Chapter III: A Dealer in Second-Hand Clothes

Dodichet had as his mistress for the moment--or, rather, as his companion in pleasure, for, as he had money only occasionally and by chance, he rarely indulged in the luxury of a mistress--he had, we will say, for an intimate acquaintance a young woman who danced in the ballet at one of the smaller theatres, and who was always ready to accept an invitation to dinner or supper, when he was sufficiently in funds to allow him to extend such an invitation.

Dodichet betook himself to the abode of this stage artist, whose name was Boulotte, and who lived on the fifth floor of a house on Faubourg du Temple. Mademoiselle Boulotte, who was in the act of compounding a new kind of mineral rouge, with bricks pounded up in flour, uttered a cry of joy when Dodichet appeared.

"Have you come to take me to dine at the restaurant?" she said. "My word! but it comes just at the right time; I've had nothing but a sausage to-day, and that's too light."

"No, Boulotte; no, dear angel of my dreams,--when they are golden,--I have not come to invite you to dinner; because the tide is low, and I don't propose to take such a woman as you to any cheap place."

"Oh! that wouldn't make any difference to me! there are cheap places where they give you very good stewed rabbit. But still, if you haven't any money, I'll give you half of my black radish and fried potatoes, which I'm just going out to buy."

"You are a dear, good child; you share with a friend all that you possess. That isn't very much, to be sure; but it's all the more creditable of you to give away half of it. Thanks, my dear love, but I cannot accept the feast you offer me. I am on the lookout for a certain person; I saw him two days ago, but at sight of me he ran like a thief; I couldn't catch him, but I shall sooner or later!"

"Is it somebody who owes you money?"

"No; he doesn't owe me any, but he'll give me some, all the same. Oh! I'll worm it out of him, and without remorse too, as he's very rich. Then, I'll give you a regular Belshazzar, with truffles and champagne!"

"Why will this man give you money?"

"Because I know his secret."

"What sort of a secret?"

"If I should tell you, it wouldn't be a secret any longer."

"So you think I am very leaky, do you?"

"My dear little Boulotte, when I know a secret, which may be the goose with the golden eggs to me, I should be a great fool if I gave it away. But let's drop the subject; that wasn't what I came here for. Boulotte, you must do me a favor."

"One, two, three! go on, don't hesitate; for I'm quite sure you don't want to borrow money of me."

"What do you take me for? You probably know some of the women who sell second-hand clothes and such things, don't you?"

"Yes, I know several of 'em; but they have pretty poor stuff. Do you want to buy me a shawl?"

"Nonsense! do you know one named Madame Putiphar?"

"Madame Putiphar? No, I don't know her; do you want to make her acquaintance?"

"Yes, and I counted on you to find her for me."

"Oh! that's easy enough! I'll ask Sara and Clara and Cora--they know so many of those women. In two days I shall be able to give you all the information you want concerning this honest tradeswoman."

"Very well. To assist you in your investigations, you can say that she arranges marriages."

"That's very definite! they all do."

"Really! I fancy that they disarrange a good many too. No matter--do my errand; I leave you to your radish and your fried potatoes; don't eat too much. You will see me again in three days; and if I have found my man, we will have, not stewed rabbit, but a salmi of truffled partridges together."

Three days later, Dodichet called again on Mademoiselle Boulotte, and found her still at work on her mineral rouge, for which she hoped to obtain a patent. Dodichet was radiant; he waltzed into the room, and began by taking the _figurante_ in his arms and whirling her about without giving her time to put down her brick and her hammer, despite her cries:

"Let go, I say! or, at any rate, let me put down my brick!"

"Do you know the waltz from _L'Auberge des Adrets_, Boulotte--the one Frédérick used to dance so well in his picturesque costume as Robert Macaire? I can dance that waltz just a little."

"Let me put down my brick. Pshaw! there it goes, and it's all smashed!"

"Well! as long as you were going to smash it with a hammer anyway, you have so much less to do."

"That's different. I shall lose half of it on the floor! What in the world's the matter with you to-day that makes you so gay?"

