Our travellers reached the next village without mishap, and stopped there to breakfast. Ménard admired the tranquillity with which their noble companion bore the twofold loss of his carriage and his fifty thousand francs.
"I am a philosopher, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "and I care little for money; indeed, I think that I should prefer mediocrity to a too exalted station:Magna servitus est magna fortuna."
"You are no ordinary man, my dear Dubourg," said Frédéric; "there are so many people whose philosophydoes not outlast their prosperity, like the coward who boasts of his courage when the danger has passed."
"I certainly am not ambitious," rejoined Ménard; "and I know how to bow to circumstances; but I consider that it requires great strength of mind to give up without regret a good table and a good bed; and when I say a good bed, I don't mean a high one."
Dubourg observed that when they had breakfasted it was Monsieur Ménard who paid the bill.
"Don't you carry the purse?" he asked Frédéric, in an undertone.
"No; my father gave the funds to Ménard."
"The devil! that's a nuisance. What will he think, when he sees that I never pay?"
"Why, after your saying that you had been robbed, did you add that you still had fifteen thousand francs in your pocket?"
"Oh! why, why! because I wanted to play the great man, and not let your companion imagine that you would pay my expenses."
"I don't dare to ask Ménard for the money; I should be afraid of hurting his feelings."
"Never fear; I'll undertake to make him turn it over of his own motion."
"How?"
"You will see."
"When you hold the purse-strings, don't play the swell too much; remember that we shall not have any more for a long while."
"Can it be that you believe that I am still a rattle-head and gambler, as I was in Paris? No, my dear Frédéric, I am too well pleased to be travelling with you, to make a fool of myself; I tell you again, I mean to be a second Mentor."
"Yes; your performance in the cow-barn is a very promising beginning."
"Oh! but I had to invent some lie to account for the berlin."
"And that made it necessary to lock yourself in there with Mademoiselle Goton! you ne'er-do-well!"
"Bah! don't make yourself out such a Cato! If Mademoiselle Goton had had melancholy eyes and a sentimental cast of countenance, you would have gone with her to pasture the cows."
"Well, at all events, I beg you not to do so much gasconading with poor Ménard, who believes every word; for, to remove any possible suspicion from his mind, I have taken pains to tell him that I know your family intimately, and that you are highly esteemed in Paris."
"You have done very well. I only tell him as much as I think necessary to carry out my part; you don't seem to remember that I call myself a Polish nobleman."
"That's the reason, I suppose, that you talk about nothing but Bretagne!"
The travellers resumed their journey. Before reaching the town where they proposed to pass the night, they had to ride through a dense forest; and Dubourg, who had his scheme all prepared, began operations by giving a serious turn to the conversation, for he was well aware that one's frame of mind adds to or takes from the size of objects, and that in real life, as on the stage, one must know how to prepare and lead up to situations, in order that they may produce the greatest effect.
"I know nothing more delightful than travelling," said Dubourg; "why is it that one's pleasure must always be lessened by the thought that some unfortunate accident may upset all one's plans?"
"It is so with all the pleasures of life," rejoined Frédéric; "can you name one upon which we can rely for the morrow? It is a great joy to be loved by the woman you adore; but when you feel sure that you are not indifferent to her, when you rely on her heart and her oaths, some young Adonis appears, who fascinates her; some handsome soldier, who turns her head; some scintillating wit, who charms her mind—and that woman, faithful until then, betrays you at the very moment that you feel most confident of her love. Alas! the happiness of our whole future often depends only upon some trivial circumstance, and crumbles and falls like a house built of cards."
"Monsieur de Montreville talks very wisely," said Ménard; "we are often sadly disappointed in our hopes; how many times have I dined at a famous restaurant, when the soup was a failure!"
"A philosopher endures such disasters, in fortune, in love, or in pleasure," said Dubourg; "but there are things against which even philosophy cannot prevail; as, for instance, being attacked and murdered by brigands on the highroad."
These words made Ménard shudder; his face lengthened, his expression became anxious, and he turned to Dubourg, whose features wore a gloomy look in which there was nothing reassuring.
"Such affairs are, in truth, very unpleasant for travellers. They say, monsieur le baron, that travelling is very dangerous in Italy. You have travelled so much, that you can probably tell us."
"Unquestionably there are brigands in Italy, Monsieur Ménard. The peculiarity of that country is that the roads are most dangerous at noon, for no one but the brigandsdares to face the hot sun at that time of day. However, if there are highway robbers in the Apennines and in Germany and England, unfortunately there's no lack of them in France. It's quite as dangerous now to travel in France."
"What! in France, monsieur le baron? I thought that the roads were perfectly safe."
"Then you don't read the papers, Monsieur Ménard?"
"Very rarely."
"If you did, you would see that the forests of Sénart, Bondy, Fontainebleau, and even Villers-Cotterets, all have their bands of robbers."
"Mon Dieu!"
"Unfortunately, the villains are becoming more savage day by day. They used to content themselves with robbing you, but now they beat you with clubs, and you're lucky if you leave their hands alive."
"The deuce! the deuce! if I had known this!" muttered Ménard, looking about him uneasily. They were just entering the wood.
"Oh! don't be alarmed, Monsieur Ménard," continued Dubourg; "ordinarily, the robbers confine their attentions to the one who has the money; he has to pay for the others: they tie him to a tree and strip him as bare as a worm, to make sure that he has nothing hidden in his clothing."
"That does not quiet my apprehensions at all, monsieur le baron; for, as it happens, I have charge of the money for our journey."
"Oh! if I had known that, I wouldn't have told you. I thought that Frédéric—— But in that case you must sell your life dearly. You are armed, of course?"
"I never use weapons, monsieur le baron."
"Then you must learn to use them; at this moment, we are driving through a forest where three friends of mine were killed."
"What's that! in this wood? It does seem very dense."
And Ménard glanced fearfully to right and left. It was beginning to grow dark, and that fact added to his terror.
"Drive at full speed, postilion!" he cried, in a trembling voice.
But the postilion, who had received his instructions from Dubourg, did not quicken his pace. Frédéric said nothing, but seemed lost in thought, and Dubourg took his pistols from his pocket and examined them carefully, glancing into the woods from time to time.
"Parbleu! Monsieur Ménard," he said, taking from his pocket a shabby green wallet, in which he had placed his last restaurant bill to make it appear well filled, "this contains my whole fortune for the moment. The fifteen thousand francs which I now have for my travelling expenses are in this wallet; as you have been obliging enough to take charge of Frédéric's funds, I am sure that you will consent to be my cashier, too; there is no need of having two of us to pay our hotel bills; it's much better that you should do it all."
As he spoke, he handed Ménard the wallet; that worthy looked at it, considering what it was best to do; although flattered by that mark of confidence, he was not tempted to accept it.
At that moment, they heard a shrill whistle in the woods.
"Ah! what does that mean?" exclaimed Dubourg, glancing about with a terrified expression.
"Perhaps we are going to be attacked, monsieur le baron."
"Faith! I am afraid of it."
"And Monsieur Frédéric is asleep; pray wake him."
Frédéric, pretending to be fast asleep, was an amused listener.
"There's no need of that.—Take these, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg, handing the tutor his wallet and his pistols; "they are loaded."
"Keep them, keep them, in heaven's name, monsieur le baron. I can't take this wallet. On the contrary, if you were willing, you would be much better able than I to take care of these."
And poor Ménard produced in one hand his wallet, and in the other a purse filled with gold, and fixed his eyes upon Dubourg with a suppliant expression.
"Really," said the latter, "I don't know if I ought to undertake—— Perhaps Frédéric will be offended if——"
"Oh! no, no, monsieur le baron; I am sure that he will approve of my action."
"Here are four men with rifles coming toward us," said the postilion.
"Great God! we are lost!" cried Ménard.
"Give them to me, quickly," said Dubourg, taking the wallet and the purse; "I see that this is a matter for me to attend to."
Ménard hid under the seat; the postilion shouted and swore, and lashed his horses; Dubourg leaned out of the chaise and fired both his pistols in the air; Frédéric pretended to wake up; the carriage flew like the wind, and in five minutes they were out of the wood.
"We are safe!" said Dubourg, assisting Ménard to rise.
"Really, monsieur le baron?"
"We are out of the woods; there's no more danger. We had a narrow escape, eh, Frédéric?"
"And the robbers, monsieur le baron?"
"I killed two of them."
"I saw the other two run away," said Frédéric.
"Ah! monsieur le baron, how lucky we were to have you with us!"
They arrived in due time at their destination. Dubourg was delighted to be the treasurer of the party, and he inaugurated his functions by giving the postilion a gold piece for whistling in the forest.
Dubourg had never had in his possession so large a sum of money as that which Ménard had intrusted to him. Young men, as a general rule, are not in the habit of hoarding money, and Dubourg, who was devoted to cards and pleasure and good cheer, thinking only of the present, oblivious of the past, and never worrying about the future, had not the faintest idea of economy.
When he was a clerk in a government office, his salary was always so largely hypothecated that he never received more than a third of it, and that third never lasted more than three days, during which period, to be sure, Dubourg lived like the chief of a bureau.
In the banking-house, being compelled to work hard, he took his revenge by ordering dainty breakfasts brought to the office; and his accounts at cafés and restaurants consumed a large part of the amount the cashier paid him at the month's end.
At the notary's, he had contracted, with the other young men in the office, the deplorable habit of playing écarté. It was worse than ever there: the month's pay vanished in one evening, and he was in luck when he did not pledge the next month's as well.
In the employ of the solicitor, being constantly abroad with the lady whom his employer intrusted to him, he lost the habit of working; he passed his time in dissipation, and strove to follow the fashions and rival the young dandies of the capital. During that period, his tailor, his bootmaker, and his stableman had divided his income.
When his kind old aunt sent him money, it was never a large amount. The largest was the five hundred francs which he had extorted by the fable of his marriage and his triplets; we have seen what use he made of that.
Eight thousand francs—for the amount was almost untouched—was, in Dubourg's eyes, a fortune of which he would never see the end. To be sure, it did not belong to him, strictly speaking; but he could direct the spending of it; he could do exactly as he pleased, for he was certain of not being called upon for an accounting. He did not propose to appropriate a single sou, but he did propose to put it to such use as would do honor to him to whom it belonged, and he was not sorry to be able to enjoy it with him.
He ordered a delicious supper, which was served in their apartments, the finest in the house.
When he saw all the dishes with which the table was laden, Frédéric exclaimed:
"Why, are you mad, Dubourg?"—for he continued to call him by that name before Ménard, who had become accustomed to it—"here is supper enough for ten!"
"I have an excellent appetite, my dear Frédéric, and am disposed to do full honor to it; I'll wager that Monsieur Ménard will second me."
"With the very greatest pleasure, monsieur le baron; that affair in the woods made a hole in my stomach."
"But you surely have condemned all the other guests of the house to a bread and water diet."
"Faith! they may eat what they can find; it seems to me natural that we should make up to ourselves for the miserable meal we had last night at that horrible inn."
"I quite agree with monsieur le baron; we are sadly in need of restoring our strength."
"But——"
"What the devil! do you want to travel like wolves? and eat at table d'hôte like paltry pedestrians? A man should support his rank, my friend, and I judge, from the feeling, that my stomach isn't inclined to backslide."
"Monsieur le baron talks very judiciously; you must support your rank," said Ménard, accepting a chicken wing which Dubourg offered him; "that is your father's wish, you know, Monsieur Frédéric."
"Yes, my friend," said Dubourg, filling his glass with the oldest wine that the cellar of the inn contained; "I think you should certainly yield to your father's wish; and, on my word, all things considered, I don't see why I should retain my incognito any longer. We're a long way from Paris. I am done with it; I resume my titles, and I propose to be treated with the honors that are due me."
"Oh! Dubourg, Dubourg! you will get us into some scrape," said Frédéric, in an undertone; but his friend paid no heed; he was excited by the wine, and he had never felt in such high spirits. He drank glass after glass, while Ménard, with a glutton's delight, helped himself to mushroom pie, the odor of which tickled his olfactory nerve.
"What do you think of my plan, Monsieur Ménard?"
"That has always been my wish, as you know, monsieur le baron."
"It is settled; I am baron, palatine, et cetera; and we will make it manifest wherever we go."
"Certainly, monsieur le baron; the nobility of your manners will always cause you to be recognized for what you are."
"Bravo, Monsieur Ménard! spoken like a true boon companion! But as to Frédéric, he is unworthy to sit at our table. A little more of this hare, Monsieur Ménard?"
"With pleasure, monsieur le baron."
"We must be philosophical—when we can't help it; but true philosophy consists in making the most of life, in enjoying one's self whenever the opportunity offers.Dulce est desipere in loco, says Horace. Eh, Monsieur Ménard?"
