A Chair on the Boulevard Part 16

"Mon Dieu!" faltered Tournicquot, aghast; "what have I done!"

"So?... You are her lover?"

"Never has she encouraged me--recall what I said! There are no grounds for jealousy--am I not about to die because she spurns me? I swear to you--"

"You mistake my emotion--why should I be jealous? Not at all--I am only amazed. She thinks I am devoted to her? Ho, ho! Not at all! You see my 'devotion' by the fact that I am about to hang myself rather than live with her. And _you_, you cannot bear to live because you adore her! Actually, you adore her! Is it not inexplicable? Oh, there is certainly the finger of Providence in this meeting!... Wait, we must discuss--we should come to each other's aid!... Give me another cigarette."

Some seconds pa.s.sed while they smoked in silent meditation.

"Listen," resumed monsieur Beguinet; "in order to clear up this complication, a perfect candour is required on both sides. Alors, as to your views, is it that you aspire to marry madame? I do not wish to appear exigent, but in the position that I occupy you will realise that it is my duty to make the most favourable arrangements for her that I can. Now open your heart to me; speak frankly!"

"It is difficult for me to express myself without restraint to you, monsieur," said Tournicquot, "because circ.u.mstances cause me to regard you as a grievance. To answer you with all the delicacy possible, I will say that if I had cut you down five minutes later, life would be a fairer thing to me."

"Good," said monsieur Beguinet, "we make progress! Your income? Does it suffice to support her in the style to which she is accustomed? What may your occupation be?"

"I am in madame's own profession--I, too, am an artiste."

"So much the more congenial! I foresee a joyous union. Come, we go famously! Your line of business--snakes, ventriloquism, performing- rabbits, what is it?"

"My name is 'Tournicquot,'" responded the comedian, with dignity. "All is said!"

"A-ah! Is it so? Now I understand why your voice has been puzzling me!

Monsieur Tournicquot, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I declare the matter arranges itself! I shall tell you what we will do.

Hitherto I have had no choice between residing with madame and committing suicide, because my affairs have not prospered, and--though my pride has revolted--her salary has been essential for my maintenance. Now the happy medium jumps to the eyes; for you, for me, for her the bright suns.h.i.+ne streams! I shall efface myself; I shall go to a distant spot--say, Monte Carlo--and you shall make me a snug allowance. Have no misgiving; crown her with blossoms, lead her to the altar, and rest tranquil--I shall never reappear. Do not figure yourself that I shall enter like the villain at the Amibigu and menace the blissful home. Not at all! I myself may even re-marry, who knows?

Indeed, should you offer me an allowance adequate for a family man, I will undertake to re-marry--I have always inclined towards speculation.

That will shut my mouth, hein? I could threaten nothing, even if I had a base nature, for I, also, shall have committed bigamy. Suicide, bigamy, I would commit _anything_ rather than live with Lucrece!"

"But madame's consent must be gained," demurred Tournicquot; "you overlook the fact that madame must consent. It is a fact that I do not understand why she should have any consideration for you, but if she continues to harp upon her 'duty,' what then?"

"Do you not tell me that her only objection to your suit has been her fear that she would break my heart? What an hallucination! I shall approach the subject with tact, with the utmost delicacy. I shall intimate to her that to ensure her happiness I am willing to sacrifice myself. Should she hesitate, I shall demand to sacrifice myself! Rest a.s.sured that if she regards you with the favour that you believe, your troubles are at an end--the barrier removes itself, and you join hands.... The candle is going out! Shall we depart?"

"I perceive no reason why we should remain; In truth, we might have got out of it sooner."

"You are right! a cafe will be more cheerful. Suppose we take a bottle of wine together; how does it strike you? If you insist, I will be your guest; if not--"

"Ah, monsieur, you will allow me the pleasure," murmured Tournicquot.

"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way!... Your rope you have no use for, hein--we shall leave it?"