"Parbleu! I have found my man--my Sicilian."

"Ah! the man with a secret?"

"Just so."

"And he's a Sicilian?"

"Yes, a Sicilian from Pontoise. Ah! what a fool I am! what did I say that for? Don't repeat that, Boulotte, I beg you. If you ever see me anywhere with a man you don't know, don't let the word Pontoise escape you--or everything's over between us!"

"What silly nonsense is this you are giving me? You act like a crazy man!"

"Let's drop that. Have you done my errand?"

"Yes, monsieur; I have done your errand. I was sure that Rosa, who knows all the second-hand clothes women in Paris, would know her; she sold her not long ago a steel comb, which she owed to the munificence of an Englishman, with two teeth broken----"

"The Englishman?"

"No, the comb!"

"Very good. Rosa's one of your companions at the theatre, isn't she? a brunette with yellow eyes, and complexion to match?"

"Yes, but never mind about her; you promised me a salmi of partridges if you found your man with the secret--you see--I didn't say, your man from Pontoise."

"Hush! imprudent girl! I was coming to the salmi in a minute, when I spoke about Rosa. Our feast will take place at her room--day after to-morrow, at noon, to give her time to tell Putiphar to come there that day about one; I shall be there, you understand, and I shall have told you and Rosa what to say to her so that my plan may succeed."

"Are you going to play a joke on someone?"

"To be sure."

"Never fear, then! we'll tell her all the foolish stuff you want."

"I have never doubted it. It's understood, then--day after to-morrow, at twelve o'clock, at Rosa's.--Does she still live on Rue de Lancry?"

"Yes."

"I promise you a breakfast of swallows' nests, like the Chinese."

"No, no, I don't want that! The idea of eating birds' nests! what a horror!"

"Then we will transform them into charlotte russe."

"All right! Order the breakfast at Lecomte's, corner of Rue de Lancry and the boulevard; that's a nice restaurant."

"Never you fear; I know the good places."

Mademoiselle Rosa, Boulotte's fellow _figurante_, occupied a small fourth-floor apartment on Rue de Lancry, very daintily furnished; for, although she had yellow eyes and complexion, she always had richer protectors than several of her companions who were far prettier than she. Why was that? I decline to tell you.

On the appointed day, about half-past twelve, Dodichet was seated at the table, between Boulotte and Rosa, in the tiny dining-room of the latter's apartment. The table was covered with dishes, upon which they had already made savage attacks, and with bottles embellished with divers seals and containing wines of different colors.

They were in very high spirits, laughing while they ate, and drinking while they laughed.

"Mesdemoiselles," said Dodichet, uncorking a bottle of champagne, "I have told you the joke--the jest--the trick, in fact, which I want to play. You have promised to help me."

"We promise again."

"I swear it by my lover's hair!" said Rosa.

"Oho! but I believe your lover's bald, isn't he?--However, never mind--you know what you're to say to Madame Putiphar when she comes?"

"Oh! we know our rôles; you'll be content with us."

"But the woman doesn't come! suppose she should go back on us?"

"No danger! I told her I wanted a brooch."

"For your kitchen?"[Q]

"Why, no; to wear at my neck. Hark--someone is ringing--I'll bet that's she!"

And, in a moment, the maid came in and said to Rosa:

"Madame Putiphar is here."

"Well, show her in; she won't keep us from eating."

Almost on the instant there appeared a short but enormously stout woman, apparently somewhat between forty and fifty years of age; who had been, perhaps, in her prime, a piquant brunette, but was now simply a brunette without the piquancy, or rather a black; for her hair, whose thick plaits almost covered her cheeks, was of such a glossy ebon blackness that, at first sight, taken with her face, which was flushed and pimply, it made her head look as if it had been varnished. She was well supplied with clothes, too well supplied, in fact, for she wore two shawls,--a large one, with a smaller one over it,--a high collarette, with a cravat twisted round it; a cap, and over it a bonnet decorated with a lot of frippery; in addition, she carried a flat box under her arm, which led Dodichet to observe:

"This woman evidently carries a large part of her stock in trade about with her."

"Good-day, Putiphar!"

"Hail, Madame Putiphar!"

"Sit down, Putiphar. When I wrote you to come, I didn't know that Monsieur Dodichet, a commission merchant in sugar, would treat Boulotte and me to this impromptu feast of champagne and truffles mixed, this morning.--But that doesn't make any difference; for you're in no hurry, I take it?"

The corpulent dame replied by repeated courtesies, accompanied by loving glances at the table, mumbling:

"Oh! mesdames, don't let me disturb you at all! It smells good here, and I'm in no hurry; I'll watch you eat."

"Won't you take a glass of champagne with us, madame?"

"Oh! monsieur is very polite----"

"Accept, Putiphar, accept; nobody ever refuses a glass of champagne!"

"I am tempted----"

"With a biscuit in it, eh?"

"I should prefer, if it's all the same to you, the chicken wing I see on that dish."

"That's all right. Draw up to the table.--Manette, a plate for Madame Putiphar.--Will you have some pâté de foie gras too?"

"You tempt me--but, really, I am ashamed of myself. Monsieur will think I'm a great glutton."

"That's not a failing, madame; it's a good quality."

Madame Putiphar took her place at the table, stuffed herself with chicken, pâté, and truffles, partook freely of claret, madeira, and champagne, and never paused for breath until the dessert was being brought on. Then she wiped her mouth, saying:

"A very pretty little feast; monsieur knows how to treat the ladies."

"Oh! Dodichet's very polite," said Boulotte; "he's eaten up a lot of money with women."

"Mon Dieu! mesdames, what is the good of money, if not to give you pleasure?"

"Ah! what a sweet sentiment! Monsieur deserves to be embalmed."

"What's that! embalmed?"

"I meant to say, turned into a statuette."

"Unfortunately, you've become very rare lately, Dodichet," said Rosa; "we hardly ever see you."

"It isn't my fault! I am not my own master since my intimate friend Count Miflorès came to Paris."

"Oh, yes! that Sicilian, who's so rich!"

"He doesn't know the amount of his fortune."

"Is he a relation of yours?"

"No; but I rendered him an important service in Sicily; he was on the point of falling into a volcano; did you know there were volcanoes in Sicily?"

"Yes, mountains that spit fire; I saw one in a play, at La Gaieté."

"My Sicilian, who is very inquisitive and very brave, had ascended Mount Ætna, and was looking into the mouth of the crater; suddenly he dropped his cane, and it fell into the fiery gulf. Count Miflorès thought a great deal of that cane, which he had inherited from his mother; he was going down into the crater to try to recover it, which would have been to go to certain destruction! Luckily, I was there--with my dog, a magnificent Newfoundland. I pointed to the hole, and to the cane, of which we could see one end, and said: 'Go, seek! go, seek!'--My dog understood me; he rushed down into the crater, and soon returned with the cane between his teeth and laid it at my feet. I gave it to the count, who was overjoyed, and who swore everlasting friendship to me from that day."

"Ah! the brave count! no, I mean the brave dog! You ought to have given him a good dinner when you got home!"

"Alas! the poor beast never got home; after a minute or two, he fell dead at my feet; he was roasted, the heat of the crater had cooked him!"

"Oh! what an idea! And still he brought back the cane, roasted as he was?"

"His devotion sustained him.--But it seems to me, mesdames, that it is high time to attack this nougat and water it with a little alicante."

"Yes, yes; let's attack it and water it!--Take some nougat, Putiphar."

"You tempt me. I would make a fool of myself for this alicante!"

"What has your Sicilian come to Paris for?"

"In the first place, to see this wonderful city, which everybody aspires to know, and which no one ever wants to leave when he has once tasted its joys. Secondly, the devil of a fellow has a curious whimsey in his head: he wants to marry."

"You call that a whimsey, monsieur? why, it's a most prevalent idea."

