Chapter III

TRAVELLING PLANS.--MONSIEUR MÉNARD.--EN ROUTE.

"I count four!" cried Dubourg, springing to his feet; while Frédéric, surprised to find him there, stared at him a moment in silence, then abandoned himself unreservedly to the pleasure of pouring out his heart and telling his sorrows to his friend.

"Ah! my dear Dubourg! it must have been heaven that sent you."

"No; it was my landlord, who has turned me out of the house."

"At last I have found a heart which understands mine, which will appreciate my distress and pity my torments."

"Have you been betting on the wrong side, too?"

"The treacherous, fickle creature!"

"Luck is a woman, my friend; that tells the whole story."

"Yes, and a very heartless woman, too! If you knew what she dared to say about me!"

"What's that! has luck been talking about you?"

"I am an idiot! Indeed, she is right; I was an idiot to love her! But it's all over, yes, forever! She thinks that she can bring me to her feet, enslave me again, with a word and a smile! But, no, I will not be her dupe again; I know her now!"

Dubourg rubbed his eyes and looked at Frédéric, who was pacing the floor with an air of desperation, sometimes stopping to beat his forehead, sometimes smiling bitterly.

"Who in the devil are you talking about, my dear fellow?"

"Why, Madame Dernange, that woman whose heart is as false as her face is pretty, that coquette whom I have adored for two months, and who, as I believed, loved me. But, my dear Dubourg, she was making a fool of me."

"And that surprises you? Ah! my poor Frédéric, what a boy you still are!"

"She made me believe that she reciprocated my love; and this evening, a new-comer, a colonel, has stolen her heart from me, apparently without much difficulty. I was strongly tempted to insult the fellow and kill him."

"Would that have made your Madame Dernange less fickle?"

"No, of course not; that is what I said to myself."

"In making love to her, he did what any other man would have done in his place. You ought not to bear him any grudge for it; on the contrary, you ought to be grateful to him, for he has taught you to know a woman who was making a fool of you."

"I believe you are right," said Frédéric sadly, seating himself in an easy-chair, while Dubourg, now wide awake, thought it a fitting moment to deliver a lecture to his friend.

"Listen to me, my dear Frédéric; I am older than you are, I have seen a good deal of the world, and I have a large store of experience, although I still do foolish things. Now, let me tell you that you have an unfortunate tendency to indulge in sentimental and romantic passions, which will do you a bad turn some day. You absolutely insist on being loved, adored, if you will! Damnation! do you mean to pass your life sighing? Is that the way a young man ought to make love? It isn't that you are in reality more constant than other men, for this is your seventh ill-fated passion in the year that I have known you. The great trouble is that your seven passions have all left you first, whereas you ought to have taken the initiative. However, you have always found consolation thus far, and you will this time too, I promise you. But, my friend, don't, I implore you, take on so seriously for what ought to be simply a youthful folly. You must have a certain amount of sentiment, to gratify the ladies, but you mustn't overdo it; because, you see, excess of sentiment kills sentiment; and what I am saying to you is perfectly reasonable; I am sure that your father, the count, would agree with me, if he were here, and that he would be overjoyed to find that you have a friend who gives you nothing but good advice, and who would give you a lot more--if he had not lost last night the five hundred francs his poor aunt sent him."

Frédéric had not listened very attentively to Dubourg's speech; but he had grown calmer, because the most violent tempests are always of the shortest duration, and the young man believed himself to be much more in love than he really was.

"How does it happen that I find you here in the middle of the night?" he asked Dubourg, at last.

"My dear fellow--what do you suppose?--a succession of unlucky circumstances. In the first place, my landlord, who is a genuine _Vulture_; secondly, an evening party at little Delphine's--you know, I took you there once; but as you must always have a touch of sentiment in everything, you never went again; and yet, she would have given you some, for your money, that would have been worth quite as much as Madame Dernange's. Lastly, I played, and I lost all that I possessed! Really, I didn't know which way to turn. But I thought of you; I know how loyal your friendship is. At first, I didn't expect to see you until to-morrow; but, finding everything in commotion in this house, it occurred to me that I might wait for you here; and I have had a nap while your charmer was being spirited away from you."

"Poor Dubourg!"

"Yes, very poor, in truth!"

"Listen; I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"I am sick of life in Paris."

"I shall soon be much sicker of it, as I haven't a sou."

"The sight of all these coquettes makes me ill."

"Oh! it's sure to do that."

"I propose to run away from the disloyal hussies."

"I don't know just where you can go to avoid them."

"These parties where you talk without saying anything; where you make acquaintances, but not friends; where you go because you have nothing else to do, rather than for pleasure,--I am tired of the whole business. I have been going into society only two years and a half, and I am sick of it already. This is my plan----"

"Do you mean to become a hermit?"

"No; but I mean to leave Paris for some time; I mean to travel, to visit different countries; in that way, by comparing the manners and customs of the different peoples, by admiring the wonders and beauties of nature, a man can best form his mind and his judgment and increase his store of knowledge; and in that way the heart is made acquainted with pleasures which it could never know in these worldly gatherings, inspired by idleness and governed by etiquette."

"Powerfully argued!" cried Dubourg, rising from his reclining-chair; "you must travel, my dear fellow, there is nothing better for the young. But when a man travels alone, he is always bored to death; one can't be more than half happy when he has no one to whom he can impart the sentiments inspired by a beautiful landscape, an ancient monument, or an imposing ruin! Besides, you are too young to run about the world alone; you need a companion who is wise, well informed, and, above all, experienced; well, my friend, I offer myself as your mentor."

"I was about to make the same suggestion, my dear Dubourg."

"Parbleu! I accept with great pleasure."

"But is there nothing to keep you in Paris?"

"Oh! nothing at all, not even a cot-bed."

"No affair of the heart?"

"Oh! with respect to affairs of the heart, I am not like you! I will form attachments as we go along, or, better still, I'll give them up altogether. My mind is made up; I propose to be virtuous and orderly; you will be edified by my behavior."

"Well, then, my dear Dubourg, it is settled that we travel together."

"There is just one little difficulty left: suppose your father doesn't want you to travel?"

"Oh! I don't think that he'll object; I have already mentioned the subject to him, and he seemed to approve of it."

"Then everything will go as nicely as possible; but will you tell him that you are going to take me?"

"Why not? I shall say that a friend of mine, who is also about to travel, will be able to accompany me for some time."

"All right; arrange it as best you can; if necessary, you can present me to your father, who hardly knows me, and you will see what a dignified and imposing manner I can assume. Above all things, don't mention little Delphine, or my aunt, or my supposed marriage, or my triplets."

"Never fear."

"As for my family, if it isn't noble, that doesn't prevent its being as good as the Comte de Montreville's, and very highly esteemed in Bretagne."

"Oh! mon Dieu! I know all that."

"It isn't on your account that I say it, but your father's. So, then, it's agreed. It is broad daylight now; I have slept enough, but you need rest. Go to bed; during the day, you can speak to your father, and come and tell me what he says. I'll expect you at six o'clock, at the Café de la Rotonde."

"Agreed."

"By the way, I forgot! Lend me a dozen louis; I owe you thirty already, but we will settle up when I get my next remittance from my aunt."

"That's all right; ought there to be any settling among friends?"

"Ah! my dear Frédéric, there aren't many friends like you!"

Dubourg pocketed the twelve louis which Frédéric handed him; then, leaving his friend to go to bed, he went away from the house, humming a new couplet, and strolled along the boulevards, as well pleased as if he had just been appointed to a twelve-thousand-franc office where he would have nothing to do.

During the day, Frédéric went to see his father. He trembled slightly when he appeared before him, and the count, instead of assisting his son to confide in him, waited silently for him to say what he wanted.

Having bowed respectfully, Frédéric began his speech, in which he floundered a little at times, because the count's eyes, fastened on his face, seemed determined to read his inmost thoughts. He set forth his project, however, and awaited in fear and trembling his father's reply. The count seemed to reflect, and did not speak for some minutes. Frédéric dared not break the silence, and at last the count spoke.

"You wish to leave Paris, Frédéric?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte."

