Paul and His Dog Volume I Part 60

"You are right. This time I will be a Don Juan, a Richelieu! I will hurl myself into the coupe like a bomb! The rest will take care of itself."

"Bravo! I recognize you now."

"My dearest wish is gratified."

"You must tell us to-morrow how it goes off. That is all I ask for my reward."

"I'll tell you everything; I will conceal nothing from my friends henceforth. Dear Freluchon! dear Edmond!--But what's the matter with Monsieur Edmond? he doesn't say anything."

"Don't you know that he is in love, like you?"

"Oho! with whom, pray?"

"A young person--who lives with a lady who bought a country house at Ch.e.l.les."

"The deuce! Mademoiselle Agathe!"

Edmond emerged from his reverie, crying:

"Agathe! who mentioned her name?--Have you seen those ladies again, Chamoureau? have you been to their house?"

"I? not once. What would you have me go there for, now? Madame Dalmont insisted on paying me my fee on the spot, and the transaction is concluded."

"She's a widow, isn't she, Chamoureau?"

"Yes, she's a widow."

"And she hasn't a large fortune?"

"No; she told me herself that her means were small, and that she was going into the country to live as a matter of taste and for economy's sake."

"And Agathe--that lovely girl?"

"Mademoiselle Agathe is an orphan, and has no other friend or protector than the lady with whom she lives. That's all I know about them.--But, pardon me, my friends, it's three o'clock already; allow me to take my leave. I will take my clothes away; I'll wear them to-night; these trousers, anyhow, are not too tight for me."

"What! you are going to carry that bundle?"

"I shall take a cab. Your hand, Freluchon. Now I am yours, in life and in death!--Au revoir, messieurs, until to-morrow."

Chamoureau returned home. The day, although far advanced, seemed mortally long to him. He set about curling his hair, perfuming himself, in short, trying to make himself most seductive.

He went out at five o'clock, to dine; but joy took away his appet.i.te.

When caused by love, joy sometimes produces that effect.

While he toyed aimlessly with a beefsteak, he said to himself:

"How strange women are in their whims! This one refuses to receive me at her house, and waits for me at night, in a carriage, on the Champs-Elysees! Still, she may have reasons for being afraid to receive me at home. Who knows that she isn't afraid of that Monsieur Beauregard, who used to be her lover, as he says? perhaps it isn't true; there are so many men who brag of triumphs they never obtained! It matters little to me, after all! if she shares my flame, am I not too fortunate?"

Chamoureau left the restaurant and entered a cafe, called for all the newspapers, did not read one, looked at his watch every instant, and finally exclaimed:

"At last, it is dark! Ah! how impatiently I have been waiting for this!"

But it was early in April, and it grew dark rather early. It was only seven o'clock. However, our widower left the cafe, saying to himself:

"I'll walk slowly to the Champs-Elysees; that will take up time. It's a little cold, but it's fine. Besides, I don't propose to be late; a gallant man should always arrive first at the rendezvous."

Although he walked very slowly from Boulevard Montmartre, it was not yet eight o'clock when he reached the rond-point on the Champs-Elysees. But it was absolutely dark. Our lover consulted his watch, heaved a deep sigh, and paced to and fro in front of the entrance to the Jardin d'Hiver.

He had been walking there for three-quarters of an hour, pa.s.sing many carriages; but not one of them was standing at the place designated. At last, about a quarter to nine, a cab coming from the Barriere de l'Etoile stopped in front of the entrance. Chamoureau instantly drew near and walked around it; the curtains were lowered, which fact convinced him that his inamorata was inside.

He hastened toward the driver, who had remained on his box, and putting his left hand close to the lantern, opened it twice.

The man stared at him in amazement, but said finally:

"I am engaged; I have a fare."

"I know that you have a fare; but it's that fare who expects me; don't you see this sign?"

And he opened his left hand again.

"You offer me ten francs, I can see that plain enough," said the cabman; "that's all right, and if I wasn't taken, I'd say at once: 'Get in, bourgeois'; but I can't do it."

"Bless me! how stupid the man is! Can she have forgotten to tell him what signs I was to make?"

And again Chamoureau opened his left hand for the benefit of the driver, who shook his head, saying:

"You might offer me twenty francs--I tell you I've got somebody in my carriage!"

"And I tell you again that I am well aware of it; and I repeat that that somebody expects me."

"If you're expected, get in; it's all one to me."

Chamoureau asked nothing better; he threw the door open violently, entered the vehicle, and found himself in the presence of a lady and gentleman, to whom his advent was evidently most unwelcome, for the gentleman took him by the shoulders and threw him out of the cab, giving him no time to put his foot on the step, and crying:

"Who is this insolent villain who dares to enter a carriage that is occupied? Did anyone ever hear of such audacity! Driver, why did you let this man enter? Were you asleep?"

"Mon Dieu! he made a lot of signs and told me he was the one you were waiting for."

"I beg pardon, a thousand pardons, monsieur! I made a mistake, an error, I see it now; I am waiting for a carriage with a lady, and I thought----"

"You're an idiot, nothing less; and if I were not with a lady, I would treat you as you deserve."

Chamoureau bowed to the gentleman and walked hastily away in order not to hear any more.

"I made a mistake," he said to himself; "I saw well enough that I had made a mistake. I can understand that man's indignation; I was entirely in the wrong. It was my impatience that caused it; for it isn't nine o'clock yet, and the appointment is for nine. I ought to have known that I was mistaken: it wasn't even a coupe, but a cab, and an old one at that! The superb Sainte-Suzanne would not ride in such a miserable vehicle! I am too effervescent! I must be calm and watch.--Poor man! how I did disturb him!"

The agent walked some distance toward the barrier; but at last he heard the clocks strike nine, and he at once retraced his steps. As he drew near the place appointed, he saw that the cab was no longer in front of the Jardin d'Hiver; but on the other side of the avenue a coupe had drawn up.

Chamoureau walked toward the coupe in a state of agitation that caused him to stumble at every step. When he was within a few feet, he stopped, in order to examine the carriage closely. It was a very stylish equipage; the driver was not on his box, but was standing by his horses and seemed to be scrutinizing the people who pa.s.sed.