"Yes, monsieur le baron; but Juvenal advises infrequent indulgence in pleasures:Voluptatis commendat rarior usus."
"Juvenal probably had a weak stomach."
"That is very possible, monsieur le baron."
"Another glass, Monsieur Ménard; to the memory of Anacreon, Epicurus, Horace, and all good livers!"
"We forget Lucullus, monsieur le baron."
"True; another bumper, to Lucullus!"
By dint of drinking to the memory of the ancients, the two were beginning to lose all memory of the present.
"Faith!" cried Dubourg, rising from the table; "I defy all the palatines of Rava, Cracow, and Krapach to eat a better supper!"
"Take care what you are saying, you infernal babbler!" muttered Frédéric.
"Never you fear," retorted Dubourg, speaking louder than ever; "I'll answer for everything, I tell you; and Papa Ménard is a man whom I esteem and love, and whose eyes I will close with pheasants or truffles."
Luckily, Ménard was in such a condition that he could not distinguish clearly what was being said. Bewildered by the frequent libations in which he had indulged with his noble companion, he left the table to go to his room. He felt his way along the walls till he reached his bed, which he had ordered to be made very low. He retired, well pleased with the feast he had enjoyed and with the baron's manner of doing the honors of the table; he considered that he had done exceedingly well to intrust the financial arrangements to him, for he himself would not have dared to order so delicious a repast; and he foresaw that the baron, who seemed to be both a gourmand and an epicure, would continue to feed them on the fat of the land, as he had abandoned his incognito. In a word, Ménard was delighted with their travelling companion, and he fell asleep musing upon the pleasures and the honor which he should enjoy on that journey.
On the following day, Frédéric attempted to talk prudence to Dubourg, who instantly retorted:
"Do you want to take the funds? Do so, give such orders as you please; it's your right. But, absorbed as you always are in melancholy reflections, you won't feedus decently; and when you are travelling for pleasure, it seems to me that food is a most essential thing to look out for."
"But be reasonable, at least."
"Oh! you are greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for having two men with you to keep you amused—one by his wit, the other by the way he puts himself outside of a partridge."
"But what's the meaning of this idea of playing the great man before everybody?"
"Because we shall have more sport. Besides, you are a count; I must be a baron at least, in order to travel on equal terms with you."
"But the money will go much faster."
"Bah! we shan't see the end of it for a long while yet; and then, you have a father, and I an aunt."
"I advise you to rely on them!"
"At all events, you see that your mentor approves of my method."
"Parbleu! you make him tipsy, and he doesn't know what he's saying."
"Don't worry; I'll answer for everything."
When they resumed their journey, the horses, which belonged to Frédéric, went like the wind. Ménard was slightly dazed by the rapid motion, but he said to himself: "These nobles always travel at full speed;" and clung to the door to keep from falling.
At every inn, they were treated with the greatest respect, as men of high rank. Everywhere they had the best rooms, the daintiest dishes, the oldest wines. And Ménard was delighted, enchanted, because he believed that monsieur le baron had put his fifteen thousand francs with the sum he had handed him, and becausehe judged him to be too large-hearted and generous to give a thought to the difference between their contributions.
In due time, our travellers reached Lyon, having paused on the way only to admire an occasional view and to give their horses time to breathe. But they proposed to pass several days in that city. Young Montreville was very glad of an opportunity to see it and its suburbs, and, above all, to visit the shores of the Rhône; and his two companions consented, with pleasure, to tarry some time in a city where they could live as well as in Paris.
They alighted at one of the best hotels. The noise made by Dubourg, the distinguished aspect of Frédéric, and the pains that Ménard took to repeat again and again: "You have the honor of entertaining Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Palatine of Rava, and the young Comte de Montreville," attracted universal attention and consideration to the young men, who seemed disposed to spend money freely, which is the best of recommendations at a hotel.
They were quartered in a superb suite on the first floor. Their meals were served in their rooms, and everything had to be of the best. Dubourg was the one who gave all the orders; Frédéric interfered with none of the details, beyond saying to his friend:
"Be careful what you do."
Whereupon Dubourg would reply: "Never fear," with such confidence that the young count finally allowed him to do as he pleased, without remonstrance.
As for Ménard, he was more enthusiastic than ever about the baron, to whom he was indebted for such an agreeable life. Frédéric often went out alone to walkalong the bank of the Rhône; fascinated by the beautiful landscape he discovered, he sometimes did not return to the hotel until night or the following day. Dubourg, like those liars who end by believing in their own false-hoods, had so identified himself with the part he was playing, that he would have struck anyone who expressed a doubt as to his rank; he amused himself, during his friend's absences, by displaying his magnificence in the city. Leaning nonchalantly on Ménard's arm, who, with his hat on the back of his head, the better to see and be seen, carried himself very straight, walked with much precision, and strove to assume an air that was both dignified and affable, when he went out with monsieur le baron—Dubourg walked all over the city, with a huge three-cornered hat, adorned with a black plume and a steel buckle, which he wore after the style of one of Molière's marquises. To be sure, the rest of his costume hardly corresponded with his hat; but it was no longer fashionable to wear embroidered coats for walking, and Dubourg had confined himself to having silver tassels attached to his military boots, considering that there was a something Polish about them. He left his coat open, because that gave him a more careless air, and he made frequent use of a huge eyeglass hanging from his neck by a pink ribbon.
His extraordinary garb attracted every eye. Some took him for an Englishman, some for a Russian or a Prussian; but if some curious individual stopped and looked after him with a smile on his face, Dubourg would flash a glance at him that put an end to any inclination to laugh at his expense, and conveyed the impression that the stranger, whoever he might be, was not of a disposition to endure being laughed at.
But it was necessary to be in the neighborhood of our two friends only a very short time to ascertain the identity of the gentleman in the plumed hat, who sauntered along so gracefully with his glass at his eye; for Monsieur Ménard talked very loud, especially when he saw that someone was noticing them, and never failed to emphasize the "Baron Potoski," or "Monsieur le Palatine," when he addressed his companion; sometimes, indeed, he went so far as to call him "Monseigneur de Rava et de Sandomir."
They had been in Lyon a week. Frédéric had not begun to tire of visiting the beautiful suburbs of the city, but Dubourg was beginning to tire of exhibiting himself in the public streets, arm in arm with Ménard. They had been to all the places of resort, all the theatres, and all the cafés; everywhere, Dubourg played the great nobleman, and Ménard unwittingly acted as his accomplice; for the poor fellow was entirely honest, and deemed himself highly honored to promenade with his pupil's noble friend, who was always able to produce an apt quotation and bewildered him by his anecdotes of travel in the four quarters of the globe.