"Are you tired already of its pleasures--balls and parties? It is rather early for that."

Frédéric sighed, but made no reply.

"You haven't told me everything," continued the count, with a sarcastic smile. "Confess that some disappointment in love----"

Frédéric blushed, and lowered his eyes; whereupon the count went on, in a gentler tone:

"Well, all that sort of thing belongs to your age. Travel; I am willing; it cannot fail to be useful to you. But if your presence should become necessary, I trust that nothing would delay your return?"

"Oh! father, a single word from you, and I will be with you."

"Very good; I rely upon your word."

"A friend of mine, a young man named Dubourg, of an old Breton family, is also making arrangements to travel for some time. If you are willing, I will join forces with him."

"No, monsieur; I am not willing. I have heard of this Monsieur Dubourg, whom you call your friend, and, although I have seen him with you only two or three times, I know enough of him to be unwilling that he should be my son's travelling companion. His family is respectable, I know, but Monsieur Dubourg is a great reprobate, they say."

"I promise you, father----"

"Don't interrupt me, monsieur. I cannot prevent your associating in Paris with such light-headed characters; but when you are to travel for your instruction, and to mature your judgment, I tell you again that a Monsieur Dubourg is not a proper person for you to travel with. I don't propose that you shall take Germain either; that fellow has been behaving badly for some time. Besides, when you are travelling you should be able to do without a valet. With your money, you will find servants enough wherever you stop."

"Am I to go alone, then, father?"

"No; you are not twenty-one yet; you are too young to be left to your own devices. Stay--yes--he's the very man you need: Monsieur Ménard will go with you."

"What, monsieur le comte, my tutor?"

"He hasn't been that for a long time, and he will not go with you in that capacity, my son, but as a friend, a judicious adviser. Monsieur Ménard is an educated man, and, in addition to that, is the mildest and most patient of men. You know him well enough, I think, not to regret having him for your travelling companion. Monsieur Ménard is not a mere pedant who will constantly reprove you for enjoying yourself; he is attached to you, and he will be able, I trust, to prevent the son of the Comte de Montreville from forgetting what he owes to himself."

"But, father----"

"Enough. I will write to Monsieur Ménard; if he accepts, as I think he will, you can set out to-morrow."

Frédéric left his father, not overpleased with his choice, although he knew that Monsieur Ménard was an excellent man. He would have preferred to travel with Dubourg, whose inexhaustible gayety harmonized perfectly with his own sentimental disposition; a fact which seems strange, at first blush, but which is very common: small men love tall women, and small women large men; loquacious folk like those who say little; gourmands never dine satisfactorily except with those who are abstemious; the strong form alliances with the weak; men of genius select wives who attend strictly to their household duties; female authors rarely have men of intellect for their husbands; ostentatious people cannot live comfortably except with those who make no pretensions; knaves consort with men of probity; the most sentimental women often love the most frivolous men, and the most loyal of the one sex will give her heart to the most fickle of the other; lastly, libertines pursue innocence, and innocence often yields to the seductions of a ne'er-do-well. Extremes meet, contrasts are drawn together, and a painter finds his most beautiful effects in the opposition of light and shadow.

"Well," said Dubourg, when Frédéric joined him at the appointed place; "what news?"

"Why, not very good."

"Doesn't your father want you to travel?"

"Oh! yes, he has consented."

"In that case, I don't see why everything isn't all right."

"But--he--he isn't willing----"

"Go on."

"He isn't willing that I should travel with you."

"Why not?"

"Because--he says----"

"He says---- Well, go on."

"He says that you are a--reprobate."

"Why, he has never seen me more than three times!"

"It seems that somebody has talked to him about you."

"There are always people who make it their business to slander innocence. Do you know that, if monsieur le comte were not your father, I---- Although, after all, he is not far from right. But if he knew how thoroughly I have reformed! and how I have preached at myself since last night!--Well, what else?"

"He suggests as my travelling companion my former tutor, Monsieur Ménard."

"The idea of giving a tutor to a young man who is almost twenty-one! That sort of thing positively makes me ill! No matter; let us allow monsieur le comte to have his way; we will carry out our plans, all the same."

"How?"

