Chapter IV: Unexpected Fortune.--A Ride.--The Effects of Wealth

A week had passed since the ball at Monsieur de Marcey’s. The baron had left Paris on the following day, to visit one of his estates some leagues from the capital. He was in the habit of absenting himself quite often, either to visit some friend, or to inspect his various estates, or simply in search of diversion; but his absences did not ordinarily last more than ten or twelve days. When Monsieur de Marcey set out upon one of these little trips, his son very rarely accompanied him. Alfred, on his side, followed all his own fancies; he went wherever he chose, stayed in the city or in the country, untrammelled by the baron in any respect.

Alfred was in his own apartment, dressing--a very serious occupation for a dandy; but he was doing it carelessly, because for the moment there was no one whom he was especially desirous to please. To be sure he still gave a thought to Madame de Gerville from time to time, for the vivacious Jenny had really attracted him; but she had taken offence because he had thought Clara pretty and had told her so. Alfred, who could not understand how a woman could take offence at anything so natural, had done nothing to appease Jenny’s anger; and as he dressed, he said to himself:

"Women are becoming unreasonably exacting! They would like us not to notice that a woman we happen to have on our arm is pretty; but they are very willing that we should think ugly women pretty. Oh! they are exceedingly kind to those who are ugly; they persist in assuring us that they are good-looking; ‘you are too particular,’ they will say; ‘that woman is not bad-looking.’--But when we say: ‘Look! there’s a lovely woman!’ they cry: ‘Mon Dieu! where in heaven’s name are your eyes? I thought that you had better taste than that. What good points do you see in her?’--Mon Dieu! mesdames, why don’t you remember that one is never a just judge in his own cause? You may say what you please, but men will always be better able than you to detect in a woman that indefinable something that imparts charm to a face which you consider very ordinary; and, by the same token, you should be more just to men than we are."

Alfred was disturbed in his reflections by a great noise in his salon, and an instant later the door of his dressing-room was suddenly thrown open, and Robineau, rushing in like a bombshell, threw himself into his arms so violently that he overturned a very dainty washstand, at which Albert was performing his ablutions.

"Oh! my friend! my dear friend!" cried Robineau, whose face was transfigured by excitement, "how happy I am! Pray embrace me! No, it is my place to embrace you!--Ah! you don’t know,--you have no suspicion!"

"What I do know is that you rush in here like a madman," rejoined Alfred, "and that you have broken a most exquisite washstand from Jacob’s--a perfectly beautiful thing."

"I don’t care for that, my friend; I’ll give you another--two, three, if you choose! I’ll give you anything you want!"

Alfred scrutinized Robineau and tried to read in his eyes, while Robineau tried to calm himself a little and to make himself understood.

"My dear Alfred, my joy, my bewilderment must seem extraordinary to you--I can understand that; they produce the same effect on me, and there are times when I think I am dreaming. But it isn’t a dream, thank God!--When I left you a week ago, after your ball, what was I?"

"Faith! you were drunk."

"That isn’t what I mean.--I was still a mere clerk, a humble copyist at fifteen hundred francs a year."

"Are you the chief of a bureau now?"

"Better than that, my friend!--I have consigned the bureau to all the devils!--I have twenty-five thousand francs a year!"

"Twenty-five thousand?"

"Yes, my friend! yes, I, Jules-Raoul Robineau! I am going to set up a carriage! I am rich--almost as rich as you; not quite so rich yet to be sure, but it may come. When one is on the road to wealth--Yes--wait a minute, till I sit down. I am exhausted! Since I have had twenty-five thousand francs a year, I have suffered from palpitations; indeed, there are times when I really can’t breathe!"

Robineau threw himself on a couch, took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, loosened the waistband of his trousers so that he could breathe more easily, in fact, made himself perfectly comfortable. It was plain that money had already produced its effect, and that he was no longer the humble government clerk who bowed to the floor before he ventured to take a chair in the salons of his friend the Baron de Marcey. But wealth long ago proved its power to change the temper, the disposition, the aspect and manners of a person, and it is probable that the lessons of the past will always be thrown away, because men will be no better to-morrow than they were yesterday.

Alfred, who considered that there was no reason why his friend’s newly acquired wealth should prevent him from washing, had resumed his suddenly interrupted occupation, and waited tranquilly for Robineau to explain himself more at length. At last, after putting one foot on a stool, and looking about for a chair on which to put the other, the ex-clerk continued:

"My dear fellow, you must have heard me say that I had an uncle who sailed for the Indies when he was very young."