For several days, Dubourg had been urging Frédéric to leave Lyon, and he always postponed their departure to the next day, when one morning Dubourg received a letter which put an end to his desire to go away. This letter was addressed toMonsieur le Baron Potoski, Seigneur Polonais. Dubourg read the superscription twice. Who could have written to him, and by that name? He asked the landlady who had brought the letter, and was told that it was a servant in livery, who requested that it be delivered to monsieur le baron in person.
Dubourg hastened to break the seal, and read as follows:
"Monsieur le Baron Potoski is invited to pass this evening with Madame la Marquise de Versac, who will be delighted to entertain the noble stranger, at his pleasure, during his stay in Lyon."
"Monsieur le Baron Potoski is invited to pass this evening with Madame la Marquise de Versac, who will be delighted to entertain the noble stranger, at his pleasure, during his stay in Lyon."
The marchioness's address was at the foot of the note, which Dubourg reread several times, and which diffused an odor of musk and amber through his room.
"The devil!" said Dubourg to himself; "an invitation from a marchioness! This is decidedly flattering! But how does she know me? Parbleu! a man very soon becomes known when he lives with a certain amount of style. Besides, people must be beginning to talk about me, after I've paraded the streets for a week with Ménard, like a white bear."
Dubourg summoned the landlady again, and asked her if she knew Madame la Marquise de Versac.
"The Marquise de Versac? I don't know her personally, but I know her very well by name. It's one of the oldest and richest families in the city, and I know madame la marquise has a magnificent country house on the river, four leagues from Lyon."
Dubourg asked no more questions; he was in raptures. He dismissed the landlady, and began to pace the floor, saying to himself:
"I shall certainly accept madame la marquise's invitation; the acquaintance cannot fail to be exceedingly agreeable to me, and, who knows? perhaps I may find there some baroness or viscountess whose head I can turn; who will marry me, and endow me with estates andchâteaux! Well, what would there be so surprising in that? I am young, not bad-looking; I have a certain style, which must have attracted Madame la Marquise de Versac. But, deuce take me! what if she herself—— Ah! I forgot to ask about that."
Dubourg rang again, and the landlady reappeared.
"I beg your pardon, my dear hostess," he said; "but I have reasons for wishing to know if Madame la Marquise de Versac is married."
"She is still a widow, I think, monsieur; it's only three years since Monsieur de Versac died, and since then I haven't heard——"
"Very good, very good, madame," said Dubourg, dismissing her again; and he capered about the room, looking at himself in the mirror, and saying:
"She's a widow! there's no doubt about her being a widow still, or the invitation would be in her husband's name. Now, this becomes interesting: a very rich young widow, who has a magnificent country house, and who writes me that she will be charmed to entertain me! for that's what it says. Let's read it again: yes, 'delighted to entertain you.'—It seems to me that that almost amounts to a declaration. You shall entertain me, charming creature! I promise you. By the way, I forgot to ask if she was charming, but it can't be otherwise; at all events, I don't care so much for beauty, now; I am reasonable, I am more attracted by solid advantages. This very evening she shall see the noble stranger. But, damnation! when she finds out that the palatine is only a humble bourgeois! After all, I am an honest Breton, and an honest Breton's as good as any other man; besides, we haven't come to that yet. I must begin by captivating her. When a woman is fascinated, does she recognizeranks and distances? Love equalizes everything: the lord of the thunder loved simple mortals, and the shepherd Paris had it in his power to lie with the loveliest goddesses in Olympus. To lie with Madame de Versac, I'll give her all the apples she wants."
Ménard made his appearance while Dubourg was strutting about his bedroom, trying to assume a courtly air. As soon as he caught sight of the tutor, he thrust the letter into his face, crying:
"Tolle, lege, my dear Ménard."
Ménard recoiled, because the odor of musk exhaled by the letter made him ill.
"Doesn't that smell rather like a marchioness, eh?" said Dubourg, inhaling the perfume ecstatically. "Well, Ménard, what do you say to this letter?"
"I see nothing surprising in it, monsieur le baron; you must be accustomed to receive similar ones wherever you go."
"True, you are right, Ménard; I don't mean to imply that I am surprised; I say that the note is well turned, eh?"
"Very well turned, monsieur le baron."
"It was evidently written by a woman who knows her man, wasn't it?"
"Certainly, monsieur le baron, she must know him."
"But I mean that it doesn't resemble such notes as—as little Delphine had the presumption to write me."
"Who was this Delphine, monsieur le baron?"
"Oh! she was a little countess, on Boulevard du Temple, whose receptions used to be attended by a large number of noblemen of my stamp."
"Monsieur le baron will accept Madame la Marquise de Versac's invitation, of course?"
"Accept it? most assuredly. Let us dine at once, Monsieur Ménard, so that I need think of nothing but dressing. Where's Frédéric?"
"Admiring some new view, no doubt; he told me that he should not return till evening; I think he intends to leave Lyon to-morrow."
"To-morrow! Oh! we'll see about that; we have all the time there is, and we're very comfortable here, aren't we, Monsieur Ménard?"
"Very, monsieur le baron; but, you know, we are traveling for——"
"I know that we shouldn't leave a city till we know it thoroughly, and Frédéric can't know this city yet, as he's always in the suburbs. You must persuade him of that, Monsieur Ménard."
"I will do my utmost, monsieur le baron."
Dubourg ate little dinner; he was too much engrossed by thoughts of his evening to have any appetite; a child does not eat, when his father has promised to take him to the play. We are big children; the anticipation of a new pleasure always produces the same effect on us.
Dubourg deliberated concerning his toilet. If he had had time, he would have ordered a dress-coat; but he must needs be content with one of Frédéric's, who was much more slender than he, so that he could never button it. Should he go in top-boots? That would be rather too informal, his hostess being a marchioness. But he had no trousers; Frédéric's were too small for him, and it was not the same with them as with a coat, which one is always at liberty to leave unbuttoned. Ménard would lend him a pair, but they would be too large; so he decided to go in boots; he was a foreigner, a Pole,that fact would be his excuse; moreover, his silver tassels pleased him immensely.
