Chapter XI: The Elusive Remedy

But the salon door opened, and Monsieur Dufournelle and his wife appeared.

Monsieur Dufournelle was a stout party of forty-five, with a jovial face which denoted a frank and hearty disposition. His wife, who was hardly thirty, was pretty, had a good figure, and laughed all the time; it is needless to say that she had fine teeth; if they had been ugly she would not have laughed on all occasions.

“Good afternoon, my friends!” said Monsieur Dufournelle, with an “ouf!” which sent the sheets of music scattered over the piano flying about the room. “We have come early; it’s bad form, but we don’t care for that!--You are all well, my dear friends?”

“Very well--extremely well! It is so nice of you to come early!” said Madame Glumeau, dissembling a slight grimace.

“I remarked to my husband,” rejoined the lady with the fine teeth, “that perhaps it would be discourteous for us to come before five o’clock; but he replied that we didn’t stand on ceremony with you.”

“And he was right, he was quite right!” said Monsieur Glumeau, pressing one of his hands to his stomach; then he turned to his daughter and muttered: “The devil take them! I want my enema!”

“Besides, we have lots of things to talk about,” said Madame Dufournelle; “aren’t we to distribute the parts to-day for our performance?--Ha! ha! what fun it will be! I have never acted, but I am looking forward to it. Ha! ha!”

“Would you believe that my wife hasn’t talked about anything else for a fortnight, and I have to take her to the theatre every night, because she claims that that is like giving her lessons! One day she tries to imitate Scriwaneck, another time Mademoiselle Fargueil; then it’s Aline Duval whom she tries to mimic, or else pretty Alphonsine, or Grassot.”

“Oh! really, Monsieur Dufournelle, what are you talking about? Imitate Grassot indeed! do you suppose that I mean to take men’s parts? Ha! ha! ha!”

“I don’t know, but I assure you that you caught some of Grassot’s intonations when you were rehearsing--I don’t know what rôle.--But where is our dear little Astianax? aren’t we to see him?”

“Yes, indeed, you will see him; he should be at home before this; I don’t know where he can have gone.”

“I’ll bet that he’s gone to get a b--b--bouquet for p--p--papa.”

“A bouquet! what! it can’t be that it’s Glumeau’s birthday?”

“Why, isn’t this Saint-Honoré’s day?”

“Sapristi! and we never thought of it, Eléonore?”

“That is true, my dear; we are very thoughtless!”

“All the same, my dear friend, I wish you many happy returns; the bouquet will come later!”

“Thanks! thanks!” replied Glumeau, with a significant glance at his wife. “At this moment, a bouquet isn’t what I want.”

“I must go and complete my toilet,” said the buxom Lolotte, answering her husband’s signs with a wink. “You will excuse me, won’t you?”

“Excuse you? why, of course.”

“Yes, go and do--do what you have to do!” cried Glumeau, staring at his feet with a distressed expression. “And I will come too.”

“You see, we came too early!” said Madame Dufournelle; “we are in the way.”

“Why, not at all! you see that we do not stand on ceremony.”

As Madame Glumeau was about to leave the salon, the door opened, and an old and exceedingly ugly man in blue spectacles entered, escorting a tall and well-built young lady, dressed with affected elegance, and endowed with one of those faces that never change.

“Monsieur and Mademoiselle Camuzard!” cried Madame Glumeau, turning back to welcome the newcomers. “How good of you to come early! Pray come in.--Edouard, here are Monsieur Camuzard and Mademoiselle Polymnie.”

Edouard had gone to examine his complexion in the mirror; when he saw that more guests had arrived, he uttered a hollow groan, then did his utmost to assume a smiling countenance, saying to himself:

“I shall never be able to take my enema! this is getting to be very alarming!”

Mademoiselle Polymnie had in her hand a huge bouquet, which she presented to Glumeau, saying:

“Monsieur, will you allow me to wish you a happy birthday?”

“To be sure, mademoiselle, with the greatest pleasure; I am deeply touched. What a superb bouquet! You are too kind.”

“Sapristi! how sorry I am that we didn’t bring one!” exclaimed Dufournelle again, while his wife laughed heartily as she looked at the pictures on the music and at Mademoiselle Camuzard.

“How is your health, my dear Glumeau?” inquired the old gentleman, shaking his host’s hand violently.

“Very good, Monsieur Camuzard; my health is very fair, although it isn’t all that I could wish.”

“Are you in pain?--I have pains in my knees and arms; and it keeps catching me here, you see, and extends all the way down my back.”

“It’s not my back that troubles me, it’s----”

“And then I cough a great deal every morning when I wake up; there are days when I have regular paroxysms.”

“I don’t cough, but----”

“And then I expectorate very freely! Oh! I don’t try to stop that--it does me good.”

“This is not a very amusing conversation!” said Madame Dufournelle in an undertone to her husband; he frowned at his wife, to enjoin silence upon her, whereupon she went to Mademoiselle Eolinde.

“Well!” she said, “what are we to act? have you decided on the plays? What part are you going to give me? I want a pretty costume.”

“You see how co--co--coquettish she is!” said Mademoiselle Glumeau, turning to her mother; “the co--costume is the first th--th--thing she th--thinks of.”

“We haven’t yet decided on the whole entertainment,” said Madame Glumeau; “we are waiting until our whole troupe has arrived.”

“If you need me,” said Monsieur Camuzard, “don’t hesitate; I’ll play any small part, or a utility rôle.”

“It’s to be hoped that we shall not need him!” whispered Madame Dufournelle to her husband; “he’s altogether too hideous; he looks like a bird of prey.”

“Hush, Eléonore, I beg you.”

“My dear love, pray go and attend to what you have to do,” said Monsieur Glumeau, looking at his wife. “Our friends will excuse you; they know that the mistress of the house always has orders to give.”

“Do go, dear lady; your charming daughter is here to do the honors, you know.”

“Since you are good enough to excuse me--I have something to attend to.”

“Would you like me to come and help you?” inquired Madame Dufournelle; “dispose of me.”

“Oh, no! you are too kind; I don’t need any help for what I have to do; I will return in a moment.”

And the mistress of the house was once more on the point of leaving the room, when the door opened again to admit two other guests, a gentleman and a lady, both of mature years, who came forward smiling pleasantly at the company.

“Monsieur and Mademoiselle Mangeot!” exclaimed Madame Glumeau, who was obliged to step back as she curtsied, because the newcomers came straight toward her. “How very good of you to come early!”

“Why, you said five o’clock, and it is just about to strike the hour,” replied the gentleman, bowing low. “I am as exact as a pendulum; I hurried my sister who, I thought, would never finish arranging her hair; I always dread being late.”

“Yes, my brother wanted to ride,” said Mademoiselle Mangeot, “but I reminded him that we should arrive sooner on foot than in an omnibus.--Will you allow me to wish you a happy birthday, Monsieur Glumeau?”

And the middle-aged damsel, producing a pretty little bouquet of _pompon_ roses, which she had under her shawl, presented it to Glumeau, who smelt it, making a peculiar face, and replied:

“Really, mademoiselle, you overwhelm me--_pompon_ roses!”

“You are fond of them, I believe?”

“Oh, yes! I am very fond of them--but not too hot.”

“What! are there such things as hot bouquets?”

“Oh! I beg pardon, mademoiselle, I made a mistake; I meant to say that it would give me great pleasure to take it now.”

“Why, take it then, monsieur; as you see, I am offering it to you for that purpose.”

“To be sure--excuse me--I am absent-minded; I do take it--that is to say, yes, I accept these lovely roses.”

“You take them awkwardly; you will prick yourself; you should let me put them in myself.”

“Put them where, pray?”

“Why, in your buttonhole.”

“Sapristi! how annoyed I am that I didn’t bring a bouquet!” repeated stout Dufournelle; and Mademoiselle Eolinde, overhearing him, muttered between her teeth:

“He s--s--says that every year, but he n--n--never brings one.”

“My dear Monsieur Glumeau,” said Monsieur Mangeot, stepping forward to shake hands with the master of the house, who seemed determined to keep his hands pressed against his abdomen, “pray accept my good wishes also, and may I be able to offer them again a hundred years hence.--That’s not a new idea, but it’s always good!--And the dear boy, the charming Astianax, where is he, pray?”

“I can’t imagine!” said Madame Glumeau; “to think of his not being here yet--to-day of all days! Really, I am beginning to be anxious.”

“You know, mamma, that my b--b--brother was going to order a b--b--bouquet full of meaning; no d--d-doubt--no doubt that is what is k--k--keeping him.”

“What on earth is a bouquet with a meaning?” inquired Monsieur Camuzard.

“It’s a _selam_, monsieur.”

“Ah! and what might a _selam_ be?”

“It’s a bouquet with a meaning.”

“Excellent!”

“When a man has a daughter named Polymnie, he ought to be more learned,” said Madame Dufournelle laughingly to Mademoiselle Mangeot; and she, being a little hard of hearing, replied:

“Yes, I think it will be fine.”

Meanwhile Madame Glumeau, noticing her husband’s repeated signals, determined to leave the salon without asking leave of the latest comers. And fearing that other guests might arrive to detain her, she made her escape by a door leading to her bedroom.

When he saw his wife disappear, Monsieur Glumeau uttered an exclamation of satisfaction which was drowned by the arrival of Monsieur Kingerie, the young man who did whatever anyone desired. He was a little fellow, who always acted as if he were ashamed of himself; on entering the room, he began by blushing to the ears, ran into a chair that was between himself and the master of the house when he attempted to salute him, and as he rose after picking up the chair, he ran his head into Monsieur Glumeau’s stomach. That gentleman uttered a savage oath, while the timid Kingerie, distressed beyond words at what he had done, hastily stepped back and trod on Mademoiselle Mangeot’s foot; and as she was afflicted with corns, she pushed the awkward youth violently away, whereupon he collided with Monsieur Camuzard, causing his spectacles to fall off.

Madame Dufournelle laughed until she cried, saying to her husband:

“Pray stop that gentleman or he will upset the whole company.”

They got young Kingerie seated at last; he was at a loss to apologize for his awkwardness and seemed disposed to weep; but, luckily for him, other guests arrived, so that he ceased to monopolize the attention.

First, there was a gentleman of very attractive appearance and with a distinguished air, whom they called Monsieur de Merval; he entered the salon with the ease of manner born of familiarity with good society, saluted one and all without knocking anybody down, and shook hands with Monsieur Glumeau without hitting him in the stomach. Although Monsieur de Merval was no longer a young man, he was still most attractive; which was proved by the fact that when he entered the salon, all the ladies, young and old, drew themselves up, and composed their features and their bearing; you will never see a woman do all that for a man who is not worth the trouble.

Monsieur Glumeau, who seemed to have much consideration for Monsieur de Merval, forgot for a moment the remedy he was awaiting, to say to him some of those courteous phrases which people exchange in society, as we exchange silver for small coins.

“I do not see madame,” replied the newcomer, after paying his respects to Mademoiselle Eolinde.

“Mamma will be here d--d--directly; she has g--g--gone to pre--pre----”

“My wife has gone to see if dinner will be served soon,” hastily interposed Monsieur Glumeau. “The master’s eye, you know, or rather the mistress’s, is always indispensable when one entertains a few friends.”

“And your son?”

“My son--I can’t understand his absence; he should have been here long ago; something has happened----”

“P--p--papa, I think I hear my b--b--brother’s voice in the d--d--dining-room; he’s with Monsieur Cha--Chambourdin.”

“That’s very fortunate; we shall know in a minute what has detained him.”--And Monsieur Glumeau whispered in his daughter’s ear: “Go and see if your mother has prepared--you know what. I must have it.”

“But p--p--papa, I c--c--can’t--can’t leave the s--s--salon n--now; that would l--l--leave only you with the g--g--guests, and you’re not very b--b--brilliant.”

“Parbleu! you must come in with me, you rascal!” exclaimed a young man, the possessor of a comely face, but with an absolutely bald head, who entered the salon at that moment, dragging young Astianax, who had his hands over the rents in his trousers.

“Mesdames and messieurs, I have the honor to present a young man who was scampering upstairs, without stopping at his worthy father’s door; but I seized him on the wing, saying: ‘My dear boy, it is too late to go up to your room; the paternal arms await you and the soup must be served.’--Still, he wouldn’t come, and you see now how he objects to coming in.”

“What does this mean, my son?” inquired Monsieur Glumeau, after shaking the hand that Chambourdin offered him. “Why do you stand there at the door and not come in?”

“Excuse me, father--allow me to go up to my room a moment; I will come right down again; it is impossible for me to face our guests at this moment.”

“What! impossible? why, you’re facing them now.”

“And I don’t see that the boy is dressed like a wild Indian, either!” said Chambourdin, as he saluted the ladies.

“My dear good father, I assure you that I have something on that is--is not presentable.”

“Mon Dieu! c--c--can it be that my b--b--brother has the same trouble as p--p--papa?” said tall Eolinde to herself; “does he want one t--t--too?”

Monsieur Glumeau, who had had the same thought as his daughter, dared say nothing more; but the bald youth, who was in the habit of playing jokes in company, and who was very unceremonious wherever he went, crept noiselessly behind the son of the house, and, giving him a sharp push, forced him to pitch forward into the salon; and in that movement Monsieur Astianax was obliged to remove his hands from his knees, thus disclosing the two rents; whereupon everybody uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Great heaven!”

“Ah! the poor fellow!”

“Both knees torn! he must have fallen.”

“You fell, didn’t you?”

“How does it happen, my son, that those trousers, which are almost new, are torn on both knees?”

“Well! now you know why I didn’t want to come in--you see that I was right. Am I presentable like this?”

“But, my son----”

“It is I who am to blame for everything!” cried Chambourdin; “I forced him to disclose his disaster. Strictly, I ought to lend him some trousers, but as I believe he has another pair, I prefer that he should wear his own.--Go, hapless victim of a slippery sidewalk, but don’t be long! something tells me that the soup is not far away.”