"Oh, yes! and you have never heard from him, and he has come home enormously rich. That’s what happens in all the vaudevilles."

"I am not talking about vaudevilles.--This uncle, my father’s brother, left home.--My dear parents never heard of him again.--They died, leaving me nothing but an education, which, I venture to say, is----"

"Go on, go on! I was at school with you, and I know that somebody else always had to write your translations and your themes; but no matter!"

"Yes; let us drop the Latin.--Yesterday, my dear fellow, when I returned from the department, I found a letter at my rooms. I opened it; it was from a notary, inviting me to call at once at his office, provided with my papers, certificate of baptism, etc. I didn’t quite know what to expect from a letter from a notary; but I complied with his invitation instantly. The notary asked me if I had any parents, and all sorts of details about my family; at last, my dear Alfred, when I had answered all his questions, and proved that I was really Jules-Raoul Robineau, son of Benoît-Etienne Robineau and Cécile Desboulloir, he said to me without any other preamble:

"‘Monsieur, your uncle, Gratien Robineau, has recently deceased at Havre, where he had just landed. He had turned all his fortune into cash, and proposed to pass the rest of his life in Paris, when death, which he had defied a hundred times in distant lands, struck him down as he reached the haven. Your uncle has left you all his property, and it amounts to about five hundred thousand francs.’"

"Five hundred thousand francs!"

"Ah! my friend, you can imagine my delight, my amazement. I almost fainted, and the notary had to give me vinegar and salts."

"What! you, Robineau, a philosopher, a bachelor without ambition, who despised riches,--you fainted when you learned that you had inherited a fortune?"

"Oh! my dear fellow, a man may be a philosopher, you know--that’s all right; indeed it’s the best thing one can do when one has to endure privations; but he may have a heart all the same, and be easily moved; and five hundred thousand francs! I thought at first that that meant a million a year, but, on figuring it out, I found that it was only twenty-five thousand francs at five per cent.--But when a man is sharp and knows how to go about it, he can make his money bring in six or eight or ten per cent.--Isn’t that so, my friend?"

"My dear Robineau, I know very well how to spend money, but I know absolutely nothing about investing it."

"Of course not! You have never been a clerk in the Treasury!"

"However, if I should give you any advice, it would be to invest your money in solid securities, consols or real estate. It seems to me that a man who has been accustomed to live on fifteen hundred francs a year may do very well with twenty thousand; and it would be better to have no more than that and have it perfectly safe, than to expose your fortune to the risks of business. That is my opinion, my dear Robineau; a man may be very heedless about his own concerns and yet advise others wisely; so you will do well to----"

Robineau, who seemed to grew impatient toward the end of Alfred’s harangue, had risen and was walking about the room humming; at last he interrupted his friend.

"All right! all right!" he cried; "I thank you for your advice, but I flatter myself that I shall be able to manage my fortune as well as any other man. Let us drop the subject, my friend, and think only of pleasures, of merry-making. In my opinion, when a man is rich, life should be simply a torrent of enjoyments.--Finish your dressing and let’s go out to breakfast; I invite you to breakfast with me at the Café Anglais, or the Café de la Bourse, or Véry’s, if you choose."

"You come too late, my dear Robineau; I have breakfasted."

"What’s the odds? You can begin again."

"No indeed! Do you think that because one is rich, one can eat every minute of the day without making one’s self sick?"

"The devil! that’s a pity. I have already had some coffee and tea, but I want a déjeuner à la fourchette--that’s better form.--By the way, my dear Alfred, as to form I will take your advice. I know that you follow the fashions, and I propose to follow them too, strictly.--Twenty-five thousand francs a year! Why, just imagine my joy!"

"Faith, I congratulate you; for you are a good fellow at bottom."

"If you knew how many plans I already have in my head! I mean to do so many things that I don’t know where to begin!--But let us go to breakfast, I beg; you can pretend to eat."

The two young men were about to go out when Edouard appeared. Robineau did not give him time to bid his friend good-morning, but threw his arms about his neck, embraced him and apprized him of the change that had taken place in his fortune. Edouard quietly congratulated him, and Robineau could not understand why the news did not produce a greater effect on him; he conceived that all those who were about him ought to be equally excited and enchanted on learning that he had twenty-five thousand francs a year.