At eight o'clock, Dubourg had been dressed more than an hour, and was pacing the floor of his room, his plumed hat under his arm, practising dignified bows, graceful smiles, and a noble bearing. He had put the whole contents of his treasury in his pocket, and, having no watch, he thought for a moment of taking his steel loop from his hat and placing it in his fob; but it might be recognized as having been on his hat, so he contented himself with a red ribbon, of which he showed only the end. The clock struck nine at last, the hour at which one may decently appear in society; a carriage was waiting; he entered it, and gave the driver the address indicated on the note.
The carriage stopped in a lonely street, before a house of poor appearance. Dubourg alighted. A lackey, there being no concierge, stood at the door of the house, apparently posted there as a sentinel; and he lost no time in ushering Dubourg up a dirty staircase, at the foot of which were two lamps that seemed surprised to be there. But Dubourg was going over in his mind the sentence he had prepared for his salutation to the marchioness, and he did not notice the uncleanness of the house.
The servant opened a door on the first floor and entered an anteroom, wherein the eye sought in vain any article of furniture; although it was dimly lighted, the spots of grease on the walls and the soiled, discolored floor could be plainly seen. But the servant led Dubourg through this room at a rapid pace, and, opening another door into the salon, announced in a loud tone:
"Monsieur le Baron Potoski!"
At that name, there was a great commotion in the salon, and a lady rose and rushed forward to meet Dubourg, expressing in the most cordial terms her pleasure in receiving him as her guest.
Dubourg answered whatever came into his head; he walked into the room, saluting to right and left, and dropped into a chair beside the Marquise de Versac, whom he then took occasion to scrutinize. He saw that he had been wise not to indulge his imagination in advance. The mistress of the house was a woman who seemed to be fully forty-five years of age, despite the care with which she had blackened her eyebrows, reddened her lips, and whitened her complexion. She was fashionably dressed, but her gown, which had a long train, seemed to embarrass her; her head was overladen with flowers and ribbons, and a triple necklace of pearls embellished a long, yellow neck, rising pitifully above a pair of fleshless shoulders, which the marchioness was barbarous enough to expose to all eyes, as if they were pleasing to the sight.
Dubourg did not stop to examine all that; he remembered what his landlady had said to him, and tried to think the marchioness charming. While she addressed him in the most flattering terms, he cast a glance about the salon.
An antiquated chandelier, suspended from the ceiling, lighted the room, which was very large; the hangings must once have been handsome, but were beginning to show too many signs of age. The floor was covered with an immense rug, which was never made for a salon. The covering of the furniture was of two colors: there was a blue ottoman and yellow chairs; and the latter were not alike. In default of a clock, there was anenormous jar of flowers in the centre of the mantel, and a number of candlesticks on either side. Several card-tables of different sizes completed the furnishing of that salon, which seemed to Dubourg to be quite as venerable as Madame de Versac's family.
Having examined the room, Dubourg turned his attention to the company. There were only three ladies besides the marchioness. One, who seemed to be about sixty years old, and who was called the baroness, talked incessantly of her estates, her châteaux, her property, and her servants; she talked so loud that there was not a moment's silence. A young woman, who was rather pretty, but seemed rather awkward, and did not open her mouth except to laugh or to sayyesorno, was called the Vicomtesse de Fairfignan; while the third, who was apparently about thirty years old, and whom they called Madame de Grandcourt, was half reclining on the ottoman, evidently disposed to flirt; for she cast languorous glances at all the men, and made abundant use of her eyes, which had been handsome, but were so encircled with black that her eyebrows seemed to extend all the way round.
There were seven or eight men in the company; all of them seemed to be counts, or barons, or chevaliers, but not one of them, either in dress or bearing, gave any sign of wealth or rank. Monsieur le chevalier had a frock-coat, the sleeves of which were so short that they were far from reaching his wrists; and when he drew his handkerchief, he took great care to turn his back and conceal it from the company.
The count wore torn lace wristbands, and a ruff stained with liquor and tobacco. He seemed to take great satisfaction in displaying his hands, which were covered with huge rings with red and yellow stones; but the blacknessof the hands themselves produced a curious effect beside the wristbands and the jewels.
The baron, who had his hair powdered, and seemed much embarrassed by his queue, which kept getting inside his collar, wore a new black coat and an old pair of nankeen trousers, over which dangled charms in the shape of fruit and shells.
The other men were dressed in the same style.
"Sacrebleu!" thought Dubourg, astounded by the aspect of all those noble personages; "if my landlady hadn't told me what she did about the Marquise de Versac, I should imagine that I was at an old-clothes dealer's, with a parcel of counts from Rue Vide-Gousset."
Meanwhile, the conversation did not flag. Everybody talked and laughed at once. They manifested the greatest consideration for Baron Potoski; the marchioness overwhelmed him with attentions, the old baroness invited him to visit her in the country, the viscountess smiled upon him, and Madame de Grandcourt flashed glances at him the meaning whereof was not at all equivocal, while the men applauded everything he said. Dubourg was flattered by these attentions, for the shrewdest and cleverest men generally allow themselves to be cajoled by anything that flatters their self-esteem.
Punch, liqueurs, and sweetmeats were served, and the whole company pounced upon them. The old baroness drank like a porter, the viscountess stuffed herself with cakes, and the languorous Grandcourt swallowed two glasses of punch in rapid succession, exclaiming that it was not strong enough.
Dubourg imitated his neighbors; he helped himself to punch, and complimented Madame de Versac on the liveliness of her company.
"Oh! we don't stand on ceremony," she replied; "what's the use of tedious formalities between people who are all as good as one another?"
"True, you are right; I like this sort of thing," said Dubourg, beginning already to feel the effects of the punch. "Etiquette is a burden that people of sense should leave at the door."
"Ah! Monsieur de Potoski, you talk like Barême!" said the old baroness, returning to the punch. "You are a palatine of the old stock."
"Not very old, madame."
"But the best, at all events," said Madame de Versac, resting her foot lightly on Dubourg's; whereupon he turned and tried to gaze tenderly at her, at the same time passing his hand behind the marchioness, who allowed him to take liberties without seeming to notice it, which Dubourg considered very patrician behavior.
"For my part, I like to talk nonsense," said the young viscountess, who was beginning to venture upon a sentence or two, now that she had eaten. "It makes me tired when[B]everyone's sober-faced."
[B]"Ousqu'onest serieux," instead ofquand on, etc.
[B]"Ousqu'onest serieux," instead ofquand on, etc.
The viscountess'sousqu'onmade Dubourg wince; Madame de Versac noticed it, and made haste to whisper to him:
"She's a German; she speaks with a strong accent."
"But aren't you going to give us something to do this evening, madame la marquise?" said the chevalier, pulling at his sleeves to lengthen them.
