The Flower Girl of The Chateau d'Eau Volume I Part 28

"Yes, monsieur."

"You remember the lady's name?"

"Baronne de Grangeville, 27 Rue de Provence."

"That's right; now be off, and hurry back.--By the way, if before admitting you, they should ask you from whom you come, you will reply that you come from Monsieur de Roncherolle."

"Monsieur de Roncherolle; very good, monsieur."

Chicotin took his leave. Thereupon, Monsieur de Roncherolle,--for now we know that that was the gouty gentleman's name,--placed his diseased foot on one of the chairs covered with cotton, then stretched himself in the easy-chair, rested his head against the back, and with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, reflected thus:

"Dear Lucienne! I am sure that she will be delighted to see me again; and for my part it will give me pleasure to be in her company once more.

It is fully twelve years since we met! Twelve years! This infernal time flies with terrifying rapidity, on my word! it seems to me that it was only yesterday; and yet a good many things have happened in the interval! Ah! I hadn't the gout then, and my sufferings were very much less. To grow old and to suffer--all varieties of annoyance at once! But that is the common law, and as the inimitable Potier says in _Le Chiffonier_: 'When a man is not satisfied, he must be a philosopher!'--She was very pretty, was Lucienne! Yes, she was one of the prettiest women in Paris! and I was one of the handsomest gallants of my time; indeed, if it weren't for this infernal gout, I should still be very presentable!--Ow! There was a twinge, I wonder if I am going to have another attack? If so, it would be rather hard for me to go to present my respects to the baroness, as I have asked permission to do in my note. But let me see; as I think it over, it seems to me that Lucienne and I parted on rather bad terms, yes, very bad; she became jealous; what nonsense! she should know better than anyone that jealousy doesn't keep one from being deceived! But twelve years have pa.s.sed since that, and there is no better refrigerant than time. The poor baroness must have become reasonable by now; we don't look at those things from the same point of view at forty as at thirty--if she isn't forty, she can't be far from it.--It's a pity! Women ought never to grow old, nor men either; children are the only ones who ought to grow, and they should stop when they reach maturity.--Ah! there's a twinge; and yet I am leading the life of an anchorite: no champagne, no truffles! To be sure, the funds are low, very low, in fact. I expected to break the bank at Baden-Baden: I had discovered a very ingenious _martingale_, an infallible method of winning at roulette; I don't understand how it happened that it was my pocket that was broken! Ah! if I were not short of money, how quickly I would send this dieting business to the devil!

and then if I had the gout, there would be some reason for it. They say that it is due to my past excesses; I don't believe a word of it, for I should have had it sooner!--And he--what has become of him, I wonder, of that dear friend of mine, who was absolutely determined to kill me? In the six weeks since I came back to Paris, it is probable that I should have come face to face with him on the street, if the gout had not kept me in this hotel, in this barrack. But still, it is so long ago, perhaps he is dead. On my honor, I should be very sorry to learn it! I should feel it badly. If he is dead, the baroness must know it.--How gloomy it is here! What a wretched neighborhood! One doesn't even hear the noise of carriages--I believe, G.o.d forgive me, that no carriages pa.s.s here.

Ah! I will not stay here. I would rather have a room under the eaves in the dear old Breda quarter! The only thing one can do here is to sleep!

and as my gout permits it, I will take a nap, while I await the return of my messenger. He has a mighty cunning air, that fellow; he reminds me of a little Norman whom I employed in 1830, or thereabouts, and whom I surprised one day throwing oil on my trousers and coat, because I usually made him a present of my clothes as soon as they had any spots on them."

Monsieur de Roncherolle fell asleep, dreaming of his past. It is what a man usually does who is on the decline, whereas in youth he dreams of the future.

Chicotin's shrill voice woke the ex-gallant abruptly, and he opened his eyes, muttering:

"Who is the rascal who dares to enter my room without ringing? Ten thousand devils! I was dreaming that I was at Baden-Baden again. Alas! I must return to the sad reality.--It's you, is it, my boy? Well, what reply to your message?"

"Here it is, monsieur."

As he spoke, Chicotin held out the note and the bouquet, which he still had in his hands.

"What! you have brought them both back? She refused my bouquet and my letter?"

"Why, no, monsieur, the lady did not refuse anything, because I didn't find her; she has moved!"

"Pardieu! I thought you were cleverer than this, my boy! Because a person has changed her lodgings, you can't find her! There's a sharp messenger for you!"

"I am no more stupid than others, monsieur, and you will see if it's my fault. I went to Rue de Provence, to the number you gave me; a fine house, good style. I asked the concierge, who has a lodge furnished better than this room, for Madame la Baronne de Grangeville. He opened his eyes, looked at his wife who was sipping coffee from a silver cup, and said to her: 'The Baronne de Grangeville--do you know her, wife?'

and his wife drank her coffee first and then answered: 'We haven't got anybody here of that name.'--'But,' I said to her, 'that lady did live in this house; the gentleman who sent me is certain of it; if she's moved, she must have left her address. Give me that and I will go away.'--'How long ago did this baroness live here?' asked the concierge.--'Twelve years,' I said.--At that the husband and wife began to laugh, and said to me: 'In twelve years a lot of water has flowed under the bridge, my boy. It's seven years now since we took the place of the former concierge, who died here, and we never heard the name of your baroness. If the other concierge was alive, perhaps he might know her address. But he's at Montmartre, you know where; perhaps you'll go there and ask him.' Faith, monsieur, I thought it wasn't worth while to go to Montmartre, so I came back with your letter and your bouquet. Do you still think that it's my fault?"

Monsieur de Roncherolle took the articles which Chicotin handed him. He tore up the letter, muttering:

"No, so long as you didn't find the scent. Hum! more of the ill effects of time. I come back, and I find n.o.body left: some are dead; others have disappeared. Ah! it's foolish to travel; or if one must travel, one should do like the Wandering Jew: keep going all the time, and never stop. But the Wandering Jew didn't have the gout.--Here, my boy, this is for your commission."

Monsieur de Roncherolle paid the messenger handsomely, because the man who has always borne himself like a gentleman retains the habit of making a show of generosity, even when his means allow him no longer to be generous; and sometimes imposes great privations upon himself in order to enjoy the pleasure of throwing money out of the window.

"Then monsieur has no further need of my services?" said Chicotin, his appet.i.te whetted by the fee he had received for his errand.

"Faith, my boy, I should have been very glad to find the lady to whom I wrote the letter. It isn't certain that she's dead, like the concierge of the house where she lived, for she was quite young a dozen years ago, and she should be a woman of about forty now. If chance should make you acquainted with her present residence, come at once and tell me, and you shall have a good pourboire."

"All right, master. I'll look, I'll ask questions, and I shall end by finding her. I go into every corner of Paris, you know; but perhaps it will take rather a long time. However, as soon as I find out anything, I'll come to tell you."

When Chicotin had gone, Monsieur de Roncherolle, whose face had a.s.sumed a melancholy expression, looked at the bouquet which he still held, muttering:

"Well, I will keep the bouquet; these flowers are very pretty; it's a long while since anyone gave me any; I will imagine that someone has sent them to me; I have reached the age where I must live on illusions."

XIV

THE MOTHER AND THE SON

Georget pa.s.sed several days scouring Paris; but he made the most minute investigations in the Chaussee-d'Antin quarter; he asked for Monsieur de Roncherolle in all the fine hotels, and received everywhere the answer that no person of that name had apartments there. Then the young messenger would return in the afternoon to Boulevard du Chateau d'Eau, to say good-evening to Violette, to whom he would confide the ill success of his efforts; and before going home he would try to find work to do in order to earn a little money. Georget no longer pa.s.sed the day loafing on the boulevard as before; he no longer pa.s.sed the time with his friend Chicotin, who, if he had known why Georget was exploring Paris, could have put an end to his search with a word. Chicotin, on his side, was looking for the Baronne de Grangeville, but without fatiguing himself overmuch and without exhibiting as much zeal as his friend in his inquiries. And when night came, instead of returning to the neighborhood of the Chateau d'Eau, Monsieur Patatras, as he adored the play, hung about in the neighborhood of the people who were on their way to the theatres on Boulevard du Temple, and his felicity was complete when, toward the close of the evening, he succeeded in obtaining a check, by means of which he witnessed the last act of a melodrama or a farce.

Every morning before starting out, Georget deemed it his duty to go to Monsieur Malberg, to tell him what quarter and what streets he had explored the day before. Although the result of his investigations was not as yet satisfactory, he was desirous to prove to the man who had a.s.sisted him so generously that his zeal had not abated. The young messenger was rarely admitted to Monsieur Malberg's presence, but he always found Pongo deep in conversation with the furniture; then he would tell the mulatto what he had done, and he never failed to report faithfully to his master all that Georget had told him.

The perseverance which the young man displayed in demonstrating his grat.i.tude, ended by touching the heart of the gentleman on the third floor, who told his servant one morning to admit Georget when he called; and that order had scarcely been given when the young man appeared as usual to tell what he had done the day before.

Pongo immediately suspended the toilet of a kitten which he had picked up the night before in the street, to usher Georget into his master's presence; then he left the room, saying:

"Now me breakfast with my new friend Carabi, that me found yesterday under a door, all alone and crying. Nothing to eat this long time, very thin, very unhappy; but me bring him here, me take him to bed with me, feed him, and this morning he all right, all happy; he purr and hump his back at me."

"Come in, my friend," said Monsieur Malberg to Georget, who stood timidly in the doorway; "come in and sit down."

"Oh! monsieur is too kind; but I am not tired, and then I cannot presume to sit down in monsieur's presence."

"I tell you that I want you to sit down; I have something to say to you.

Take this chair."

Georget obeyed, and took his seat on the edge of a chair; then he made haste to say:

"I went to the Palais-Royal quarter yesterday, monsieur; I went the whole length of Rue Richelieu, Rue Neuve-des-Pet.i.ts-Champs and all the streets leading into them. There are many hotels in that quarter, and yet I discovered nothing; no one there knows that gentleman."

"My boy, it is eight or ten days now, I believe, that you have been engaged in this tiresome business for me! That is quite enough! Cease your investigations; you have more than earned the money which you pretend that you owe me."

"But, monsieur, it doesn't tire me at all to go about Paris; besides, it's my trade, and I often do other errands while I am looking for monsieur; so why shouldn't I keep on? I haven't searched all Paris yet."

"I tell you again, my friend, that I don't want you to look any farther.

I have reflected, and if heaven permits me to find this gentleman, whom you have sought in vain, it will bring me face to face with him; otherwise, it evidently means that He who governs everything does not choose that I should carry out my plans, and I must submit."

"Perhaps monsieur is not satisfied with me; perhaps he thinks that I do not go about it in the right way, and----"

"On the contrary, I am entirely satisfied with you; your mother, whom I have seen, because she absolutely insisted upon thanking me,--your mother has no end of pleasant things to say about you."

"Oh! you mustn't believe it all, monsieur; mothers exaggerate a bit, you know, when they talk about their sons!"

"That may be, but other persons too have confirmed what your mother said."

"Monsieur is too kind!"