"No; this is the first time that I have heard that name."
"You surprise me! Sandioux! Giovanni already has a tremendous reputation in this country. He must be very skilful with the sword to have beaten young Marvejols, who fights—almost as well as I do.—The result is that everybody is afraid of the man. But so far as I am concerned, the contrary is true; indeed, I would like very much to meet this famous robber!"
"Oh! that's because you are not afraid of being robbed!" said the little landlady, pressing her lips together spitefully.
"Always some piquant little remark, sweet Cadichard!—I overlook them, I overlook anything in the fair sex!"
"And why would you like to meet this—this Giovanni, monsieur le chevalier?" asked the stranger, playing with his sword hilt.
"Why, monsieur le comte, because I flatter myself that I should be more fortunate than poor Léodgard! And that infernal knave would receive at my hand the reward of his brigandage! I would give myself the pleasure of burying six inches of Roland in his throat. Ah! sandioux! I can see from here the wry face he would make!—Does that make you laugh, Monsieur de Carvajal?"
"Why, yes, because it occurs to me, too, that in such a battle as you suggest one of the two would, in fact, be likely to cause the other to make a strange grimace."
"One of the two! Do you doubt that I should triumph?"
"I in no wise doubt your valor, monsieur le chevalier; but as for your triumph, permit me to think that it is better not to make any assertions beforehand—the most valiant are conquered sometimes; fortune is capricious to fighting men as well as to lovers."
Passedix bit his lips and drew his eyebrows together. The hostess, who had decided to remove the shells from her eggs, said to the tenant of her first floor:
"In any case, monsieur le comte, it is always prudent not to go out at night unless you are well armed; for my part, I don't dare to go to the theatre at the Hôtel deBourgogne, because it ends too late! It's half-past eight sometimes when they finish the beautiful tragedy ofSophonisbé, by Monsieur Mairet, which I would have liked to see, all the same!"
"Sophonisbé!Faith! I prefer his last tragedy, theDuc d'Ossone—the verses are more sonorous, the subject more warlike.—What say you, monsieur le comte?"
"I do not go to the play."
"Where in the devil does the Spaniard go?" thought Passedix, draping himself in his cloak; "never to the court, never to a wine shop, never to the play! He wants to make us think that he's always shut up with some petticoat!"
And the Gascon swayed to and fro on his chair and caressed his chin, as he continued:
"For my part, I am a great frequenter of the theatre."
"You go to Brioché's theatre on Pont Neuf!" laughed Madame Cadichard; "there's a show outside; that doesn't cost anything!"
"I go where I choose, madame! It seems to me that I am entitled to. Brioché's marionettes are not to be despised, and the proof is that great crowds go there—leaders of society and idlers,belles damesandbourgeoises. But that does not interfere with my being one of the most assiduous spectators at the Hôtel de Bourgogne; I know all Alexandre Hardy's plays, and I believe he has written over six hundred; he is my favorite author, and I prefer him to this Jean Mairet, who is laden withfavors by the Cardinal de Richelieu, the Duc de Longueville, and the Comte de Soissons, because he has written a dozen or so of tragedies! A fine showing, forsooth, beside Hardy's six hundred plays!—Ah! cadédis! if I had ever undertaken to write, it would have been a different story!—But I prefer the sword to the pen; one must not derogate from his rank!"
At that moment, an old servant of more than sixty years, whose skin had such a dark-yellow tinge that she might at need have been passed off as a Moor, entered the room and approached the stranger. It was Popelinette, just returned from performing her commission.
"Here are all the things you told me to get, monsieur le comte—gloves, perfumery—the nicest and daintiest I could find; andmouchesand paint; and here is the money that is left."
"Very good; keep that for your trouble."
"Oh! you are very kind, monseigneur! I thank you very humbly!"
"Does the fellow mean to disguise himself as a woman?" Passedix thought, glancing furtively at Popelinette's purchases, which she had placed on a table. "Paint!mouches!perfumery! Fie, fie! all those things do very well for shepherds in Arcady. I begin to conceive a very singular opinion of this Spaniard!"
"It took you a very long time to do the errand monsieur le comte gave you to do!" said the plump Cadichardto her servant. "You must try to make your legs work a little livelier when you go out."
"But, madame, I went to the best perfumer on Rue Saint-Honoré, near the Couvent des Capucines; that's a long way."
"Monsieur le Chevalier Passedix has been waiting impatiently for you; he needs your help—some buttons to sew on his doublet."
"Again!" muttered Popelinette, with a most disrespectful gesture.
"What do you mean by that?" cried the Gascon, raising his head; "I should like to know if you are not here to wait upon the tenants? I consider your reply a little impertinent, my girl!"
"Mon Dieu! don't be angry, monsieur le chevalier; I don't refuse to do what you want; but I meant that your doublet has been patched and mended so often that the buttons I sew on are likely not to hold, for lack of material to sew them to."
"It is easy to see, old Popelinette, that you no longer have your eyes of twenty years! otherwise, you would not abuse thus a garment which is almost new, and which owes the numerous patches that cover it solely to the sword thrusts I have received in single combats and others. But they are titles to renown, and that is why I am fond of this doublet; if I should buy a new one, within a week it would be riddled by sword thrusts as this one is; one doesn't go to the water without getting wet.—Well! mygirl, take a needle and thread and let us have done with it, for the day is advancing, and I should already be somewhere else!"
The old servant grumblingly took what she needed to repair the Gascon's doublet. For some moments, the stranger had been examining what Popelinette had brought him; at last he carefully replaced all the articles in paper and put them in his pocket one after another, as if he were preparing to take his leave.
"Yes, sandioux!" cried Passedix, partly unbuttoning his doublet so that the servant could work more conveniently; "yes, I long to pursue a certain adventure, the heroine of which surpasses the Venus of Medici!"
"Oh! monsieur le chevalier makes Venuses out of every retroussé nose he meets!" said Dame Cadichard, shrugging her shoulders.
"Do you think so, charming hostess? I should say that I have never given you reason to think that my taste was bad!"
The landlady turned her little eyes on the Gascon, like a person who does not know whether she ought to take in good or ill part what is said to her. Passedix continued:
"By the way, I made her acquaintance in such singular fashion!—Ah! be careful, Popelinette, you are pricking me as if I were a pincushion!"
"Goodness! it isn't my fault, monsieur; you keep moving all the time!"
"That is my nature; I could not keep still for a moment; that is due to the heat of my blood—to the smoking lava that flows in my veins! I am a volcano! and then, the image of that Italian was well adapted to make my legs twitch!"
"Ah! your conquest is an Italian, is she, monsieur le chevalier?" said the stranger, who had taken a step or two toward the door, but who turned at that and looked at Passedix.
"Yes, monsieur le comte; that is to say, she isn't exactly an Italian, although she wears the costume of a Milanese; she was born in Béarn, but it seems that she has lived in Milan many years. I give you my word that she is a dainty morsel, that little Miretta!"