"That's so, my love," said the baroness; "why don't we play cards?"
"Ah! yes, let us do something," said Madame de Grandcourt, rolling her eyes seductively; "I must always be doing something."
"Perhaps Monsieur de Potoski does not play?" said the marchioness, turning to Dubourg.
"I beg your pardon, madame; I shall be very glad to play."
"In that case, I will start the tables. You are sure that you care to play, baron?"
"With great pleasure, madame," said Dubourg, overjoyed to have an excuse for removing his hand, which he was tired of holding behind Madame de Versac's back.
Several games of écarté were begun. The chevalier proposed a game ofcrepsfor the ladies; whereupon Dubourg said to himself:
"It seems that the ladies of the best society have tastes very different from their sisters of the bourgeoisie; perhaps madame la marquise is fond ofbiribitoo."
Monsieur de Potoski found himself at an écarté table with the count, whose lace cuffs did not prevent his dealing the cards with rare skill. The game soon became animated. A tall, thin gentleman, who stood near Dubourg, bet rolls of twenty-five louis on his game, which he placed on the table without unrolling them, and which passed rapidly into the count's pockets, the tall man, whose threadbare costume might have led one to take him for an unfortunate petitioner for alms, seeming to pay no heed whatever to his loss.
"These men play a very noble game," said Dubourg to himself; and, not choosing to be outdone by the person who was betting on him, he doubled his stakes, and his money passed into the hands with the lace cuffs. But the punch circulated freely; to please Madame deGrandcourt, it had been made much stronger; the company began to get excited and the game became animated.
Madame de Versac seated herself beside Dubourg.
"I mean to bring Monsieur de Potoski good luck," she said, sitting close against him, and showing a row of teeth set like a wild boar's tusks.
"I trust that you will change the luck, madame!" observed Dubourg, who had already lost more than a thousand francs, which he was determined to win back. Madame la marquise made no other reply than to place her foot lovingly on his. With each game that Dubourg lost, she bore down a little heavier, and tried to make him forget his bad luck by saying sweet things to him; but Dubourg did not listen.
"I hope to see you often, Monsieur de Potoski."
"Yes, madame.—Ten louis more, this time."
"I am a bold player," said the count; "I'll take whatever you bet."
"Yes, of course, monsieur le comte will give you your revenge," said the marchioness, "if you lose to-night."
"If I lose!" muttered Dubourg; "I should say so! almost two thousand francs! What a breach in my cash-box!"
"You must come to my country house on the Rhône, my dear Potoski. I insist on your coming."
"Yes, madame la marquise; yes, most certainly.—The king is always in the other hand! it's the most extraordinary thing!"
"We will walk in my park."
"Beaten again!"
"We will enjoy the fresh, cool breezes in the evening."
"It's stifling here!"
"Pray take something."
"I should be glad to take back just what I have lost."
"Do you remain long in Lyon?"
"The devil take me if I know!"
And Dubourg, who had lost three thousand francs, and was tired of feeling madame la marquise's foot on his, rose abruptly and walked about the room.
Madame de Grandcourt was stretched out on a long chair in a corner. A short man with whiskers and moustache sat on a stool almost at her feet; he had passed one arm about his charmer's waist, and the hand of the other was screened from view by the folds of a faded satin gown.
The old baroness and the young viscountess were playingcrepswith the chevalier. The faces of the ladies were much flushed; the baroness had a glass of punch before her, and was gazing with glassy eyes at the dice, shrieking and disputing over a ten-sou piece which she would not admit that she had lost. The viscountess had recovered the use of her tongue by eating sweetmeats, and she indulged in frequent solecisms which must have opened Dubourg's eyes if he had been himself; but he was not; his losses had disturbed his mental balance, already shaken by the punch and liqueurs. He strode about the salon, looking without seeing, listening without hearing the marchioness's compliments, and passing his hand across his forehead as if to tranquillize his thoughts. He tried to go away, but returned again and again to the card-tables, saying to himself:
"I absolutely must win back my three thousand francs!"
He took a seat at thecrepstable and called to the count, who was talking in a corner with the man in the threadbare coat who staked rolls of louis which no one saw.
"Monsieur," said Dubourg, raising his voice, "I trust that you will not refuse to give me my revenge at this game, at which I may perhaps have better luck."
"With great pleasure," replied the count with the lace cuffs.
He hastened to thecrepstable, which the viscountess and baroness instantly quitted; indeed, they soon left the salon, as did Madame de Grandcourt; but Dubourg was too intent upon his game to observe the disappearance of the ladies.
All the men formed a circle about thecrepstable. Dubourg was allowed to choose whether he would punt or be banker. He chose the latter, and madame la marquise, seated close beside him, took pains always to pick up the dice and the box and hand them to him. Dubourg lost; he no longer knew what he was doing; he threw dice and dice-box on the floor. Someone proposedtrente-et-un, and he accepted; that finished him; in less than half an hour, the rest of the contents of his cash-box vanished. He felt in all his pockets, in his fob—not a sou! he had lost everything, and the money was not his! He did not speak, but paced the floor for some moments, pale and haggard, biting his lips, clenching his fists, and uttering a fierce oath from time to time. The candles began to go out; the counts and chevaliers whispered together and seemed embarrassed; the marchioness withdrew to a corner of the salon, not deeming the moment favorable for treading on Monsieur de Potoski's foot.
At last, Dubourg, throwing off his depression, seemed to have determined upon his course. He went to get his hat, which he had placed under a chair, and left the room, slamming the door violently behind him; he passedthrough the anteroom, where four tall fellows, only one of whom was in livery, were busily drinking, opened the door into the hall, and started downstairs. Not until he was halfway down, and attempted to put on his hat, did he discover that he had a wretched tile, without band or lining, which someone had substituted for his fine hat with a plume.
"By heaven, this is too much!" he exclaimed, turning back; "not content with having filched my money, they propose to filch my hat too! Ah! my worthy counts and chevaliers, we'll see about that!"
Dubourg rang the bell violently; no one came. He rang again, and beat the door with his hands and feet, until at last it was opened.
"What do you want?" demanded the servant in livery.
"What do I want? I want my hat, which your chevalier of I-don't-know-what has taken instead of his own miserable tile."
"There's no hat of yours here."
"What's that, you blackguard! you dare to tell me that?"
"Hold your tongue, monsieur! don't make so much noise in the house; madame la marquise don't like it."
"Go to the devil with your madame la marquise, who lets people pinch her wantonly so as to fleece them! I insist on going in; I'll find a way to get back my hat."
