San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 107

As for Madame Putiphar--she made herself quite at home at the Mirotaines', and, after making a courtesy, she lost no time in asking:

"Haven't they come yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, it's only half-past five, and I said that you didn't dine till six; they're not late."

"Do you expect other guests?" Monsieur Brid'oison asked the host.

"Yes, two gentlemen--whom I don't know."

"What! you ask people to dinner whom you don't know?"

"They come on some--family business."

"And, you see, I know the gentlemen," interposed Madame Putiphar, "and I answer for them. First, there's Monsieur Dodichet, a commission merchant in sugar, a delightful young man, of the best tone, and as gallant as any knight; and his intimate friend, Count Miflores, an Italian, rich as an English lord, who is looking for a young lady to marry--without any dowry."

"Ah! very good; I see--we understand.--You understand, egilde, don't you?"

Madame Brid'oison was intent on fastening back one of the corkscrew curls, which persisted in trying to get into her mouth; so she contented herself with an affirmative smile. The dealer in wardrobes added, in an undertone, taking care to move away from Juliette:

"We mustn't act as if we knew the count's intentions, for he wouldn't like it. He thinks that we don't know them, and that he is invited solely because he's Monsieur Dodichet's friend; in that way, you see, he can talk with Juliette and not be embarra.s.sed."

"Very well; still, you did well to warn us. I wouldn't mind a drop of absinthe while we're waiting for dinner--in some water; that opens up the appet.i.te."

"My dear friend, if you want to drink absinthe, you may go down to the cafe at the corner of the street; don't hesitate."

"Why? haven't you any here?"

"What! absinthe?--a rank poison!"

"Poison when you take it pure; but with plenty of water----"

"There's no doubt but what it's the fas.h.i.+on nowadays," said Madame Putiphar.

"And the count may ask for it, you think?" queried Aldegonde.

"He or his friend Dodichet."

"Then we must send out for some."

Monsieur Mirotaine stamped the floor angrily, as he cried:

"Plague take Brid'oison with his absinthe! Why need he have asked for it? I refuse to buy any! If these gentlemen ask for it, you must say that we've just broken the bottle.--Do you drink absinthe, Monsieur Calle?"

"Oh! no, indeed! never, monsieur."

"Good! that proves that you have a good stomach, which does not need any stimulants to help digestion."

"All right! everyone to his own opinion! When Artaban's twelve years old, I shall have him drink absinthe before his gymnastics."

"That will cap the climax!"

VII

A MIXED DINNER PARTY

At five minutes to six, the bell rang loudly.

"Here they are!" said Madame Putiphar.

Thereupon each one of the company a.s.sumed an air worthy of the occasion.

Aldegonde's face took on an amiable expression, Monsieur Mirotaine did his best to smile, Madame Trichon wiped her nose, and the others looked exceedingly curious. Juliette alone did not put herself out; she was depressed; she had hoped that they would not come.

Goth announced: "Monsieur le Comte Mimiflores and Monsieur Beaubrochet."

Maid-servants almost always have the knack of murdering the names that are given them. Dodichet entered the room as jauntily as if it were a tavern, leading his intimate friend by the hand. The friend in question was a man of about thirty-five, of medium height, rather stout than thin, who strove to conceal his utter nullity and stupidity beneath an imposing manner; he had one of those faces which tell absolutely nothing; but he tried so hard to impart some expression to his eyes that he almost made them haggard. His dress was irreproachable, even stylish; but he wore his clothes awkwardly, and carried himself in a way to make people think that he was uncomfortable in them.

Dodichet saluted on all sides, almost laughing outright; he took Monsieur Mirotaine's hand, shook it violently before that worthy had had time to respond to his salutation, and hastened to say in a loud tone:

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Mirotaine; I have long desired an opportunity, and when it presented itself I grasped it. We shall do some business together, Monsieur Miroton--I beg pardon, Mirotaine--and I am a sharp customer and never meddle with anything that isn't sure."

"Monsieur--I certainly----"

"Allow me to introduce my intimate friend, Count Miflores, a wealthy Italian, who would stand behind me if necessary.--He is anxious to marry, you know," continued Dodichet, in an undertone, "and doesn't want any dowry."

"Yes, monsieur; I was told----"

"s.h.!.+ enough! you mustn't seem to know.--Come, Miflores, and let me present you to these ladies. You are bashful, I know, but that shouldn't keep you from offering the fair s.e.x all the homage that is due them."

Dodichet's a.s.surance, his loquacity and his fine phrases, had the effect that they usually have upon people with little or no wit; everybody considered him delightful, and especially Juliette, to whom he whispered, as he introduced Miflores:

"Don't be alarmed; he won't marry you. I am a friend of Lucien!"

Juliette could not restrain a faint cry of delight.

"What's the matter?" Aldegonde inquired.

"Nothing!" Dodichet replied; "my foot involuntarily struck mademoiselle's.--I didn't hurt you, I trust?"

"Oh, no! monsieur, you didn't hurt me."

"Then all is for the best, as Voltaire says in _Candide_. But is it in _Candide_? Faith! I am not sure; I have read so much in my life that I am all mixed up; I confuse my authors. Somebody asked me lately who wrote _Le Mariage de Figaro_, and I said Monsieur d'Ennery. I was wrong."

"My friend Brid'oison here bears the name of one of the characters in that play," said Monsieur Mirotaine.