Frederique Volume II Part 44

"Oh! I'm sure he's gone to get a drink."

"Without you? That isn't polite. Of course, you have the right to do the same."

"Faith! yes, so I have. So much the worse for Ronfland! After all, it's his own fault!"

Dupont put the little brunette's arm through his and took her to the cafe; he ordered punch and filled a gla.s.s for his new acquaintance, who drank it readily, but kept repeating:

"After this you'll dance with me, won't you, monsieur? For one don't come to a ball to go without dancing."

And Dupont, who was not at all anxious to dance, continued to pour out the punch, as he replied:

"Yes, by and by; we have time enough. There are too many people here now; we should be too warm; it's better to drink punch."

But suddenly a young man, with a cap c.o.c.ked over one ear, rushed up like a bomb, brought his fist down on the table, upset the punch bowl and gla.s.ses, and boxed the little brunette's ears, crying:

"Ah! that's how you behave, Josephine! I've caught you at it! I bring you to the ball, and you play tricks on me with other men! I'll bring you to the right-about, you vile street walker!"

Mademoiselle Josephine began to weep.

"You're still drunk, Ronfland," she cried. "I don't play tricks on you; you ought not to leave me; you're a drunkard; I don't love you any more!"

But Dupont was not of a temper to allow a woman who was in his company to be maltreated; he rose, picked up the empty bowl, which was rolling about the table, and with it struck Ronfland on the nose.

"Parbleu!" he said; "my nose was smashed the other day, and I'm not sorry to have my revenge."

But the young man in the cap, infuriated by the blow, leaped upon Dupont, who lost his balance, and they rolled together on the floor, still striking each other.

The police appeared and separated them. Ronfland and his companion were turned out of doors, and Dupont was obliged to pay for what was broken.

As he had cut himself severely in the face while rolling about on the broken gla.s.s, he lost no time in taking a cab and returning to his hotel.

"I've got what I deserve!" he said to himself; "I have gone about it the wrong way. I certainly shall not go to any more b.a.l.l.s in search of amus.e.m.e.nt!"

III

MADEMOISELLE GEORGETTE

Dupont was obliged to keep his room a week. He had taken rooms in an unpretentious hotel on Rue de Seine. To pa.s.s the time, which seemed very long, our provincial spent most of the day at his window. As his rooms were on the third floor, and as the opposite house was not high, Dupont was able to look into the chamber of a neighbor who lived opposite, under the eaves.

"I haven't had any luck in Paris yet," thought Dupont, as he paced the floor slowly, with his head swathed in bandages. "I have done what I could to amuse myself, but I have had poor success; however, I must admit that I sleep less--especially since I received this wound in the face. I won't go to b.a.l.l.s any more in search of _bonnes fortunes_. But sometimes one goes far afield in search of what one has close at hand.

In one of those attic chambers opposite, I have noticed a young woman--very pretty she is, on my word! and, above all, well built. I am the better able to judge, because I see her in neglige costume--a morning jacket, and a short fustian skirt, as well as I can see from here. But how alluring that simple neglige is! It enables one to admire a shapely, flexible figure, and hips! oh! such well-rounded hips! She has a fine shape! It is impossible not to fall in love with such a shape!"

And Dupont, opening his window, although it was quite cold, leaned bravely out, and fastened his eyes on his neighbor's window. It was closed, but the curtains were not drawn, and he could easily see the young woman who lived there, and who was at that moment engaged in arranging her hair before a mirror fastened to the window shutter.

"Her face is captivating," said Dupont to himself; "wide-awake brown eyes, a turned-up nose--_a la_ Roxelane, as they say--and a mouth--hum!

the mouth isn't small, but it's well furnished; and then, she has a very pleasant smile. But, on the whole, there's nothing extraordinary about the face, and I prefer the figure. Ah! good! now she's walking about the room--still in that charming costume, tight-fitting white jacket, and the little striped skirt that hangs so well over her rounded hips. I can't see her foot or leg, but they must be beautiful; a tall, graceful figure almost always means a good leg. I certainly am dead in love with that figure; I must make that girl's acquaintance. She must have noticed my a.s.siduity in watching her. It doesn't seem to displease her; there's nothing savage in her manner; on the contrary, there's a merry, aye, a mischievous look about her face, which seems to be intended to encourage one to make her acquaintance. She is probably a seamstress. As soon as I can go out, I'll ask the concierge opposite; I know how to make those fellows talk."

