Chapter XXXII: Passedix Puts on a New Skin

One fine winter's day, the Chevalier Passedix, who had left his lodgings in the morning shivering with cold, being but poorly protected by his threadbare and scanty cloak, returned to the Hôtel du Sanglier with a radiant face and with his head in the air, throwing the doors open like a man who is not afraid of being rebuked for making too much noise.

Instead of going upstairs to his lodgings, the chevalier entered the room on the ground floor with which we are already acquainted, wherein Dame Cadichard, the mistress of the establishment, was wont to sit and take her meals.

Passedix appeared in the room at the moment that his hostess was about to attack some panada which her old servant, Popelinette, had just placed before her. He threw himself into a venerable easy-chair opposite Dame Cadichard and stretched out his legs, crying:

"Sandis! what a beastly chair! May God damn me if it isn't stuffed with nutshells!"

Widow Cadichard cried out in amazement, almost in anger, when she saw the lack of ceremony with which her fifth-floor tenant presumed to make himself at home before her, and carried his impertinence to the point of criticising her easy-chair.

"What is the meaning of this tone, these manners, Monsieur de Passedix?" she demanded at last, pausing over her panada. "Since when has it been the fashion to enter a room where there is a lady without even putting your hand to your hat? And why do you stretch yourself out in that chair, if you don't find it soft enough for you?"

"Enough, sweet Cadichard, enough, I beg! Put a curb on your tongue, whose intemperance begins to annoy me. I have been patient with your nonsense long enough, and I am disposed to be so no longer.--Put that in your pocket, Dame Cadichard!--That panada you are eating has a very sorry look. For shame! I will bet that there's no sugar in it! I desire a breakfast somewhat more substantial than that.--Where is Popelinette, that I may send her to the nearest wine shop?--Holà! Popelinette!"

"My servant is not at your orders, monsieur le chevalier; she does housework for the tenants who pay me. When you do that, she will work for you too."

Without a word in reply, the Gascon took from his belt a stout purse full of gold pieces, and threw it on the table at which his hostess was seated. Then he said to her:

"Well! _belle dame_, there is enough money to pay more than I owe you. Be good enough to make up my account, so that we may become good friends once more! For I have learned to appreciate the truth of the proverb: 'Short reckonings make long friends!'--That is very melancholy for the human race! It proves that the human race is damnably selfish! But I do not undertake to correct it; I take it as I find it.--Make up your account, Dame Cadichard, and pay yourself from this all that I owe you to this day."

The hostess was struck dumb by the sight of that well-lined purse, which had almost fallen into her soup; for the gold which it contained shone with the brilliancy of good alloy. In the joy and amazement caused by her tenant's action, she tried to say something; but she could only stammer a few incoherent words, ending with a sneeze, whose ramifications extended to her panada. So she confined herself to stirring that compound, until, recovering her speech at last, she cried, with the most gracious of smiles:

"Mon Dieu! what in the world has happened to you, chevalier? What change has taken place in your position since yesterday? for only yesterday you could not give me anything on account of my rent!"

"What has happened to me, my dear hostess? Why, one of those very simple events which happen every day to people who have rich relations.--One of my uncles has deceased; _mortuus est!_ And that uncle, who could not endure me, who was never willing to see me on his birthday, or on New Year's Day, thought better of it when he was on his deathbed, and made me his only heir, to the exclusion of certain cousins who fawned on him and wheedled him from morning till night!"

"Ah! that is fine, monsieur le chevalier!--Believe that I share with you in your joy at what has happened."

"I do not doubt it! And first of all, you will share with me by taking your dues from this purse.--Well, this morning, I met a friend who was coming to bring me the good news!--He threw his arms about my neck and embraced me until he nearly strangled me.--I was about to ask him the reason, when he cried:

"'Your uncle Flic-Flac, of Pézenas, has closed his shop--in other words, put out his lantern--in other words, broken his pipe; in short, he has started on the long journey, and has left you all his property--about two thousand crowns a year!'"

"Two thousand crowns a year! why, that's a very pretty income, Monsieur de Passedix! It's the same as six thousand livres."

"Even so, Dame Cadichard, you reckon with marvellous accuracy; my inheritance is six thousand livres a year, without counting the furniture and chattels of the defunct, which also come to me.--When Craquenard--that is my friend's name--had told me all that, I admit that at first blush I refused to believe it.

"'Craquenard, you are making sport of me,' I cried; 'you are telling me lies. If you are, I will run Roland through your belly!'"

"Oh! monsieur le chevalier, how ill-tempered you become all at once!"

"What can you expect? I cannot help it--my blood is always forty degrees above zero.--But Craquenard replied:

"'To prove that I am not telling fables, just come with me; I'll take you to Maître Bourdinard's, the solicitor; he has received a copy of the will, and is instructed to hand you the money you have inherited.'

"You will understand, Dame Cadichard, that I did not have to be asked twice to accompany Craquenard to the solicitor's! There, as soon as my identity was established, they offered to give me something in advance on what will come to me when everything is settled. And that is why, my sweet hostess, I return with such a well-lined purse! To say nothing of another little sack which I have in my belt.--Aha! wealth is very nice, indeed! Sandioux! I never felt so happy in my life.--Make up your account, if you please."

"Here it is, monsieur le chevalier; it has been made a long while," replied Dame Cadichard, taking a paper from a drawer; then she handed it to the Gascon, saying: "Be kind enough to verify the account!"

"Fie! fie! who ever heard of a gentleman like me verifying an account? That is all well enough for the lowborn, for clowns!--We do not always pay, perhaps! but, at all events, we never verify!--Once more, take from this purse what I owe you, so that I may be entirely square with you."

The hostess opened the purse, took out several gold pieces, counted on her fingers, then with a pen, and receipted her account, which she handed to the chevalier, with the purse, which was still well filled.

"That is all settled, Monsieur de Passedix. When you have time, you may make sure that the account is not padded by a single denier."

"Oh! Dame Cadichard! once more, what do you take me for?--I should be very sorry to look at this paper. See--this is how much I care for it!"

And Passedix tossed the account into a tiny fire that burned in a huge fireplace, whose feeble heat hardly changed the temperature, which was very cold outside.

Dame Cadichard, marvelling at the noble indifference with which her tenant paid his debts, said to him, with a respectful inclination of the head:

"Monsieur le chevalier, would you accept a plate of this soup? That will help you to wait for what you propose to send for to the wine shop."

"Oh, no! no, thanks!" cried Passedix, probably recalling the accident that had befallen the soup. "I have no desire to taste it.--May I not have Popelinette's services?"

"I beg pardon, monsieur le chevalier,--at once, instantly."

And Dame Cadichard, leaving her soup, left the room and went into the hall to call her servant in such shrill, imperative tones that old Popelinette soon came running in in dismay, crying:

"What's the matter? who's sick? where's the fire? Something must have happened!"

"The matter is, Popelinette, that Monsieur le Chevalier de Passedix wants to send you on an errand, and he must not be kept waiting."

"What! was it for that thing that madame was yelling as if she wanted to sprain her throat?"

"That thing!--Popelinette, try to express yourself more respectfully when you are talking about Monsieur de Passedix!"

The old servant stood with a dazed expression in the middle of the room, unable to understand how it happened that her mistress spoke so kindly now of a tenant whom she had abused so roundly only that morning.

Passedix put an end to the servant's conjectures by placing a gold piece in her hand, with these words:

"Go to the nearest wine shop, Popelinette, and order a dainty breakfast; let them bring everything for three. I feel capable of multiplying the size of my mouthfuls by three. Order several bottles of the best wine, also.--Go, and what money remains shall be yours!"

The sight of a fine gold doubloon instantly made the servant as polite and zealous as her mistress. What a mighty influence has that metal, which acts in the same way upon almost all temperaments! Physicians have never found its like among all the drugs that they force us to take.

When Popelinette had gone, the chevalier resumed his seat at the table and said to his hostess:

"Now, Dame Cadichard, let us talk a little. You will readily understand, I think, that a man with two thousand crowns a year, to say nothing of the lesser objects, cannot continue to live under the eaves, where he has for fellow lodgers rats of all dimensions."

"Oh! of course, monsieur le chevalier, I realize that this lodging is not worthy of you; and be sure that, if I put you up there, it was because special circumstances forced me to do it.--It was very much against my will."

"Enough! enough! Dame Cadichard, you should never recur to unpleasant subjects.--Do you consider me wealthy enough now to resume my handsome apartment on the first floor, which you let to that noble Spaniard, the so-called Comte de Carvajal?"

"I wish that I had a much handsomer one to offer you, Monsieur de Passedix; but my first floor is at your service."

"Very good.--Speaking of this Comte de Carvajal--have you never seen him, dear hostess, since he left your house so abruptly?"