"I came to ask you to breakfast with me," Edouard said to Alfred.

Giving the latter no time to reply, Robineau seized Edouard’s arm and cried:

"I am going to take you with us; we will breakfast together, yes, and dine too, if you have time; and while we are at the table, I’ll tell you my plans, my ideas.--Look, here’s a coat that I bought yesterday ready-made; I was in a hurry to have a new one. It fits me rather well, eh?--Let us go downstairs, and I’ll show you my cabriolet."

"What! have you bought a cabriolet and horses, already?"

"No, I have hired until I can buy them. I must have other lodgings; I can’t keep my cabriolet in my present fourth floor apartment; I am going to look for one with a stable and carriage house.--Mon Dieu! how many things I have to do! Really, I had no idea that wealth kept one so busy."

Alfred and Edouard glanced at each other with a smile; then they followed Robineau, who could not keep still, but ran through the rooms puffing like an ox.

They went downstairs, Robineau in the lead; he called his servant and shouted to him to get up behind his carriage.

"We shall founder your horse," said Alfred; "I might take my own cabriolet for Edouard and myself."

"No, no," said Robineau, "I prefer to go together. My horse is strong; at all events, if he isn’t a good one, I’ll make them give me another to-morrow. Oh! I see to it that I am well served, I do!--Get up behind, François; I will drive."

They all entered Robineau’s cabriolet; he seated himself in the middle, took the reins and essayed to drive, because he was convinced that as soon as one is rich, one knows everything by instinct. He plied the whip vigorously, pulled the reins this way and that, and tormented his horse, who grazed curbstones and pedestrians every instant; and while his companions laughed at his exertions and at his manner of driving, he locked his wheel in the wheel of a cab, while trying to avoid a dray.

The cabman swore and said that he must be a duffer to run into his wheel; Robineau swore too, in order not to seem to be in the wrong; but his oaths did not suffice to extricate him from the fix in which he had involved himself; and, realizing that he would never get out of the tangle himself, he handed the reins to Alfred, saying:

"Do me the favor to drive, my dear fellow, for I am so engrossed by my affairs that I might mistake the road."

Thanks to Alfred, they cut loose from the cab and arrived without other mishaps at the Palais-Royal. They went to Beauvilliers’, and Robineau ordered all the most expensive dishes; if his two companions had not checked him, he would have provided a breakfast for twenty and would have shouted at the top of his lungs that he had twenty-five thousand francs a year.

"By the way," said Alfred, "what of Fifine? you don’t mention her. She must be much pleased by what has happened to you, isn’t she?"

"Fifine!" repeated Robineau, with a distraught air; "oh! I haven’t had time yet to see her since I went to my notary’s.--_My notary!_ I say, messieurs, how that rings in the ear! My notary!"

"Do you mean to say, Monsieur Robineau," said Edouard, "that you have not yet imparted your good news to her who was so dear to you a week since? Pray consider that when a woman has loved you for yourself alone, you owe her a debt of gratitude; and the least that you can do is to let her share your pleasure in what has happened to you."

"Edouard is right," said Alfred; "when you have had the good luck to fall in with a good, sensible, loyal woman, it seems to me, my friend, that you can hardly do too much for her."

"Messieurs, messieurs," replied Robineau, nibbling at the wing of a chicken, "it is very easy for you to talk; perhaps you would like me to make Mademoiselle Fifine my wife; that would be very pretty!"

"We know very well that you won’t do that; but----"

"But I can’t keep that little milliner for my mistress either. You must agree that when one has a considerable fortune, one may fly at higher game, more distinguished. And then, messieurs, between ourselves, Mamzelle Fifine isn’t exactly a model of virtue; indeed she falls very far short of it. I have noticed several times that--you understand--but I have always pretended not to see anything, because I wasn’t in love with her. And then, she has a flighty disposition, a very quick temper; she’s a perfect dragon. For my part, I like mild-mannered women. I am accustomed to her face; but the fact is that she isn’t pretty; she has a bold look and that’s all."

"Oh! I say, Robineau, you don’t propose to tell us now that she hasn’t a good figure; she was a Venus the other night."

"Oh, yes! a strange kind of Venus! And she made me spend all my money on little parties of two; two-thirds of my salary went that way."

"What, man! a woman who loved you for yourself alone?"

"Yes. Oh! I know that she loved me; but that didn’t prevent her being as gluttonous as a cat. However, messieurs, I have no desire to speak ill of her; I shall certainly buy her something; I am too generous to--But let us drop Fifine and talk about my plans. My dear friends, you have no idea what I have in my head--well! it’s a château!"

"A château!" exclaimed Alfred; "why, my poor Robineau, you are mad; if you buy a château you won’t have anything left to keep it up!"

"Bah! I know how to calculate. There are châteaux and châteaux! Why can’t I put a hundred thousand francs into a nice little estate, an estate with a house on it, built in the old style? My notary assures me that he can find such a one very readily; and then, my dear friends, I can assume the name of my estate. That is done every day; and, between ourselves, Robineau is a very vulgar name for a man with twenty-five thousand francs a year."

"What, Monsieur Robineau!" said Edouard; "you, who declared that you should never change, whatever might happen, and whose discourse reminded one of Socrates and Cincinnatus!"

"As I have told you, my friends, I have my plans. I look a long way ahead. I buy a small château, an estate, no matter where, and I assume its name; that gives me at once an air of nobility; then I find a rich heiress, I present myself, I make a favorable impression, and I marry. What do you say to that? It seems to me that’s not a bad scheme; and if I had no other name than Robineau, I could never become allied to a distinguished family! Mon Dieu! my dear Uncle Gratien, what a noble use I will make of your wealth!"

"And to begin with, you propose to discard his name."

"You must see that I do it from policy. It is decided: I shall buy an estate, I shall have peasants and vassals, and they will call me monseigneur!"

"They won’t call you monseigneur, my poor Robineau, because in these days the man who owns lands, houses and farms is not on that account at liberty to dispose at his pleasure of the people who till his fields; and those delightful little prerogatives of _cuissage, jambage, marquette, prélibation,_ and the like, which made the plight of vassals worse than that of beasts of burden, and degraded mankind by exalting one man at the expense of his fellowman--those prerogatives no longer exist; because men love a kind and virtuous master and no longer tremble before an arrogant and dissipated lord; because all men are under the protection of the laws, which ordain obedience and not humiliation; and finally because there are no more serfs except in Russia, where I advise you to go to buy your château, if you want to be called monseigneur. But I really believe, Robineau, that if you were left to your own devices, you would become one of the petty tyrants of the olden time, or at least a wolf, like the one in Little Red Riding Hood."

"I say, messieurs, to my mind, that was a very pretty little prerogative that entitled the lord to be the first man to put his legs into a newly married woman’s bed.--But I will make _rosières_[2]--that will be just the same thing."

"Pending the time when you make rosières, pay the bill and let us go."

"Already?"

"Do you propose to pass your life in restaurants?"

"No, of course not; but it’s only half-past twelve, messieurs.--What does one do all day long when one is rich?"

"Attends to his business, when he has any, and enjoys himself when he has an opportunity--and that doesn’t happen every day."

"I don’t propose to leave you to-day, my friends. I will take you wherever you would like to go; to the Bouffes if you please; there’s a performance there to-day. That’s the rich man’s theatre, and I shall go nowhere else; but it isn’t one o’clock, and we can’t go to the Bouffes in the morning."

"Edouard and I are going for a ride," said Alfred, "and we shall probably take a turn in the Bois de Boulogne."

"To ride!" cried Robineau; "the devil! that’s my style; I’ll go with you!"

"Do you know how to sit a horse?"

"Never fear. It would be a great joke if a man with twenty-five thousand francs a year shouldn’t know how to sit on a horse!"

"In that case, come with us; I’ll lend you a mare that has a very gentle trot."

"That’s the thing; and I’ll make her gallop all the time. By the way, my friends, another word before we go: do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"After this, don’t call me Robineau any more, but call me by my Christian name--Jules; that is more _distingué,_ it has a pleasanter sound."

"I will call you Monsieur le Marquis Jules, if you choose," laughed Edouard.

"As for me," said Alfred, "I shall call you whatever comes into my head."

"Try to let nothing come into it but Jules, I entreat you."

They returned to Alfred’s house, on foot this time, because, despite Robineau’s entreaties, the two friends did not care to crowd themselves into his cabriolet again. The _nouveau riche_ decided therefore to dismiss his carriage, and accompanied his friends on foot; but on the way he assumed airs and graces which caused his companions much amusement. He did not deign to glance at the multitude, he refused to turn aside for anyone, for in his opinion everybody should have been eager to give way to him. But such was not the case; and as his impertinent air did not prepossess people in his favor, they did not make way for him; some even ventured to jostle him, and he received more than one blow for persisting in blocking the path.