"You cannot go in! Help, my friends! Here's a man who means to make trouble!"
The three others ran to his assistance. They seized Dubourg by the shoulders; he struggled and fought to no purpose, being the weaker party. They forced him down the stairs, yelling and calling them curs and thieves, as well as their employers. The four tall rascals madeno reply, but pushed him into the street and shut the door in his face.
"Ah! the villains!" he cried, rearranging his clothes, which he had come near losing with all the rest in the struggle he had had. "Ah! the scoundrels! What a fine evening I have had, to be sure! Ouf! I've a good mind to stone the house and break the windows. But, no, I think I'll call—probably the watch will pass before long."
He stood in the street a moment, undecided as to what he should do. But it was very late, the street was deserted, and by remaining there he ran the risk of being arrested himself; he reflected that he was a stranger in the city, and that he had assumed a title which did not belong to him. All these reasons led him to decide to wait until morning before he sought to obtain justice at the hands of madame la marquise. Meanwhile, it behooved him to find the way back to his hotel.
But how could he show his face before Frédéric and Ménard, after losing all the money they had intrusted to him? He had nothing left, and they owed a considerable sum at their hotel.
Dubourg tore his hair and beat his breast as he strode through the streets of Lyon. At last he arrived at the hotel, and addressed himself in the following words:
"Whatever happens, I must end by making the best of it. Even if I should pass the night chastising myself in the street, it wouldn't bring back a sou to my purse. So I may as well go to bed; to-morrow, we'll see about getting out of the scrape."
Frédéric, when he returned to the hotel during the evening, found Ménard seated alone before the remains of a chicken with which the quondam tutor had passed a part of the time since Dubourg's departure. Surprised not to find the latter, the young count inquired of Ménard as to his whereabouts, and was told that monsieur le baron had gone to pass the evening with one of the leading families of the city, from whom he had received an invitation.
It seemed very strange to Frédéric that Dubourg should receive invitations at Lyon, where he knew nobody, and he feared that this "leading family" might be an invention of his friend. However, he was careful not to convey his suspicions to Ménard, but simply informed him that he proposed to resume his journey the next day.
"Monsieur le baron isn't in such a hurry as he was," said Ménard; "he is very well pleased with Lyon."
"Why, only this morning he urged me to leave the place!"
"This invitation seems to have changed his views."
"Monsieur le baron may do as he pleases, but we shall start to-morrow."
Ménard made no reply, but went to bed, considering that his pupil was taking great liberties with such a manas the palatine; and Frédéric did the same, although he was somewhat disturbed by Dubourg's absence.
Early the next morning, Ménard and the young count met in the room where they were accustomed to meet for breakfast. But Dubourg did not appear.
"Can it be that he stayed out all night?" asked Frédéric.
"I beg your pardon, monsieur," said one of the servants of the hotel; "monsieur le baron came in about three o'clock this morning; he seemed very tired, and he is still in bed."
"What folly to sit up all night when we were to start to-day! But where in the devil has he been?—Go and tell him that we are waiting for him."
After some time, the servant returned and announced that monsieur le baron was sick and could not rise.
"The rascal must have been drunk last night," thought Frédéric; and, followed by Ménard, who began by rubbing his nose and temples with vinegar to ward off contagion, he went to Dubourg's bedroom. They found him in bed; he had pulled his nightcap over his eyes and tied his handkerchief over it, and his face wore such a piteous expression, that one would have thought that he had been confined to his bed in agony for three months.
Ménard halted in the middle of the room and held a smelling-bottle to his nose, saying in an undertone to Frédéric.
"Mon Dieu! how he has changed!"
"What's the matter with you, in heaven's name, my poor Dubourg?" said Frédéric, taking the hand of the sick man, who had employed every known means to give himself an attack of fever.
"Alas! my dear friend, I feel very ill."
"How did it come on?"
"Ah! it was brought on by something that happened—a terrible adventure; the shock of it was the cause of my illness."
"You must see a doctor, first of all."
"I will go for one, and an apothecary too," said Ménard, who was anxious for an excuse to go out into the open air.
"No, no, my dear Monsieur Ménard," Dubourg interposed, in a faint voice; "I don't like doctors; we have plenty of time. Hippocrates himself said:Vita brevis, ars longa, experientia fallax."
"Very true, monsieur le baron; but the same Hippocrates says in another place——"
"Oh! for heaven's sake, drop Hippocrates!" cried Frédéric, fancying that he could read in Dubourg's eyes that he was not so ill as he chose to appear. "As you won't have a doctor, do at least tell us the cause of your illness, this terrible adventure——"
"Yes," said Ménard, taking pains to seat himself as far as possible from the bed, where he could get the air from the hall. "Let us know if it might become contagious."
Dubourg sat up in bed; he raised his eyes heaven-ward, uttered two or three plaintive groans, pulled his nightcap still further over his eyes, and began his tale in a most heartrending tone.
"The excellent Ménard has undoubtedly told you that I received yesterday an invitation to one of the first houses in the city. At all events, that is what our landlady assured me—otherwise——"
"Yes, he told me that—what next? explain yourself!" said Frédéric, impatient at Dubourg's roundabout way of reaching the facts.
"Gently! I am in no condition to go so fast, my dear Frédéric.—Well, I started out in a cab last night, after making a careful toilet."
"Yes; I noticed that you took one of my coats."
"You know perfectly well that I lost my wardrobe with my berlin."
"Well?"
"By some fatality, it happened that I put the purse containing the whole of our fortune in the pocket of your coat."
"Ah! this begins to look bad," whispered Frédéric, while Ménard, even more disturbed than he, began to draw his chair nearer.
"Well? go on."
"Well, monsieur le baron?"
"Well, my dear and noble friends, on leaving that brilliant society, where, to tell the truth, I stayed rather late, I found no carriage at the door. I was alone, in a street that I did not know. Suddenly four cutthroats leaped upon me. Alas! I had no weapons, but I defended myself like a lion. But all in vain! They beat me and threw me down, and the worst of it is that they robbed me of all the money I had about me."
"Great God! and you had our funds?" cried Ménard.
"I did."
"And your own fifteen thousand francs?"
"Everything—every sou, I tell you. There is nothing left, except what you two have about you. They took everything, even my superb hat, with its steel buckle worth sixty francs."
"What a catastrophe! what are we to do?" exclaimed Ménard, who was terribly distressed to think that, after living like lords, they were reduced to living by their wits.
