Chapter XV: Fête, Dinner Party, Fireworks, Surprise

On arriving at Grenoble, Dubourg ordered dinner, and the usual repast, common to all the guests, was served to them.

"What kind of a dinner is this? we must have something different to eat, and, above all, some different wines," said Dubourg, beginning to make an uproar because he had money in his pocket.

The host appeared, and informed the gentlemen that their account was already quite large, because, in addition to their board and lodging, their young companion had foundered all the horses belonging to the inn by overriding them. Dubourg's only reply was to take a five-hundred-franc note from his pocket and give it to the innkeeper, saying, with all the sang-froid of true grandeur:

"Take your pay out of this."

The host opened his eyes; his pinched nostrils expanded; his mouth, in his efforts to give it an amiable expression, split from ear to ear; he tied himself up in apologetic phrases, and ended by saying that he would at once make up his account, but that he hoped that the gentlemen would not leave him, and, if agreeable to them, he would give them muscatel with their dinner.

When he had gone, Monsieur Ménard, whose expression was almost as comical as the innkeeper's, said to Dubourg:

"Have you received funds from Poland, monsieur le baron?"

"Why, yes, to be sure, Monsieur Ménard. Parbleu! Money isn't apt to be scarce long, with me."

"But I didn't see the courier who----"

"You must have been asleep when he arrived. The main point is that we can go anywhere now, and not have to stand by, like misers, and watch other people play, which is not noble at all. To begin with, we will go to see our friend Chambertin to-morrow; but, in my judgment, we had better send a messenger to give him notice of our proposed visit, so that he may entertain us as we deserve. What do you think about it, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I think that cannot fail to have a good effect, monsieur le baron."

"Then find me a scullery boy, and dress him in your flannel waistcoat and my morning cap, to give him an English look. Meanwhile, I will go and write my letter."

Ménard went out to look for a boy to be transformed into an English jockey, while Dubourg composed the following epistle:

"Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava, etc., etc., has the
honor to inform his honorable friend De Chambertin d 'Allevard that
he will visit his château to-morrow, accompanied by Professor
Ménard. Baron Potoski kisses the hand of Madame de Chambertin
d'Allevard."

They handed the letter to the scullery boy disguised as a courier, who, in consideration of a five-franc piece, went off at once to deliver it at its address.

Monsieur and Madame Chambertin were about to retire when the messenger arrived. It was half-past nine o'clock; and in the country, when one does not cultivate letters, or music, or painting, or one's garden, the evenings seem interminable. Monsieur Chambertin had played the violin, and madame had sung a new romanza; then they had talked of the noble Pole, whom they despaired of seeing again; and monsieur had said: "I am amazed; he gave me his word that he would come." And madame had added, with a sigh: "It surprises me much more than you."

The noise made by the messenger caused Monsieur Chambertin to pause as he was about putting his legs under the bedclothes. He did not continue, although his wife said to him: "Do get into bed; the servants are there to answer the bell." But who could have come so late?

Someone knocked at the bedroom door; it proved to be Lunel, who announced through the keyhole a message from Monsieur le Baron de Potoski.

At that name, Monsieur Chambertin, who still held his leg in the air, ready to thrust it into bed, abruptly withdrew it and, losing his balance, rolled on the floor; while Madame Chambertin sat up in bed, and called loudly for a mirror to arrange her hair. Her husband rose meanwhile, and ran to get his dressing-gown, calling to Lunel:

"I am coming, Lunel; I am coming right away!"

"Give it to me instantly, monsieur," cried Madame Chambertin; "I am in a hurry, I shall never have time."

Monsieur Chambertin handed his wife something that she had not asked for, and ran to open the door. Lunel entered, followed by the jockey, while Madame Chambertin, furious at her husband's mistake, drew her bed-curtains together with a jerk, that she might not be seen in an equivocal position.

Monsieur Chambertin took the letter and read it; at each word, his face became more radiant; he could not contain himself, but called out to his wife:

"The baron is coming! He calls me De Chambertin d'Allevard! He kisses your hand, wife!"

And Chambertin ran to open the curtains, and came in collision with the object he had handed madame by mistake.

"Take care, monsieur!" said she; "what on earth are you doing?"

"D'Allevard, wife!" cried Chambertin, seizing the article in question and strutting about the room with it. "D'Allevard--just as if I were the lord of the district; indeed I am--almost--and I hope that, thanks to the baron, I shall soon be so altogether!"