"It’s very foolish to go on foot when you have a carriage!" he exclaimed; while Alfred and Edouard observed in an undertone:

"There’s something more foolish than that."

They arrived at the hôtel De Marcey. The two friends were soon in the saddle, and Alfred’s groom led out for Robineau’s use a pretty little mare which pawed the ground and displayed a noble ardor for the road. Robineau began to frown and walked around the horse, saying:

"It seems to me that this horse is a vicious-looking animal."

"On the contrary she is the gentlest creature you can imagine; she’s a lady’s horse."

"Then she will do for me. But why does she stamp so?"

"Because she’s impatient for a gallop."

"The devil! if she’s impatient, she’ll run away; I don’t want to ride like a madman!"

"Don’t be alarmed! Don’t you know how to mount?"

"Yes, yes; but when one has just breakfasted, one should go gently; that’s a principle of mine."

"If you don’t wish to go at all, you are at liberty not to do so; let us go without you."

"No--par Dieu! I am with you! Oh! you will see how gracefully I ride--what a seat I have!"

"Mount then."

"Which side do I mount?"

"What! you don’t know on which side to mount?"

"I have forgotten; it was a long while ago that I learned."

"My dear Robineau, you’ll have a fall."

"Jules! I told you to call me Jules; why won’t you do it?--I say, Germain, just hold the stirrup for me--that’s right."

"Boldly now! Ah! how heavy you are!"

Robineau succeeded at last in placing his right leg on the other side of the saddle; he was fairly mounted and he glanced triumphantly about.

"Let us be off," said Alfred; and he gave the rein to his horse; but Robineau, bounding up from the saddle, cried:

"Stop! stop! I am not ready. What the devil! you fellows start off without giving me time to get settled; my stirrup leathers are too long, my toes hardly reach the stirrup."

"That is the way to have them; you will rise less."

"Why, I came just within an ace of going over my horse’s head. I like my stirrup leathers very short; that gives one a much firmer seat.--Take them up a little for me, Germain--a little more; that’s right.--There--now I am glued to my saddle."

"Well! may we start now?"

"Yes, yes; let us start."

Alfred and Edouard rode off and Robineau followed them. Despite the shortened stirrup leathers, he bumped and rolled about on his saddle, although he had grasped the pommel with his right hand. As they were in Paris, they went no faster than a slow trot, and Robineau succeeded in keeping pace with them, calling out from time to time:

"Not so fast, messieurs! galloping in the streets of Paris is forbidden."

"But we are not galloping, are we?"

"Never mind--don’t go so fast, I beg you; I am not used to it yet, and then it’s more amusing to go slowly."

When they reached the Champs-Elysées, Robineau was already drenched with perspiration, and his hat, which the jolting had displaced, was so far back on his head that his hair flew about unconfined over his brow.

"Come on, Monsieur Jules," said Edouard, "let us have a bit of a canter here; it’s a superb road."

"Yes, yes, the road’s very nice; but it seems to me that my breakfast rises a little higher with each step that this infernal beast takes; she has a terribly hard trot, this mare of yours!"

"Bah! you are joking; let her canter then."

"One moment; my stirrup leathers are still too long."

"You don’t mean that; your knees are on the level of your horse’s ears!"

"Never mind; I learned to ride in accordance with certain principles."

"Very pretty, your principles are!"

"There--now I am ready."

"Off we go then!"

The two friends set off at a gallop. Robineau had no desire to ride at that pace; but the mare he bestrode was determined to follow the other horses, and her rider was fain to gallop whether he would or not. As he had never ridden at such a pace, he did not know what to do; he threw himself forward and backward, pulled the reins tight, then suddenly dropped them. He was convinced that his steed had taken the bit in her teeth, and he shouted with all the strength of his lungs:

"Stop her! stop her, I say!"

But Alfred replied:

"Don’t be afraid, Robineau, let her go."

And Edouard called back to him:

"Come on, Monsieur Jules; steady, sit straighter; you should be a little more graceful than that!"

The unskilled equestrian answered to neither name; he was utterly bewildered; he lost his hat, and ere long he himself lay sprawling in the dust; and Alfred, who was far ahead with Edouard, suddenly saw the little mare by his side without a rider.

