The Flower Girl of The Chateau d'Eau Volume I Part 48

"But I beg you, tell me if Monsieur Malberg is at his country house or in Paris now?"

"Monsieur Malberg--why, I don't know myself; but wait, he must be in Paris, for I saw his blackamoor going upstairs just now; indeed I believe he was carrying a bottle in a wooden case--you know the kind of bottle I mean; what there is inside must be fine!"

Georget lowered his head sadly, saying to himself:

"If Monsieur Malberg is in Paris now, we can't go to his country house without his permission, without finding out whether he still wants us; but I would have liked to start to-day, for if I stay in Paris I can't do otherwise than go out on the boulevard."

"I say, Monsieur Georget," continued the concierge, "if you want, I'll go up to Monsieur Malberg's and I'll ask his yellow negro if his master is here."

"Oh! if you would have that kindness, Monsieur Baudoin, I should be very much obliged to you!"

"With pleasure. I am not sorry to leave the lodge for a minute. If that creature asks for drink, give her water; she don't like water and it's a punishment for her."

Baudoin went up to the third floor, and Georget remained in the lodge, absorbed, not in his thoughts, but in a single thought; for it was impossible for him to think of anything else than Violette's going to Monsieur Jericourt's room. The concierge was absent a long time, but at last he came downstairs again, swearing as usual. "Ten thousand cursed names! how can a man take such animals as that into his service? They are brutes, and nothing else!"

"Well, Monsieur Baudoin, is Monsieur Malberg in Paris?"

"Just imagine, Monsieur Georget; I rang the bell upstairs,--I was very sure that there was someone there; however, it was a long while before anybody opened the door; I rang again and the black fellow appeared at last. 'Is your master here just now?' I asked him. That vagabond of a Ponceau began to laugh and showed all his teeth--I must admit that all colored men have extremely white teeth; probably it's the white that their skin lacks. I asked my question again, and the slave answered, shaking his head violently: 'No, no, no, master not here! Me here with Broubrou, Babo, and Zima; me come to fetch Zima!'--As I didn't understand what he meant with his Broubrou and his Babo, I said to him: 'But I didn't come to ask for you.'--With that he made a face at me and left me there, and went back into the salon. But I heard him talking and jabbering; you would have sworn that there were two people disputing.

That is what makes me think that the negro lied when he said that his master wasn't in, for it couldn't be anybody else that I heard him talking to."

Georget, understanding only vaguely what Baudoin told him, concluded that he would do better to go up to Monsieur Malberg's himself, and learn what to expect. He wiped his eyes and left the lodge, without answering the concierge, who asked him if his wife Hildegarde was still breathing.

Pongo opened the door to the young messenger and leaped for joy when he saw him.

"Ah! Monsieur Georget! he nice boy, he come to see Pongo."

"My dear Pongo, Monsieur Malberg is the one I would like to see; it is he that I have business with; is he in Paris?"

"No, no, me tell concierge so. Big fool, he no understand; he stand there like a stick.--Master, he in the country, in the pretty house, at Nogent."

"He is at Nogent? Oh! I am glad of that, for then I can go there, I can take my mother there! Monsieur Malberg, who is so kind to us, offered me employment there long ago, and work for my mother; I refused then, but to-day I have decided to go; my mother is packing, and she must have finished by this time; but I don't know what road to take to go to Nogent; can you tell me, Monsieur Pongo?"

"You, go to Nogent? Then you come with me. Me going back right away to master with Mamzelle Zima, what we forgot. Poor Zima! Her not like not to be in the country. Oh! me very glad if you coming, Monsieur Georget!

You will see what a pretty place it is! Lots of fruit, fine garden, pretty flowers! Carabi, he play a lot down there; he grow big like a ball! You go fetch your good mother, and we start right away! I beat Broubrou, Babo, and all the little rugs! Dem nice and clean now. Me all ready."

"I will go and bring my mother and our bundles."

"Oh! me go up with you, carry all that! The mother, her never carry nothing."

And the mulatto, without listening to Georget's thanks, went up with him to the attic and took possession so quickly of all the bundles prepared by Madame Brunoy, that she had no time to remonstrate; Pongo was downstairs before the good woman had closed her door.

The three travellers pa.s.sed the concierge's lodge; Baudoin, who stood in the doorway, heaved a deep sigh as he said to them:

"G.o.d forgive me! I believe the wretched Hildegarde will recover!"

XXIII

IN THE FRESH AIR

When they entered the charming little house at Nogent which belonged to the Comte de Brevanne, Georget's mother uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise. In truth, it was difficult for anyone who loves the country not to be overjoyed to live in such a lovely spot. The house, which was quite modern, had only two floors, and at the top a fine terrace, surrounded by vases filled with flowers. But each window had an artistically carved balcony, with railings of the finest workmans.h.i.+p.

In front of the house a beautiful lawn with a border of orange trees, afforded a pleasant relief to the eye. And on each side, broad paths of lindens afforded during the hottest weather a promenade where the sun was not allowed to penetrate.

Georget himself, despite the painful thoughts which oppressed his heart, could not remain indifferent to all the beauties which nature lavished about him. Those majestic trees, those flower-laden shrubs, that green lawn, the balmy air, everything appealed to his senses; he felt a sort of alleviation of his pain, his brow brightened, and for the first time since his departure from Paris, he looked with interest at his surroundings.

"What! are we going to live here?" cried Georget's mother. "Why, it isn't possible! it's too beautiful! This house is a regular chateau! I shall never dare to go into it."

"This not all," said Pongo; "you'll see the garden, the orchard, the kitchen garden, fine fruit, big cabbages, nice sweet little peas--we have everything! And then the poultry yard--little chickens, pigeons, ducks, turkeys! Oh! me like roast turkey!"

"This place is a kind of paradise on earth."

"Monsieur Pongo, it would be very kind of you to go to your master and tell him that we have come, and ask him if he still wants us; for perhaps he may have different ideas now."

"Oh, he want you! he want you! Me go tell him; look, me see him over there in the garden; me run and take him Mamzelle Zima, to make him pleased. Wait, wait!"

The mulatto left his travelling companions, to tell his master of their arrival. Georget remained with his mother, who continued to admire all that she saw, and walked along the paths with great caution, as if she were afraid of leaving her footprints there. But from time to time she glanced at her son, who had relapsed into reverie.

"I mustn't seem to notice his sadness," she said to herself; "it will pa.s.s away. At his age, it isn't possible that it will resist distractions, and we shall have enough of them here! A month from now I will wager that he won't give a thought to his love-affair in Paris!"

The Comte de Brevanne, notified by Pongo, soon appeared to receive the new arrivals; he greeted Madame Brunoy kindly, and she outdid herself in reverences; then he tapped Georget on the shoulder, and said to him:

"Well! so we have changed our mind, have we? We are willing to live somewhere else than in Paris now?"

Georget, who was deeply moved, and seemed constantly on the point of weeping, replied in a trembling voice:

"Oh, yes! I am very glad, monsieur, very happy now to come here to live with my mother; that is to say, if you care to take us both."

"Certainly, my boy, my intention is still the same; I take back nothing of what I said and I am very glad to have you settle in my house; I trust that you won't repent having come."

"O monsieur!" cried Mere Brunoy, with more reverences, "is it possible not to be happy here? It seems to me that I have grown ten years younger already since we have been here. Mon Dieu! such a lovely house! Monsieur may be sure I'll do my best to satisfy him."

"Yes," added Georget, struggling to master his emotion, "we will work all the time; in the first place, I wish to show monsieur that I am not a lazy fellow; I mean to employ my time better than in Paris, for in Paris I loafed sometimes, but that will not happen again; I shall never go back to Paris. Monsieur won't make me go there, will you, monsieur?

You will allow me to stay here all the time, won't you?"

Monsieur de Brevanne, who had noticed Georget's excitement, smiled slightly as he replied:

"All right, my boy, we will talk about all those things hereafter; but go now with your mother and take possession of your quarters. Pongo will escort you.--Pongo! the small building at the left, near the entrance to the kitchen garden--that is where Madame Brunoy and her son are to live."

While Georget and his mother followed the mulatto, who went before them, dancing a sort of chika and singing: "Me going to see Carabi my friend!

oh! he not naughty any more, he going to lick my nose!" the Comte de Brevanne entered one of the avenues lined with linden trees, and as he walked back and forth there, seemed buried in profound meditation.

Within a few days, the mood of the man whom his neighbors called the Bear had changed considerably: Monsieur de Brevanne was still pensive, but his reverie was less gloomy, less forbidding than before; his brow had cleared, he avoided society less, and it even happened sometimes that he stopped to talk a moment with his neighbors. This abatement of his misanthropy dated from the day that he had seen his wife in Monsieur Glumeau's wood.

The count had been walking there for some time, when he spied Georget standing within a few feet of him, apparently afraid to interrupt his revery.

"Ah! there you are, Georget. Have you seen your lodgings? Do you like them? Is your mother better?"