"Put that down, monsieur; put it down somewhere!" madame cried to her husband, who was so excited that he had no idea what he was doing. She then ordered Lunel to give the messenger something to eat and drink, and said to the latter that his master and his friend would be received with the honors they deserved.

When the messenger had gone, Chambertin threw himself into an armchair, and madame replaced her head on the pillow; but the letter they had received made it impossible for them to think of sleep. Monsieur Chambertin read it again. He was especially flattered by the title _D'Allevard_.

"It's the name of the village," said madame.

"True; but by putting it after my name, it ennobles me."

"You know perfectly well, monsieur, that that's what everybody does in Paris; aren't there two of our neighbors who call themselves by the name of their town: Monsieur Gérard de Villers-Cotterets, and Monsieur Leroux d'Ermenonville? Six months ago, I told you you ought to call yourself Chambertin d'Allevard; but you never listen to me."

"My dear love, now that monsieur le baron has given me that title, I certainly shall not give it up; and I shall never sign my name any other way. To-morrow, wife, I give a party."

"I trust so, monsieur."

"Dinner, ball, concert, and fireworks. I believe no fireworks have ever been seen in the neighborhood, and they'll produce a tremendous effect. I shall invite all the best people among our neighbors."

"I'll have my hair dressed _à la_ Ferronnière; that's very becoming to me."

"I'll have the whole estate illuminated."

"My dress with a train----"

"With colored lanterns."

"A pale blue girdle."

"Lamps in the courtyard----"

"My cherry-colored slippers."

"The largest I can find."

"A scarf."

"Festoons of flowers."

"My pearl necklace."

"And a fusillade!"

The landlord made up his account so that it came to just five hundred francs, and monsieur le baron was entitled to no change. Any other than Dubourg would have contested the charge of three hundred francs for laming three or four wretched horses which were too old to draw the plough; but he did not enjoy scrutinizing accounts; he contented himself with ordering a neat tilbury for the morrow, and two of the landlord's servants to represent his suite.

Dubourg then took cognizance of the contents of his cash-box; he found himself the possessor of forty-five hundred francs; that was more than he needed to win ten times as much. He trusted that the local ironmasters would make up the sum that the chevalier and the count with lace cuffs had filched from him.

The next day, about noon, Dubourg and Ménard prepared for their visit to Allevard, where they planned to arrive for dinner. As the innkeeper had been unable to find a tilbury in the city, his guests were obliged to be content with a yellow char-à-bancs with two seats. Dubourg and Ménard took their places on the first seat, and on the second they planted two little scullery boys, swaddled in jackets and trousers taken from different persons, and having on their heads old hunting-caps which came down to their noses and gave them a decidedly foreign aspect. Dubourg expressly enjoined upon them to pretend not to understand French, but to confine themselves to making signs, so that they might pass for two young Poles; and they solemnly promised to obey.

They set out, Dubourg driving; but although he had asked the host for his best horses, he could not succeed in inducing them to gallop; he had to be content with a very moderate trot, which necessarily delayed their arrival. Ménard was afraid that they would dine without them, and Dubourg was in despair because he could not enter Monsieur Chambertin's domain with the speed of a locomotive.

It was half-past five when at last they descried the roofs of Allevard. Dubourg exhausted himself trying to increase the speed of his horses. As they drew near Monsieur Chambertin's house, in front of which there was a large number of people, he said to Ménard:

"Poke them with your cane, so that we may drive up at a decent trot at least."

As Ménard put out his arm to comply, they heard a great outcry of: "Here they are! here they are!" Four musket-shots followed in rapid succession, two violins and a clarinet executed the overture to _La Caravane_; and the two nags, frightened by the reports and the music, shied and dragged the char-à-bancs up a hillside to the right of the road, instead of keeping on toward the house.

"This is charming, delightful!" cried Dubourg; while Ménard, who was afraid of being overturned, exclaimed:

"Take care, monsieur le baron; our horses are running away!"

And Monsieur Chambertin, who had been waiting to illuminate since two o'clock, said to his guests:

"See how well monsieur le baron drives; he went up that hill on purpose to give us a specimen of his talent."

But, when coming down the hill again, the horses went much faster, and at every instant the fragile carriage nearly overturned as it passed over the stones or sank into ruts; Ménard trembled with fear, the two jockeys cried out, and Dubourg said to them:

"Be still, you rascals! I told you not to talk French; don't be afraid, I'll answer for everything."

The carriage went like the wind; luckily, they were then headed toward the house; but instead of passing through the main gateway, the coursers ran full tilt at the wall. The shock was so violent that the two jockeys were thrown out on the grass. Dubourg jumped out, crying: "I will answer for everything!" Ménard alone remained in his seat, as if he were glued to it.

No one was injured. Dubourg went forward laughing to salute the company, declaring that that was the usual way of alighting from a carriage in Poland. Ménard, proud of having retained his seat, joined the party, displaying his ruff; and the two scullions pointed to their buttocks, without a word, when Lunel asked them if they were hurt.

Dubourg was welcomed most cordially. Monsieur Chambertin was in the seventh heaven, for the baron pressed his hand and called him his dear friend; Madame Chambertin was no less gratified, the illustrious stranger having whispered as he saluted her: "You have not been out of my mind one moment." And all the guests seemed overjoyed to be in the company of a great noble, who did not put on airs at all, and made everybody feel at ease.

Monsieur Chambertin had got together some forty persons: all the wealthy landowners of the neighborhood, the mayor, the notary, the clerk of the peace, ironmasters, and a few friends from Paris and Lyon--in short, all those whom he deemed worthy to meet monsieur le baron.

They took their places at the table, Dubourg in the seat of honor at madame's right, and Ménard, to his great delight, beside Monsieur Fondant, who talked no more than before, but was very attentive to him in the way of filling his glass and passing him food.

"I hope," said Chambertin, "that monsieur le baron will give us a few days, and Monsieur Ménard as well."

"Yes," said Dubourg, "we have arranged to pass several days in this delightful spot."

As he spoke, he touched Madame Chambertin's knee with his own, whereupon she swallowed a chicken bone to cover an imprudent sigh. Ménard bowed, and Chambertin rejoined:

"I have but one regret, and that is that you did not bring your friend the Comte de--the Comte du--you know whom I mean."

"Oh! he's an original," said Dubourg; "he shuns society. I left him my berlin and my servants, and brought only my two little Poles."

"Ah! they are Poles, are they? They are dapper little fellows; I took them for Cossacks."

At that moment, Lunel appeared and informed Dubourg that his servants were raising the deuce in the kitchen and refused to answer any questions.

"Parbleu! I should think so! they don't understand French."

"Allow the baron's people to do as they choose," said Chambertin, "and try to understand their signs."

"Very pretty signs they are," muttered Lunel; "they don't do anything but stick their fingers in the sauces and wipe 'em on their breeches!"

The high spirits of Dubourg and the learned Ménard enlivened the whole company. They talked and laughed and ate and drank. But whenever Dubourg spoke, Chambertin looked about and said:

"Sh! let us listen to monsieur le baron."

At dessert, Monsieur Bidault proposed to sing; but Dubourg observed that in good society it was no longer fashionable to sing, and Chambertin imposed silence on the ex-notary.

"Singing isn't fashionable," he said; "what were you thinking about?"

But the corpulent Frossard was in the habit of singing, and he was not at all abashed by what Chambertin said; whereupon the host, seeing that he could not prevent him from singing his drinking-song, requested the company to walk into the adjoining room, where the concert was about to begin, hoping that the ironmaster's ditty would pass for an aria.

A lady and gentleman regaled the company with a piece for harp and piano, with thirty-six variations. The mayor took his 'cello, and the notary a violin; a horn was presented to Dubourg, who had said that he played on all instruments, but who now declared that he could play only the English horn, and passed the instrument to Ménard, forcing him into a seat in front of a music stand. The tutor stared at him in amazement, but he whispered in his ear:

"Just blow into it, and don't look embarrassed."

Ménard, who had not spared his host's wine at dinner, was not afraid of anything; he took the horn and put the mouthpiece to his lips, blowing with all his might and rolling his eyes. They began a trio, Dubourg beating time. Whenever it was the horn's turn, not a sound was heard, because, try as hard as he would, Ménard could not find the mouthpiece; but Dubourg seemed content, and said, turning toward the company:

"I have never heard such sweet music! no one would believe that it was a horn!"

Everybody applauded, and Ménard, after it was all over, said to himself:

"I knew how to play the horn, and I never suspected it!"

The concert came to an end at last; Dubourg suggested a game, and the tables were soon arranged. Backgammon is not often played in a salon, but Dubourg said that they played nothing else at the Polish court; whereupon Monsieur Chambertin instantly produced a board, and declared that within a week he would have four in his salon. Dubourg and Frossard took their places, and Chambertin watched them play, although he did not understand the game at all.

Dubourg was in luck; he urged his adversary to increase the stakes, and tried to taunt him into doing so. He had won some twenty louis, when there was a tremendous report in the garden.

Cries of: "It's the fireworks!" arose on all sides, and everybody hurried into the garden.

"To the devil with the fireworks!" exclaimed Dubourg; "the dice are just beginning to fall well for me!"

But he tried in vain to detain the ironmaster, who was determined to see the fireworks; so Dubourg concluded to do as everybody else did.

He left the salon. The fireworks were at the end of the garden, and Dubourg fell in with Madame Chambertin, who was coming to see what monsieur le baron was doing, and, it may be, to seek an opportunity for a tête-à-tête. Dubourg offered her his arm; he was in excellent spirits, and, as he recalled the conversation under the table and the stifled sighs, he reflected that he was to pass several days in the house, and that he ought to show himself worthy of the welcome he had received. These considerations led him to take a path which did not lead to the place where the other guests were.

"Where are you taking me, pray?" madame asked, now and then. But Dubourg replied:

"I don't know at all, but let us go on."

They soon came to a small summer-house, which was not lighted and had but one window, a little farther from the ground than an ordinary ground-floor window. Dubourg opened the door, pushed Madame Chambertin in, and entered behind her, taking care to close the door.

Meanwhile, Monsieur Chambertin, who had provided the fireworks expressly for his friend the baron, was looking for him in the glare of a Bengal-light; as he did not see him, he ran hither and thither, crying:

"Come, monsieur le baron, come, I entreat you! Two pieces have been set off already, and they're just lighting the first transparency!"

Dubourg, who was probably not thinking of the transparency at that moment, heard Chambertin's voice, and called to him from the interior of the summer-house:

"I am here, I can see very well; don't worry about me; your good wife is obliging enough to explain the fireworks to me."

"What! I don't see you at the window."

"Because madame is afraid of the rocket-sticks; but we can see very well."

"Ah! that's good! I am delighted that you have a good place," said Chambertin, standing under the window. "I arranged the display myself; did you see the sun?"

"No, but I smelt it; it smelt something like the moon."

"Look at these little serpents; what perpetual motion! they go very well, don't they?"

"Wonderfully well."

"Pray explain the transparency to monsieur le baron, wife."

"Oh! monsieur le baron grasps it all very quickly," replied Madame Chambertin, in a voice upon which the smoke seemed to have had a serious effect.

"Look out! there goes the bouquet!"

The bouquet exploded amid applause and shouts of _bravo_! The company returned to the house, enchanted by the display, and Madame Chambertin came out of the summer-house with monsieur le baron.

"The bouquet was fine," said Chambertin, rubbing his hands.

"I am still a little dazed by it," said madame, tremulously.

"It was worthy of the lord of this domain," added Dubourg.

"Upon my word," said Chambertin, "I believe I am almost that."

"You are altogether, my dear friend; it is I who say it."

"When a man of your eminence assures me of it, monsieur le baron, I can no longer doubt it."

But it was after eleven o'clock, and that is unduly late in the country. Those of the guests who lived at some distance entered their carriages; those who lived in the village ordered their servants to light their lanterns; they took leave of Monsieur and Madame Chambertin, congratulating them on the magnificence of their party; they bowed deferentially to monsieur le baron, and departed to their respective abodes. Thereupon Monsieur Chambertin, thinking that his illustrious friend must long for repose, and seeing that the learned Ménard had fallen asleep in the salon, ordered the servants to escort those gentlemen to their rooms.

The finest apartment on the first floor had been prepared for the young nobleman, and a pretty room on the second for the professor, who, if he had been nothing more than that, would probably have been relegated to the attic, but who was treated with the highest consideration because he was the baron's friend and companion.

The whole household had retired. Ménard was already snoring like one of the blessed, which means that the blessed do not have bad dreams. Dubourg stretched himself out luxuriously in a soft bed, surrounded by rich silk curtains with gold fringe and tassels, and said to himself:

"Gad! it's mighty amusing to play the baron! these people overwhelm me with attentions, and fly to meet my lightest wish! And all because they think me a palatine! If I had introduced myself as plain Monsieur Dubourg of Rennes, they would have told me to go my way; and yet this other name hasn't made a different man of me. But all men have their share of madness--a little more or a little less. Instead of trying to cure it, which would be very noble, no doubt, but which strikes me as rather too difficult, one must flatter their mania to make one's self agreeable to them. This Chambertin is an ass, who, after trading in wine two-thirds of his days, is trying to play the grandee and to ape the airs of the nobility during the last third. What do I care for his idiocy? he is delighted to entertain a baron, and I will play the baron as long as I enjoy myself here. His wife is very willing that I should make love to her, and I'll do it as long as I haven't anything better to do; and it is more than probable that I shan't find anything better as long as I am in her house, because a coquettish woman who has seen her best days never invites any pretty girls who may rob her of attentions."

Reflecting thus, Dubourg was beginning to doze, when he heard a great uproar in the courtyard,--outcries, oaths, and roars of laughter,--and, in the midst of it, he fancied that he recognized the voice of one of his jockeys. He rose, partly dressed himself, and opened the window looking on the courtyard. He saw a number of servants assembled there, and old Lunel fighting for a chicken with one of the little Poles, while the other was shrieking and weeping in a corner.

The two scullions, faithful to the orders Dubourg had given them, had replied only by signs to the other servants; but Lunel, who was Monsieur Chambertin's steward, valet, and groom, all in one, was very ill disposed toward the baron's servants, as well as toward their master, whom he had driven to Grenoble, and from whom he had received no other _pourboire_ than a tap on the cheek. The two boys had bruised themselves behind, when they were thrown out of the carriage; that was why, when trying to make themselves understood by signs, they frequently put their hands to the injured part: a gesture which seemed to Lunel most insulting, and he was convinced that the young Poles intended to make sport of him.

To be revenged on them, he had taken them up to a small room under the eaves, and left them there, supperless. The little fellows did not go to bed, thinking all the time that food would be brought to them, or that they would be called to supper. At last, tired of waiting, they went downstairs. Everybody had retired except Lunel, who was sitting up because he suspected that the baron's servants would not remain quiet.

The little fellows, spurred on by hunger, got scent of the store-closet, which was in the kitchen; and as one of the kitchen windows was open, they easily crawled in, and, making a hole in the canvas door of the closet, one of them seized a chicken which had not been touched, the other the carcass of a hare which still had some meat on it. They were about to fly with their booty when Lunel discovered them; he shouted _thief!_ and struck at them with a whip with which he had armed himself. The scullions ran to the window and climbed through; one fell and bruised his nose; the other, being less awkward, was running off with his chicken, when Lunel overtook him and tried to wrest it from him. Thereupon a struggle began.

"You shan't have it!" cried the boy.

"Oho! you little rascal! you can talk French now, can you? I'll teach you to make insulting signs to me!"

Meanwhile, the one who had fallen cried:

"I've broke my nose; it's that old dodger's fault for not giving us any supper!"

It was at this crisis that Dubourg appeared at his window. All the servants had come down into the courtyard; and Monsieur Chambertin also appeared on his balcony, in his robe de chambre.

"What's the meaning of all this noise?" he demanded.

"Those are my little Poles."

"Yes, your Poles, who talk French now," retorted Lunel; "I caught 'em stealing in the store-closet."

"He didn't give us any supper," said the boys, "and he was waiting for us in a corner with a whip."

"A miracle!" cried Dubourg; "they have spoken! they understand! That whip seems to have taught them more quickly than any schooling!--Come, my young friends, come up here and let me hear you speak French, and you shall have some supper."

"And you, knave," shouted Monsieur Chambertin to his servant, "if you presume to lay a finger on monsieur le baron's Poles again, I'll have you horsewhipped, and discharge you!"

"They're no more Poles than I am a Turk!" muttered Lunel, as he walked away.

The jockeys went up to their master's apartments, with the chicken and the hare they had rescued from the battle; the servants returned to bed, and Monsieur Chambertin resumed his place beside his wife, who was dreaming that she was in the summer-house, and that they were about to set off a petard.

Dubourg concluded that it would be imprudent to keep with him two young imps who would surely get into further mischief. So, early the next morning, he gave them each three francs and sent them back to Grenoble, to the great contentment of Lunel, who did not like Poles.

The following days passed quietly; a few friends came to share Monsieur Chambertin's pleasure and to listen to all the fables Dubourg chose to tell them concerning his estates, his châteaux, his family, and his duties at the court of Poland. Ménard did not say much, but he ate and drank vigorously, and cited a Latin author now and then; so that the company, not understanding him, regarded him with renewed respect.

Dubourg gambled every evening, but only for small stakes. Frossard was absent, Monsieur Chambertin never got excited over the game, and Dubourg began to think that he would not double his capital. But the host's birthday was approaching, and on that occasion the house was to be turned topsy-turvy once more. Some very wealthy friends from Paris were expected, who would play as high as monsieur le baron wished. It was Madame Chambertin who had invited them, for she did everything that she could to detain the agreeable guest; and she said to her husband every day:

"You don't realize all the honor Monsieur de Potoski does you by paying you a visit; you have no conception of it!"

"I assure you, my dear love, that I am very proud of it, and that I will do all that I can to keep him."

"You will do well, monsieur; for his going would leave a great void in my life. He is a man who would be very hard to replace. He is noble to his finger-tips."

But everything was in commotion at Monsieur Chambertin's, where great preparations were being made for the approaching function, of which the charming stranger was again to be the hero. Monsieur Chambertin seemed determined to outdo himself; he sent for workmen, whom he employed with a great show of mystery in the garden, and they seemed always to be in the neighborhood of the summer-house. He was preparing a surprise for his guest; and as his last fireworks were talked about all over the neighborhood, he determined that the renown of his next display should reach to Lyon.

The great day came at last, and many guests arrived. Monsieur Chambertin was immensely pleased with the surprise he had arranged for the baron, and would not even take his wife into his confidence. The former wine merchant's circle was augmented by new faces. A sumptuous banquet was served; the dishes were exquisite, the wines delicious, and Dubourg did the honors of the table almost unassisted, because whenever he called his host "my friend D'Allevard," he was certain to turn his head.

"Twice happy the day that I met you!" he whispered to madame.

"What do you say? twice?" she replied, with a sigh; "oh! that is not enough! say rather four, or five, or six times!"

"Let us call it seven, and stop at that!" said Dubourg.

The dinner came to an end. Monsieur Chambertin had but one regret--that his friend Durosey, whom he had been expecting from Paris for several days, had not arrived. Every time that he heard friend Durosey's name, Dubourg said to himself:

"I used to know someone of that name in Paris; but where in the devil did I know him?"

He asked Chambertin who this Monsieur Durosey might be.

"He's a wholesale merchant, who has just retired from business with twenty thousand francs a year."

"In that case," thought Dubourg, "it can't be the man I knew, for I never associated with wholesale merchants."

They returned to the salon, where a rich landowner, who was very fond of écarté, seemed inclined to try his luck against monsieur le baron, when Lunel announced that Monsieur Durosey had arrived. Chambertin was delighted; he left the room, and soon returned with his friend, whom he introduced to the assembled company. Dubourg glanced at the new-comer and recognized the former keeper of a restaurant in Paris, to whom he owed a matter of four hundred francs, which had been standing two years, and which he had not found himself in a position to pay. Monsieur Chambertin, through vanity, had represented him as a wholesale merchant instead of a retired restaurant keeper.

The meeting was exceedingly disagreeable to Dubourg, but he did not lose his head; and when Chambertin came forward with Durosey, saying: "I present you to Monsieur le Baron de Potoski, a Polish palatine," Dubourg bowed and smirked, blinking his eyes, twisting his mouth, and making such grimaces that it was improbable that his creditor could recognize him.

Monsieur Durosey did not stop in front of Dubourg, who felt more at ease and resumed his game more tranquilly. From time to time, however, he glanced about the salon, and when he met his former entertainer's eye he fancied that the latter was scrutinizing him carefully; whereupon he resumed his facial contortions and grimacing, and tried to affect a sort of Saint Vitus's dance by constantly twisting his nose and mouth toward his left ear.

But his creditor's presence annoyed and embarrassed him; he could not pay attention to his game, he lost his head completely, and his money slowly but surely passed into his adversary's possession. Dubourg suggested doubling, then trebling, the stakes; the rich squire agreed, for he could not refuse monsieur le baron. A large part of the company stood about the table, which was covered with five-hundred-franc notes; and Monsieur Durosey planted himself exactly in front of Dubourg, who could not raise his eyes without meeting his creditor's, and who, to fill his cup to the brim, had the worst possible luck. In half an hour, the travelling fund had passed into other hands, and Dubourg rose, saying that he was going to get some more money.

But as he was looking about for his friend Chambertin, to borrow a few thousand francs, with which he hoped to recover what he had lost,--for a gambler continues to hope until he is on his death-bed,--the former restaurant keeper, who had not lost sight of him, joined him in a window recess. It was impossible to avoid him.

"How is Monsieur Dubourg?" he asked, with a roguish air.

"Dubourg? what do you mean by Dubourg?" replied the pretended baron, working his nose and mouth more violently than ever.

"Oh! I have the honor to recognize monsieur," retorted the creditor, in a louder tone; "but I didn't know that he was a Polish baron----"

"Hush! not another word, my dear Monsieur Durosey," said Dubourg, seeing that it was impossible to hoodwink his interlocutor. "I didn't recognize you at first, but now I place you perfectly. I am delighted to see you."

"The same with me, monsieur. You seem to be in very comfortable circumstances now, staking five hundred francs at once at écarté, and I trust that you will pay me the four hundred francs you----"

"Yes, yes, with great pleasure; I will give them to you this very evening. When I left Paris, I forgot that trifling debt."

"But I called on monsieur more than twenty times when he lived on the fifth floor on Rue d'Enfer, and again on Rue de----"

"Hush! I know all about that; silence, Monsieur Durosey! Since then, I have come into my property, and my titles--I will pay you in a moment."

"Oh! in that case, monsieur le baron may be assured that this will remain a secret between us."

Dubourg walked away from Monsieur Durosey and once more looked about for Chambertin, when that gentleman entered the salon, crying:

"Come into the garden, everybody; we are going to set off the fireworks."

"I have a favor to ask of you," said Dubourg, walking up to him.

"After the fireworks, monsieur le baron, I shall be entirely at your service. Be good enough to go to the summer-house; I flatter myself that you will be able to see as well there as you did before; my wife will take you there."

And Chambertin hurried away, with a mischievous air, while Dubourg said to himself:

"Parbleu! it's decidedly amusing that he should send me to the summer-house with his wife."

He went into the garden and found Madame Chambertin, who remembered the last pyrotechnic display and was waiting for monsieur le baron for the second performance. Madame asked nothing better than to go again to the little summer-house, where they could see so well, and where they had such comfortable seats; which latter would be most essential, as she had urged her husband to make the display last as long as possible.

Bombs were set off, and rockets, and transparencies. But when the moment arrived for the closing piece, Monsieur Chambertin said to the company assembled in the garden:

"Turn toward the summer-house, and look at what comes next; that's where the surprise is to be."

Everybody turned in that direction, Monsieur Chambertin gave the signal, the walls of the summer-house fell away as if by magic, leaving the roof supported by four pillars, and a lighted match instantly set fire to four Bengal-lights, which had been secretly placed inside, together with a transparency on which were these words: _To Baron Potoski, from his grateful friend Chambertin_.

This was the surprise which Monsieur Chambertin had been mysteriously preparing for several days; but he did not expect the surprise that his friend the baron had in reserve for him: the explosion and the demolition of the summer-house had taken place so suddenly, that the couple inside had not even had time to cease their conversation, and it seemed to all the company to be exceedingly animated.

The men laughed, the ladies bit their lips to avoid imitating them. Ménard, who was in the rear of the crowd, called out:

"Pray explain the transparency!"

And Monsieur Chambertin was struck dumb.

All this was the affair of a minute; Dubourg required no longer time to realize what remained for him to do. He had not a sou, he had found a creditor, he could expect nothing from his friend Chambertin except a horsewhipping or a sword-thrust; so it behooved him to leave the house instanter.

The Bengal-lights had gone out; Madame Chambertin had fainted, which was the best thing that she could do. Dubourg took advantage of the smoke which succeeded the bright light; he jumped down into the garden, lost himself in the crowd about the summer-house, seized Ménard, who came running after him, dragged him into a dark path, and ordered him to hold his tongue at the risk of being murdered.

At the end of the path was a little gate leading into the fields; Dubourg opened it and pushed Ménard through, who had no idea where he was, and fancied that their friend Chambertin's house had caught fire. His companion locked the little gate and threw away the key.

"Come," he said, "forward at the double-quick! We have drunk the cup of pleasure, now we must put ourselves on a strict diet; it will do us good. Now is the time for us to say: _Non est beatus qui cupida possidet, sed qui negata non cupit._"

"Amen!" said Ménard, as he trotted along by his side.