When he heard the name Miretta, the foreigner could not restrain a gesture of surprise; but he recovered himself instantly, walked back to the easy-chair he had just left, and resumed his seat, saying:
"Really, monsieur le chevalier, you make me very curious; and if I were not afraid of being indiscreet in asking you how you made the acquaintance of this girl, who, you say, is so pretty, I should take great pleasure in hearing of it."
"There is no indiscretion in your request, count; indeed, the affair took place in the presence of numerous witnesses and made quite a sensation this morning. I will stake my head that it will be the talk of the court and the whole city this evening. I will tell you all aboutit.—Go on, Popelinette; it needn't prevent you from sewing on my buttons."
Thereupon the Gascon chevalier described what had taken place that morning in front of Master Hugonnet's house; and in his narrative, carried away doubtless by his interest in the pretty Milanese, Passedix embellished the truth with a number of episodes which he deemed likely to heighten the effect. For instance, he did not fail to say that on several occasions he had saved Cédrille from certain death by throwing himself in front of the swords that threatened him; in a word, it was due to his courage that the two travellers succeeded in escaping from the fury of those who surrounded them.
The foreigner listened to the Gascon with the closest attention. When the latter had finished, the other looked fixedly at him and said:
"Now, what do you expect to do, chevalier?"
"What! By Venus! follow up the adventure, watch for the little one to come out, join her, declare my passion, soften her heart—a mere trifle! The rest will go of itself."
"No doubt!" muttered Dame Cadichard; "if the girl is a good-for-nothing who listens to the first comer!"
"Whom do you call a first comer, madame? do you dare to apply those words to Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix?—Sandioux! you are pricking me, Popelinette! do be careful!"
"I mean to say, monsieur, that this girl does not know you; and if she is virtuous——"
"Cadédis! all women are virtuous before they have sinned; and since the days of Eve, who allowed herself to be tempted by a serpent, how many women have stumbled—— Oh! this old woman is determined to spit me like a roasted hare!"
"But in order to watch for this Italian," observed the Spaniard, "it is necessary first of all that you should know where she lives in Paris."
"Oh! I know that; I know where Miretta is at this moment; I even know why she has come to Paris. I am perfectly informed—but upon this matter you will allow me to keep silent. The little one is too dainty a morsel for me to show her nest to other men, and I am sure that you will consider that I am right to act thus."
The foreigner rose and bowed to the Gascon.
"Good luck in your love affairs, Chevalier Passedix!"
"Infinitely obliged! Much pleasure in your nocturnal walks, monsieur le comte!"
The foreigner took his leave. The landlady renewed her humble reverences, and Passedix muttered:
"A singular man, this Monsieur de Carvajal!"
"You are all sewed up, monsieur," said Popelinette; "but, bless me! I won't swear it will hold long, the stuff is so rotten!"
"Very good! all right! I didn't ask you about that!—He buys paint,mouches, perfumes!—he's an effeminate creature!"
"I don't think," said the little hostess, "that it is so unpleasant to perfume one's self, and to leave an agreeable odor behind one as one passes!"
"I have never needed that to please the fair! And when I eat wild duck, I don't like to have it smell of musk!"
The Gascon hurried from the room and went up to his fifth floor, while Dame Cadichard exclaimed:
"Ah! if I only had a loft over his room!"
Popelinette put away her needle and thread, muttering:
"Oh, no! he doesn't smell of musk, that fellow! he doesn't need to deny it!"
Let us transport ourselves to Rue Saint-Honoré, to the interior of a magnificent mansion, where everything is eloquent of wealth, splendor, and refinement, where the furniture and hangings represent all that is most beautiful and dainty in the products of that age. There we shall find Madame de Ravenelle and her niece, Valentine de Mongarcin.
Madame de Ravenelle was seventy-two years of age; she had once been pretty, she was still fresh and plump;for the anxieties, the cares, the griefs, which often make one old much more rapidly than time, had never darkened her life, which had flowed on as placidly and gently as the waters of a stream hidden by tall grasses and never disturbed by the traveller's oar.
The old lady, blessed with a cheerful, heedless, and, above all, selfish disposition, had known how to submit philosophically to those petty disagreements from which no one is wholly exempt throughout the course of a long life. Having an excellent stomach, and very little susceptibility, she always sat down at the table with a good appetite, and never had recourse to the doctors. Incapable of doing anything unkind or spiteful, which would have disturbed the harmony of her temperament, she listened without emotion to the tale of another person's woes; and yet, she was quite ready to be humane, and often did a kind deed, when it was not likely to cause her either fatigue or trouble.
Valentine de Mongarcin had been brought up at a convent; but there, no less than in society, she had been fully aware that she was the sole inheritress of a great name and a great fortune; flattery, which insinuates itself everywhere, makes its way into convents; pretty, clever, but proud of her name and her rank, Valentine had discovered too early in life that people were eager to gratify all her desires; she had grown up with the idea that her will was never to be thwarted; and, although possessed of a sensitive heart, and of a noble soul capable of nobledeeds, she had contracted a haughty, disdainful manner, which had made her but few friends.
At the age of eighteen, her figure had developed, her bearing had become noble and dignified, her features were regular, and the outlines of her face exquisitely pure; her hair was as black as ebony, and her great gray eyes, with their long black lashes, had a most seductive expression when they did not choose to express arrogance or scorn.
On leaving the convent to occupy her father's mansion, Valentine had not presented herself to her aunt in the guise of a timid girl who claims the support and protection of her only remaining relation; she had appeared like a conqueror making his triumphal entry into a city which he has compelled to capitulate; but she had to deal with a person who worried her head very little over the airs and tone which other people adopted toward her.
Madame de Ravenelle received her niece with the smile which had become stereotyped on her face; she considered her beautiful and well made, and was gratified that that was the case; but if Valentine had been ugly or deformed, the old lady would speedily have consoled herself. Between two persons of such temperaments, there was no danger that there would ever be any lack of harmony; for to every question that Valentine asked on her arrival, Madame de Ravenelle replied:
"Do whatever you please in the house; command and you will be obeyed, provided that you disturb nothingin my apartment and my personal service. I have my women, you will have yours; I shall not thwart you in anything, for my brother's daughter would be incapable of doing anything unworthy of her rank. And if the company I receive should bore you, you will be at liberty not to appear in the salon."
Mademoiselle de Mongarcin could not ask for more liberty or greater power; the confidence that her aunt manifested in her pleased her; she would have rebelled against a stern affection that would have tried to guide her, but she was amiable and affectionate with one who was simply indifferent to her.
Young Valentine considered the old hangings of the Hôtel de Mongarcin gloomy and repellent; she had them all changed or renewed, and the furniture as well. But nothing was disturbed in the apartment occupied by Madame de Ravenelle. Some of the servants having failed to carry out the girl's orders quickly enough, she dismissed them and engaged others; but her aunt's maid and her old male attendant were outside of her authority.
