Frederique Volume I Part 35

"You are right; it's from the _Famille de l'Apothicaire_."

"I don't know what family it's from, but if it's all right---- Begin, monsieur."

"Here I go! I am going to sing _Le Vent_. Have I your permission?"

"_Le Vent_ it is!"

"I beg you to believe that it is not the _Vent_ which is the key to the riddle in _Le Mercure Galant_."

"I trust not; it's the _vent_ [wind] that _blows through the mountains_; the _vent de Gastibelza_."

"Just so. I am going to begin:

"'Quand on te propose----'

Ah! that won't go to the tune of the _Famille de l'Apothicaire_."

"That's strange; it ought to. Try some other tune."

"I think the _Baiser au Porteur_ will do the business."

"Oh! how long it takes you to get started, my dear fellow!"

"I begin:

"'Quand on t'offre une promenade----'"

"Trum, trum, trum, traderi dera, troum, troum, troum."

"Oh! please be kind enough to hold your tongue, baron, with your troum troum!"

"I dry yet to find mein tune."

"You can find it later; listen now to Rochebrune, who is going to sing us a _risque_ little chansonnette."

"Ach! gut, gut! _risque!_ tat must pe sehr amusing! _Risque!_ Vat is a _risque_ chanson?"

"That means lively; but we may as well speak out, as we are all men: it means naughty."

"Ach! id vill pe sehr bretty so! I loafe tat kind! Ve vill much laugh.

Let us hear te naughty song. Ha! ha! How id vill pe amusing! Ho! ho!"

The baron laughed so heartily in antic.i.p.ation of the pleasure in store for him, that Frederique had much difficulty in silencing him; he ceased at last, and contented himself with muttering between his teeth: "Naughty, _risque!_--_risque_, naughty!" while I sang to the tune of the _Baiser au Porteur_:

"'Quand on t'offre une promenade, Lisa, prends garde au temps qu'il fait!

S'il fait du vent, dis-toi malade, Ou bien, l'on en profiterait Pour te faire ce qu'on voudrait.

Va, je ne ris pas, sur mon ame!

Par ce temps-la je fus prise souvent!

Ma chere, il n'est pour une femme Rien de plus traitre que le vent.'"[B]

I paused after the first verse and glanced at Frederique. She smiled; that was a good sign. As for the baron, he repeated each line after me, sometimes with variations, and with an accompaniment of loud guffaws. We heard him mumbling:

"Noding so slyer als der vind! Ho! ho! ho! Gut, gut! Naughty!"

"Go on," said Frederique.

I cleared my throat, drank a gla.s.s of wine, and cried like Ravel in the _Tourlourou_:

"Second verse, same tune:

"'Et puis, comment veux-tu qu'on fa.s.se?

On s'habille quand il fait beau: Le vent arrive, on s'embarra.s.se, On ne peut tenir de niveau, Le bas d'sa robe et son chapeau; On a les yeux pleins de poussiere Lorsque ca souffle par devant, Mais c'est plus perfide, ma chere, Quand on n'voit pas venir le vent.'"[C]

"My loafe! Ven she don't feel te vind plowing! Ho! ho! gut! gut! gut!

Troum! troum! troum!"

Frederique laughed outright.

"Oh! how insufferable he is with his repet.i.tions! Next verse."

"'Si la pluie est desagreable Et sur nous mouille nos jupons, Le vent est libertin en diable!

Il dessin' ce que nous avons.

Il nous fait comm' des pet.i.ts cal'cons; Un homme, alors, garde moins de mesure, Car ca le monte au ton du sentiment!

Et ce n'est pas notre figure Qu'il regarde tant qu'il fait du vent.'"[D]

"Ho! ho! ho! gut! gut! Id is not te face. Ich nicht untershtand."

"So much the worse for you, baron; for I don't propose to have it explained to you. It seems to me that it's plain enough. It's a little free, but it's amusing. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Only three verses! That's a pity!" And Frederique put her gla.s.s to her lips, adding: "After all, where's the harm? In the old days, men sang more and they weren't so ill-tempered as they are to-day. Poor French gayety! what has become of thee? O merry meetings of the _Caveau_! In truth, it was only to sing that men sought admission to thy meetings."

"Troum, troum, traderi dera. Ach! I remember me mein song now."

"Let's have it, baron; we are listening."

The baron opened his enormous mouth, and we supposed that a stentorian voice would issue therefrom; but we were agreeably surprised. When he sang, Herr von Brunzbrack had a shrill voice resembling that of a child of two; it reminded me strongly of the voice of the _Man with the Doll_.

"'Moi, qui jadis ch'affre eu le gloire, De chansonner bour Montemoiselle Iris, Che vais avec votre bermission fous dire l'histoire Du jeune perger Paris; Sur le mirlidon.'"[E]

"Enough! enough!" cried Frederique; interrupting him without ceremony; "we know that, my dear Brunzbrack. You needn't have taken so much pains to remember that song."

"Vat! you know id?"

"Who doesn't know the _Judgment of Paris_; to the air of _mirliton_, _mirlitaine_? I think Colle wrote it. Perhaps I ought not to have admitted that I know it; but as I have told you that I am a man, that shouldn't astonish you."

"Id is sehr bretty! Id ended alvays mit: Mirlidon, mirlidaine, mirlidon, don, don."