Chapter XV: A Trap

To Georget’s mind, the best way to find an excuse for his wrongdoing was to go to her who was the cause of his committing it; so that was what he did not fail to do; and as he looked at the fascinating flower girl, he said to himself:

“As if it would have been possible for me to live without seeing her! Oh, no! I should have died of grief, and that would have made my mother more unhappy than all the rest! So I did well not to accept Monsieur Malberg’s offer.”

Thus it is that man always finds a way to compromise with his conscience and to put himself on pleasant terms with it.

Violette smiled pleasantly at Georget, saying:

“So you’re not travelling all over Paris to-day, Georget?”

“No, mamzelle, my travels are ended; Monsieur Malberg doesn’t want me to go on looking for his man.--But what has become of Chicotin? I never see him here now.”

“That’s true, he doesn’t come so much as he did. I am not sorry, for he frequently knocked my customers down, and that would have ended by injuring my trade.”

“Your customers! You mean the fine gentlemen who come here to make sweet speeches to you! Do you still see those fellows?”

“Dear me! when it pleases them to buy flowers of me I can’t refuse to sell them.”

“Ah! if I was rich, Mamzelle Violette, you wouldn’t sell anything at all, you would have a home of your own, and a lovely room, with nothing else to do but arrange your hair!”

“Really, Georget, you would give me all that?”

“Indeed I would, and much more too if I had it!”

“Do you think that I would accept it from you rather than from another man?”

“Why, mamzelle, when a man has only honorable sentiments; you may be sure that I wouldn’t offer that to you as a mistress, but as--as--as--Oh! Violette, you understand me well enough, but you are not willing to help me a little!”

“No, Georget, I do not choose to understand you, because I don’t choose to take seriously the foolish things that you say to me.”

“Foolish things! oh! you are mistaken, mamzelle; and if you knew,--if you could guess--you would no longer doubt my love! Yes, Violette, I love you. I must pluck up courage to tell you, if you refuse to believe it; I love you to the point of--but I mustn’t tell you that.”

“What is it? Come, Georget, finish. You say nothing? Poor boy! you imagine that you love me; but in a month, in less than that perhaps, you will have something else in your mind. You are a child, do you know! A boy should never talk of love until he’s twenty-one.”

“Oh! mon Dieu! how I would like to grow old! So you don’t believe me, mamzelle?”

“I say again that it’s very possible that you believe what you say now; but it won’t be so for long,--you are too young.”

“Too young, that is the only thing you can throw in my face. What proofs do you want to make you believe in my love?”

“See, Georget, look at that little bit of a man passing over there, who looks at me in such a funny way.”

“Ah! I recognize him; it’s the little squint-eyed fellow. I had an idea that that creature was in love with you too; but I am not jealous of him! he’s too ugly! Why do you point him out to me? I wasn’t talking about him, mamzelle.”

“I pointed him out to you, Georget, because that little fellow, who can hardly be any older than you, a year at most, has been prowling about here all the time for several days; he constantly bargains for flowers with me, and then he too has told me that he adores me, and has suggested carrying me off and taking me to Saint-Germain or to Versailles, or even farther, declaring that he would make me happy.”

“What! that little wretch has told you all that?”

“Yes, that little fellow has told me all those foolish things; and I laughed in his face--that was the best thing for me to do. Since then, he has ceased to speak to me, but he comes here just as often and hurls savage glances at me--look, as he is doing now.”

“Ah! if he treats you discourteously, I’ll go and say a word to him.”

“No, Georget, he’s not discourteous, for he doesn’t speak; we can’t prevent his walking here; and besides, I am always tempted to laugh when I look at him, remembering that one day Chicotin knocked him down in such a way that he tore both knees of his trousers.”

“Oh! how I would have liked to see that! There he goes away; he has made up his mind it’s no use, and he has done well.”

“Well, Georget, if I had listened to what that young man said, do you think that I should have done right?”

“Oh, no! of course not!”

“So then you see that I should be no more reasonable if I should listen to you.”

“Oh! what a difference, Violette! You compare my love with that of that little popinjay who hardly knows you! Whereas I have seen you and loved you for three years! So I am nothing more to you than the first comer who pays you compliments as he buys your bouquets! Ah! it isn’t right to treat me so. You wouldn’t act like this if you knew----”

“What? if I knew what? Ah! you tire me, constantly beginning sentences which you don’t finish!”

Georget had on the end of his lips the avowal of the sacrifice he had made to his love for Violette; for in youth, one has not become accustomed to sacrifices, and it is natural to boast of them. However, the young lover retained that secret which was on the point of escaping him; he suspected that the pretty flower girl would scold him roundly for having acted so, and that, far from approving his conduct, she would try to compel him to accept Monsieur Malberg’s offer; so he deemed it prudent to hold his peace, and he did not answer Violette’s questions. At that moment someone came up who wanted Georget to run on an errand, and he seized that opportunity to take his leave, waving his hand as an adieu to the flower girl.

The pretty peddler was more moved than she had chosen to appear. Georget was such a dear fellow! It was the first time that he had told her in so many words that he loved her, and he had made that declaration in such a sweet voice, with such an affectionate expression, that it was difficult not to believe in his sincerity, and further, not to be touched by that genuine love, in which passion was so artlessly expressed.

While giving her young lover sage advice, and while pretending to laugh at his suffering, Violette had nevertheless felt a very keen sensation; her heart had opened to a happiness that she had not as yet known, and she was herself amazed by the unfamiliar joy which filled her whole being.

About an hour had passed since Georget had gone away, when a sort of servant approached Violette and said to her:

“Mademoiselle la bouquetière, I want a fine bouquet for my mistress, Madame de Belleval; all the rarest flowers that you have; the price does not matter. I will give you a hundred sous in advance, and if that isn’t enough, she will give you the rest.”

“That will be enough, monsieur; for a hundred sous I will make you a superb bouquet!”

“But, mademoiselle, you must have the kindness to carry it to madame yourself, for I am in a great hurry; I haven’t time to wait, and I shan’t come back this way.”

“I am to carry the bouquet? Is it far from here?”

“No, mademoiselle, Boulevard Beaumarchais, 98.”

“That is quite a long distance.”

“No, mademoiselle; you know, if you don’t leave the boulevard, you are soon there.”

“Oh! I know all about that, and if there is no great hurry----”

“Can you carry it within an hour?”

“Yes, I will go within an hour.”

“By the way, madame wants also to order a smaller one for to-morrow, to take to a wedding or a ball; madame will explain to you about it. So she can rely upon the bouquet, mademoiselle?”

“To be sure, monsieur, as I have received the money. You say Madame de Belleval, Boulevard Beaumarchais, 98?”

“That’s it; good-morning.”

The servant disappeared, and Violette began to select her finest flowers, saying to herself:

“It seems that this is likely to be a good customer! I can make as much as I choose! To think that Georget, when he was without money the other day and his mother was sick, didn’t apply to me! And he says that he loves me! Perhaps I spoke too harshly to him; and he thinks that I have an unfeeling heart; I don’t want him to think that!”

When the girl had finished the bouquet, with which she took the greatest care, she asked a neighbor to look after her booth and started for Boulevard Beaumarchais; she arrived at the number given her; she entered an attractive, newly-built house and asked the concierge:

“Madame de Belleval?”

The concierge assumed the expression of a person who does not know what one means; then suddenly he remembered and slapped his leg, exclaiming:

“Ah! what a stupid fool I am! I forgot all about it.--Go up to the fifth floor, the door at the right, for Madame de Belleval.”

“The fifth floor?”

“Yes, the door at the right.”

Violette went upstairs, saying to herself:

“That concierge acted very strangely when he answered me; perhaps he always has that manner. It’s surprising that a lady who buys such handsome bouquets should live so high; but lodgings are very dear now; and after all, it’s none of my business.”

And without the slightest suspicion, the girl quickly climbed the five flights and rang at the door on the right hand. It was opened immediately, and a woman who had the appearance of a box-opener out of a job said to Violette:

“Ah! mamzelle has brought the bouquet; that’s good! Come in, mamzelle, come in.”

“But I only have to deliver the bouquet,--it is paid for.”

“No matter; come in, mamzelle, she wants to speak to you; wait a minute.”

And the girl was almost pushed into a small salon the door of which was at once closed upon her.

“To be sure,” thought Violette, “that servant told me that his mistress wanted to order a bouquet for a ball to-morrow. I will wait. It isn’t very fine here; it’s pretty enough, but it’s funny that there’s no coquetry, no taste in the arrangement; I should think that I was in a gentleman’s room rather than a lady’s. And that woman who let me in--she’s neither a lady’s maid nor a cook. I believe that I am rather frightened here; I am inclined to go away.”

And Violette had already taken several steps toward the door of the salon, when it opened and Jéricourt appeared before her, in dressing-gown and slippers, like a person in his own home.

The flower girl uttered a cry; she realized that she had fallen into a trap; but in an instant she recovered her courage, and Violette had an ample store of it; in her case, fright was but temporary. She raised her head therefore and gazed steadfastly at the man before her.

Jéricourt assumed one of his most winning smiles and stepped toward the girl.

“You didn’t expect to see me, did you, bewitching damsel?”

“No, monsieur, I am waiting for a lady, Madame de Belleval; am I in her apartment?”

“Madame de Belleval is--is my aunt, dear child, and I live with her.”

“Ah! you live here? Well, why doesn’t your aunt come, monsieur? I have no business with you, and if this aunt doesn’t mean to come then I will go about my business.”

And Violette took several steps toward the door; but Jéricourt barred her passage and led her back into the salon, saying:

“Mon Dieu! how quick you are! Are you in such a great hurry, pray? Take a seat--she is coming.”

As she did not choose to disclose her apprehensions, Violette decided to sit down for a moment. Whereupon the young man also took a chair and placed it beside her and very near.

“Do you know, charming girl, that I am overjoyed to have a chat with you at last? I have wanted it a long while, and it is so hard to obtain the slightest favor from you!”

“Are you going to repeat the same song as on the boulevard, monsieur? I know it already; I have no wish to learn it by heart, for, as I have told you, I don’t like the tune.”

“How unkind you are! But this little outburst of anger makes you prettier than ever! Women who surrender at once cease to have any value; whereas your conquest would be a genuine triumph.”

“Your aunt doesn’t come, monsieur, so I will go.”

“My aunt! Ha! ha! ha! that’s a good one! do you still believe in that, little one?”

“What, monsieur, is it a lie? And this Madame de Belleval, who sent to me for this bouquet----”

“Never existed except in my imagination. I wanted to decoy you to my rooms, for you refused to come willingly; so I resorted to stratagem. That’s often done--it’s fair fighting.”

“Oh! but it’s an outrage!--So the concierge whom I asked for that lady----”

“I had warned him that someone would ask for a person of that name, and I ordered him to send her up to me; it’s as simple as good-day.”

“And that woman who opened the door and told me that Madame de Belleval would come in a minute----”

“Is an obliging neighbor; I paid her for that little service with a ticket to the theatre.”

“Why, this is frightful! And there are people who lend a hand to such outrages!”

“My dear child, you make a great fuss over a very small matter! To try to obtain a tête-à-tête with a pretty flower girl is no great crime; I might have kept up the deception much longer, but I am very honest, you see; I play with my cards on the table.--Come, don’t be angry; you will have to end by calming down, anyway. Let’s make peace at once, and seal the treaty with a kiss.”

Before Jéricourt could put his lips to Violette’s face, she rose and ran toward the door; but the young man ran after her and detained her by putting his arm about her waist.

“Oh! you shan’t escape me so, my dear; you are in my room and we are alone.--Come, don’t be so cruel; but let me kiss you.”

“Take care, monsieur; you think that you have a weak girl to deal with, but I am not afraid of you; you won’t get anything from me, I give you fair warning; and if you try to use force, look out! I won’t spare your face, that you’re so proud of.--Let me alone, monsieur, I don’t propose that you shall kiss me.”

Jéricourt paid no heed to the girl’s entreaties; he attempted to pursue his enterprise, but he met with a resistance which he was far from expecting; Violette’s hands were active and strong; she put one of them to her persecutor’s face and dug her nails in so far that the blood flowed freely, and the pain forced the young man to relax his hold. He went to the mirror to look at himself, and exclaimed angrily:

“That’s an abominable thing for you to do, mademoiselle--to scratch my face and mutilate me! only tigresses do that; it’s only among the _canaille_ that such things are indulged in.”

“Indeed, monsieur! So I am of the _canaille_ because I defend myself, because I don’t allow monsieur to take liberties with me. Why do you pay any attention to me then? why do you degrade yourself with a dealer in flowers?”

“As if I could suspect anything of the kind! To attack a man’s face--that’s the worst possible form!”

“You’ve got no more than you deserve, monsieur; I gave you fair warning; and if you should try again to keep me, I promise you that you wouldn’t get off so cheap.”

“Oh! I won’t keep you any longer, mademoiselle, I have had enough. You are free, but I have some scratches on my face that I shall not forget! You will be sorry that you treated me so!”

“Oh! I am not afraid of you, monsieur, and I have proved it. When a man acts as you have done, he shouldn’t threaten other people--he should try to be more decent in order to obtain forgiveness for what he has done.--Adieu, monsieur.”

Violette opened the door of the salon, passed through another small room, and opened another door; but in her haste she made a mistake; it was not the door leading to the landing, but she had almost entered the bedroom. Discovering her error, she retraced her steps, and at last found the outer door.

Meanwhile Jéricourt had followed and overtaken her, and he tried again to detain her by seizing her dress; but she roughly shook him off, and with a glance that banished any desire to stop her again, she rushed out on the landing and down the stairs, without turning her head; nor did she see a young man who was then standing at his open door, directly opposite Jéricourt’s.

This young man, who was no other than little Astianax, uttered a cry of surprise on recognizing the girl, who passed very near him. Having followed her with his eyes as she descended the stairs, he turned toward Jéricourt, who was standing in his doorway, and said:

“It is surely she; it’s the pretty flower girl of the Château d’Eau!--I say, neighbor, she came out of your room----”

“Why, to be sure; you must have seen her come out.”

“Yes, yes, I saw her.--Aha! so the little flower girl comes to see you! The deuce! you’re a lucky man!”

“It is true, I am generally lucky with women.”

“Is your face inflamed, neighbor, that you are holding your handkerchief over your cheek?”

“No, but I have a slight toothache.”

“All the same, I confess that I can’t get over it; Mademoiselle Violette coming out of your room! She was very red, and decidedly rumpled too!”

“Why--that was the result of our interview.”

“Oh, yes! I understand. Gad! you are favored by Venus! The pretty flower girl, who made such a parade of her pride and virtue, and sent me about my business when I made impassioned speeches to her, and snubbed me when I proposed to take her to Saint-Germain by train!”

“Let this be a lesson to you, young man; it will teach you that you mustn’t trust the airs these young women assume.--Au revoir, Astianax.”

“Au revoir, Joconde! Don Juan! Richelieu!”

Jéricourt returned to his room, saying to himself:

“Now I am sure of my revenge! Mademoiselle Violette will pay dear for the scratches she gave me!”