The Hôtel de Mongarcin became more fashionable; it assumed a more youthful, a gayer aspect; frequent entertainments were given there by musicians, jugglers, and gypsies; it amused Valentine, and it was all a matter of indifference to Madame de Ravenelle.
One day, however, the old lady said to her niece:
"By the way, Valentine, have you ever heard of the young Comte Léodgard de Marvejols?"
"The name is familiar to me, and I have an idea that my father often mentioned it.—Why do you ask me that question, aunt?"
"Because my brother was very desirous that young Léodgard should some day become your husband."
"Ah! my father desired it?"
"Yes; he told me so again just before he died. He was very closely attached to young Léodgard's father, who had the same wish."
"Well, aunt?"
"Well, niece, you shall marry the young count, if that meets your views!"
"Oh! there's time for that! for my father surely would not desire to force my inclination, if he were alive."
"I cannot say what your father would have done if he had lived; but I know very well that I have no desire to torment you."
"You are so good, aunt!"
"Why, yes, I am tolerably good!"
"And do you know this young Comte de Marvejols?"
"I have seen him two or three times in company."
"What is he like, aunt?"
"A very good-looking young man; very well built, and with a decidedly rakish air. But young men sometimes assume those airs in society, in order to give themselves an appearance of aplomb and self-assurance; very often they mean nothing at all!"
"Well, if this Monsieur Léodgard desires to become my husband, I suppose that he will come to pay court to me first."
"Why, that is to be presumed. However, you will see his father, Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols, at my receptions before long; he is a man very highly considered, in very good odor at court, but of a rather severe humor."
"What does that matter to me? it is not the father who wishes to marry me!"
"That is true."
"And if this Monsieur Léodgard shared his father's wishes, it seems to me, aunt, that he would manifest more eagerness to see me; for it is nearly two months since I left the convent, and he has not called here as yet."
"That is true, niece; but perhaps the young man is travelling."
Madame de Ravenelle's invariably placid and equable temperament sometimes irritated Valentine, whose blood was ardent and boiling; but she dissembled her impatience, for she could not be angry with her aunt, who always agreed with her.
About a month after this conversation, Valentine had attended a large party given by the Duchesse de Longueville, and had met Léodgard there. The young count had presented his respects to Madame de Ravenelle and her niece, but with the cold and formal manner of a man who had the greatest disinclination to marriage and did not desire to gratify his parents' wishes.
On her side, Valentine de Mongarcin, piqued by the young man's lack of zeal in cultivating her acquaintance, had received his compliments with an air of indifference, almost of disdain, which deprived her face of all the fascination it sometimes had.
We have seen that the result of the meeting had been to confirm Léodgard in his repugnance to that alliance.
As for Valentine, she had not said a single word on the subject of Léodgard, and Madame de Ravenelle had thought it advisable to imitate her silence.
One evening, after receiving a visit from one of her friends, or rather acquaintances, at the convent, Valentine said to her aunt:
"Mademoiselle de Vertmonteil spoke to me this morning of a girl whom her sister has seen at Milan. This girl wishes to find a place in Paris. She is said to be clever at millinery work and dressmaking; in fact, Mademoiselle de Vertmonteil recommended her to me. My maid is a fool, who does not know how to dress my hair, and I am tempted to discharge her and take this Italian in her place. What do you think about it, aunt?"
Madame de Ravenelle, who had listened as to something that was utterly indifferent to her, replied:
"You will do well to do whatever is most agreeable to you, my dear."
It was a fortnight after this conversation that Miretta appeared at the Hôtel de Mongarcin, escorted by Cédrille,and still greatly excited by the risks she had run in front of Master Hugonnet's house.
Valentine was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the girl of whom she had heard such marvellous things. She was in an immense salon, where her aunt persisted in having a fire, although the weather was no longer cold, when the young traveller was announced. Valentine uttered a joyful exclamation and said:
"Bring her to speak to me; I wish to see her at once!—Will you allow her to come to this salon, aunt?"
"It is entirely indifferent to me, niece. However, if any visitor should come, I presume that this girl will know that it is her duty to withdraw."
Miretta soon made her appearance before the two ladies; she walked into the salon with an assured step; there was embarrassment, but neither awkwardness nor stupidity in her bearing. The reverence that she made was not without a certain charm. Add to this the beauty of her face, her fresh complexion, her youth, and her piquant costume, and you will understand Valentine's exclamation:
"Ah! why, the child is very pretty!—Come nearer, come nearer! Your name is Miretta?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, Miretta Dartaize. Here is the letter of recommendation with which I have been favored, for mademoiselle."
"Very well; but it is unnecessary—I have seen the sister of the person who gave you the letter.—You are a Milanese?"
"No, mademoiselle; I was born at Pau, in Béarn; but I have lived at Milan, or in the suburbs, ever since I was a child."
"And your relations?"
"I lost them when I was very young, all except an old female cousin, who still lives at Pau, and whose son, who is very fond of me, was kind enough to undertake to bring me to Paris."
"Where is this youth?"
"In the courtyard, mademoiselle."
"How did you make the journey?"
"On Bourriquet's back, both of us. Bourriquet is Cédrille's horse; he's a good beast and carried us finely; but we made short days, so as not to tire him."
"And your travelling companion—does he too hope to find a place in Paris?"
"Oh! no, mademoiselle; Cédrille came with me only as a favor to me; and he is going right back to his province, after he has rested a little in Paris."
"This Cédrille, who is your cousin, is your betrothed too, perhaps?" said Madame de Ravenelle, carelessly turning her head toward the girl. But she replied:
"Oh, no! Cédrille is not my betrothed, madame; he loves me very dearly though, and he has asked me if I would be his wife; but I refused him, refused him flatly, telling him that I should never have anything but a sisterly affection for him. Cédrille made the best of it and is content with that."
"Why did you refuse to marry your cousin? Was it because he has nothing, and can't do anything?"
"I beg pardon, madame, Cédrille has quite enough to live comfortably; he's a worthy, honest man—a hard worker, who knows more about agriculture and plowing than anybody in our neighborhood."
"And in spite of all that, you would not consent to be his wife?" continued the old lady, fixing her eyes on Miretta, who looked down and blushed as she faltered:
"No, madame."
"You had some reason for refusing him, doubtless?"
"Mon Dieu! a single one, madame; but it seems to me that it should be sufficient in such a matter: I have no love for him, and I do not care to marry without love."
"Ah! very well answered!" cried Valentine, smiling at the girl; "certainly that reason is quite sufficient! As if a woman ought to marry a man she does not love! that would be equivalent to deliberately choosing to be unhappy all her life!"
"Such things have been seen, however, niece! And a woman is not always unhappy on that account; it often turns out just the other way."
"Well, aunt, I consider that Miretta has done well not to marry her cousin, as she has no love for him."