Meanwhile, being engrossed by his neighbor, Dupont slept much less, and sometimes even pa.s.sed the night without sleep. That was good progress, and he said to himself:

"What a change my wife will see in me when I go back to Brives-la-Gaillarde! All I'm afraid of is that there the desire to sleep will return."

His wound being healed, Dupont was able to get rid of all the bandages in which his head was swathed. He made haste to leave the house, crossed the street to the house in which the girl with the striped skirt lived, and entered the concierge's lodge. In Paris, the porters have all become concierges; just as the shops have become _magasins_; the wine shops, _maisons de commerce_; the hair dressers' establishments, salons where one is rejuvenated; the groceries, depots for colonial produce; the bakers, pastry cooks; the _marchands de confection_, tailors; the book shops, _cabinets de lecture_; the cafes, restaurants; soup houses, _traiteurs_; indeed, even those gentry who haul refuse at night have a.s.sumed the t.i.tle of _employes a la poudrette_.

Dupont accosted the concierge most affably, and slipped his irresistible argument into the hand of that functionary, who, happening to be a woman, asked nothing better than to talk, and instantly laid aside her one-sou ill.u.s.trated paper, and answered without stopping for breath:

"The girl who lives on the third, second door at the left, is named Georgette; she embroiders for a living, and she has lots of talent; she embroiders like a fairy, so they say! She's twenty years old, I believe, and she hasn't been in Paris long. She's a Lorrainer, and she's full of fun, always ready to talk; and yet I think she's straight. Still, I wouldn't put my hand in the fire to prove it! it's never safe to put your hand in the fire about such things; you'd get burned too often! But I don't see any men go up to Mademoiselle Georgette's. Does she meet any of 'em outside? That's something I can't tell you. You see, when that girl goes out, I don't follow her. But she leads a regular life all the same, and never goes to b.a.l.l.s, although I don't think it's the wish to go that's lacking, for I've heard her say more'n once: 'How lucky people are who can afford to enjoy themselves! When shall I have twenty thousand francs a year?'--But, although she hasn't got it, that don't seem to make her sad; for she sings all the time. That's all I can tell you about her, seeing that it's all I know."

"Twenty thousand francs a year!" muttered Dupont, scratching his head.

"The devil! it's not I who'll give it to her!--So she embroiders, you say?" he continued.

"Yes, monsieur."

"What?"

"What do you mean by _what_?"

"I mean, what does she embroider?"

"Oh! collars, handkerchiefs, caps, whatever anyone wants her to embroider."

"Then I might ask her to do something for me?"

"That's your right."

"Very good. I'll go up to Mademoiselle Georgette's."

"Third floor, monsieur."

"Oh! I know."

"Yes, but there's two or three doors; it's the one where you see a toothbrush instead of a ta.s.sel on the bell cord."

"I'll remember."

As he mounted the stairs, Dupont said to himself:

"What in the devil can I have her embroider? Ah! a cravat! I believe they're not in fas.h.i.+on, men don't wear embroidered cravats now; but, no matter, I'll tell her it's the fas.h.i.+on at Brives-la-Gaillarde; and, after all, what does she care, so long as I give her work?"

He reached the third landing, where there were several doors; but he discovered the little toothbrush hanging at the end of a bell cord, and he boldly pulled it.

The door was opened by Mademoiselle Georgette herself, who smiled mischievously when she saw who her visitor was. She was still dressed in the white jacket and short fustian skirt; that costume was very becoming to her, it showed off all her good points. If we dared, we would say that that costume is becoming to all women--but we should add: provided they are well built.

"Mademoiselle Georgette--embroiderer?" inquired Dupont, a.s.suming rather a patronizing air.

"Yes, monsieur."