San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 10

"Have we got to wait for Mouillot and Balivan, I wonder! Mouillot is never on time."

"Oh! it isn't half-past five yet."

"Let's look at the new songs."

"That is to say, the new lithographs; for a song doesn't sell nowadays, you know, unless it has some pretty picture on the cover."

"That's not very flattering for the music."

"But it's a good thing for the artists. Brule's shop, Frere's successor, is always full of fascinating things of that sort. Look! there are some beautiful _alb.u.ms._ I refer to the binding."

Tobie was standing in an ecstasy of admiration before a manikin in front of a draper's shop.

"Is that your bust you are gazing at?" asked Celestin, laughingly.

"You seem inclined to jest, messieurs; but I would like to resemble this manikin. I mean, in the way he's dressed. Just see how beautifully that frock-coat fits his back! It must be delightful to be dressed like that! I would gladly pay sixty francs for a coat that squeezed my waist that way."

"You can be squeezed for less than that. But you may set your mind at rest, young Pigeonnier; I a.s.sure you that you look a good deal like a manikin."

Tobie glanced at Celestin with an expression that said:

"You would be very glad to look like me!"

At that moment, Albert halted in front of a cap and ribbon shop, in which he spied two rather attractive young women behind the counter. He exchanged meaning glances with one of them, while the mistress of the shop was trying caps on a decidedly plain person who had just come in, and who found none of them to her taste, because she could not make up her mind that any one of them made her pretty.

As the throng about them became more dense, Tobie took his companions by the arm, saying:

"If you stand still like this, messieurs, look out for your pockets. The Pa.s.sage des Panoramas is very pretty, very brilliant, and much frequented; but I must warn you that it is one of the places where the greatest number of thefts is committed every day. When an honest bourgeois stops in front of Susse's shop, or in front of Marquis's wonderful _postiches_, if he doesn't keep his hands on his fob and his pockets all the time, he is sure to find himself minus watch, purse, handkerchief, and snuffbox. Between six and nine at night, when the promenaders are most numerous, the thefts are most frequent; at that time, you see in these galleries numbers of men in blouses and caps, who certainly have no business in this quarter, and who wouldn't walk in this pa.s.sage unless they carried on a criminal industry here."

"You are right, Tobie; and I can see at this moment some gentlemen with faces in which I should have very little confidence. Come, Albert, come--are you still in love with that shopgirl? Ah! I see our friends--and Dupetrain is with them! Good! we shall have some sport. He always has some extraordinary story to tell."

"Who is Monsieur Dupetrain?" inquired Tobie.

"Don't you know Dupetrain? Well, upon my word! All Paris knows him. He's a very good fellow--who is constantly having wonderful adventures. He's a frantic adept of magnetism. He'll put you to sleep, and make you walk in your sleep, if you like. Come, messieurs; come, I say!"

Three young men, walking arm in arm, halted in front of Albert and his companions. They greeted one another with smiles, exchanging handshakes and puffs of tobacco smoke.

The new-comers were: first, Mouillot, head clerk in a business house; a tall, fair-haired, red-cheeked youth, with an amiable, jovial face, whose appearance pointed him out at once as a bon vivant.

Next, Balivan, portrait painter; a typical artist's face, with unusual features, which could in all sincerity be called ugly, and a bearing in harmony with his features. He held himself sidewise, with his head sunk on one shoulder; he had a jerky walk, one leg always lagging behind; and he waved his arms about in s.p.a.ce, so that at a distance they resembled the wings of a windmill. But, with all that, his face had much character and expression; his forehead was that of a man who thinks, and in his eyes there shone the fire of intelligence, which, in a man, excuses ugliness and often triumphs over beauty.

Balivan had genuine artistic talent, which is never a disadvantage; but he was extremely lazy, a not infrequent trait among artists; in addition, he was very heedless, always making blunders, and extraordinarily absent-minded.

The third of the party was he whom Celestin called Dupetrain. He was a man between thirty and forty, with a square, bony face, and yellow skin, extremely ugly at first sight, and even more so when examined closely.

His broad nose lay flat on his cheeks, like a negro's; his enormous mouth became a veritable cavern when he spoke, because, in order to give greater weight to his words, he articulated every syllable with a painstaking care that was very disagreeable to his hearers. His head was adorned with a forest of hair, which he always wore very long, and which gave him some resemblance to a lion; his small, sunken, gla.s.sy eyes seemed to be engaged in a constant effort to fascinate or at least to magnetize you. Such was the individual who answered to the name of Dupetrain.

"Ah! here's Pigeonnier!" exclaimed Mouillot, bringing his hand down on the corpulent youth's shoulder. "Does he dine with us?"

"Yes, messieurs; I am to have that pleasure."

"Famous! the man we can never get--who's always engaged."

"I have given up everything to-day to join you."

"But he doesn't tell you all. There's another affair--but, no! we will speak of that at dinner--without mentioning the lady's name, of course; for we must be discreet--eh, Tobie?"

"Where do we dine?"

"At the Maison-Doree."

VI

A STAG DINNER PARTY

The young men established themselves in one of the pleasant salons of the restaurant. Mouillot called for pen and ink to prepare the menu, and Tobie whispered to Albert:

"We mustn't forget my letter for Madame Plays."

"True," replied Albert.--"Waiter, some note paper."

"Do you propose to order the dinner, too?" said Mouillot. "Can't you trust me to do it in style?"

"To be sure; I am going to write something else."

"A billet-doux, eh? Oh! for heaven's sake, let the women alone! We are here to eat and laugh."

"This is how it is, messieurs. There's----"

"Oh! my dear fellow," cried Tobie, hurrying to Albert's side, "let's not compromise anybody! we agreed to be close-mouthed!"

"So long as he doesn't mention the lady's name," said Celestin, "I don't see why he can't tell the story."

"Surely I can. I am turning over one of my mistresses to Tobie, messieurs,--a.s.suming, of course, that she is willing to accept him as a subst.i.tute."

"You can't be certain of that," laughed Mouillot; "for he hasn't the figure."

"Do you say you've been drawn in the conscription?" inquired Balivan, who had not heard the beginning of the conversation.

"No, no; I have bought a subst.i.tute.--Come, Albert, write my letter; for I am afraid we shall hardly be in the mood for writing after dinner."

"I am sending Tobie to an a.s.signation in my place," said Albert, "and I am going to give him a letter of introduction."

"Well, you can write your letter while I am writing the order for dinner. It will give you inspiration. Here come the writing materials."

Albert sat down opposite Mouillot, each of them took a pen; and while one sought words to write to his mistress, the other looked over the bill of fare.