"Perhaps you will not always talk so, my dear!"
"Miretta," continued Valentine, turning to the girl, "I take you into myservice, that is settled; and I will give you—— How much should I give her, aunt?"
"Whatever you please, niece."
"Very well! two hundred livres a year.—Is that enough, Miretta? does that satisfy you?"
"Oh! that is a great deal, mademoiselle! I probably am not worth so much as that, and I shall always be satisfied with whatever you give me; I do not care for money!"
"You don't care for money, you don't care to marry," murmured Madame de Ravenelle, shaking her head; "nor do you care for your province, since you leave it—Pray, little one, to what do you aspire?"
Miretta was silent a moment, then replied:
"I aspire to be in the service of honorable persons, and to show myself deserving of their kindness."
"Well said!" exclaimed Valentine; "that is an answer that does you honor.—Oh! you will be happy with me, I trust. In the first place, all the dresses I have ceased to wear will belong to you, and I am very fond of changing often. But you must serve me promptly, you must always be at hand when I ring for you, and never step foot outside of the house unless I send you to do some errand."
The girl raised her head quickly and cried:
"What, mademoiselle! never go out of this house? Why, in that case, I shall be a prisoner! I shall not be able to take a free step! Oh, no! no! I did not come to Paris to be deprived of my liberty; I will serve you faithfully, mademoiselle, I will be submissive to yourlightest word, I will work day and night if you desire; but I wish to be able, when I feel the need of it, to fly away as freely as the birds of our fields! I shall return to my cage far happier, when I know that the door is not closed upon me!"
"Well, well, hothead!" said Valentine, with a smile; "never fear; you will not be a prisoner! I will not prevent your flying away sometimes.—Ah! how her eyes sparkle when she hears me say that! She has a little will of her own, I see. So much the better! I do not like people who are incapable of having a will!"
"But," interposed Madame de Ravenelle, "as you have just arrived in Paris, where you know no one; and as your cousin is going away—whom will you go to see when you go out? or will it be simply to take a walk?"
"Pardon me, madame, but there is already one person whom I wish to see, to thank her for the service she rendered my cousin and myself just now. Ah! madame does not know that we barely escaped a very great danger this morning—before we reached this house."
"A danger! Pray tell us about it, little one."
"Come here," said Valentine, "and sit on this stool, for your journey on horseback must have tired you. There! that is right; and now tell us what happened to you this morning."
Miretta gave them an exact account of what had taken place on Rue Saint-Jacques; she omitted no detail, nor did she add anything. The truth was sufficiently interestingto engross the attention of those who listened to her. Madame de Ravenelle could not help taking an interest in it, and Valentine was much excited—so much so that she exclaimed:
"Why, it was shameful behavior on the part of those gentlemen! To try to compel people who are passing to stop and act as their playthings! Did you hear the names of those who insulted you?"
"I heard several, mademoiselle, but I remember only two: the gentleman who took up our defence and fought for us, after offering to be my knight—in jest, doubtless—his name was Passedix."
"Passedix!—Do you know any gentleman of that name, aunt?"
"No, no one! He must be somechevalier d'industrie!"
"Then the man who was so fierce against us, and whose terrible sword beat down all obstacles—him they called the Sire de Jarnonville. Oh! that man had a terrifying look!"
"The Sire de Jarnonville!" repeated Madame de Ravenelle. "That is a very old name—a noble family; but it is a long while since the descendant of the Jarnonvilles ceased to appear in society—that is to say, in the society frequented by self-respecting persons."
"And you did not hear any one of those young nobles called Léodgard de Marvejols?"
"No, mademoiselle, I am quite sure that I did not hear that name."
"What are you worrying about now, niece?"
"I am not worrying at all, aunt; but as it was a gathering of scapegraces, it seemed to me quite natural that Monsieur Léodgard should be there.—Miretta, I understand your gratitude for the brave girl who—I do not quite know how—rescued you from your dangerous position. You will do well to go to thank her, for ingratitude is the vice of base minds, and it always indicates the presence of other vices. Go to the reception room and ask for Béatrix; she will take you to the room that has been prepared for you; it is not far from mine, and you can hear my bell there.—But, by the way, this Cédrille, your cousin—what have you done with him?"
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, he stayed below, in the courtyard, with his horse; I will go and bid him adieu, and he will go away."
"But surely the boy does not mean to start for Béarn at once? He is probably curious to see a little of Paris, is he not?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, but he will find an inn for himself and Bourriquet. Oh! Cédrille is not hard to please; he is capable of sleeping in a stable, with his horse."
"I do not see why your cousin should go elsewhere in search of lodgings; we have enough unoccupied rooms upstairs, and stables sufficiently extensive to make it unnecessary for him and his horse to go to an inn.—This youth may remain here a few days, aunt, may he not? There is room in the servants' quarters; he mayeat with our people, when it suits his pleasure to stay in the house."
"I have no objection, niece; arrange everything as you choose."
"Oh! madame and mademoiselle are too kind; and Cédrille will come himself to thank them."
"It is not worth while!" said the old lady; "I excuse him from all thanks."
"Go, Miretta," said Valentine, "go tell your cousin that we will accommodate him with my servants; then find Béatrix, who will install you."
Miretta made several reverences and left the salon.
"That girl pleases me," said Valentine, after watching her leave the room. "Do not you agree with me, madame, that there is something original about her—a sort of firmness, and an indefinable naïveté, which is charming?"
"Yes, yes!" replied Madame de Ravenelle, slowly shaking her head; "but I believe that there is something in the girl's heart that she has not told us."
"What can it be, aunt?"
"I have no desire to fatigue my brain trying to guess!"
"Well, I will try, aunt; it will amuse me instead of fatiguing me."
"As you please, niece."
Miretta ran quickly down into the courtyard, and found Cédrille there, doing sentry duty beside his horse. The poor fellow stood close to Bourriquet's side, having givenhim the last wisps of hay from the bundle attached to his crupper.
The young Béarnais peasant was gazing with respectful admiration at the sculptures and decorations which embellished the mansion; nothing so magnificent had met his eye since he had left his fields; for, on entering Paris, he had been too much occupied in breaking out a path and guiding his horse through the crowd to have any leisure to look about him.
Cédrille smiled sadly when he saw the girl coming toward him.
"Ah! I was waiting to see you before going away, Miretta," he said; "and I am going to say adieu at once, for I wouldn't dare to come to this splendid palace and ask for you; I feel all dazed here; I don't dare to walk, for fear of making a noise!"
"And yet, my dear Cédrille, here is where you are to live, as long as you stay in Paris. They are going to give you a room in this house; my new mistress will have it so. She has a noble and generous manner, and this that she is doing for you to-day, cousin, makes me love her already."
"Ah, ah! is it possible? What do you say, cousin—I am to be lodged here—I?—Why, it's a palace!"
