The Flower Girl of The Chateau d'Eau Volume Ii Part 45

[B]

I said: 'pour qu'on l'entende bien.'

I understood: 'pour qu'on le sente bien.'

At that point, roars of laughter from Zizi, Roncherolle and Jericourt made it impossible to hear the groans and lamentations of Alfred, who, in a fit of desperation, attempted to throw the pie at Beauvinet's head; but he was prevented, and Roncherolle said to him:

"As the harm is done, we must make the best of it; as I presume that no one here has ever eaten parrot pie, I suggest that we taste it."

"Yes, let us taste it," said Zizi. "I will tell this story at the theatre, and my comrades will have a good laugh at it."

"It doesn't make me laugh! the result of such long-continued toil; and just at the moment when I had finished his education, and when he began to talk so famously!"

"Will you have a little piece, Saint-Arthur?"

"I? never! but yes--just a taste.--That rascally pastry cook! he was quite right to say that no one would know what it was; but he will have to give me back the feathers, at least."

"Pouah! how nasty it is," said Zizi, pus.h.i.+ng her plate away. "So tough that you can't chew it."

"And a certain flavor which is not exactly agreeable," said Jericourt.

"The pastry cook did not disguise it quite enough."

"Here, take all this away," said Roncherolle, handing the plate with the pie to Beauvinet; "and for your punishment, eat it!"

"Yes, clear out with it, you stupid beast!" cried Saint-Arthur. "Off with you, and if I wasn't holding myself back--What an a.s.s he is! I am sure that if one should tell him to take a dog to the pastry-cook he would have it made into a pie."

Beauvinet took the pie under his arm, and angrily pulled his wig over his right ear, grumbling: "They don't know what they want; I do what they tell me to, and they ain't satisfied! Let them make their pies themselves after this."

XLIII

A DUEL

The adventure of the pie amused the guests mightily; Saint-Arthur alone did not share his friends' gayety; at every mouthful that he swallowed, he muttered:

"My poor parrot! my poor Coco! how prettily he said: 'Dutaillis is lovely!'--What a misfortune!--'Applaud, clap Zizi!'--I shall never be consoled."

"You are going to begin by being consoled right away," said the young actress; "and don't bore us any longer with your complaints. Don't you see that the story of your pie is a hundred times better and funnier than your bird would have been? But here comes the dessert. I want some champagne now, and I want my good friend Roncherolle to keep his promise to us."

"Monsieur is going to begin his exercises!" said Jericourt ironically.

"Let us see if it is the same thing as at Nicolet's: worse and worse and more of it."

"We will do our utmost to satisfy monsieur," replied Roncherolle, emptying a gla.s.s of champagne.

"But first of all," said Zizi, "as I am rather inquisitive, I want to hear the story of that little bunch of violets that you promised me."

"Ah! so he has stories too!" muttered the literary man; "sapristi! we are going to have a deal of entertainment!"

"Perhaps you will have much more than you expect, monsieur," replied Roncherolle, with a meaning glance at Jericourt. "But I begin--this little bunch of violets I got from a flower girl,--nothing more commonplace than that, eh? But what is less commonplace is that this young flower girl, who is remarkably pretty, is as virtuous and respectable as she is pretty. Now, this is what happened to her last summer: a young man of the world, a dandy, who, I believe, claims to be a literary man, saw the charming flower girl and found her to his liking; he made such speeches to her as all young men make to pretty girls--thus far there was nothing that was not perfectly natural."

"I say!" cried Saint-Arthur; "why, that's like Jericourt and----"

"Pray let monsieur finis.h.!.+" said Jericourt, who had become very attentive within a few seconds.

"But, as I was saying, the pretty flower girl, who is virtuous and who, moreover, is in love with a handsome young fellow, did not listen to our dandy's suggestions, but received them very coldly. What does he do to triumph over the girl? He sends a man to order and pay for a very handsome bouquet, with a request to the flower girl to carry it herself to a lady whose address he gives her, informing her that that lady will have other orders for her. The girl falls into the snare--for you will guess that she was sent to the gallant himself, who had told his concierge to allow the flower girl to go up to his room."

"Why, this is strange, it resembles----"

"Hold your tongue, Frefred! this story interests me immensely."

Jericourt did not utter a word, but he had become very pale. Roncherolle continued his narrative, with his eyes still fastened upon him.

"Behold then our flower girl in the young man's room, which she had entered without suspicion, for a woman had opened the door. But soon he who has been persecuting her with his addresses appears; he is alone with her, he no longer conceals his purpose to triumph over her resistance; the girl sees her danger, summons all her courage, and resists so effectively that the enterprising gentleman receives upon his face the marks of that stout defence--indeed, they have not altogether disappeared yet; he is obliged to let a woman who defends herself so well go her way. You will a.s.sume that that was the end of it all; and indeed, it should have been; but no, because that girl was virtuous, because she did not choose to cease to be virtuous, because she had given her heart to another, the gentleman in question deemed it becoming to proclaim everywhere that the pretty flower girl had been his mistress, that she had come to his room of her own free will,--in short, that she was an abandoned girl; he dishonored her in the eyes of all those who loved her. I say that that is dastardly, infamous! and do not you think that so much lying and slander deserve to be punished?"

Zizi said nothing because she had guessed the truth; Jericourt bit his lips and also held his peace; but Frefred exclaimed:

"This is strange--your story--one would say--where does your pretty flower girl stand?"

"Near here, on Boulevard du Chateau d'Eau; you know her perfectly well."

"What! is it Violette?"

"It is Violette."

"Why, in that case, the young man who pretends to have had her favors--is----"

"Just so; it is monsieur."

Thereupon Jericourt felt called upon to draw himself up and a.s.sume an impertinent tone.

"Monsieur," said he to Roncherolle, "I do not understand all the absurd stories and fairy-tales which you have been telling us, and which have neither head nor tail; but what seems even more inconceivable is that a man of your age should pose as the knight of flower girls!"

"A man of my age, monsieur, knows the world well enough to distinguish the false from the true; and when one can avenge a woman who has been shamelessly defamed by a conceited c.o.xcomb, age makes no difference, monsieur, as I hope to prove to your satisfaction."

"Really, I am very condescending to answer you!" retorted Jericourt, throwing himself back and swinging his legs. "Be off with you, monsieur; leave me in peace."

"I will be off, monsieur, but with you, I hope."

"Oh! that would be amusing! Faith, my dear monsieur, lose your temper if you choose, but I will not fight for a flower girl."

"Well! will you fight for this, monsieur?"

As he spoke, Roncherolle, who had left his seat and walked toward Jericourt, struck him across the face with his glove.

The young man leaped from his chair, his face became livid, and he seemed to contemplate rus.h.i.+ng upon Roncherolle; but the latter maintained such a calm and impa.s.sive att.i.tude, while holding the p.r.o.ngs of a fork toward his adversary to keep him at a respectful distance, that Jericourt contented himself with saying in a voice choked with wrath: