Frederique Volume I Part 20

"In that respect I applaud him; for mothers-in-law seldom agree with their daughters-in-law."

"Especially as Madame Girie---- Why, she's a woman that would set mountains to fighting if she could; and yet, she says she adores her children! it's amazing how happy they've been with her! Pamphile's younger brother was very delicate, so she said; she insisted on his purging himself all the time, taking cathartics and enemas. When he came home at night after dining out, Madame Girie was always waiting for him on the stairs, with a syringe. If he refused to have an enema, she'd chase him through all the rooms. The next day, she'd purge him without telling him, by putting something in his coffee. In fact, she pestered the poor boy so with what she called her little attentions, that one fine morning he went off and enlisted in the dragoons; he preferred that to being syringed."

"Faith! I believe that I would have done the same if I had been in his place."

"Madame Girie said he was an ingrate. She didn't want her other son, Pamphile, to marry, so's he could stay with her. You can see that that prospect didn't tempt him, especially as Madame Girie wanted to run the business, and as she found a way to quarrel with all the customers. One day, she refused to sell a man sponges, because he didn't bow to her when he came in; another time, it was a woman who spoke to her as if she was a servant. In fact, if she'd stayed with Pamphile a while longer, it would have been all up with his business; for no one would come there to buy. Well! here we are married. We make Madame Girie an allowance, but it won't be enough for her, you see! she's never had any idea how to take care of money, she always runs right through it.--Ah! it's our turn, monsieur; this is the _poule_."

When the _poule_ figure was at an end, the bride said to me, with an ironical air:

"It don't seem to me that there's any need of my holding myself so straight to dance with you. They said you were such a fine dancer!"

"Cousin Ravinet was mistaken, madame, in saying that I danced well."

"Oh! as to that, if you were dancing with the lady you had a little while ago, you'd jump higher, I suppose."

"I beg you to believe that no partner could induce me to jump any higher."

"Freluchon dances mighty well, I tell you; he bounds like a rubber ball."

"That is a gift of nature, and I would not contend with the gentleman.

Is he a relation of yours?"

"Freluchon? No; he's head salesman in pa's shop. He cried when he heard I was going to be married."

"The deuce! was it with pleasure?"

"Well, I guess not! it was with something else. But I consoled him; I told him I'd be his friend as long as we live, and that he could kiss me every Sunday."

"I can imagine, madame, that such a prospect dried his tears."

"It's our turn! it's our turn!"

The quadrille was over at last. I escorted the bride to her place, and dodged the gla.s.ses of mulled wine that were circulating in all directions. Someone seized my arm; I jumped back in dismay, fearing that it was either Monsieur Bocal again or little Ravinet.

But it was Balloquet, who led me to a corner of the room, where we sat down upon an unoccupied bench. My medical friend seemed to be in very high spirits. He began to laugh before he spoke to me.

"Well! my dear Rochebrune, I should say that we had succeeded in our undertakings, eh? What an excellent idea it was of mine, that we should join these wedding parties!"

"True; but suppose I hadn't appeared with Monsieur Bocal's landlord--what then? It seems to me that you were in for a bad quarter of an hour! What the devil had you been doing?"

"Nothing; it was just a joke. The little woman I was talking with just now had excited me; and then, the way they drink here is something terrific. Faith! while I was dancing with the bride, my hand went astray. That idiot of a Pamphile did nothing but say to us: 'I've married an apple! My wife's as solid as one!' And I just wanted to see if it was true. I give you my word that he flatters himself. But that's all gone by now; the husband adores me. What do you think of this party?"

"I prefer the one I belong to."

"How did you arrange your affair?"

"I was sorely embarra.s.sed; but two charming women took me under their protection. Afterward, I found a gentleman there who knew me. But, for all that, my dear Balloquet, don't be imprudent enough to come into the other ballroom. The company is very different from this; you might be questioned, and----"

"Never fear; I'm very well off here, and I shall stay. In the first place, there's to be a supper, and I have always had a weakness for that sort of amus.e.m.e.nt. And, secondly, I have my hands full: I am at work on a brunette--the one I was colloguing with just now. I like her immensely; I propose to give her my custom. She's a Madame Satine, Boulevard des Italiens; a fas.h.i.+onable quarter, where gloves are very dear. She says she's a widow; all the attractions at once. She's no light-footed nymph, but good, solid flesh and blood, and no prude, either. We dine together to-morrow; that's already arranged."

"I congratulate you; you do business promptly."

"And you--have you found anything to make it worth your while?"

"I have made the acquaintance of a charming woman; but I don't know yet whether it will go any further."

"The one who came here with you?"

"No; that was my second protectress."

"Do you know that she has a regular--military air. _Bigre!_ how she looked at me!"

"Yes, there is a touch of decision in her manners. She is clever and original; but she's not the one I am making up to."

"I say! who in the devil is this old woman standing in front of us and making faces?"

I looked up and recognized Madame Girie, who had halted in front of Balloquet and myself and had her eyes fixed upon us, raising her eyebrows, smiling--in a word, indulging in a pantomime which was certainly intended to compel us to speak to her.

There was no way of escaping her; for, as soon as I raised my eyes, Madame Girie made a minuet courtesy and stepped forward, saying in a tone in which she clearly intended to announce the mistress of the feast:

"Have you had some punch, monsieur, or some _bischoff_? Have you taken anything?"

"Yes, madame; I am infinitely obliged to you, I have taken many things."

"You see, Monsieur Bocal is so heedless! He talks a great deal and makes a lot of noise, and acts as if he wanted to manage everything; but, as a matter of fact, he don't do anything at all; and if I wasn't here to look after things---- I am the bridegroom's mother, monsieur."

"You are quite capable of being, madame," said Balloquet, rising and bowing to Madame Girie; then he walked away and left me to my fate. I would have been glad to follow Balloquet's example; but Madame Girie at once took his seat by my side and seemed disposed to remain there. I felt a cold perspiration break out all over me. The bridegroom's mother turned toward me and continued the conversation:

"Yes, monsieur, I am the bridegroom's mother. That magnificent boy is my son; he looks like me, don't he, monsieur?"

"Yes, madame; he has your expression."

"My expression--that's it exactly; you've struck it! He wanted to marry.

I wanted to be everything to him. 'Stay with your mother,' I says; 'you'll be much happier! What more do you need?'"

"But, madame, it seems to me that a mother can hardly take the place of a wife; and I imagined that a mother's greatest happiness was to live again in her grandchildren."

Madame Girie took from her pocket a handkerchief redolent of snuff, and rejoined:

"Oh! certainly, monsieur, a man can marry; but he'd ought to make a good choice, and that's so hard!"

"Do you mean that you are not satisfied with the choice your son has made?"

"Hum! hum! I don't want to speak unkind of my daughter-in-law, monsieur; I ain't capable of it; but if I was inclined to! In the first place, she's as stupid as a pot, that little Petronille is. But you've been dancing with her, and you must have found it out."

"Why, no, madame; I found her _nave_ and natural."

"Ha! ha! silly [_niaise_] enough, ain't she? You're frank, you are!

However, Pamphile was cracked over her, and I don't know why; for she ain't pretty."