"You won't be sorry to have me travel with you, will you?"

"Surely not."

"And I shall not be sorry to leave Paris for a time; that will give my creditors, who are always at my heels, a chance to rest a bit."

"But my father?"

"Don't you worry. Just don't say a word, and I will arrange matters so that---- By the way, what sort of a man is this tutor?"

"Oh! he's the best fellow in the world; but he's not a genius."

"So much the better."

"He thinks a great deal of a learned man."

"I'll talk Latin, Greek, English, to him; yes, and Chinese, if he doesn't understand it."

"I fancy that he has never travelled, except on the map."

"I'll tell him that I have been round the world."

"But it flatters him to be in the company of persons of high rank."

"I'll assume a rank that will be high enough for him."

"In heaven's name, what is your scheme?"

"I'll arrange it all, I tell you; go back to your father, and start off with your tutor. By the way, get all the money you can, for money is never a disadvantage when you're travelling; and be sure to let me know what time you are to start, and in what direction you are going."

The young men separated, Dubourg having told Frédéric where to send him word of the time at which he was to start, and having refused to divulge any of the details of his plan.

Let us leave them for a moment, while we make the acquaintance of Monsieur Ménard, of whom the young count has given us only a faint sketch, and whom it is essential to know before we travel in his company.

Monsieur Ménard was a man of about fifty years of age, very short and stout, and with a very fat face. He had a double chin, which was quite in harmony with a nose like a huge chestnut. Like Monsieur Tartufe, he had red ears and a florid complexion. His stomach was beginning to embarrass him a little, but his short legs, with their enormous calves, seemed strong enough to support an even heavier bulk.

Monsieur Ménard had passed almost the whole of his life in teaching young people; he had retained the mild and benign manners which a tutor employed in good society always adopts with his pupils. He was not a great scholar, but he was proud of what he did know, and was by no means insensible to praise. His narrow intellect had become even more confined by having no exercise except with children; but Monsieur Ménard was upright, kindly, and peaceably disposed; his only weakness was a tendency to feel that his stature was increased when he conversed with a lord, and his only fault a very pronounced fondness for the pleasures of the table, which was sometimes the occasion of a slight indisposition; not that he drank immoderately, but because he returned too often to a truffled turkey or a salmi of partridges.

The Comte de Montreville summoned Monsieur Ménard, who hastened to obey the summons and joyfully accepted the proposition that was made to him. To travel in a comfortable post chaise with the Comte de Montreville's son, with that one of his pupils who reflected the greatest credit on him! that was unexampled good fortune for the excellent tutor, who happened to be unemployed at the moment.

The count urged him to have an eye upon Frédéric, but not to thwart his caprices when it was simply a question of indulging in the follies characteristic of his years. As he was well pleased with his son's ready submission in the matter of a travelling companion, he determined to reward him by allowing him to go wherever he chose.

Everything being settled between the count and the two travellers, Monsieur de Montreville handed Monsieur Ménard a considerable sum of money, which was to be at Frédéric's disposal.

"Travel in a manner befitting your rank, my son," said the count; "but do not squander this money foolishly. I have succeeded, by leading always an orderly, regular life, in saving a considerable fortune in anticipation of your marriage; but you must not encroach upon your patrimony. If you need more money, however, Monsieur Ménard will let me know."

Frédéric promised to behave himself; but he had just written to Dubourg that he was to start the next morning, and that he should take the Lyon road.

A young man's preparations are soon made. Monsieur Ménard's took a little longer; like the prudent man he was, he did not take his place in the carriage until he had bestowed one of Lesage's pâtés in the box, and a bottle of madeira in his pocket.

At last, everything was ready. Frédéric was overjoyed to leave Paris and Madame Dernange. The poor boy fancied that she would regret him, and that his departure would make her miserable! He was certain to lose all such illusions after he had travelled a short time.

The carriage was waiting; the postilion was in the saddle. Frédéric pressed his father's hand to his heart, Monsieur Ménard bowed six times to the count and entered the chaise backward in order to have the honor of continuing to bow. Frédéric jumped into his seat, the postilion cracked his whip, and they were off for Italy.