The Milkmaid of Montfermeil Part 7

"A business agent make marriages--nonsense! that would be absurd!--Have you thought about your gun, monsieur?"

"Yes, madame, I told Baptiste to clean it; and Dalville promised to bring that old soldier of his, Bertrand; he will teach me how to use it; for a wolf has been seen in the neighborhood, you know, madame; and that is very unpleasant because it keeps one uneasy all the time."

"I don't suppose that that makes it impossible for you to beat up the wood?"

"Oh, no! on the contrary, madame, it was I who suggested that measure of safety. I propose to see the wolf, madame."

"You will do well, monsieur."

The conversation was interrupted by a noise in the next room.

"Ah! here's our dear Dalville at last, no doubt," said Monsieur Destival.

Madame said nothing, but she prepared a little pouting expression which would surely imply what she thought. Meanwhile the person whom they had heard did not enter the room, but continued to rub his feet on the doormat. Monsieur Destival threw the door of the salon open, and found, instead of Auguste, a little man of some fifty-five years, with a light wig, broad-brimmed straw hat, coat cut almost square, short breeches, and fancy stockings, who was rubbing and rerubbing his feet on the mat in the reception room.

"Ah! it's our neighbor, Monsieur Monin!" said Monsieur Destival, at sight of the little man.

At the name of Monin, Madame Destival made an impatient gesture, muttering:

"What a bore! why need he have come!"

"Hus.h.!.+ be still, madame! He still has a drug store to sell, and he wants to buy a house. I propose that he shall dine with us."

With that, Monsieur Destival turned back toward the door, where Monsieur Monin was still rubbing his feet on the mat.

"Well, aren't you coming in, my dear Monsieur Monin? What in the deuce are you doing there all this time? It's a fine day; you don't need to wipe your feet."

"Oh! but I'll tell you: as I came across the courtyard I looked up at the sky to see if we were going to have a shower, and I stepped into a dung-heap that I didn't see."

"That's Baptiste's fault; it should have been taken away."

"There, that will do."

Monsieur Monin left the mat at last, and looking up at Monsieur Destival with a pair of big eyes level with his face, wherein one would have looked in vain for an idea, smiled a smile which cut his face in halves, although it was still dominated by a nose of enormous dimensions, always stuffed with snuff, like an unlighted pipe.

"How's your health, neighbor?"

"Very good, my dear sir. Pray come in; my wife is here and will be delighted to see you."

Monsieur Monin entered the salon and removed his hat, making a low bow to Madame Destival, who acknowledged the salute by a smile which might have pa.s.sed for a grimace; but Monsieur Monin took it most favorably for himself, and began his inevitable question:

"How's your health, madame?"

"Pa.s.sable, monsieur; not very good at this moment; my nerves are unstrung, I have palpitations."

"It's the weather, madame; the heat is intense to-day: twenty-six degrees and three-tenths."

"Twenty-seven, neighbor," said Monsieur Destival, glancing at his thermometer.

"That's surprising! it isn't so high at my house, and yet mine's in the same position. My wife says that I've made it too low lately."

"Why did not Madame Monin come with you, neighbor?"

"She's making pickles, and it will take her all day. My! but she takes a lot of pains with 'em! She won't go out to-day."

"I am deeply indebted to the pickles," whispered Madame Destival, while Monsieur Monin continued, doing his utmost to force another pinch into his nose:

"My wife said to me: 'I don't need you, Monin, take a walk.' So I came to see you."

"That was very agreeable of you, neighbor. Will you pa.s.s the whole day with us?"

"Why, yes, if it don't put you out, I should like to, because I'll tell you--when my wife's making pickles, she don't like to bother with cooking."

"Very good, then you will stay. You will meet Monsieur Dalville, a delightful young man, full of fun. His servant, who is an old soldier, is to give me a lesson in drilling, for I am appointed general----"

"What?"

"Why, yes, in the _battue_ we're going to have."

"Oh, yes! I was saying----"

"Won't you take part in it, Monsieur Monin?"

