Chapter XX: Poor Denise

Auguste and Bertrand had been gone several hours, and Schtrack was standing in the doorway trying to catch another glimpse of them, when a young village maiden, carrying a large bag of money in one hand, rushed into the courtyard and asked for Monsieur Dalville.

"Monsieur Dalville?" repeated Schtrack, taking his pipe from his mouth; "he isn't here any more, mamzelle."

"Not here! What do you mean, monsieur? This is certainly where he lived. I came here once before. You remember the time, don't you--when you wouldn't let me go upstairs?"

"Ah, ja! You had a little poy mit you then."

"Yes, monsieur. But where does Monsieur Dalville live now? Do you know, monsieur? It is absolutely necessary that I should see him and speak to him! Oh! if I only could have got this money sooner--what I owe him! But tell me, monsieur,--must I go somewhere else?"

"My little mamzelle, I don't think you will find Monsieur Dalville very easy."

"Why not, monsieur? I am ready to go anywhere--no matter where."

"I tell you it's too late. How do you expect to find the address of a man who's going round the world?"

"What's that?--Monsieur Auguste----"

"He started off this very day mit my friend Pertrand."

"Gone!"

"Ach ja! He got ruined here, so he's going to try to make a fortune somewhere else."

"He has gone away! You don't know where he is?"

"Yes, I do--don't I tell you he's gone round the world?"

"Oh! how unlucky! I have come too late!"

With that Denise lost consciousness and fell; but Schtrack caught her in his arms, and after laying his pipe on the post, carried her into the house. He took her into his lodge. When she swooned, the girl dropped the bag that she carried; it burst, and the five-franc pieces rolled about the courtyard. Schtrack, sorely embarrassed because he happened to be alone for the moment, ran from Denise to the money and from the money to his pipe, crying:

"Sacretié! this girl has to go and faint just when my wife ain't in! Well, well! my pipe's gone out, and the money's rolling all about! Sacretié!"

Luckily for the old German and for Denise, another lady entered the house at this juncture. It was Mademoiselle Virginie, who had come to invite herself to breakfast with Auguste, and who, when she saw the five-franc pieces scattered about the courtyard, exclaimed in surprise:

"Mon Dieu! what magnificence! They throw money out o'window here! I seem to have come just in time."

"Don't touch! don't touch!" cried Schtrack from his lodge; "it belongs to this girl who won't open her eyes."

"Well, old Dutchman, am I touching your money? What an uncivil old villain it is! What do you take me for, Monsieur Helvetian?--What girl can he be talking about?"

And as she spoke, Virginie walked toward the lodge, and she uttered a cry of surprise when she saw the young girl from Montfermeil, whom Schtrack was drenching with vinegar.

"It's Denise! it's my poor Denise!" she said, pushing Schtrack aside and taking charge of the young woman.

"Poor Denise! She ain't so poor, for I tell you that bag of crowns is hers," said Schtrack, returning to the courtyard to recover his pipe and pick up the money.

Virginie's efforts were soon successful in restoring Denise to consciousness. When she opened her eyes they rested on Virginie, and she exclaimed, sobbing bitterly:

"Oh! he has gone away, madame!"

"Who, pray, my dear love?"

"Monsieur Auguste."

"Auguste gone away! nonsense! he'll come back, of course, won't he?"

"Oh, no, madame! I shall never see him again. He's gone a long way."

"I say, Dutchman, is it true that Auguste has left Paris?"

"Ja! ja! he's gone round the world with Pertrand."

"Round the world! Great God! And I came to ask him to invite me to breakfast! Come, my little Denise, don't cry like that!--Poor child! she makes me feel sad.--So you loved Auguste, did you, my dear child?"

"Oh, yes, madame!"

"There! I knew it! she loved him! I suspected as much.--And he swore that he loved you too, of course; for these villains of men, they swear to that as if they were just saying good-morning."

"No, madame, Auguste didn't love me, I'm very sure of that!"

"Then it's very kind of you to weep for him."

"Oh! I can't help it."

"I know well enough that love is stronger than we are. I know all about that! I have been through it. There are men that one can't help persisting in loving.--And you came to Paris to see him?"

"Yes, madame, and to give him this money. When you came to see me three weeks ago, you told us that Monsieur Auguste was ruined. I didn't know anything about it before."

"Yes, yes, I remember; and I played ghost; and if it hadn't been for your dog nipping the calf of my leg, I'd have had the whole village in the air."

"Last summer Monsieur Auguste gave me a thousand crowns for little Coco; but he was rich then; to-day, as he isn't rich any more, it seemed to me that I ought to give back that money. We had used it for building a cottage and laying out a garden; but I made my aunt understand that we mustn't tell Monsieur Auguste that we had used the money at all. My aunt's kindhearted too. Besides, it was no more than our duty. As I succeeded in getting the last of the money yesterday, I started to bring it to him right away. I came alone so as not to be delayed, and after all I got here too late! He has gone, and he isn't coming back again!"

Denise began to cry again, while Schtrack returned with the money and handed it to her, saying:

"There ain't a single one missing; count 'em, mamzelle."