The young men concluded that some accident had befallen their companion; so they turned back, leading Robineau’s horse. He had picked himself up and found that he had escaped with a few bruises, and after going back to get his hat, he had entered a café, where his friends found him.

"How is this? did you allow yourself to be thrown?" queried Alfred, smiling when he saw that Robineau was not hurt.

"Yes, messieurs. Parbleu! it’s a most surprising thing! You went off like the wind! My horse tried to follow you, and ran away. You told me to let her go, and I did let her go to such good purpose that I fell off. You see, I didn’t tell you that I could ride like Franconi or Paul!"

"We have discovered that!--Well! will you remount?"

"No, thanks; I have had enough for to-day. Besides, I am rather sore. Go and finish your ride; I will wait here for you and read the Petites-Affiches while you are having your canter; as I want to buy an estate, you will understand that the Petites-Affiches interests me more than the Bois de Boulogne."

The little mare was stabled, and the two friends rode away. Robineau, sipping a glass of sweetened water the while, as a restorative after his fall, ran through the Petites-Affiches, and read all the advertisements of estates for sale; but he constantly shrugged his shoulders, with such muttered comments as:

"These are too small! twenty thousand francs! forty thousand francs! They must be mere hovels! I want something better than that!--Dovecotes!--gardens in full bearing! What do I care for that?--I am not buying an estate in order to have pigeons and plums to eat; but in order to be called Monsieur de la--that is to say, by the name of my estate.--Ah! eighty thousand francs; that’s better; but pastures--farm lands--I can’t give balls and be a great lord in a farmhouse.--Aha! a château--two châteaux--twelve guest-rooms! That is what I want. Let’s see what the price is--three hundred thousand francs--two hundred and forty thousand francs. It’s absurd to fix such a price as that for a château! It seems to me that there ought to be cheaper ones for amateurs."

Robineau knew the Petites-Affiches by heart when the two young men returned from their ride. As he absolutely refused to mount his horse again, Alfred led the little mare by the bridle, and Robineau followed in a hired cabriolet. They returned to the hôtel De Marcey; but it was only half-past three, and they could not dine until six. Alfred went to his study to write some letters, Edouard went out to pay some visits, and Robineau, who did not understand that the days last twice as long when one does not know what to do to amuse one’s self as when one is at work, betook himself to his notary’s to pass the time.

At six o’clock, the three young men were together once more, and they went to a restaurant. Alfred and Edouard, who had concocted the scheme beforehand, persuaded Robineau that it was good form to eat very little and to send away most of the dishes ordered without touching them. So Robineau sent away several dishes which he was very desirous to eat, sacrificing his appetite to what he believed to be the acme of good form.

In the evening they attended the Bouffes. Robineau, who listened to music without appreciating it, dissembled as well as he could his overpowering desire to yawn.

"Bravi! brava! bravissima!" he cried; then looked at his watch to see if the play would soon be done. It came to an end at last; Alfred returned home, Edouard to his lodgings, and Robineau reëntered the cab that awaited him at the door, to take him to Rue Saint-Honoré.

Robineau stood in front of his abode, where he hoped not to sojourn long; for the house seemed to him a wretched place, and the entrance disgusting. However, he must needs sleep there once more. But before entering, he ordered François, his new servant, to call for him early the next morning with the cabriolet.

"Early to-morrow morning with the cabriolet!" cried a person who happened to be in the passage just as Robineau entered. And he recognized Fifine, whom he had not seen since the change in his fortunes.

Fifine held in her hand a candle wrapped in a half sheet of brown paper, and lighted; she had stopped and was waiting for Robineau, who did not quicken his pace.

"Hallo! is it you, my dear friend?"

"Yes, to be sure it’s I."

"What has become of you since the day before yesterday, that I haven’t laid eyes on you, monsieur? And all this style? this cabriolet? Have you made yourself a duke and peer while riding?"

"Let us go upstairs, Fifine; I can’t endure to talk in the hall--it’s very bad form!"

"Oh! mon Dieu! His Highness is afraid of compromising himself! Ha! ha! ha! Pardon me, Your Excellency; if I had known at what hour you would return, I would have cut my candle in four pieces to illuminate the staircase."

Robineau went upstairs, and entered his room, followed by the young milliner, who still held her candle in her hand. Robineau threw himself carelessly on a chair, and Fifine held her light to his face, saying:

"I say--what is the meaning of this coat? I didn’t know that you had any coat except the one that used to be black, and the threadbare gray."

