San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 9

"Yes; and then, I--I said that you were above your calling. And I was right too, as you were in a merchant's employ for a long while; but still, they are so unkind! Well, it can't be helped; I must go back. I will admit that I have forgotten what I came out for, and I shall be scolded; but that's a small matter."

The girl turned and walked dolefully back toward the house opposite, and was just pa.s.sing through the door, when she suddenly jumped for joy and ran back across the street, saying to Paul as she pa.s.sed him:

"Whalebones, small, thin whalebones, to put in the back of a dress, I remember now. Adieu, until to-morrow!"

Paul looked after her until she turned into the boulevard; and even when he could no longer see her, he continued to gaze in that direction, as if it prolonged his happiness. But in a moment he exclaimed:

"Mon Dieu! I have forgotten that young gentleman's errands!"

He was about to start and make up for the time he had lost, when he felt a hand upon his arm. He turned and found that it was the flower girl who was detaining him.

"Let me go, Bastringuette, let me go!" he said; "I am in a great hurry; I have some errands to do."

"In a hurry, are you? I say! you didn't seem to be a minute ago, for you've been having a nice little chin with the little dressmaker. She plays a pretty game with her mouth, she does. You seem to have had lots of things to tell her, flatterer!"

"It's just because I have been talking so long that I am behindhand. By the way, Bastringuette, Sans-Cravate expects you to sup with him to-night at his wine shop on Rue Saint-Lazare. He means to treat everybody."

"Shall you be in the crowd?"

"Why--perhaps so."

"I want you to be--if not, I won't go. Monster! who knows that I love him, that I am cracked over his shape, and still he won't honor me with a look, while he talks yards at a time with little hussies of dressmakers!"

"I am not in the habit of making eyes at my friends' mistresses, Bastringuette; and Sans-Cravate is my friend."

"I don't care a hang; I haven't sworn to love the same man and no one else all my life. That would be too monotonous; it's all right for the swells to take that kind of oaths and then break 'em. I prefer to act on the square, and I wouldn't hesitate to say before Sans-Cravate that I am stuck on you."

"You are mad. Let me go, I insist!"

Paul succeeded in releasing his jacket from the flower girl's grasp, and ran off at full speed; while Bastringuette crushed one of her bunches of violets, muttering:

"That's what comes of loving such beasts! Well, it don't make any difference; the more he resists me, the more I love him. That's my nature! we can't make ourselves over."

V

CLOSER ACQUAINTANCE

Before returning to the three young men who were about to enter the Pa.s.sage des Panoramas, let us say a few words with regard to them: it is always well to know the people with whom one has to do.

Albert Vermoncey, whose external aspect was so captivating, had not reached his twenty-second birthday, and yet he was leading the most wildly dissipated life that a man can lead in Paris. Spoiled prematurely by his success with the fair s.e.x, he deemed himself in duty bound to deceive all the women with whom he had dealings, to have several mistresses at the same time, to keep ballet dancers, to seduce simple bourgeoises, to make sport of grandes dames, and to amuse himself with grisettes.

To lead such an existence, one must have wealth, or high office, or unlimited credit. Albert had no office; he had completed the course of study for the bar, and called himself an advocate. There is nothing more advantageous to a man in Paris than to have studied for the bar; he may do nothing, and still he has a profession. That is why young men of good family, as a general rule, are very desirous to study law. But, in order to cut a brilliant figure in that position, it is necessary to have wealth in addition; for it is not the fas.h.i.+on to retain an advocate who tries no causes, unless he becomes a business agent, in which case he a.s.sumes the pompous t.i.tle of _jurisconsult_, and has a _cabinet._ Knowledge of the law is a great advantage to a business agent, because he is then in a position to handle business of all sorts. When he knows the _Code_, the _Digest_, and the _Authentiques_, he can undertake proceedings for separation, look after inheritances, adoptions, and prosecutions; and those things do not interfere with his writing vaudevilles or melodramas in his leisure moments. I should be much embarra.s.sed to mention anything that a man cannot do when he has studied law.

But Albert had no _cabinet_, nor did he try causes; he had never been to the Palais de Justice, and he thought of nothing but enjoying himself; it is plain, therefore, that he was wealthy, or that his parents were,--which is not altogether the same thing, although young men sometimes overlook the distinction.

Albert's father was a man somewhat over forty years of age, who had once been very handsome, and presumably had had his day of success with the ladies. However, before he reached the age at which men are accustomed to reform (when they reform at all), Monsieur Vermoncey had renounced all worldly pleasures, as the result of a succession of cruel disasters which robbed him of all that he held dearest.

Monsieur Vermoncey, whose only possession was his comely face, married early in life a young woman of large wealth, and from that time fortune smiled upon him. He plunged into speculation, was continuously lucky, and soon found himself in possession of an income of twenty thousand francs.

In his home, as in affairs, destiny seemed favorable to him. His wife was amiable and gentle; he had married her solely for her fortune, but he soon found that she deserved to be loved for herself, and, unlike those husbands who are all fire and flame at first and then turn to ice, he proceeded from indifference to love.

Four children were born of the marriage, at brief intervals. Albert was the oldest, and he had two brothers and a sister. Monsieur Vermoncey was happy, and proud of his numerous family; he was as good a father as husband.

But that state of affairs was too happy to last; perfect happiness seems to be contrary to the designs of Nature, for she speedily sends something to disturb it. Perhaps it is to afford some compensation to the unfortunate by showing them that suffering spares the greatest no more than the smallest, the wealthiest no more than the poorest; to prevent them from envying too keenly those in exalted station, and to impress it upon them that sometimes under the humblest roof are to be found those inestimable blessings, those joys of the heart, which all the gold of Peru cannot buy.

The oldest child was but ten years old when Monsieur Vermoncey lost his wife; this calamity was soon followed by the death of his youngest son; two years later, his daughter also was taken from him; finally, Albert's last brother followed his mother to the grave. So that, of his large family, only one son remained to fill the places of all whom he had lost.

These events had caused Monsieur Vermoncey the most profound grief, which was always reflected on his features. His wife's death caused him a very bitter pang, and the loss of each succeeding child intensified his sorrow beyond words. He would often sit for hours at a time, crushed to the earth by his thoughts; and when he raised his eyes, they bore an expression of melancholy resignation which could not fail to touch the hardest heart.

All his affection was concentrated on Albert, his only remaining child.

It is not surprising, therefore, that the young man had found in his father a boundless store of indulgence, upon which he relied to obtain forgiveness for his excesses.

However, Monsieur Vermoncey did not carry his weakness so far that he did not see his son's failings; he had urged him to lead a more orderly life; sometimes, even, he had tried to impart a tinge of severity to his advice; but his intense affection for his son soon carried the day; moreover, Albert always promised to mend his ways, and his father was only too glad to believe him.

Unfortunately for Albert, he had become intimate with one of those men who trade on the weaknesses of others, and who, not having means enough to lead a life of dissipation, and lacking the talent to procure it, attach themselves to those who are possessed of wealth, find a way to make themselves necessary to them, to take part in all their follies, to be included in all their parties of pleasure; so that they are able to lead a most agreeable existence with a very modest income, or even if they have not a sou. Paris swarms with such men. They are not thieves, strictly speaking, for they do not rob you; they are not mere _intrigants_, for they have a name and some position in society; but they are shrewd fellows, who risk nothing and make the most of everything.

Monsieur Celestin Valnoir, who called himself _De_ Valnoir in order to obtain greater consideration, was an individual of this type. He had wormed himself into Albert's friends.h.i.+p, as men worm themselves into the friends.h.i.+p of those who own chateaux or large estates, or anything else that is worth preying upon. He had not a sou, and he was supposed to have at least fifteen thousand francs a year; he was the son of a butcher in the suburbs, and was believed to be of n.o.ble birth; he had no knowledge of music or of drawing, but posed as a master of all such subjects; in fact, he had received very little education, and he was looked upon as a profound scholar. But, on the other hand, he had certain qualities which, in society, often replace all others: an imperturbable self-a.s.surance, and the art of turning the most trivial circ.u.mstances to his advantage.

Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier was one of a very poor and very large family, and had sworn to make his fortune. To that end, at the age of eight he walked about the streets picking up pins, which he sold when he had obtained a certain quant.i.ty. Impressed by his business instincts, one of his uncles had taken charge of him and made him his clerk, with no wages beyond his board and lodging; still the young man succeeded in saving money, which seems a difficult task, when he earned none; but he sold his uncle's old clothes, which were the only perquisites of his position. In order to make those perquisites more valuable, by advancing the time when his patron's garments should be turned over to him, he often pa.s.sed a large part of the night rubbing them with pumice stone, so that the cloth soon became as thin as paper and began to give way on all sides. But one morning, when the uncle happened to rise earlier than usual, he found his nephew engaged in polis.h.i.+ng the back of his coat, and instantly turned him out of doors.

Tobie thereupon risked his little h.o.a.rd in a speculation. A friend of his had just opened a pastry-cook's shop. _Galette_ was just becoming fas.h.i.+onable in Paris; several large fortunes owed their origin to the fondness of the Parisians for that delicacy. Pigeonnier risked his funds, and at the end of a year he withdrew ten times as much.

Thereupon, finding himself in a position to cut a figure in the world, Tobie became a dealer in chestnuts, on commission; but, despite his business ability, he made much less money than when he was the pastry-cook's partner; moreover, vanity had taken possession of him, and he had said to himself, like many another: "To become rich, it is necessary to appear rich; water flows to the river; consequently, in order to make money, I must act as if I already had a lot of it."--That is why young Tobie took so much pains with his dress, and affected the manners and habits of a wealthy dandy. To be sure, only the fronts of his s.h.i.+rts were of fine linen; the rest was of a very coa.r.s.e, cheap quality; the head of his cane was hollow, his eyegla.s.s German silver, his pin paste; but they all looked like the real thing. Furthermore, Pigeonnier never lost an opportunity to say:

"I dined at Very's. I am going to breakfast at Vefour's. I sup to-night at the Maison-Doree. I was at the Opera last night. I am going to the Francais to-night. I mean to go to the Bouffes to-morrow."

Whereas, in fact, Tobie Pigeonnier usually slipped into the most modest restaurants, except when he dined at home on a loaf of bread and a piece of Italian cheese; which did not prevent him from going to walk afterward in the garden of the Palais-Royal, with a toothpick in his mouth, and saying to all his acquaintances, as he unb.u.t.toned two or three b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat:

"On my word, I believe I ate too much dinner; I am suffocating. They treat you very well at Douix's. But it's foolish to eat so much. I am a shameful glutton!"

And if he went to the theatre, it was only to take his stand under the peristyle just as the curtain fell, in order to hear what was said of the play; and when he did venture to buy a ticket, it was only because he could get it extremely cheap, there being only a scene or two to be played.

We have said enough to make it clear that he was very far from having as many mistresses as he claimed to have. Although he was rather a good-looking youth, especially in the eyes of those persons who like noses shaped like a parrot's beak, he rarely ventured to embark upon a love affair; because, as a general rule, such affairs require, first of all, that one should have money in one's pocket. A young man without a sou may inspire a pa.s.sion, form a liaison, have a mistress who really loves him; and under such circ.u.mstances he is ent.i.tled to flatter himself that he is loved on his own account; but he cannot change mistresses very often--in short, he can hardly be what we call a man _a bonnes fortunes_. That is a calling which requires a constant expenditure of money and of health. Tobie asked nothing better than to spend the latter, but preferred to h.o.a.rd his money.

When his fas.h.i.+onable friends proposed to him to join a party of pleasure, or to dine with them, he always found some pretext for refusing; but this time, the hope of making a conquest of Madame Plays overcame his usual reserve; for in that lady's acquaintance he foresaw many opportunities to advance his fortunes. Monsieur Plays was a commission merchant, and might offer him frequent opportunities to make profitable investments. All these considerations combined had induced Tobie to accept Albert's proposition; and although he was very short of money, he had decided also to be one of the dinner party at the Maison-Doree.

Now, let us join the three young men in the Pa.s.sage des Panoramas, where they were waiting for the two others whom Celestin had arranged to meet there.

"There's always a crowd in this pa.s.sage," said Albert. "In summer, people walk through; in winter, they come here to walk, because the boulevards are muddy. If it rains, they come here for shelter; if the sun is very hot, they come here for shade; so that there's always a crowd here."

"Let's look at the statuettes. You told us, Tobie, didn't you, that somebody was making a caricature of you?"

"Not a caricature, but a bust, life size."

"That won't be so amusing."