Frédéric said nothing; he was suspicious of Dubourg's tale; and that worthy, perceiving his incredulity, tried to overcome it by crying every minute:
"What a fatality! to be attacked and robbed! Such things happen to nobody but me!"
"Indeed, monsieur le baron, you do seem to be unlucky," said Ménard, remembering the theft of the berlin.
"With whom did you pass the evening?" inquired Frédéric.
"With Madame la Marquise de Versac."
"With Madame de Versac! That's very extraordinary, for I saw her yesterday at her country house."
"You saw her! What do you mean? Do you know her?" cried Dubourg, in a voice that did not at all resemble an invalid's.
"Madame de Versac came to my father's house several times, when she was in Paris last year. In the summer, she lives at her country house. I saw her there yesterday, I tell you, and she reproved me gently for not coming there to stay with her; she certainly did not come back to the city."
"Great God! what do I hear? How old is this marchioness?"
"Not over twenty-eight; her town house is on Place Bellecour."
"Ten thousand cigars! that was a contraband marchioness! What an infernal fool, not to have discovered it!"
Dubourg jumped up and down in his bed, rolled himself up in the bedclothes, snatched off his nightcap and threw it on the floor, while Ménard cried:
"Monsieur le baron is mad; I am going to fetch an apothecary!"
The tutor left the room, and Frédéric was not sorry, for it gave him an opportunity to have an explanation with Dubourg; but for several minutes he absolutely refused to keep still; he was in a frenzy at the recollection of the soi-disant counts and chevaliers. He dressed in hot haste, swearing that he would find his baron with the watch-charms, his threadbare chevalier, and his blackleg with lace cuffs; that he would break the baroness's remaining teeth, beat the viscountess, and horsewhip madame la marquise.
At last, Frédéric succeeded in making himself heard.
"So you gambled last night, you wretch, did you? and that is where our funds have gone?"
"Ah! my friend, beat me, kill me! I know that I am a good-for-naught. But, really, you would have done the same in my place. When a person assumes a respectable name—— For my part, I went there in all confidence, hoping to make an advantageous match. I heard people all about me talking of nothing but 'my estates, my châteaux, my servants, my millions'—as I would say 'my cane' or 'my hat.' And then, they dazed me with attentions and liqueurs. Still, I ought to have noticed that there was a suspicious look to it all; but what can you expect? Unluckily, I am not accustomed to good society. I took the pressure of one woman's foot for patrician manners, and another woman's blunders in grammar for a German accent. We played cards,—I confess that I love cards,—and they stripped me of everything, even to my hat! But they haven't seen the end of it!"
"Where are you going?" said Frédéric, trying to detain his friend, who had taken his shocking old hat as if to go out.
"Let me go, let me go! I am going to hunt up myblacklegs, and perhaps—— Wait here for me."
Dubourg opened the door just as Ménard returned with an apothecary's clerk, who had a sedative potion in each hand.
Dubourg roughly pushed the tutor aside when he tried to stop him, and descended the stairs four at a time, while the tutor collided with the apothecary, who fell to the floor with his potions.
"We must send somebody after him," said Ménard, thinking that Dubourg was in a high fever. Frédéric had some difficulty in inducing him to dismiss the apothecary, by assuring him that the baron was very much better.
Dubourg betook himself to the residence of his false marchioness, whose address he had retained. He was obliged to go on foot, and he no longer assumed the air of a great noble. The eyeglass would have accorded but ill with the wretched tile, which was not half large enough for him. But at that time he was thinking exclusively of his money, not at all of his costume. When he reached the house he had visited the night before, which he readily recognized from having scrutinized it carefully in the night, he entered the hall, the door of which was open, went upstairs, and looked and listened, but neither saw anybody nor heard a sound. He rang at the door of the apartment from which he had been ejected so roughly, but no one answered the bell. He rang again and again, with increasing violence, until the bell-pull came off in his hand, but the door remained closed.
"Open, you rascals, you blacklegs! or I'll go for a magistrate," cried Dubourg, putting his mouth to the keyhole. Finally an old woman appeared on the landing above and asked him why he was making such an uproar.
"I want to speak with the people who live here on the first floor," he replied.
"There's no one living there now, monsieur; it was let furnished to a woman who went away this morning before daybreak."
Dubourg was petrified. He realized that he could not hope to recover his money. He returned slowly and dejectedly to the hotel, and joined Frédéric and Ménard with an expression of utter dismay.
"Well, what about the robbers?" inquired Frédéric.
"Ah! my friend, they have fled."
"I was sure of it."
"But you have entered a complaint with the magistrate, surely, monsieur le baron?"
"I have done all that there was to do, Monsieur Ménard; but I fancy that we may say good-bye to our money."
"In that case, what are we going to do?"
"That is what we must consider.—How much money have you, Monsieur Ménard?"
"Not more than two louis."
"And you, Frédéric?"
"I have about ten."
"That isn't enough to pay our landlord, for we must owe him at least three hundred francs."
"What! hasn't he been paid?"
"Who ever heard of making people of our sort pay in advance?"
"But think how extravagant we have been!"
"We had to live; and what difference does it make whether we owe one hundred francs or three hundred, as we can't pay?"
"However, we cannot leave this hotel without settling our account, and we cannot continue our journey without money."
"That would be rather difficult, to be sure," said Ménard.
"I see but one way to get any," said Dubourg, "and that is to apply to Monsieur le Comte de Montreville. He certainly won't leave his son in straits."
"Ask monsieur le comte for money, when it isn't three weeks since we left Paris! What will he think?" murmured Ménard, with a sigh.—"What if monsieur le baron should write to his steward at Rava or Krapach?"
"Why, I would write in a moment, but it's so far!—It would take at least two months to get an answer, because at this time of year the mails are greatly delayed by avalanches."
"What, monsieur le baron, in summer?"
"Summer is the season when the snow melts. Pardieu! if it was winter, they could make half the distance on snow-shoes. We couldn't wait all that time in this inn; we must have money at once."
"My dear Ménard," said Frédéric, "you really must apply to my father."
"Well, I will write him what has happened to monsieur le baron——"
"No, no; you are the one he gave the money to, and you are the one who was robbed; it's useless to mention me. Just imagine that you were the one who was robbed last night."
"Come, my dear Ménard, write my father a most pathetic letter."
"The deuce! that's a very hard task."
"I'll dictate to you, if you choose," said Dubourg.
"You will oblige me very much, monsieur le baron."
So Ménard took the pen, and Dubourg dictated the following letter: