Chapter XIV: The Mother and the Son

Georget passed several days scouring Paris; but he made the most minute investigations in the Chaussée-d’Antin quarter; he asked for Monsieur de Roncherolle in all the fine hotels, and received everywhere the answer that no person of that name had apartments there. Then the young messenger would return in the afternoon to Boulevard du Château d’Eau, to say good-evening to Violette, to whom he would confide the ill success of his efforts; and before going home he would try to find work to do in order to earn a little money. Georget no longer passed the day loafing on the boulevard as before; he no longer passed the time with his friend Chicotin, who, if he had known why Georget was exploring Paris, could have put an end to his search with a word. Chicotin, on his side, was looking for the Baronne de Grangeville, but without fatiguing himself overmuch and without exhibiting as much zeal as his friend in his inquiries. And when night came, instead of returning to the neighborhood of the Château d’Eau, Monsieur Patatras, as he adored the play, hung about in the neighborhood of the people who were on their way to the theatres on Boulevard du Temple, and his felicity was complete when, toward the close of the evening, he succeeded in obtaining a check, by means of which he witnessed the last act of a melodrama or a farce.

Every morning before starting out, Georget deemed it his duty to go to Monsieur Malberg, to tell him what quarter and what streets he had explored the day before. Although the result of his investigations was not as yet satisfactory, he was desirous to prove to the man who had assisted him so generously that his zeal had not abated. The young messenger was rarely admitted to Monsieur Malberg’s presence, but he always found Pongo deep in conversation with the furniture; then he would tell the mulatto what he had done, and he never failed to report faithfully to his master all that Georget had told him.

The perseverance which the young man displayed in demonstrating his gratitude, ended by touching the heart of the gentleman on the third floor, who told his servant one morning to admit Georget when he called; and that order had scarcely been given when the young man appeared as usual to tell what he had done the day before.

Pongo immediately suspended the toilet of a kitten which he had picked up the night before in the street, to usher Georget into his master’s presence; then he left the room, saying:

“Now me breakfast with my new friend Carabi, that me found yesterday under a door, all alone and crying. Nothing to eat this long time, very thin, very unhappy; but me bring him here, me take him to bed with me, feed him, and this morning he all right, all happy; he purr and hump his back at me.”

“Come in, my friend,” said Monsieur Malberg to Georget, who stood timidly in the doorway; “come in and sit down.”

“Oh! monsieur is too kind; but I am not tired, and then I cannot presume to sit down in monsieur’s presence.”

“I tell you that I want you to sit down; I have something to say to you. Take this chair.”

Georget obeyed, and took his seat on the edge of a chair; then he made haste to say:

“I went to the Palais-Royal quarter yesterday, monsieur; I went the whole length of Rue Richelieu, Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs and all the streets leading into them. There are many hotels in that quarter, and yet I discovered nothing; no one there knows that gentleman.”

“My boy, it is eight or ten days now, I believe, that you have been engaged in this tiresome business for me! That is quite enough! Cease your investigations; you have more than earned the money which you pretend that you owe me.”

“But, monsieur, it doesn’t tire me at all to go about Paris; besides, it’s my trade, and I often do other errands while I am looking for monsieur; so why shouldn’t I keep on? I haven’t searched all Paris yet.”

“I tell you again, my friend, that I don’t want you to look any farther. I have reflected, and if heaven permits me to find this gentleman, whom you have sought in vain, it will bring me face to face with him; otherwise, it evidently means that He who governs everything does not choose that I should carry out my plans, and I must submit.”

“Perhaps monsieur is not satisfied with me; perhaps he thinks that I do not go about it in the right way, and----”

“On the contrary, I am entirely satisfied with you; your mother, whom I have seen, because she absolutely insisted upon thanking me,--your mother has no end of pleasant things to say about you.”

“Oh! you mustn’t believe it all, monsieur; mothers exaggerate a bit, you know, when they talk about their sons!”

“That may be, but other persons too have confirmed what your mother said.”

“Monsieur is too kind!”

“You have had some education; you know how to read and write and figure, do you not?”

“Yes, monsieur, tolerably well.”

“Listen, this is what I have to propose. I have quite a large estate at Nogent-sur-Marne; there are eight acres of orchard, kitchen garden and woods; but it is wretchedly cared for and kept up by a gardener who is very lazy, and who, having no one to watch him, fancies himself the owner of the property and does only what he pleases; for I rarely go there, and even in the summer I pass only a few weeks there; but if the house were well kept up and the garden taken care of, I should enjoy it much more. Well, I suggest that you and your mother go to live on that estate; your duty will be, not to work in the garden, but to oversee and direct the work, the planting, and the improvements. Oh! you will have plenty to do! Eight acres of ground--there is room for lots of things in that. There are also repairs to be made on the buildings. I give you full power; you will take my place, and you will be obeyed as I should be. As for your mother, she will look after the house, the dairy, the poultry yard, which is well stocked; and then, when I take a fancy to visit my estate, I shall be certain at least of finding a room in condition to receive me and lodge me. I offer you for this a thousand francs a year, and of course you will have your lodgings and fuel, and as much as you want of fruit, vegetables, rabbits and all the occupants of a poultry yard. Now if this is satisfactory to you and to your mother, you may go down and install yourselves there to-morrow, and I will undertake to pay what you owe the landlord here.”

While Monsieur Malberg was speaking, Georget, listening intently, changed color several times; sometimes he enjoyed the thought of the pleasant and happy life which was offered him; sometimes his brow became clouded and thoughtful; and it was plain that a bitter conflict was going on in his heart. When Monsieur Malberg ceased to speak, the poor boy said not a word, but seemed afraid to reply.

“Well, Georget, you say nothing; does that mean that you do not understand my proposal?”

“Oh! I beg pardon, monsieur; I understand perfectly all that you offer to do for us; what a peaceful and happy life you offer us; to live on a pleasant estate in the country, to have duties which are only pleasures, and to be paid for it all! Oh! that is too much good fortune. And my poor mother, who is so fond of the country and of gardens! Ah! how happy she would be there!”

“Well, then, you accept, Georget?”

The young man lowered his eyes; and soon two great tears escaped from them; he hid his face behind his handkerchief, stammering:

“No, monsieur--I--I decline.”

“You decline what would be, you say, a happy life for you, and would give your mother so much pleasure! I can’t understand you!”

“Yes, monsieur, I decline. Oh! I know very well that what I am doing is wrong! It is a horrible thing on my part to refuse what would certainly give my mother rest and happiness! It is outrageous, it is a wicked thing for me to do! But it is too much for me, monsieur! You won’t tell mother, I implore you, monsieur--will you? You won’t tell her that you offered me all this and I refused? It would make her unhappy and perhaps she wouldn’t forgive me!”

And poor Georget knelt at Monsieur Malberg’s feet, repeating: “I beg you, monsieur, don’t say anything to my mother!”

“Rise, Georget, rise; no, of course I won’t say anything to your mother. Indeed, you must have powerful reasons for acting thus! Don’t weep, my friend, I do not wish to cause you pain; once more I say, forget my offer and let us not mention the subject again.”

“Forget it! Oh, no! I know very well that I shall not forget it, monsieur! It was so kind of you! As to my reasons--my reasons for declining, I haven’t got but one, but I don’t dare to tell you what it is.”

“Keep your secret; I don’t ask any questions.”

“But I don’t want you to think of me as a bad son, as a fellow who prefers the life of a vagabond in Paris to his mother’s happiness, monsieur. No; I would rather tell you everything. I am in love, monsieur; yes, madly in love with a young flower girl at the Château d’Eau, on the boulevard yonder. Violette is so pretty, and a respectable, virtuous girl, who doesn’t listen to anybody!”

“But she listens to you, doesn’t she?”

“No, monsieur, for I have never dared to tell her outright that I am in love with her; she may have seen it, but she doesn’t act as if she had. But, monsieur, I can see her every morning when I go out, and at night before I come home, for I always find an excuse to pass by her stand. But if I should go and live on your place in the country, then I should have to give up seeing Violette, in the morning or at night or ever! and you see, monsieur, I feel that it would be impossible for me to live without seeing her! It would be like not living at all; and then it seems to me that I shouldn’t be good for anything.”

“Poor boy!” murmured Monsieur Malberg; “so young, and in love already! If he is happy, I shall be very much surprised.”

“It’s very bad of me to do as I am doing, isn’t it, monsieur? On account of this love that turns my head, for this girl who perhaps doesn’t love me and will never love me, I refuse to assure my mother a peaceful life and livelihood. Ah! I feel that I am an ungrateful, wicked son! I hate myself, I would beat myself if it would do any good; but it wouldn’t cure me! This love has crept into my heart little by little; it’s more than three years now that I have seen Violette almost every day; I was very young at first, and then as I grew up I got used to loving her, and that sentiment grew up with me, and grew much faster than I did. So now there is no way to drive it from my heart; it can never leave it; and indeed if it could, I wouldn’t want it to. Could I ever guess that the day would come when it would cause me so much sorrow?”

“Don’t despair, Georget; it may be that there is still some way of arranging matters. Suggest to your mother to go and live on my estate and take care of my house; don’t tell her that there was a place there for you too; in this way your mother will be able to live in the country where you say she enjoys herself so much, and you can go to see her whenever you please; it is not far from here to Nogent,--three leagues at most.”

“Ah! how kind you are, monsieur! In that way, as you say, my mother will live comfortably, and the fresh country air will cure her entirely. It is true that it will be hard for me not to see her every day, not to live with her; but I shall be able to endure that privation, because I will say to myself: ‘It’s for her good, it’s for her happiness!’ but still it isn’t kind of me to think that I could get along without seeing mother and that I can’t make up my mind not to see Violette; is it, monsieur?”

“It isn’t your fault, my boy; nature has decreed that a new love is always fatal to the old ones.”

“But one’s love for one’s mother, monsieur! that ought not to grow any less in our hearts; but it is less unreasonable than the other. Ah! if you knew Violette, monsieur, you would understand that I cannot cease to love her. She is so pretty! She has her stand on the boulevard, near the Château d’Eau; would you like me to tell her to bring you a bouquet? She would ask nothing better, monsieur.”

“No, it isn’t necessary; I have no need of bouquets, and I take your word for all that you say of this girl.”

“Then, monsieur, with your permission, I will go right away and tell my mother what you are kind enough to offer her.”

“Go, Georget, and come back and tell me her answer.”

“Happy age,” said Monsieur Malberg to himself as he watched the young messenger walk away; “happy age, when one does not doubt constancy in love, when one believes in the sincerity of friendship! I, too, believed in those things, but I was most cruelly undeceived! He sacrifices everything to his love for a woman! Poor boy! he will be deceived like the others; but he begins that trade too early!”

And Monsieur Malberg, whose brow had darkened, relapsed into profound meditation.

Meanwhile, his servant Pongo had a sharp altercation with the cat which he had named Carabi, and which, in payment for the hospitality that had been bestowed upon him, had savagely clawed his benefactor.

“Ah! you naughty, Carabi,” said the mulatto, holding the cat by his two forepaws; “you hurt me, when me pick you up in the street; and you not handsome either; but thin, ugly, little short hair; you a gutter cat, you hear? You no angora, you gutter cat! and me take care of you, comb you and rub you, make nice porridge for you, so’s to make you pretty and fat; and you claw me on the nose when me try to talk with you, like two friends. You take care, Carabi! if me take Mamzelle Zima to beat you, Mamzelle Zima, she mind me right off, and she strike hard, Mamzelle Zima; will you be good boy now?”

The cat’s only reply was to howl in a piteous fashion; and he was beginning to vary his cries with snarls which boded no good to Pongo, when Georget returned and interrupted the conversation.

“Ah! little neighbor again! He want to speak to master or me?”

“I have come to bring your master my mother’s reply. He is very good----”

“Oh, no! he not good; but me beat him, me whip him if he claw again!”

“I am speaking of your master.”

“Oh! me tink it was my new friend Carabi; he claw my nose. Come, you go in right away.--Little gutter cat! you wait there till me come back. Don’t stir, or me take Zima!”

When he reappeared before Monsieur Malberg, Georget was sad, and seemed embarrassed; he kept his eyes on the floor, and dared not speak.

“Well, Georget, you have come to bring me your mother’s answer,” said Monsieur Malberg; “but to look at you one would think that you dared not tell me what it is.”

“Ah! monsieur, you see----”

“Mon Dieu! I will spare you the trouble of telling me, for I will wager that I can guess what your mother answered: she refused my offer, because she would have to part with you, and she prefers to live in poverty and not leave her son; isn’t that it?”

“Yes, monsieur, yes, that’s the truth; when I told her about monsieur’s offer, she was struck dumb at first; and when she did answer, I heard her voice trembling as if she were going to cry, when she said: ‘Well! if you want me to go away, if it bores you to live with your mother, why then I will go to this fine place in the country; but for my part, I should much prefer to live on a little, to be less comfortable, and to be where I could embrace my son every day; that would make me much happier!’--So then, monsieur, as you can imagine, I threw my arms about my mother’s neck and said to her: ‘It was in the hope of assuring your happiness that I offered you this; if you are happier with me, you must stay here, and I shall be happier too!’--Then she told me to come and thank you for your kindness, monsieur, and explain the reason for her refusal, and I beg you to forgive me for showing so little appreciation of your kindness; for in all this it is I who am most to blame. If I had had the courage to leave Paris, why, then my mother would have been very glad to go!”

“I don’t blame you, Georget, but I hope that your flower girl is worthy of the sacrifice you are making for her. Go, my boy.”

“And monsieur doesn’t want Violette to bring him a bouquet, so that--so that he can make her acquaintance.”

“No, I don’t want any bouquet.”

“And I am not to look for Monsieur de Roncherolle any more?”

“It’s no use.”

“But monsieur will still employ me when he needs a messenger?”

“That goes without saying. Now go.”

Georget went away in a sad frame of mind, for at the bottom of his heart he was not content with himself. As he passed through the reception room, he made no reply when Pongo called out to him:

“Monsieur Georget, Carabi not so bad now, he no claw nothing but my ear.”