"No; it's a private mansion."
"Ah! but wait a minute! What about my horse—this poor Bourriquet? I don't want to leave him, you know."
"You will not have to leave him; Bourriquet will be put in the stable, and you may be sure that the horses are well taken care of there."
"Do you mean it? Bourriquet will be fed? and what about me?"
"You will be, too, when you happen to be here at the hour when the household of these ladies dines."
"If this is the way one is treated in Paris, I begin to believe that you may be happy here, cousin; but, in that case, I must go and thank the masters of the house for offering to take me in."
"No, no; that is not necessary; there are no masters here, only mistresses: Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin, in whose service I am now, and her aunt—an old lady, who does whatever her niece wishes; I saw that at once."
"Oh! you are shrewd, you are, Miretta! So I needn't go and thank those ladies?"
"They excuse you. In Paris, you see, everyone is expected to keep in his own place.—But that reminds me that there is someone whom I must thank; but she is not a great lady, and I am sure that she will be very glad to see me."
"Who is it?"
"That fine girl who stationed herself in front of us and defended us, when we were being insulted. What! have you forgotten already?"
"Oh, no! no! I know whom you mean; and I remember that those young gentlemen called out to her:'Stand away from there, Ambroisine; that's no place for you!'"
"Yes, you are right: her name is Ambroisine. But I must go now to find a lady who is to show me my room and tell me what I have to do. You are free, Cédrille; you can go out and see Paris—walk about, amuse yourself, do whatever you choose."
"But it isn't the same with you, cousin; you're at other people's orders now; but you would have it, you preferred to come to Paris and go into service, rather than be your cousin's wife. And yet, you know that you would always have been the mistress of the house, and that I would have been your servant!"
"Enough, Cédrille, enough! I thought that it was agreed that you would not go back to that subject. I told you once for all that I could not be your wife."
"Yes, that's true; but you didn't tell me why you couldn't be."
"Because it doesn't suit me, apparently; it seems to me that my wish should be sufficient."
"Oh! of course, if it is because you don't love me. It's true enough that we can't compel a woman to love us!"
"I love you like a friend, like a brother, Cédrille."
"Well, I'd have been content to be your husband on those terms; and then, nobody knows, love might have come afterward!—But here you are looking cross at me, and drawing your eyebrows together.—It's all over,cousin; I will keep my word and never speak of the subject again."
"Good! otherwise, I would save you the trouble of saying adieu to me.—By the way, Cédrille, if you would, you might take me to Rue Saint-Jacques this evening. I will come out, if I can, at nightfall."
"I should like to, cousin; I will wait for you in the street."
At that moment a middle-aged woman came to Miretta and told her to follow her.
While the girl, with anau revoirto her companion, returned to the house, a servant wearing a handsome livery with heavy gold lace approached the Béarnais peasant and courteously invited him to come to the servants' quarters and refresh himself.
Cédrille returned with interest all the servant's salutations, and followed him, crying:
"Jarni! that isn't to be refused, monsieur! I shall be glad to take something, and I would even eat a bit, with your permission."
"You shall have whatever you may wish," replied the valet, with a smile.
"Well, well!" said Cédrille to himself; "this reconciles me to Paris and makes me forget this morning's battle."
Cédrille found a large company in the offices: footmen, coachmen, lackeys, scullions, and household servants vied with one another in being kind to the new-comer, who had been commended to them by their young mistress and was not there as a competitor for her favor; for they knew that the peasant was to return to his province as soon as he should have recovered from the fatigues of his journey. That was an additional reason why they should give him a cordial welcome.
They made the Béarnais relate his adventures; the battle in the street amused the servants immensely. They drank to Cédrille's courage and his cousin Miretta's; they drank to their mistresses, and to the peasant's safe return to his hearth and home.
By dint of drinking toasts in excellent wines, such as he had never tasted before, Cédrille felt considerably bewildered; and when he left the table and the house, to take a little walk about Paris, it was all the Béarnais could do to walk straight. He had not walked a hundred yards from the house, opening his eyes to their utmost extent and stopping constantly to straighten out his legs,when he felt an arm slip through his and heard a voice say to him:
"Sandioux! a happy meeting! I did not expect it, but I rejoice. I will say more: it causes me extreme pleasure, on my honor!—Why, my dear friend, you gaze at me with a surprised air, as if you did not recognize me! Can it be that you have forgotten a gallant knight who defended you sturdily this morning at a moment when your danger was most threatening?"
Cédrille, after straining his eyes and examining the long, lean, yellow man who had seized his arm, cried at last:
"Ah! why, yes, to be sure—your long face—that's so—I have seen it before; and this morning, when all those fine sparks tried to make me dismount, it was you who came and took our part—with your long sword, as long as a turnspit!"
"Ah! this is very fortunate; you recognize me at last, do you, my fine fellow?—If my sword is long, I trust that that didn't prevent my handling it rather prettily against your assailants this morning."
"Certainly not, monsieur le chevalier. Oh! you wasn't afraid!"
"Afraid! I! I never could understand how there could be such a thing as a coward!"
"Yes, yes! now I remember it all. What a pity that that tall black chevalier knocked your sword out of your hand at the first blow!"
"Sandis! my dear fellow, I will tell you why. Lean on me; you will walk more firmly."
"Faith! I'd be glad to.—I don't know what's the matter with me to-night; or, rather, yes—I do know; they made me drink so much at that house, and such good wine, that it made me a little dizzy; but it will pass off.—What were you saying?"
"I was saying that I would explain what made Roland slip out of my hand."
"Jarni! it was the blow the other man—the black one—hit it. He strikes hard, that fellow does!"
"No, no! cadédis! that wasn't it!—He might have struck ten times as hard, and I would never have let go Roland, that fiercer assaults than that have not lowered! But just fancy, my boy—— Lean on me, don't be afraid; I am firm on my legs.—Just fancy, my worthy Béarnais, that someone had played me the despicable trick of twisting a strip of pork around Roland's hilt! So you see, it was just when I brandished it most vigorously that it slipped from my hand!"
"Well, well! pardi! that was a curious idea; to twist pork round a sword! But didn't you notice it when you drew your sword from the sheath?"
"What do you expect?—in the heat of battle, when it is a question of saving a lovely girl and an excellent youth, one does not amuse one's self examining one's sword hilt.—However, it's all over, we were victors, and, thanks to my assistance, you were able to continue yourjourney. I trust that you reached the safe harbor for which you were bound?"
"Yes, seigneur chevalier. Mon Dieu! my cousin is already settled in the Hôtel de Mongarcin."
"Ah! that charming little brunette whom you haden croupeis your cousin?"
"To be sure! my mother and I, we are the only relations she has."
"Well! I congratulate you; you have a charming cousin; and, in fact, now that I look at you—yes, there is a resemblance, at the corners of the mouth."
"You are the first person who ever thought that I resembled Miretta.—Ah! jarni! there's holes here. If it hadn't been for you, monsieur le chevalier, I believe I should have fallen full length in the street."
"You must have turned your foot."
"Yes; and then, my head is in the same fix."
"Hold fast to me; don't be afraid to lean on me. I am made of iron, of steel."
"For my part, I feel as if my legs were made of cotton; it's because I've had so much to drink. Oh! what famous wines! How polite those liveried servants are! they kept filling my glass for me.—Ha! hold me up!"
"They filled you, finally. So it was the servants at the Hôtel de Mongarcin who treated you so well?"
"To be sure.—By the way, did I tell you that I came to Paris to bring Miretta to Mademoiselle de Mongarcin?"
"You must have told me, as I know it."
"To be sure, that's so; as you know it, I must have told you.—Bah! there's another hole; and then, I don't know whether it's because I am dizzy, but it seems to me that I can't see very plain."
"Oh! that is no mistake; it is growing dark. Look you, it is after half-past seven. Where were you going, my worthy man, my dear fellow, when I met you?—Sandis! I know your name, but it doesn't come to my lips."
"Cédrille, at your service."
"Cédrille—that's it.—Whither were you bending your steps, my good Cédrille?"
"I—mon Dieu! I don't know; you see, Monsieur le Chevalier—what d'ye call it—whatisyour name?"
"Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix."
"Oh! those names are pretty hard to remember. Must I say them all?"
"No! call me Passedix; that will be enough."
"Ah! good! Passe—six."
"No, no! deuce take it! Passedix, notsix!You cut me down four points!"
"That makes no difference! Well, monsieur le chevalier, I came away from the house because I felt as if I needed the fresh air—and then, to see a little of Paris, which I don't know at all."
"In that case, my friend Cédrille—will you allow me to call you my friend? When two people have met on the field of battle, it seems to me that that brings themtogether at once. Brave men understand each other at a glance."
"You are very polite! It's a great honor to me, Chevalier Passe—Passe——"
"Dix.—Well, to return to our subject, if you will permit me, dear friend, I will be your pilot, your guide, this evening. But I shall not be able to show you what Paris contains in the way of beautiful and interesting churches, palaces, squares, and promenades, for the reason that it is dark, and, none of those lovely things being lighted, you would see nothing and your steps would be wasted."
"Then you can't take me anywhere to-night? The deuce! that's a pity, for I feel just in the mood to enjoy myself. I don't want to go home to bed already, for I am not in the least sleepy."
Passedix, who had had nothing to eat during the day except the two eggs he had swallowed so rapidly before his landlady's eyes, passed his hand across his forehead and, after pretending to reflect a moment, cried:
"Yes, yes, cadédis! we will enjoy ourselves this evening. If we go along Rue Saint-Honoré, we shall find, just before we reach the Couvent des Capucines, a certain wine shop, the resort of lusty blades, good fellows like you and me; the curfew has not rung yet, so it will still be open; and even if the doors were closed, the habitués always have a way of gaining admission. Moreover, the keeper of the Loup de Mer—that is the name of theplace—is an old soldier, an ex-trooper, who has friends in the watch—and they allow him to keep his guests later; indeed, I know some who pass the whole night there. Forward, my good friend, and let us betake ourselves to the Loup de Mer!"
"All right; I will go I don't care where to-night, provided that we have some sport."
"But I tell you that this wine shop is frequented by all the jovial blades and lovers of the sex in Paris. And then, it has a famous name for omeletsau lard; they are excellent there. I once ate a dozen at a sitting; it was a wager, and I won it in a trice."
"Ah! they make omeletsau lard, do they?" muttered the Béarnais peasant, shaking his head; "what a pity that I ain't hungry! But I ate so much at the house that I couldn't eat a mouthful, on my word! I would much rather see something besides omelets."
"If you are not hungry, you must be thirsty; good fellows are always thirsty."
"Oh! as for drinking, why, I'll drink some more, although I have had a good deal now."
"That doesn't matter; you will drink, and I will eat and drink with you; we will play cards, we will sing, we will pass a delightful evening.—Lean upon me—steady now, and forward!"
Cédrille suffered himself to be led away, and, his companion almost carrying him, they soon reached the Loup de Mer.
It would have been useless in those days to seek in taverns the blaze of light which dazzles our eyes to-day when we enter a café; a smoky lamp or two lighted but dimly the room and the drinkers; but the latter, being accustomed to nothing better, found the place where they assembled very much to their liking, so there was always a numerous company at the Loup de Mer; it was not so select as the Chevalier Passedix had tried to persuade Cédrille; but, by way of compensation, it was very hilarious and animated, and, above all, exceedingly noisy.
Almost all the tables were occupied, and covered with pewter pots and goblets; they were not so pretty to look at as our bottles and glasses, but they were less fragile.
Not without difficulty did Passedix succeed in finding an unoccupied end of a table and in obtaining two stools. Although an habitué of the place, the chevalier did not seem to be greeted with great cordiality, and the first words of the waiter to whom he applied were:
"There's no more room, monsieur le chevalier; it isn't worth while for you to come in."
But the Gascon, pushing aside the waiter, who was standing in front of him, glared savagely around the room and cried:
"Ah! there's no room, eh?—Capédébious! we will see about that! There must always be room for me and my friends! and, at need, Roland will find a way to make room!"
"Let Monsieur de Passedix come in," said a woman of uncertain age, who sat at the desk; and she added, with a slight shrug of her shoulders: "if you don't, you know that he will make a scene, pick a quarrel with someone, and end by bringing the watch here."
"Well! I only said what the master ordered me to say," muttered the waiter, sulkily.
But meanwhile our Gascon had found a corner at a table, and had established himself there with Cédrille. The latter tried to look about; but the crowd, the noise, the heat, and the fumes of wine that filled the room, added to his intoxication instead of sobering him.
"Poussinet! Poussinet!" cried the chevalier, hammering the table with his sword hilt; "come here, knave! are you deaf to-night?"
The waiter approached, making a grimace, and stared at Cédrille as if he were a strange beast.
"Come, Poussinet, listen carefully to my orders. You will serve us an omelet of fifteen eggs, with half of a small ham inside; also, a large jug of your best, and some fresh bread if possible."
"Fifteen eggs! an omelet of fifteen eggs for you two! Do you expect more friends?"
"That doesn't concern you! do what you are told, and don't keep your great, stupid eyes fastened on my companion; that isn't polite, and I don't ever allow anyone to insult the persons who are in my company! Do you hear, clown?"
As he spoke, the chevalier seized the waiter by one ear and twisted it so hard in his fingers that the unlucky Poussinet was beginning to shriek with pain, when a gray-bearded man in jacket and apron came up and said to the chevalier, in a decidedly unamiable tone:
"What are you pulling my waiter's ears for? What has he done to you, Monsieur Passedix? Must you always make trouble here as soon as you arrive? I am tired of it, I warn you! Although you fight with everybody, I warn you that you don't frighten me; and when the day comes that I make up my mind to turn you out of my place, you will never come into it again; and your sword will stay here in pawn for all that you owe me!"
"Let's go away," said Cédrille, trying to rise; "I am not having any fun here!"
But Passedix forced Cédrille to remain on his stool; and having reflected that if he should beat the keeper of the wine shop he would have no supper, he restrained his wrath and tried to smile as he replied:
"La, la! old sea-wolf [loup de mer]—for you well deserve the name written on your sign!—here's a lot of pother because I hardly pinched the tip of an ear. I do not seek a quarrel with anyone who is courteous to me. If you have in your place louts who tread on my toes, I am never in a mood to put up with it. If I owe you money, that proves that you have given me credit."
"And I am very sorry that I ever gave you credit; but after this, nothing will be served you here unless youpay cash. As to that matter, I have given Poussinet my orders, and it will do you no good to pull his ears! Nothing without the money—those are his orders."
"Yes," muttered the waiter, "and he beats me; that's all thepourboireI get from him!"
Passedix rose and made a motion with his arm as if to strike Poussinet; but the wine shop keeper caught his arm in mid-air and shouted, with a horrible oath:
"So we are going to begin again, eh?"
"I want to go away; I don't enjoy myself here!" said Cédrille, half rising; but the chevalier threw him back on his seat, and continued in a haughty and dignified tone:
"Cabaretier, you may serve us in all confidence this evening; it is not I who treat, but my friend, this excellent Béarnais here; and his pockets are well filled."
"That makes a difference!" murmured the host; and he walked away with his waiter, saying to him: "No matter, you will make them pay when you serve; if they don't, take the dishes away."
"Yes, and look out for my ears!—Ah! what a lousy customer that lanky, hamstringing villain of a Gascon is!"
Cédrille sat as if glued to his seat, from which he dared not stir since his friend had forced him back into it so unceremoniously; but he cut a singular figure as he rolled his eyes around the room, staring at all the people about him; and he had not the slightest appearance of a person who had come there for amusement.
As for the Chevalier Passedix, his eyes seemed to be trying to discover the contents of the Béarnais's pockets; and, as he caressed his chin, he reflected thus:
"I said that his pockets were well filled, but I know nothing about it; he didn't whisper a word when I said it Sandis! if it should turn out that he hasn't a sou about him—that old pirate of a cabaretier would take back his omelet. But I feel that Dame Cadichard's two little eggs are at the bottom of Roland's sheath. I dare not question this stout little Béarnais. But, come what may, I don't propose to go away from here without filling my belly. The proverb well says: 'Without Bacchus and Ceres, Venus congeals!'—Now, then, as I do not choose that my love shall congeal, I absolutely must do a little work with my jaws!"
Thereupon, turning to the other persons seated at the table at which he had taken his place, tall Passedix observed that they were bourgeois, very well dressed and having all the appearance of shopkeepers from the vicinity come thither for recreation. In front of them were goblets and a generous measure of wine; also dice and diceboxes.
"These fellows are probably playing for their reckoning!" thought the Gascon. "An idea! suppose I should suggest a game to the little fellow, especially as he seems inclined to go to sleep.—Holà! I say, worthy Cédrille!"
"What is it?" cried the peasant, staring in order to see better.
"Suppose we have a game of dice, like our neighbors.—You gentlemen are playingquinze, I think?"
One of the players looked up at the lean chevalier, and contented himself with an assenting nod.
"Good! what do you say to a game ofquinze, friend Cédrille? I'll play you for a rose crown. There's a pleasant suggestion for you?"
"No, thanks! I have never played; I don't know any game. At our house, my mother used to say very often: 'Don't let anybody induce you to gamble, my son, it's too dangerous a sport; it becomes a vice and it may lead to crime!'"
"Ta ta ta! that speech smells strongly of the barn! If gambling is dangerous in your province, it isn't so in Paris; and the proof is that everybody gambles, from the lowestto the highest. The greatest nobles set us the example; they wouldn't be gentlemen if they didn't gamble."
"Oh! I don't claim to be a gentleman, myself!"
"Sandis! that's lucky!" said Passedix to himself. "What a blockhead this young Béarnais is; he doesn't gamble and he won't eat; he doesn't know how to carry his wine! If only he has money!—but I must make sure of that before they bring us that famous omelet."—And, addressing his young companion once more, Passedix said: "Can it be that we are miserly, by any chance, my young shepherd? Fie! fie! that would be a wretched failing, and one that is much ridiculed in Paris, where every man of heart, if he wants to enjoy himself, should pay, without reckoning, every bill presented to him."
"I, miserly!" rejoined Cédrille, with a smile; "oh! I am not afraid of anyone charging me with that; I have never had anything of my own! Whenever my fob is full, what there is in it is at my friends' service!"
"Bravo! very good! shake! I am just like that, myself!—Well, then, my good Cédrille, as you don't know the game of dice, and as I am absolutely determined to lose a rose crown to you, we will play for it atwet finger. I trust that you know that game, at least!"
"At wet finger!" muttered Cédrille, putting his hands to his pockets. "Oh! I know that game, yes. But, by the way, I just remember that I can't play to-night, unless I play on credit——"
"On credit! What does that mean?"
"It means that the servants at the Hôtel de Mongarcin—all those splendid fellows in handsome livery, who treated me so handsomely at the offices——"
"Well! what then? Let us have it, mordioux!"
"Well! when I left them, saying that I was going to walk round the city a bit, they said: 'Have you got any money about you?'—I saidyes, and took a good fat purse out of my pocket.—Oh! I didn't start out on my travels without the means of travelling.—'Well,' they said, 'leave your purse here; don't take it with you, or it will be stolen; and it won't do you any good to be on your guard, for you won't see anything; Paris is full of vagabonds, cloak snatchers, cutpurses, who strip you without your knowing how it's done. You don't need your purse to walk about the city; so, leave it here, where it will be safe, the maître d'hôtel will be responsible for it; and then you can stroll all over Paris and snap your fingers at the robbers.'—Faith! I followed their advice and left my purse in their hands; and I haven't a sou about me!"
It would be difficult to describe the expression of his valiant companion's face while Cédrille was speaking. Chevalier Passedix, ordinarily yellow, became green one moment, then violet, then ash-colored; his features seemed to lengthen, his cheeks to sink in more than usual; his eyes flashed fire, and he muttered, clenching his fists:
"This passes all bounds! He hasn't a sou, and he wants to enjoy himself in Paris! What an ignorant fool!—Ah! if you were not your cousin's cousin! what pleasureit would give me to thrash you, knave! to teach you to hang on my arm when your pockets are empty!—But the omelet will soon be here, and they will take it away again! That will be an outrage! Vertuchoux! at embarrassing moments one must be bold; fortune favors the brave!—another proverb. Let us stake all to win all!"
And Passedix, turning to his neighbors the dice throwers, suddenly exclaimed:
"Twelve! that's a good throw, but, damn the odds! I will stake six livrestournoisagainst monsieur!"
The bourgeois who had just thrown the dice stared at the chevalier and rejoined:
"You don't know the game; we have three dice, and the one who throws nearest to fifteen wins; I have thrown twelve; I have a great many chances in my favor, for anything above fifteen loses."
"I know the game as well as the man who invented it; that doesn't prevent my saying that I will stake six livrestournoisagainst you."
"Very good! I take your bet."
"All right! agreed!—Now, it's your turn, monsieur, on whom I am betting."
The other gambler, after casting a surprised glance at the Gascon, took the dicebox and shook it, saying:
"Ah! you bet on me, do you, seigneur chevalier? Faith! I hope with all my heart that I may win for you."
Cédrille turned toward his neighbors, curious to see the result of the wager.
As for Passedix, he had risen, his long body towered above the table, but his eyes never swerved from the box in which the dice were; and his anxious expression, the way in which he twisted the ends of his cloak in his hands, and the trembling of his whole person, all tended to show how important it was to him that he should win the stake.
At last the bourgeois threw the three dice on the table, and the sum of the points was only eleven.
"Faith! that was rather near!" said the man who had thrown; "but it is not enough—I have lost!"
"And you too, chevalier!" exclaimed the other; "come, hand over your rose crown—it was your own suggestion."
Passedix, whose face had assumed a threatening aspect when he saw the result of the throw, slowly caressed his moustache and replied, dwelling on each word:
"I have lost? that may be!—It was monsieur's fault for throwing badly."
"What's that? I threw badly?"
"Why, yes, to be sure; you shouldn't spend two hours shaking the dice in the box—it tires them, and they can only turn up small numbers!"
"Ah! that's a pretty good one! I play as I please. Why did you bet on me? who forced you to?"
"Oh! God bless me! enough of this! I have lost—that is all right; but I demand my revenge; I should say that that is one of the things no gentleman refuses."
"Your revenge—very good! I agree!"
"That is lucky for you! Sandis!"
"Here, throw the dice yourself!" said the man who had lost, offering the Gascon the box; "then you cannot say that I play badly."
"With pleasure, I prefer it so!" cried the chevalier, seizing the dicebox and resuming his seat.
Thereupon he rattled the dice in the box in his turn, and, having raised his hand above his head, threw them on the table; the throw was fourteen.
A joyful cry escaped from Passedix's lips and he looked about with a triumphant air, saying:
"That is what I call throwing! that is how we throw dice at court! Fourteen! what do you say to that,compère?"
"That's a good throw," replied his adversary; "but I may equal it."
And having picked up the three dice and put them in his box, he played, and threw only five.
Passedix was radiant; his face lighted up, and he began to laugh uproariously, opening his enormous mouth and showing his sharp fangs.
"I have lost," said the shopkeeper; "well, we are just where we started.—I think it's time to go home,compère."
But at that moment the odor of cooked eggs reached their nostrils. Poussinet appeared, carrying in both hands a pewter platter upon which was the enormous omelet; under one arm he had a jug of wine, and under the other a round loaf.
The waiter gazed admiringly at the omelet, but he walked with slow and measured steps, like a person whoexpects a catastrophe, or one who is marching to the sacrifice.
The odor of the dish so eagerly coveted dilated the chevalier's nostrils; he seized the shopkeeper by his doublet as he was about to leave the table, and said:
"Well! are we to stop at that? Don't you know that among gentlemen, when each wins a game, the rubber is always played?"
"The rubber! the rubber! But it is late, and I ought to be at home."
"You will be there a few minutes late! What a misfortune! But we cannot afford to play like children, with no result; everyone would laugh at us! Come! it will take but a minute!"
And Passedix retained his hold on the tradesman's doublet, which he was very careful not to release, for Poussinet had already said twice:
"Here's the omeletau lard, the wine, and the bread—total, two livres eight sous six deniers, which you must pay me now, or I shall take it all away."
"'Tis well! 'tis well! Sandis! Wait a moment, Poussinet; as you see, I am just finishing a game with monsieur. Let us finish!"
Tired of being detained by his doublet, the shopkeeper decided to resume his seat.
"Well, monsieur," he exclaimed; "since I absolutely must do it to satisfy you, let us play this rubber, which, however, I should be justified in refusing, for, after all,I do not know you! You interfered in the game of dice I was playing with my friend, not with you."
"Par la mordioux! are you afraid of compromising yourself by playing with me, my friend? You do not know me, evidently! Very well! learn that I am Chevalier Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix, the favorite of Monseigneur le Cardinal de Richelieu, and an officer in the queen'sMousquetaires!—Say—are you satisfied now?—In a moment, Poussinet—don't go. Let us settle this business, and don't put your nose so near the omelet!"
The two tradesmen had glanced at each other with a sneering expression while the Gascon chevalier enumerated his name and offices, and they whispered to each other:
"The cardinal's favorite, forsooth! Just look at his doublet; there's a hole in the elbow, and his ruff is all ragged!"
"He is some schemer, some scurvy knave! Shall I play with him?"
"Yes; it would be a good job to win his rose crown."
"But, if he loses, by Notre-Dame! he will have to pay! I will not be put off with his bluster!"
"Well! what about that rubber! Capédébious! shall we finish to-night?" cried Passedix, assuming a surly air and bringing his fist down on the table.
"I am ready, monsieur le favori du cardinal. But you will not ask me for your revenge again. I declare now that I will not throw after this."
"All right! that is understood. Who the devil asks you to?"
"There are the dice, monsieur; will you begin?"
"I have no objection."
Passedix put the three dice in the box that he held; this time, despite his efforts, one could see that his hand trembled and that he did not raise the box with the same confidence. However, the dice were thrown, and again the sum was fourteen.
Passedix jumped for joy, so that he nearly overturned the table; he breathed like a man who had been stifling for five minutes, then burst out in a roar of laughter that extinguished one of the lamps. His demonstration ended with the words:
"I think that you have lost, my boy! You will pay for our supper."
"But I believe that I am entitled to take my throw first."
"Oh! that is true; take your throw, it's your right; but if I were in your place, I would give it up and pay at once."
"No, indeed! Fortune is like the sun; it shines for everybody!"
"There's a proverb that I never heard! I believe it to be absolutely false!"
However, the chevalier's adversary calmly took up the dice, shook them with the air of a man to whom it matters little whether he loses a rose crown, but who is amused by the impatience of his opponent.
"Sandis! have you nearly finished shaking your dicebox?" said Passedix; "you trifle too much."
The shopkeeper threw—fifteen! It was his turn to laugh, which he did with a good heart, in company with his friend, who cried:
"Pardieu! there's a throw that's worth all of yours, monsieur le cardinal's friend!"