"Why, I'll tell you: when I had my rifle, it was all right--"

"Madame, madame, a lovely caleche is just driving into the courtyard,"

said Julie, rus.h.i.+ng into the salon.

"A caleche?"

"With Monsieur and Madame de la Thoma.s.siniere."

"What! have they come? How kind of them!" cried Monsieur Destival, running to the window. Madame Destival did not share her husband's delight; however, she rose to satisfy herself concerning the arrival of her new guests, and went out to receive them; for persons who have a caleche and a livery deserve the very greatest consideration. Thus, Monsieur Destival flew at his wife's heels, leaving Monsieur Monin, who was just about to tell him how many times he had hunted, and who, finding himself abandoned in the salon, turned to his ordinary resource, and succeeded, by dint of perseverance, in forcing two dainty pinches of snuff into his nostrils.

Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere, for whom they ran downstairs so eagerly, was a man of about forty years of age. When he arrived in Paris, at eighteen, his name was Thomas simply, and he did not blush then for his mother, who kept a little wine-shop in her village. But residence in the capital had wrought an entire change in Monsieur Thomas. First a shop clerk, then a government clerk, then a money-lender, then a man of large affairs, Monsieur Thomas had seen Fortune smile constantly upon him. He speculated with his consols and was lucky; after that he forgot his village and adopted the tone and manners of a man in the first society.

That a person should start from very low and rise very high--there is no objection to that; on the contrary, the man who wins success by his work, who makes his own fortune, leads us to believe that his merit is greater than his who attains the highest honor without exertion of his own. But the thing for which a parvenu is never forgiven is an affectation of pride and insolence, and the belief that by a.s.suming the airs of a grand seigneur, he can lead people to forget the name and the clothes that he used to wear. Monsieur Thomas was such a one. He began by changing his too vulgar name for that of La Thoma.s.siniere. Then, instead of urging his mother to leave her village and enjoy his fortune, he contented himself with sending her a sum of money which would enable her to take down the sign of the _Learned a.s.s_, and to stop selling wine. But he forbade her to come to Paris, where, he said, the air was very unhealthy for elderly women. Then Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere set up an establishment,--carriage, servants, livery--bought a magnificent country estate and a very pretty wife of eighteen, who was turned over to him with a dowry of one hundred thousand francs, and who did not so much as ask whether her husband was handsome or ugly, because, having been perfectly educated, she knew that a husband who owns a carriage is always comely enough, and, besides that, a woman is supposed to look at n.o.body but her husband.

Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere, dressed like a dandy and aping the manners of good society, but always affording a glimpse of the days of the _Learned a.s.s_, was forever talking about "my estate, my property, my servants, my horses." His wife was his only possession as to whom he did not use the possessive p.r.o.noun. As for madame, a lively, volatile, giddy creature, with no thought for anything save dress and amus.e.m.e.nts, she never spoke to monsieur except to ask him for money, or to talk about some festivity that she proposed to give.

"Ah! here are our dear friends!" said Monsieur Destival, hastening forward to offer his hand to Madame de la Thoma.s.siniere to help her alight, while monsieur gazed admiringly at his horses and gorgeous livery.

"Good-morning, Destival.--Lapierre, be careful of the horses.--Madame, allow me to offer my respects.--Cover my caleche, you fellows, it may rain in.--We have come without ceremony. It doesn't put you out to have me bring a few of my people, does it?"

"Of course not! I have enough to board and lodge them," replied Monsieur Destival, biting his lips, because his modest cabriolet was completely eclipsed by the superb caleche, and Baptiste and Julie, who composed his whole staff of domestics, would be hidden by a single one of the tall rascals whom Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere carried in his train. But these reflections did not prevent the exchange of the usual courtesies, they simply made him ambitious to enlarge his household; and so, as he led the young woman into the house, our business agent said to himself:

"I must find a wife for Dalville, sell Monin's drug shop, and buy a house for him; then I will have a little groom--a negro--and dress him in red, so that he can be seen a long way off."

The two ladies embraced.