Parisian Points of View Part 16

"What's the matter with me? She's papa's Number Three--yes, Number Three. The father of that little marvel is one of papa's piquet players at the club. And I wouldn't see Number Three, and she falls into my arms on the platform between Paris and Lyons. You will present me after lunch, and I shall speak to the mother and tell her all."

"How, all?"

"Yes, all; that her daughter is papa's Number Three, and that I didn't want Number One or Two, but that I should like Number Three. Ah, dear boy, how pretty she is--especially her nose, so charmingly turned up.

She has just looked at me, and in a certain way; I am sure I don't displease her. Did you mention me, did you tell my name?"

"No."

"You were wrong. At any rate, right after lunch--Do you know what I think? That this affair will go through on wheels. I shall first telegraph papa, and then to-morrow--Oh, heavens! I hope there's a telephone between Paris and Ma.r.s.eilles--"

He interrupted himself and called:

"Porter! Porter!"

"Sir."

"Is there a telephone between Paris and Ma.r.s.eilles?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah! That's all Thanks. The telephone, Maurice, there's the telephone!

Papa can speak for me to-morrow by telephone. It will be charming!

Marriage by express. Express, electric, telephonic, and romantic marriage, all at the same time. You understand that between a little phiz like that and a voyage around the world I don't hesitate. But why haven't you thought of marrying her?"

"Oh, too wealthy--too wealthy a match for me; and then she is not the kind of little person to go and bury in a garrison town in Algeria. She is a Parisian, a true Parisian, who wants to amuse herself, and who will amuse herself."

"Just what I want, absolutely just what I want. I too wish to amuse myself. She will amuse herself, I shall amuse myself, we will amuse ourselves."

Young Raoul was in a frenzy, and as soon as he had finished his luncheon he scrawled a new despatch on the restaurant table to his father, and, while writing, talked very excitedly.

"I'll send my despatch from Dijon, and I'll address it to the club; papa will be there about five o'clock, and also the father of this little marvel. They can immediately discuss the affair. Shall I ask for an answer at Lyons? The time-table, pa.s.s me the time-table. Lyons, 5.25.

No, that would be too short. Answer at Ma.r.s.eilles. They stop at Ma.r.s.eilles? Yes? For twenty-four hours? All right, so do I. At what hotel? Hotel de Noailles? All right, so do I. So answer Hotel de Noailles. My despatch is very good. You will see. As good as the other--better, even. I've the knack of telegrams to-day. Yes, it's very good."

He wrote and wrote; he was inspired, he was animated; he made a few more mistakes than usual in spelling, that was all--it was emotion. He reread his despatch with complaisance, he made Maurice read it, who could not help thinking the incident funny. Raoul counted the words of his despatch--there were about a hundred and fifty--and calling the waiter of the dining-car, he said, "Send this telegram off for me at Dijon.

Here are ten francs; there will be two or three over for you."

Then turning at once to Maurice he asked, "Is that enough?"

"Why certainly."

"Well, for such a marriage--ah, my dear fellow, you sail to-morrow at what time?"

"At two o'clock."

"Oh, we have plenty of time, then; all will be settled by two o'clock."

"Oh, settled; you're crazy!"

"Not at all; it's already very far advanced, since it's papa's Number Three. I only ask one thing of you: present me to the mother shortly.

After that let me alone. I'll manage everything; only, at any cost, we must leave our car and find two arm-chairs in the same car, and near my mother-in-law."

"Your mother-in-law!"

"That's what I said; my mother-in-law. Once the two arm-chairs are procured, I am master of the situation. You don't know me. I already know what I shall say to the mother, what I shall say to my young brother-in-law (he is very nice), and what I shall say to my future bride. I shall have made a conquest of all of them before we reach Lyons. Lyons? No; that's going a little fast--say Valence or Montelimar.

Pa.s.s me the time-table again. Let us settle everything, and leave nothing to chance. Oh, look at her! She has nibbled nuts for the last fifteen minutes, and how she cracks them--crack! one little bite--and what pretty little teeth! She is very pretty even while eating--an important thing. It's very rare to find women who remain pretty while eating and sleeping, very rare. Little Adelaide, the red-headed one, you remember, ate stupidly. And this one over there eats brightly; she eats--crack! another nut--and she looks at me on the sly. I can see that she looks at me. All goes well, all goes well!"

In truth, all did go well. At Montbard, 12.32, Raoul was presented to Mme. Derame, who, on hearing the name of Chamblard, had a little s.h.i.+ver--the s.h.i.+ver of a mother who has a young daughter to marry, and who says to herself, "Oh, what a splendid match!" Her husband had often spoken to her of young Chamblard.

"Ah," he used to say to her, "what a marriage for Martha! We speak of it sometimes before and after our piquet, Chamblard and I; but the young man is restive--doesn't yet wish to settle down. It would be such a good thing--he is richer than we. Chamblard is once, twice, three times richer! And Martha isn't easy to marry; she has already refused five or six desirable matches on all sorts of pretexts. They didn't please her: they were too old, they had no style, they didn't live in fas.h.i.+onable neighborhoods, she didn't wish to go into sugar, or cotton, or wine--or anything, in short. She would accept none other than a young husband, and not too serious. She must have a very rich man who did nothing and loved pleasure."

How well young Chamblard answered to that description! When there was question of doing nothing, Raoul showed real talent. As soon as one talked horses, dogs, carriages, hats, dresses, jewelry, races, fencing, skating, cooking, etc., he showed signs of the rarest and highest competence.

So, as there was general conversation, Raoul was very brilliant. In the neighborhood of Chalons-sur-Saone (3.10), while relating how he, Chamblard, had invented a marvellous little coupe, he did not say that: that coupe had been offered by him to Mlle. Juliette Lorphelin, of the ballet corps at the Folies-Bergere. This coupe was a marvel; besides, it was very well known; it was called the Chamblard coupe.

"Small," he said, "very small. A coupe ought always to be small." But what a lot of things in such a small s.p.a.ce: a drawer for toilet necessaries, a secret box for money and jewelry, a clock, a thermometer, a barometer, a writing-shelf--and that was not all!

He became animated, and grew excited in speaking of his invention.

Martha listened to him eagerly.

"When you pull up the four wooden shutters you naturally find yourself in the dark; but the four shutters are mirrors, and as soon as one has placed a finger on a little b.u.t.ton hidden under the right-hand cus.h.i.+on, six little crystal b.a.l.l.s, ingeniously scattered in the tufting of the blue satin of the coupe, become electric lights. The coupe is turned into a little lighted boudoir; and not only for five minutes--no, but for an hour, two hours, if one wishes it; there is a storage-battery under the seat. When I submitted this idea to my carriage-maker he was smitten with envy and admiration."

Martha, too, was smitten.

"What a charming man!" she said to herself. "Oh, to have such a coupe!

But pearl-gray--I should want it pearl-gray."

Then they discussed jewelry, dresses, hats, stuffs. And Raoul proved on all those questions, if possible, more remarkable than ever. He had paid so many bills to great dress-makers, great milliners, and great jewellers! He had been present at so many conferences on the cut of such a dress or the arrangement of such a costume, at so many scenes of trying on and draping! And as he drew easily, he willingly threw his ideas on paper, as he said, neatly. He had even designed the costumes of a little piece--played in I do not know what little theatre--which was revolutionary, anarchistic, symbolistic, decadent, end of the century, end of the world.

He took his little note-book and began to outline with a light hand, in spite of the movement of the train, several of his creations. He had tact, and thought of everything. "It was," he said, "for charades played in society at my friend's, the baron so and so." He invented the baron, and gave him a resonant name.

Martha was delighted. Never had a man, since she had been allowed to chat a little with young men, seemed to her to have such an original and interesting conversation.

"Lately," said Raoul, "one of my cousins--she often applies to me--consulted me about a dress for a ball at Nice, during the carnival.

This is what I advised her. See, I draw at the same time--look."

Oh, how she did look!

"I am going to try to make myself well understood. A foundation of smooth white satin, clinging, very clinging--blue, I adore blue."

That pained her; she disliked blue.

"Yes, very clinging; my cousin has a delightful figure, and can stand it."

He took Martha's figure in with a hasty glance, and the glance seemed to say, "You could, too." She understood and blushed, charmed with that delicate flattery. Raoul continued:

"Pale, very pale blue satin. Then on my foundation I threw an over-dress of pompadour lace of very soft tones: greens, pinks, mauves, cream, and azure. Very large sleeves with a double puff of blue velvet, wristlets of Venetian point. Am I clear?"

"Oh, very clear, very clear."