently desired to be; but he was thinking also of the future.

On his last trip to Paris, he had made up his accounts and tried to bring some semblance of order out of the chaos of his affairs; he had paid all his creditors and had found that he possessed only sixteen thousand francs. With that amount a tradesman may start in business on a small scale; but that was not the lot in life which Edmond desired to offer to Agathe.

“To have a pleasant voice and be able to sing decently--that isn’t enough to marry on,” he was saying to himself; “I should have done better to think of getting rich.”

Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, the young man had not seen Thélénie, who was close beside him when he raised his eyes. He started back as if to retrace his steps; but it was too late, the young woman with the great black eyes had already taken his arm, saying:

“What! you propose to turn back because you find me here? Am I so very odious to you then? Does the sight of me produce such an intensely disagreeable effect on you?”

“Not at all, madame; but it occurred to me that we had nothing to say to each other, and in that case----”

“You are mistaken, monsieur--I have many things to say to you; I am not like you! Oh! don’t be alarmed; look in all directions--we are alone, quite alone; no one will see you talking with me, and your mistress will not make a scene!”

“I have no mistress, madame; I love an honorable, virtuous young lady, and I expect to make her my wife when I am in a position to assure her a happy and tranquil future at least, if not a brilliant one. So you see that there is no question of a mistress.”

Thélénie seemed to reflect for a few moments; then she replied, assuming an air of good-fellowship:

“Oh! that makes a difference; in that case, forgive me, Edmond; people have spoken about these ladies to me in rather a sneering way; I know that the world is very cruel, that slander is its sweetest recreation. But if you propose to marry this young lady, I have no doubt that she deserves all your love; and I will not venture to criticise your choice.”

This was said with an air of sincerity which instantly changed Edmond’s sentiments; his expression became trustful once more, and he offered his hand to Thélénie.

“Good!” he said; “I like to hear you talk so; I have never been willing to believe, myself, in the spitefulness of women; I am not like Freluchon, who always thinks that he is being deceived.”

“Oh! but Freluchon always deserves to be.”

“Then you are no longer angry with me?”

“Angry with you? of course not. Why should I bear you a grudge? our liaison came to an end, because everything must come to an end. Besides, I am married; I have married thirty thousand francs a year; do you suppose that I am not content with my lot?”

“I am overjoyed to find you like this.”

“Frankly, you must have a large supply of self-esteem, to think that you would find me otherwise, and that I still sighed for you!”

“I did not think that; but you made so many threats----”

“Ha! ha! ha! I thought that you were better acquainted with the human heart. But you are reassured now, aren’t you? You are no longer afraid of my stabbing you?”

“It never went so far as that!”

“You will no longer avoid me as soon as you see me?”

“Of course not!”

“Because one is no longer a lover is no reason for not being a friend, is it? I have always thought not. You will come to see me; I insist upon it; otherwise I shall think that you still hate me.”

“I do not go into society here; I go only to Madame Dalmont’s.”

“But we are not new acquaintances; was not my husband your friend? If you should refuse to come to see us, it might suggest strange ideas to him, knowing--and he does know it--that you are living in this neighborhood.”

“I thought that Chamoureau had no ideas that were not agreeable to you.”

“Mon Dieu! that man loves me; it is his greatest pleasure to gratify my wishes; don’t charge that to him as a crime! And because a woman has led rather an agitated life, do you suppose that when she is once married, she can’t behave herself and make her husband happy?”

“I think that one can always behave oneself when one has firmly determined to do so, and that it is never too late to atone for one’s errors.”

“Ah! it’s very lucky that you are willing to admit that. When will you dine with us?”

“I tell you again, I don’t go into society; I give all my time to the person to whom I am paying court; that is natural certainly.”

“I fancy that she does not demand that you should break with all your acquaintances.”

“She demands nothing; in this matter I simply follow my own inclinations; but I will call to see you--I promise.”

“I told my husband to write to Freluchon. I am going to give very soon a grand dinner party and ball; I propose to dazzle all the good people of this region, which, by the way, is not very difficult. I love to believe that Monsieur Freluchon will be one of us; I shall have also a few devotees of lansquenet and baccarat--fine players. They will come from Paris, by the way; for here they don’t play to lose or win more than fifteen sous!--it’s pitiful! I, you know, have always liked to play for high stakes, and thank heaven! I am able now to gratify all my tastes. Adieu, monsieur l’amoureux, monsieur l’ermite. I shall send you an invitation to my ball, and if you will condescend to spare us an hour, we shall be most grateful.”

And Thélénie, with a friendly nod to Edmond, walked away.

“Decidedly, I was foolish to be alarmed,” he said to himself, as he bent his steps toward Agathe’s abode; “Thélénie no longer thinks of me; she is rich, she has reached the position to which she aspired--what more can she want?--Besides, do such women ever know real love? She thinks of nothing but making a sensation and playing the _grande dame_. She kept her eyes fixed on Agathe a long while; but that was because she did not expect to find such perfect beauty here. That she may have felt some vexation, I can understand. Thélénie is not accustomed to having anyone dispute the sceptre of beauty with her; and I’ll wager that that was her only reason for not including those two ladies among her guests. She doesn’t propose to have a woman at her parties who is prettier than herself.”

On her side Madame de Belleville went away from the interview well pleased with herself, and thinking that she would attain her object much more surely by banishing all suspicion from Edmond’s mind.

She had taken a path that skirted a thinly settled part of the village, to shorten the distance to her house. This path was quite narrow and lined with wild blackberry bushes. A small boy was busily engaged looking for blackberries where the bushes were densest, heedless of the risk of tearing his clothes, which were already in a wretched state. When he caught sight of Thélénie, he cried:

“Aha! she ain’t on horseback to-day! that woman won’t ride me down again!”

Thélénie heard these words and recognized the urchin to whom she had administered divers blows with her crop. She stopped in front of him, gazing at him with a stern expression; but little Emile sustained her glance without lowering his eyes for an instant.

“Ah! it’s you, is it, little good-for-nothing! Are you going to throw stones at me to-day?”

“I say! you ain’t on horseback!”

“And if I were, would you throw stones at my horse again, to frighten him and make him rear? You would have been very glad if I had fallen, wouldn’t you?”

“It would have made me laugh.”

“What a little rascal! What is your name?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“And your parents--what are their names? what is their business? where do they live?”

“Catch me telling you, so you can go and complain and get me a scolding! I ain’t such a fool!”

Thélénie examined the little fellow and could not help admiring the beauty of his eyes, whose bold and mocking expression gave strong indications of an extremely self-willed nature.

“You won’t tell me your name?”

“I ain’t got any.”

“And the dog that came to your assistance the other day--he is yours, of course?”

“No, he ain’t mine.”

“But you know him, don’t you?”

“Oh! I guess I do.”

“Whom does he belong to?”

“To the man that owns the Tower.”

“Who is the man that owns the Tower?”

“Why, he’s the bear, as they call him round here; but for all that he ain’t so ugly as folks thought, the bear ain’t, for he bought Guillot’s house and gave him money too. Would you do that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.--Is the dog with you often? does he know you--as he came to your defence?”

“Oh! he don’t like me much; it wasn’t me that he wanted to help; he wanted to bite you!”

“Oho! do you think so? Then I must find out why the beast should show so much bad feeling against me. You say his master lives at the Tower? Where is that?”

“A fine big place over on the other side of the Marne, near Gournay. I say! there’s a great old park there--bigger’n yours.”

“Really! I must see that; and the owner of the dog is probably that boor whom no one about here will receive except Madame Dalmont.”

“Ah! she’s a kind lady, she is! she gives me cherries and sous; she wouldn’t beat me with her whip--I’ve still got the marks of it!”

“If you had been beaten more, you wouldn’t be such a little vagabond. But I’ll find out your name and your parents’ in spite of you.”

“You’ll be smarter’n other folks then! Good-day, madame!”

The little boy ran away with a mocking expression and Thélénie walked on, saying to herself:

“How can it be that a peasant’s child has such lovely eyes?”

XV

TWO GENTLEMEN AFTER DINNER

Several days had passed. Paul had paid frequent visits to the two friends in the evening, and his sombre humor was beginning to disappear. His face no longer wore that forbidding look which intimidated the country people; as he talked with Honorine his voice became less harsh, his eyes softer.

The young widow, on her side, experienced an entirely unfamiliar sensation when the master of the Tower seated himself at her side. That sensation afforded pleasant occupation for her heart; she felt happier than ever before, and did not attempt to conceal her happiness, because she saw no harm in the interest which she felt in a man who had hitherto always been betrayed in his affections.

More than once Agathe had said to her:

“You ought to ask Monsieur Paul to tell us his adventures; then we should finally learn the story of the ravine. We should learn why he went at night to the cross that marks the place where someone was killed.”

But Honorine would reply:

“I do not like to invite confidences; it would seem to indicate curiosity, suspicion even. So long as a person does not tell us his griefs, it means that he does not think us likely to be interested in them. Let us wait. It is a good deal gained that Monsieur Paul should have abandoned for our sakes his uncivilized, solitary habits; he comes to see us, and that is a great compliment on the part of a man who never speaks to anyone. But we can’t expect him to treat us at once like old friends.”

“Why not? his dog made friends with us at once, and since he divines a person’s feeling toward his master, it seems to me that the master might well follow his dog’s example.”

The owners of the Goldfish Villa had issued their invitations for the gorgeous fête which they proposed to give in their new abode. Nothing was talked about in Chelles but the preparations that were in progress at Monsieur and Madame de Belleville’s. Workmen had been brought from Paris; there was to be an illumination and fireworks in the garden. The courtyard and avenue were encumbered with shrubs, and boxes filled with rare flowers; upholsterers had come to renew the hangings, and painters to touch up the stairs and stair-rails. Everything was in commotion, and in the midst of it all Chamoureau, bewildered by the crowds of people coming and going and by the noise that arose on all sides, often took refuge in the depths of his park, saying to himself:

“Those people drive me crazy; they will prevent me from finding what I seek--that discovery which may throw open the doors of the Academy to me. I feel sure that I am on the point of putting my finger on it. I will go and reflect upon it, while I contemplate the trees in my park.”

On the eve of the day appointed for this grand function, which had thrown the whole village of Chelles into commotion, Freluchon arrived at nightfall, and not finding Edmond at home, was on his way to Madame Dalmont’s, where he was certain of finding him, when he collided with somebody at a street corner.

“Hallo! it’s Chamoureau!” cried Freluchon; “delighted to meet you, my dear fellow. But why did you hurl yourself at me in that way? Are you getting short-sighted?”

“No, not at all; but I wasn’t looking to see where I was going; I was absorbed in my ideas.”

“Sapristi! you must have some very profound ideas then, since you became Monsieur de Belleville.”

On that day Chamoureau had, as usual, dined with his new friend the baron, and the two gentlemen had indulged somewhat too freely in the pomard with which one of the cellars of the villa was stored. So that, after dinner, they had felt the need of a short walk in the country.

“Dear Freluchon,” said Chamoureau; “so you received our invitation for to-morrow?”

“To be sure I did; and that is why I came to-night, so as to be on hand to-morrow.”

“You’ll pass the night with us; that’s very nice; we’ll give you a splendid room. Oh! we have plenty of them; we have bought an enchanting place here--so dainty and elegant! It’s a little Parc-aux-Cerfs.”

“Ah! do you have stags--_cerfs_--here?”

“No; that’s a figure of speech; I allude to a royal pleasure-house.”

“If you did have stags[B] in your house, it wouldn’t surprise me.--I am much obliged to you for your proffered hospitality, but I do not need to incommode you; I have my room here in Edmond’s house.”

[B] Another covert allusion to “wearing the horns,” or being a cuckold.

“Ah! you stay with Edmond, do you? You would be much better off with us; it’s more elegant there and more comfortable.”

“My dear Chamoureau, I don’t doubt that everything is magnificent in your house, but I am very comfortable at Edmond’s, and I shall sleep there. Moreover, as you may readily imagine, I have accepted your invitation for to-morrow from curiosity. When I learned that you had bought a country house at Chelles----”

“An estate!”

“Well! isn’t a country house an estate?”

“Yes, but when you say a country-house, it seems to mean just a place to sleep, a little box to loaf in over Sunday; whereas an ‘estate’! that instantly denotes something of value, of importance--something vast.”

“_Bigre!_ how we do effervesce since we became Chamoureau de Belleville! But don’t you want me to say a château--a palace? I’ll call it whatever you please!”

“I want--I want above all things that you shouldn’t call me Chamoureau again!”

“Oh! as for that, I can’t promise.”

“If you call me that at our party to-morrow, it will be infinitely disagreeable to me.”

“Why did you invite me then?”

“It wasn’t I who invited you, it was my wife.”

“Ah! thanks! I recognize you there. Well, my amiable friend, as you were not the one who invited me, I am perfectly justified in telling you that I am going to your fête to-morrow solely from curiosity, to laugh a little; because I am persuaded that there will be some amusing sights there--not counting you--and lastly because I am curious to see how you receive your old friends now that you are rich and noble and have a palace!--There! are you content with me? Ha! ha! you must tell your wife not to invite me another time.”