"Look here, you'd better not talk against marriage before Putiphar, Dodichet; she'll never forgive you."

"Oh! I'll forgive monsieur for anything--he treats the ladies so handsomely; but I would like to convert him."

"Mon Dieu! madame, although I am not thinking of marriage for myself, I assure you that I have no wish to disgust others with it; and the proof is that I'm looking for a wife for my rich Sicilian."

"A wife? You're looking for a wife for him, monsieur? Oh! in that case--I beg your pardon, a sip of alicante, if you please--I may have what you want."

"Faith! madame, if you can find me somebody suited to my friend, you would give me great pleasure; for I haven't much time to give to it. I have more orders for sugar than I can handle; I am obliged to neglect my business, and I don't like it."

"I must ask you one important question first of all, monsieur: is your count rich?"

"I think I have already told you that he doesn't know the amount of his fortune."

"Then I suppose he wants his wife to be rich, too?"

"Not at all; he cares nothing at all for money; he has enough for two."

"Really! he won't ask for any dowry?"

"A dowry! why, if the woman's father should be so ill-advised as to mention such a thing, he would be quite capable of knocking him down! He would consider it an insult."

"Phew! what a noble-minded man!--A little more alicante, please."

"And some chartreuse?"

"In a minute, Monsieur Godichet."

"Dodichet."

"That don't make any difference. For heaven's sake, what does your count want in his wife?"

"This: in the first place, he wants her to be young."

"That goes without saying."

"Good figure, pretty----"

"Those are mere trifles."

"And--she must be really unmarried; do you understand?"

"Perfectly. I have what he wants, monsieur; I have it, and everybody can't say as much!"

"Are you sure? will you guarantee it?"

"Yes, monsieur; as I'm an honest woman!--A young lady, brought up in the best way by strict parents, who never goes out alone----"

"This seems to me to fit the case to perfection.--By the way, there's one other condition: my Sicilian is particular that she shall be a Parisian; he insists on that; he thinks that no women but the Parisians can wear hoopskirts gracefully."

"My young lady is a Parisian, monsieur; born, I believe, on Rue du Pont-aux-Choux, the very centre of Paris."

"The centre of the Marais, you mean, Putiphar."

"That's all the same."

"Yes; Miflorès doesn't insist that his future wife must have been born in the Chaussée d'Antin, especially as he never heard of it. Is the family respectable? We are particular about that, you see. A Sicilian count wouldn't want to ally himself with a dealer in rabbit skins--you can understand that."

"Oh! it's a most respectable family, monsieur. Monsieur Mirotaine, the father, is an ex-bailiff."

"You are quite sure?"

"Positive, monsieur. He don't do anything now--he lives on his income. Juliette's mother--mademoiselle's name is Juliette--is dead; Monsieur Mirotaine is married again, to a woman much younger than he is; from which you can conclude that the stepmother is in a hurry to marry off her stepdaughter."

"Very good! things seem to run as smoothly as if they were on wheels."

"Now, will you allow me to take my turn and ask you a few questions, monsieur?"

"I should say so! all the questions you please, Madame Joseph--I should say, Madame Putiphar! Have some chartreuse--to drink with these damsels!"

"Yes, yes, let's take a drink!--Do you like chartreuse, Putiphar?"

"If it's green, I'm afraid of it; it's too strong."

"This is yellow, and that other green."

"In that case, I'll let you tempt me. My word! but Monsieur Godichet can brag of knowing how to do things in good shape!"

Madame Putiphar sipped the yellow chartreuse, but it did not make her forget the great stroke of business of which she had caught a glimpse.

"Will you be good enough to tell me your count's age first of all, monsieur?"

"Thirty-six; he looks forty, but it's his own doing."

"The age is all right; how about his physique?"

"That corresponds with his age: a fine figure, noble carriage, fresh as a rose; his nose is a little large, but he will fix that all right by blowing it!"

"Faith! monsieur, everything seems to harmonize on both sides. Allow me to mention your friend to the Mirotaine family to-day; and as soon as he chooses to call----"

"One moment, my dear woman; we can't go so fast as that with Miflorès. He's a peculiar fellow; he is timid and, furthermore, extremely sensitive."

