Monsieur Cherami Part 35

"You fought with Monsieur Monleard?"

"Why, yes! what of it? You open your eyes like porte cocheres! One would say that it was a most extraordinary thing!"

"But, monsieur, it's a horrible thing for you to have done! You have compromised that young woman, you have compromised my nephew, you have----"

"Sacrebleu! do you know that you make me tired! Where the devil did I get an uncle like this, who doesn't appreciate the services I have rendered his nephew?"

"A little less noise, monsieur, if you please!"

"Ah! you don't like that! Very good! but, no! You are Gustave's uncle; I cannot fight with you; it would grieve him. After all, my business isn't with you; and if that old baked apple out yonder had told me where I could find your nephew, you wouldn't have had a call from me. Tell me at once, and I'll make my bow."

"You want to see Gustave?"

"That was my only reason for coming here."

"My nephew is not now in France, monsieur; he is in Spain."

"In Spain? Do you mean it? it isn't a sell?"

Monsieur Grandcourt made a gesture of impatience, whereupon Cherami continued:

"Don't you like the word? You surprise me! It is adopted now in the best society. It's like _balance._ You say: 'I have _balance_ So-and-so,'

which means: 'I have sent him about his business.' We have enriched the French language with a lot of such locutions, more or less picturesque.

Ah! the Latin tongue is much more forcible, much more complete. You can say things in Latin that you'd never dare to say in French. Look you, for example, Plautus, in his comedies,--in _Casina_, I believe,--makes an amorous old man say, when he thinks of his mistress:

"'Jam, Hercle, amplexari, jam osculari gestio!'

Ah! they were great jokers, those Latin and Greek authors! Write comedies now like those of Aristophanes--you'd have a warm reception!

They are beginning already to find Moliere too free! We are becoming very refined, very severe, in the matter of language! Does that mean that we are growing more virtuous? Frankly, I don't think it. Habits, customs, and manners change; but pa.s.sions, vices, absurdities, are always the same!"

The banker's brow lost some of its wrinkles as he listened to Cherami.

He scrutinized him more carefully, and said:

"How does it happen, monsieur, that, having received a good education, knowing your cla.s.sics as you do, in short, being a well-informed man, you do not make use of your knowledge, to----"

"To do what? To buy a coat? Is that what you mean?"

"Faith! something like it."

"I love independence, liberty, monsieur."

"Those words have been sadly abused of late, monsieur. And if your love of liberty compels you to go abroad in shabby clothes, it seems to me that you would do well to prefer love of work to it."

"Look you, my dear monsieur, I believe that you are undertaking to preach to me--and I have never stood that from anybody!"

"Perhaps that is the great mistake you have made."

"Corbleu! you are lucky to be the uncle of a young man for whom I felt at once a sincere affection.--Let us say no more. Gustave is in Spain?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"For a long time?"

"I cannot tell exactly."

"That's as good a way as any of not telling me. But when he is in Paris, I promise you that I shall not fail to find him."

"Have you anything important to say to him, monsieur? if so, tell it to me, and I will transmit it."

Cherami reflected a moment, then pulled his hat over his eyes, and said:

"No, I simply wanted to shake hands with him, to inquire for his health, and to find out whether he is finally cured of his love for the faithless f.a.n.n.y."

"His letters tell me that his health is good. As for his foolish pa.s.sion for a woman who never loved him, I like to believe that it has succ.u.mbed to absence."

"Say rather to the glances of the Andalusians; for they have terrible eyes, those Spanish women! I know something of them. I have known three, who----"

"Pardon me, monsieur; but I am very busy, and, if you have nothing else to say to me----"

"Ah! you dismiss me?--Very good; that's very polite. I have my cue!"

"You have your cue? What do you mean by that?"

"Oh! it's of no consequence. It's a little phrase which I often use; it's as if I said: 'I see where I stand.'"

"That makes a difference, monsieur. I wish you good-morning!"

"And I wish you nothing at all!"

Thereupon Cherami left the banker's office, saying to himself:

"There's a tough old uncle for you! I think I won't borrow money of him--I won't do him that honor. No, never! especially as he wouldn't lend me any."

XXVI

A CAFe ACQUAINTANCE

Cherami strolled about at random for some time, seeking some person of his acquaintance with whom he could negotiate a small loan. But he saw few save unfamiliar faces, and if by chance he did espy some former friend, that friend turned away to avoid meeting him.

"The devil!" said Cherami to himself; "the day opens badly! I counted on Gustave for breakfast, and now it's after twelve o'clock, and I'm as hungry as a cannibal. However, if I must, I will dispose of my new cane. I shall be sorry to do it, for it's a pretty one--a genuine rattan. But I should be still more sorry to go without breakfast. It must have cost at least thirty francs. A dealer will give me six for it,--they have all the cheek they need, those fellows,--and he'll act as if he were doing me a favor! I prefer to leave it in p.a.w.n for a beefsteak and its accessories. Come, let us look for a cafe where we can get a good breakfast."

Cherami was then on the boulevard, where there is no lack of cafes; for one cannot walk thirty feet without pa.s.sing one. The ex-Beau Arthur entered the establishment which had the most modern show-front, seated himself at a table, hung up his hat, laid his cane on the seat, and summoned the waiter with that resounding voice and in that arrogant tone which never fail to produce their effect on the waiters in a cafe.

"What does monsieur wish?"