"Never.--One night, when you were absent, I was very much surprised when Monsieur de Carvajal, who had not given me any notice, came in and said: 'Madame Cadichard, I must leave your house instantly; news just received forces me to return at once to Spain.'--Thereupon he paid me what he owed me, gave Popelinette a handsome _pourboire_, sent for a porter to take his trunks, and disappeared, leaving me amazed at his abrupt departure."

"Oh! the villain! the traitor! He did not start for Spain, for that same night--I remember it only too well, because, when I asked about your tenant the next morning, I was told that he had left the hotel the night before--that same night following his departure, as I was walking with a young lady to whom I was paying court, we met on the street a sort of rustic, or vagabond,--I don't know what to call him,--who threw himself between me and my fair.--As you can imagine, I unsheathed at once----"

"I do not doubt it, monsieur le chevalier."

"But that simpleton, that clown, had under his cloak a short, broad sword, which he used like a hatchet.--That disconcerted me. I am accustomed to fighting with people who know how to stand on guard. I tried to thrust a little too far, and Roland slipped from my hand. While I was looking for him, my knave disappeared with my belle, whom, by the way, I have not seen since."

"But I fail to see what connection there is between that adventure and the Comte de Carvajal."

"This is the connection: the rustic was not a rustic; I had met him before, in the guise of an artisan. And again, the artisan was not an artisan; I had previously had dealings with him, when he was dressed as an old Bohemian. And finally, all these disguises concealed the Comte de Carvajal, your magnificent tenant."

"The Comte de Carvajal! is it possible? But, in that case, he must be a very mysterious personage. Disguise himself like that--what can be his purpose?"

"I have no idea. The man was probably a political spy, sent here by his government to observe, to discover the cardinal's projects; perhaps to organize a conspiracy against him!"

"Oh! mon Dieu! why, if that's so, his stay in my house might have compromised me!"

"Sandis! I should say so! They would have ended by razing your house. It is great good fortune for you, Dame Cadichard, that that fine spark has bade you adieu!"

"You make me shudder, monsieur le chevalier!"

"As he has decamped, you are no longer in any danger. But, by Roland, I do not bid him adieu! If he is still in Paris, I will find him, and then it will be war to the death between us!--But, with your permission, I will at once install myself, or rather reinstall myself, in the first floor lodging. I will take my repast there.--By the way, Dame Cadichard, I expect a very agreeable young man--very small, but very agreeable for his size. He is a clerk in my solicitor's office; and as I happened to mention before him my desire to replenish my wardrobe entirely, and as quickly as possible, he told me that he had a friend who knew a second-hand dealer amply supplied with clothes of the latest cut. He is to bring him to me here."

"Never fear, monsieur le chevalier, I will send him up to you."

"To the first floor, Dame Cadichard. Don't forget that I have come down. I shall go up again some day, perhaps; it is not safe to swear to anything."

"Oh! Monsieur de Passedix!"

"But that worries me very little.--Six thousand livres a year! Sandis! I used to make conquests galore, but now I shall be overwhelmed with them!"

The chevalier resumed possession of the apartment on the first floor; he stretched himself out luxuriously in an enormous easy-chair that was almost suitable for a bed, and glanced about the room, saying to himself:

"Ah! Monsieur de Carvajal, so I am occupying your place now!--Who knows? perhaps you would be very happy now to live in a little room under the eaves; for in this world, when one goes up, we frequently see others come down, and _vice versa_.--Oh! but I will find this mysterious Spaniard! From all I have been able to judge, he knows that little Miretta; I believe him to be my rival with the little brunette. A grandee of Spain, in love with a chambermaid--that is rather extraordinary! But, after all, I sigh for that girl, and I am the equal of the grandest of Spanish grandees."

Popelinette returned with two waiters from the wine shop, bringing dishes and bottles. In a short time, a dinner fit for Gargantua was spread before Passedix; but the newly made heir seemed not at all alarmed when he saw the contents of the dishes that were served him; and from the way in which he attacked them one might fairly presume that he would reach the end of them.

Passedix had already put away half of his repast, and was attacking the second half, when Popelinette, the old servant, who had become as courteous as her mistress, came in with repeated reverences and informed him that Monsieur Bahuchet and his comrade, Monsieur Plumard, had arrived, and wished to speak with him.

"Very good! I know what they are here for!" cried Passedix; "they have brought new clothes, in the latest style.--Usher these young men into my presence; I will choose such things as seem worthy of my person, and it will not prevent my finishing my dinner!"

Before we introduce the solicitor's two clerks, let us see what had happened between them as a result of the delicate commission which one had intrusted to the other.