Chamoureau bit his lips.

“We will receive our old friends very cordially,” he muttered, “when they don’t make fun of us.--Look you, a few days ago, a German baron arrived here, a former friend of my wife; and a man of the highest extraction, and he paid me the most flattering compliments on my marriage.”

“The deuce! he must have a fine German accent, must this baron!”

“Why, no, not very much; he swears in German, that’s all. Well, since he has been here, he dines and breakfasts with us almost every day; he dined with us to-day again, and we drank a certain pomard--ah! such pomard!--he drinks straight, does the baron--and I held my own with him.”

“Ah! I am not surprised that you didn’t see where you were going just now.”

“Nonsense! I never get drunk myself.”

“What are you looking for now?”

“I am looking for Monsieur de Schtapelmerg.”

“Good God! what did you say?”

“I said I was looking for Monsieur de Schtapelmerg; that’s the baron’s name.”

“He has a name that requires study to be pronounced in a becoming manner.--So he was with you, was he?”

“Yes, we came out together after dinner--to take a look at the country. He probably left me, at the call of nature; and I was so absorbed in my search that I didn’t notice that I was alone.”

“Have you lost anything, pray, that you were engaged in such an absorbing search?”

“Oh, no! I am seeking a method of ascertaining the age of trees simply by looking at the trunk.”

“I should never have suspected that that was what you were seeking. You are getting to be beyond me; I am no longer on your level. Was it your wife who commissioned you to ascertain that?”

“As if women ever meddled in science! It’s an idea that came into my head as I contemplated the magnificent lindens in our avenue. You haven’t seen our avenue yet, have you?”

“I have seen nothing, as I have just arrived; but when you have found out the age of a tree, what will you do with it?”

“Oh! you distress me, Freluchon! When one makes a scientific discovery, one endows one’s country with it, and the country rewards one. It may lead to anything!”

At that moment a vinous voice arose in the distance, calling:

“Hallo there! Belleville! damnation! Belleville! What in the deuce has become of our friend? Ho there! you fellows!”

“Hark! it seems to me that I hear the baron’s voice!” said Chamoureau; “he is looking for me.--This way, baron, this way! It’s getting dark, and this village isn’t lighted with gas as yet.”

Croque was tipsy; but as he was accustomed to being in that condition, he was quite firm on his legs, and even essayed to twirl his cane from time to time. However, as he walked toward Chamoureau, he failed to notice rather a deep rut, and he fell at full length in the road.

Thereupon he emitted a string of oaths calculated to appall a carter.

“Bless my soul!” cried Chamoureau, “I believe that Monsieur de Schtapelmerg has made a false step!”

“I am inclined to think that he has fallen altogether,” observed Freluchon.

And the two gentlemen went to assist Croque, who could not succeed in extricating himself from the rut.

“Ah! _cré nom, tarteiff!_ a thousand million colored pipes! What in the devil’s the sense of roads like this! this is a vile hole of a place, this village of yours. When you dig holes, you ought to put lamps by ’em. Isn’t there any mayor here--_cré coquin_?”

“I hope you’re not hurt, my dear baron?”

“_Ouiche!_ do I ever hurt myself? I’ve fallen farther than that--when I jumped from a first-floor, yes, and a second-floor window!”

“Take hold of me, monsieur; there, that’s right.”

“Hallo! there’s somebody else! is it neighbor Luminot?”

“No, dear baron, it isn’t our neighbor Luminot; it’s one of my friends from Paris, Freluchon, who has come down this evening so as to come to our fête to-morrow.”

“Oh! it seems he was afraid of missing the coach, was friend Tirebouchon!”

“I didn’t say Tirebouchon, baron, but Freluchon.”

“And if I should choose to murder your name, monsieur,” retorted the diminutive youth, “I might call you something extremely vulgar!”

Croque, who was once more on his feet, rubbed his nose and strove to recover his self-possession, muttering:

“Monsieur, I had no intention--I didn’t mean--however, a name’s a name, and after all, if I’ve offended you--ten thousand sauerkrauts! I am all here; I don’t retreat, at cards or at table.”

“Monsieur le baron, I am persuaded that you do not retreat anywhere; but you have not offended me; call me Tirebouchon if it amuses you, and I will join in the laughter.”

“A thousand kirschwassers! if you’re not satisfied----”

“But I tell you, on the contrary, that I am perfectly satisfied. I am not like Chamoureau, who doesn’t want to be called by his own name.”