"Alas! what shall I do with it now? This money was for him," said Denise.

"You had better take it home again, my child; a person can never have too much of it," Virginie replied, while Schtrack, still holding the bag, repeated:

"Count 'em, mamzelle, if you blease."

"Don't you see that she don't want to count it, you pig-headed old fool?" said Virginie. "We all know that the Dutchman is honest."

"Never mind, count just the same, mamzelle, if you blease."

Virginie decided to count the money, because Schtrack would not otherwise have left them in peace. Meanwhile Denise said to the concierge:

"Did Monsieur Auguste look very sad when he went away, monsieur?"

"Sad? no, mamzelle, he was fery glad to go, judging from what he said."

"I'll bet he's gone to pick up a legacy," said Virginie, "and that's why he went off so sudden. Didn't he tell you so, Dutchman?"

"No, he haf not said anything of a legacy, but he sold[F] all his furniture."

[F] Schtrack is supposed to pronounce the word _vendu_--sold--like _fendu_--split or broken;--hence the misunderstanding.

"What's that? He smashed all his furniture? Had he gone mad, then?"

"I tell you he sold everything, to get money."

"Oh! sold his furniture! Why don't you say what you mean--with your Zurich French!"

"You see how badly off he must have been," said Denise, "to sell everything he had!"

"That don't prove anything, my dear girl; in the first place, as he was leaving Paris, he didn't need any furniture; and then there are people who prefer to live in furnished lodgings. For my part, I've sold my furniture four or five times, and yet I stay in Paris; you see that every day.--But after all, in which direction has the fellow gone? Didn't he tell you, monsieur le concierge?"

"Yes; he's gone round the world."

"The deuce! that's a definite address! Think of writing: 'To Monsieur So-and-So, going round the world!'--And he's taken Bertrand with him, has he?"

"Yes, I'm fery sorry for it, because Pertrand was just beginning to work fery gut."

"Bertrand, work? at what, pray?"

"At making preeches, bantaloons; it was me who taught him."

"My dear man, I think you must be dreaming now. Bertrand, the old soldier, Auguste's faithful servant, make breeches?"

"Like a horse."

"You're crazy!"

"No, no, I ain't; Pertrand, he did work. He passed every night working, and my wife told me he did it to help his master, who was throwing away all his money."

Virginie was speechless, but Denise exclaimed:

"I understand only too well. Dear old Bertrand! I knew he was a fine fellow! He worked to help Auguste, who didn't know anything about it, probably."

"Oh, no! he was going to sew up my tongue if I said a word."

"Well, madame, if Monsieur Auguste hadn't been without means, would Bertrand have worked at tailoring--worked all night?"

"Faith, my dear girl, I don't understand it at all. The last time I saw Auguste he treated me to punch, and yet he must have moved up to the fifth floor even then. To be sure, he had such a kind heart, he was so generous!--Well, well! there she is crying again! My dear Denise, you'll make your eyes as red as a rabbit's; and that won't bring Auguste back. Poor child! how she loves him! Those ne'er-do-wells must have some kind of magic power, to inspire such passions. Don't get excited, Denise--he'll come back, he hasn't gone away forever. You'll see him again, I'm sure of it; and when he knows how much you love him, I propose that he shall love you and cherish you; I'll tell him what grief and torture he has caused you; I'll tell him how good, how gentle and sweet you are. Come, don't cry any more. Kiss me, Denise; Auguste will love you, for you well deserve it."

Virginie was deeply moved; Denise's suffering had melted her; for the first time in a very long while, genuine tears fell from her eyes as she threw her arms about the village girl.

Nothing pacifies the wretched so quickly as to find that someone else shares their distress. Denise listened to Virginie's entreaties; she exerted herself to summon her courage; she wiped her eyes, rose, and said with a long-drawn sigh:

"I'll go back to the village then."

"Yes, my dear girl, that's the wisest thing you can do."

"But suppose he should come back, madame?"

"Well, I'll let you know, I'll come and tell you; I promise to do my utmost to learn something about him."

"Ah! how good you are, madame!"

"Why, no--the trouble is that you're a slip of a girl who ought to be kept under glass."

"Monsieur le concierge," said Denise, "if you hear anything about Monsieur Auguste, don't forget to ask where he is, and find out where a person can write to him."

"Ja, mamzelle."

"Don't you be afraid, little Denise: I'll come often and ask Dutchy if he knows anything. He's a good fellow, though he does smoke all the time, is Monsieur--What's your name?"

"Schtrack."

"Schtrack! Oh! what a name! Schtrack! I believe that that means blackguardism in German. Never mind--au revoir, Monsieur Schtrack. Come, my love, I'll walk to the diligence office with you."

Denise left Auguste's late abode, and, with her arm through Virginie's, returned to the diligence office, carrying the bag of money which she had no choice but to take back to the village. Virginie offered to take the trip with her, but the girl declined her offer with thanks, and, after urging her to try to find out something concerning the man whom she had hoped to find in Paris, she entered the stage and rode sadly back to Montfermeil, saying to herself:

"Alas! I am not lucky in my trips to Paris."