Little Astianax disappeared, and Monsieur Glumeau would have been glad to do as much, but his guests surrounded him and talked to him; he was hemmed in on all sides.

“Everybody must have come, is it not so, my dear friend?” said Chambourdin, offering him snuff in one of those snuff-boxes known as _rat-tails_.

“No, indeed, and it’s very lucky--otherwise there would be thirteen of us,” replied Glumeau, writhing about as inoffensively as possible.

“Thirteen! I had just as soon sit thirteen at table. Truffles, champagne, chambertin and thirteen at table every day--I’ll subscribe for that if I don’t have to pay in advance.”

“Or if you don’t have to pay afterward, perhaps?” said Monsieur Dufournelle.

“Oh! what a spiteful thing to say, big Dufournelle! How fat the fellow is growing! If he keeps on he won’t be able to go into any house; partitions of decent dimensions no longer conceal him--he will have to have some made expressly for him.”

“Hold your tongue, advocate without causes!”

“I an advocate? Oh! I have abandoned the profession; I wasn’t loquacious enough, and then I was too good a fellow. I settled disputes on the instant. I induced the parties to dine together and I dined with them; we all got tipsy; after dinner they embraced and that was the end of their litigation. My confrères begged me to give up practice--I was ruining the profession.”

“Whom else do you expect, Monsieur Glumeau?” inquired Monsieur Camuzard.

“A lady--a charming lady--not very young, but very good-looking still.”

“And her name?”

“The Baronne de Grangeville.”

“A baroness! the deuce! a real baroness?”

“I never knew a sham one.”

“I was joking.--Is she married?”

“No, she’s a widow.”

“Oho! a widow, eh? And rich?”

“I believe that she is very rich.--But I beg pardon--I have to say a word to my daughter.”

“I can’t conceive what your mother is doing!” said Glumeau in his daughter’s ear. “I can’t remain in this plight. Something must have happened to the instrument. Go and see, Eolinde, and urge your mother to make haste.”

Mademoiselle Eolinde was sorely vexed to be obliged to leave the company; she went out of the room with a sulky expression, and without acknowledging the fifth bow that young Kingerie addressed to her.

“Something out of the natural course is going on here,” said Madame Dufournelle to her husband; “Madame Glumeau goes out and does not return; the son’s trousers are all torn, and he disappears; the daughter has left the salon in a pet; Monsieur Glumeau stands first on one leg, then on the other; he frowns and doesn’t pay any attention to the conversation. There certainly is something wrong!”

“Some dish spoiled, or some entrée from the restaurant that hasn’t come, perhaps; or rather, they are making great preparations to receive this baroness whom they expect.”

“Nonsense! really? a baroness of what?”

“What do you say? a baroness of what?--A baroness, that’s all I know.”

“And that’s why these ladies leave us like this! Aren’t we as good as a baroness, I should like to know?”

“Hush, Eléonore!”

“Bah! I don’t care a snap of my finger for their baroness!”

“It’s after half-past five,” said Monsieur Mangeot to his sister; “I trust they will give us some dinner soon; I am half starved!”

“I fancy that you have time to tighten your waistband; they are expecting a baroness, so Monsieur Camuzard told us just now.”

“Oho! confound it! I must admit that at this moment I would much rather see a stuffed turkey than a baroness. They are capable of making us wait till six o’clock. I don’t know anything more intolerable than not to give your guests their dinner at the appointed time. If you mean to dine at half-past six, don’t invite me at five; for otherwise, I would make my arrangements accordingly and take something to stay my stomach.--Ah! the door opens--it is the long-desired baroness, no doubt.”

“No, it’s Madame Glumeau coming back.”

The buxom Lolotte had, in fact, reappeared in the salon; she tried to catch her husband’s eye, but she was obliged to stop and welcome the guests who had arrived during her absence. She had much ado to get rid of Monsieur Chambourdin, who embraced her, and of young Kingerie, who trod on her dress. At last she succeeded in joining Edouard, whose contortions were becoming alarming, and whispered to him:

“It’s all ready in your dressing-room.”

Glumeau’s face beamed.

“Go, my dear,” his wife added aloud, “and see if the table is laid as you wish; if the names of the guests are arranged to your satisfaction.”

“Yes, yes, you are right; I will go; but we can’t sit down, you know, until Madame de Grangeville comes.”

“All right, all right! but go.”

Glumeau did not wait to be told again; he hurried toward the door, saying to himself:

“At last I can take it!”

But as he opened the door, he found himself face to face with a very fashionably dressed lady who was just about to enter. The unhappy host stopped short, saying:

“It is written that I shall not take it!”