"Well! now you know that I have another--that’s all."

"And this gold chain! these watch charms!--Ah! something must have happened."

"Yes, Fifine, there has been a very great change in my circumstances since the day before yesterday."

"Really! Have they given you a bonus of a hundred crowns?"

"A hundred crowns! Mon Dieu! a mere trifle!" said Robineau with a smile of contempt.

"What’s that? a trifle! Do me the favor to give me a dozen trifles like that, and I’ll go up in a balloon to-morrow morning."

"Fifine, listen to me attentively."

"Wait till I sit down, for what you are going to tell me may produce a deep impression on me."

Fifine put her candle in a candle-stick, and seated herself in front of Robineau, who tried to assume an important air before he began.

"Mademoiselle, I----"

"What! _mademoiselle?_ are you talking to me?"

"Certainly."

"And you call me mademoiselle!--Try first to be a little more decent than that! What a fool you make of yourself with your _demoiselle_!"

"Well, then, Fifine--I must tell you that you no longer see before you the young man whose salary of fifteen hundred francs composed his whole fortune; the hopes that I have mentioned to you more than once are realized. I knew that my uncle would end by enriching me. Dear Uncle Gratien! he is dead and has left me twenty-five thousand francs a year."

"The deuce! really? isn’t it a joke?"

"No, Fifine, nothing can be truer. I am immensely rich and I shall soon have a château, because I am determined to have one."

"What! you are rich, and you didn’t tell me right away! you keep me on the anxious seat two hours!--Well, well! won’t we have some fun! Let’s dance and jump and raise a rumpus!--You are rich, and you sit there like a mummy!"

And Fifine seized Robineau’s arm and compelled him to dance around the room with her; but he shook himself free at last and resumed his seat, while Fifine continued to dance and jump over the chairs and the furniture.

"Assuredly, Fifine," said Robineau, sitting very erect, "I desire that you should enjoy yourself; indeed I shall be delighted to be of service to you when the opportunity presents itself, and you may rely on my interest; but as to your continuing to be my mistress, you must see that it is impossible, and that my social position will not permit me to see you as--as before."

Fifine, who was standing on the commode at that moment, in the attitude of Psyche, landed at Robineau’s side with one leap, crying:

"What’s that you’re mumbling?--your social position--you don’t propose to see me as before?--Do me the favor to explain yourself a little better."

"It seems to me to be clear enough, my dear Fifine. I still have the utmost regard for you; indeed I propose to prove it to you to-morrow by making you a present of a beautiful shawl of unspun silk--whatever color you choose--I don’t care. But I say that I can no longer be your lover, nor go out with you, because my present circumstances and my new position in society forbid."

Fifine, who had listened attentively, did not move for some seconds; then she went to the mantel, took her candle from the candlestick, and, before leaving the room, took her stand in front of its tenant, who still sat in his chair.

"I thought that you were only a stupid fool, but I see that you are an ingrate!" she said, smiling bitterly. "You don’t propose to see me, because a fortune has fallen into your hands. That is very noble! It is a resolution worthy of you! As for the present you mean to give me, keep it for the women who will sponge on you and make fun of you all the time--you’ll find that you’ll never have too much for them."

"Mademoiselle," said Robineau, rising angrily, "what you say is very indecorous. However, that doesn’t surprise me, from one who has such bad manners as you."

"Hold your tongue, you miserable counterfeit!" said Fifine, turning suddenly on Robineau, who intrenched himself behind an armchair; "you deserve to be made to swallow this candle all lighted!"

"Mademoiselle Fifine!"

"Hold your tongue! you make me sick!--Go with your duchesses and your princesses; keep ballet-dancers and miladies; but when you are drunk, wait for them to give you tea and dose you, and you’ll be likely to die of indigestion!"

With that, Fifine made a low curtsy to her former lover, and went out of the room, leaving him in utter darkness.

"What a spitfire!" cried Robineau when she had gone;" she didn’t even light my candle!--Oh! these women! That a man with twenty-five thousand francs a year should have to use a flint and steel!--Faith, I won’t do it; I prefer to go to bed without a light.--Think of that Fifine presuming to--But that’s how it always is! the more you do for women, the more they abuse it.--But it won’t be so any longer with me; I propose to set a terribly high figure on my favors; and to make a conquest of me will require something more than a turned-up nose."

Robineau went to bed, and, forgetting Fifine, fell asleep and dreamed of his future château.