"Do you want Monsieur Mirotaine to call on him?"

"No, indeed! that would spoil everything."

"What are we to do, then? Look you, I believe I'll risk a little green chartreuse; we must get accustomed to everything."

"You are quite right. I drink to the fair sex, of which you are a part, Madame Putiphar."

"I have always hoped so, monsieur. Here's to yours! Hum! this is strong, and very penetrating! Well, monsieur, how are we to go to work to arrange a match between your count and my young and innocent Juliette?"

"Listen to me carefully: I'll set you the pace. In the first place, Miflorès will never consent to present himself right away in any family, as a marrying man; he wishes to study, to examine the young lady at his ease--to know her, in short--and I shall be very careful not to tell him that she knows that it is his intention to marry her; moreover, as my friend is very timid, he always insists on my going with him. I will invent some pretext for calling on your Mirotaines; I will tell the count that I am negotiating an important transaction with the papa, and that I need a guarantor. Then he will be perfectly willing to go with me."

"All that is simple enough, monsieur; I will tell Monsieur Mirotaine that you have a great deal of influence over his prospective son-in-law."

"And you will tell no falsehood, I beg you to believe. By the way, there's another matter: my friend is in the habit of dining wherever he goes; it's a noble habit, contracted in Sicily. If he isn't asked to dinner, he has the worst possible opinion of the people to whose house I have taken him. Moreover, he's a great gourmand; an excellent dinner, with plenty of good wine and dainty dishes, will dispose him favorably."

"The deuce! that makes the thing rather harder, monsieur; for I must tell you that Monsieur Mirotaine is a little close in the matter of spending money--a little miserly, I may as well say it. He never gives a dinner party. If, by any chance, he does invite anyone, it's always on condition that he brings his own dishes."

"I can assure you that we won't bring anything at all! If that's the case, there's nothing to be done!"

"It seems to me," said Rosa, "that a man can well afford to put out a little money for once, to catch a rich noble for a son-in-law, who takes his daughter without a sou."

"I should think so!" cried Boulotte; "such a husband as that is a treasure!"

"Yes, my dear loves, you are right. We won't give it up, Monsieur Godichet; I'll just speak to the stepmother; she'll back me up, for she'll be delighted to be allied to a count. She will make her husband listen to reason, and he'll give the dinner."

"All right!"

"And if Monsieur Godichet cared to go and see Monsieur Mirotaine in the meantime?"

"There's no sort of need of it; I won't go till the day we're invited to dinner, and if it wasn't for the sake of obliging my friend I wouldn't go at all; but a man must sacrifice himself for his friends."

"I must leave you, mesdames; I can't go about this business too soon."

"Go, Putiphar, go; it's worth your while."

"As soon as I've had a day fixed for the dinner, I'll write to you, Monsieur Godichet."

"Dodichet, I tell you!"

"I beg your pardon--Dodichet. By the way, your address, if you please?"

"I live at the Grand Hôtel; but I'm never to be found there; it's so grand! Come and give these young ladies your message, and they'll send it to me at once."

"Agreed. It may take two or three days, perhaps, to bring Monsieur Mirotaine to the point of giving a dinner party; but we'll succeed. Au revoir, Monsieur--Dodichet!--I got it right that time, eh? By the way, if the marriage comes off, as I hope, I stipulate that I am to furnish the trousseau and all the presents the bridegroom gives his bride."

"You shall furnish everything, Madame Putiphar, everything; even the husband's suspenders, if he wears any that day."

"Ah! Monsieur Dodichet, you're a very agreeable man!"

"Have another little glass of the green before you go?"

"You tempt me.--Mademoiselle Rosa, we'll talk about that brooch some other day."

"Yes, yes, Putiphar; there's no hurry."

Whereupon the wardrobe dealer, whose complexion had changed to purple as a result of all that she had drunk, executed a graceful courtesy, none the less, and withdrew.