"But certainly! Why should I burden myself?"

"The occasion has pa.s.sed, true. Good! Come, my comrade, let us descend!"

Who shall read the future? Awhile ago they had been strangers, neither intending to quit the house alive; now the pair issued from it jauntily, arm in arm. Both were in high spirits, and by the time the lamps of a cafe gave them welcome, and the wine gurgled gaily into the gla.s.ses, they pledged each other with a sentiment no less than fraternal.

"How I rejoice that I have met you!" exclaimed Beguinet. "To your marriage, mon vieux; to your joy! Fill up, again a gla.s.s!--there are plenty of bottles in the cellar. Mon Dieu, you are my preserver--I must embrace you. Never till now have I felt such affection for a man. This evening all was black to me; I despaired, my heart was as heavy as a cannon-ball--and suddenly the world is bright. Roses bloom before my feet, and the little larks are singing in the sky. I dance, I skip. How beautiful, how sublime is friends.h.i.+p!--better than riches, than youth, than the love of woman: riches melt, youth flies, woman snores. But friends.h.i.+p is--Again a gla.s.s! It goes well, this wine.

"Let us have a lobster! I swear I have an appet.i.te; they make one peckish, these suicides, n'est-ce pas? I shall not be formal--if you consider it your treat, you shall pay. A lobster and another bottle! At your expense, or mine?"

"Ah, the bill all in one!" declared Tourniequot.

"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way! What a happy man I am! Already I feel twenty years younger. You would not believe what I have suffered. My agonies would fill a book. Really. By nature I am domesticated; but my home is impossible--I shudder when I enter it. It is only in a restaurant that I see a clean table-cloth. Absolutely. I pig. All Lucrece thinks about is frivolity."

"No, no," protested Tournicquot; "to that I cannot agree."

"What do you know? You 'cannot agree'! You have seen her when she is laced in her stage costume, when she prinks and prattles, with the paint, and the powder, and her best corset on. It is I who am 'behind the scenes,' mon ami, not you. I see her dirty peignoir and her curl rags. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Every day. You 'cannot agree'!"

"Curl rags?" faltered Tournicquot.

"But certainly! I tell you I am of a gentle disposition, I am most tolerant of women's failings; it says much that I would have hanged myself rather than remain with a woman. Her untidiness is not all; her toilette at home revolts my sensibilities, but--well, one cannot have everything, and her salary is substantial; I have closed my eyes to the curl rags. However, snakes are more serious."

"Snakes?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tournicquot.

"Naturally! The beasts must live, do they not support us? But 'Everything in its place' is my own motto; the motto of my wife--'All over the place.' Her serpents have shortened my life, word of honour!-- they wander where they will. I never lay my head beside those curl rags of hers without antic.i.p.ating a cobra-decapello under the bolster. It is not everybody's money. Lucrece has no objection to them; well, it is very courageous--very fortunate, since snakes are her profession--but _I_, I was not brought up to snakes; I am not at my ease in a Zoological Gardens."

"It is natural."

"Is it not? I desire to explain myself to you, you understand; are we not as brothers? Oh, I realise well that when one loves a woman one always thinks that the faults are the husband's: believe me I have had much to justify my att.i.tude. Snakes, dirt, furies, what a menage!"

"Furies?" gasped Tournicquot.

"I am an honest man," affirmed Beguinet draining another b.u.mper; "I shall not say to you 'I have no blemish, I am perfect,' Not at all.

Without doubt, I have occasionally expressed myself to Lucrece with more candour than courtesy. Such things happen. But"--he refilled his gla.s.s, and sighed pathetically--"but to every citizen, whatever his position--whether his affairs may have prospered or not--his wife owes respect. Hein? She should not throw the ragout at him. She should not menace him with snakes." He wept. "My friend, you will admit that it is not _gentil_ to coerce a husband with deadly reptiles?"

Tournicquot had turned very pale. He signed to the waiter for the bill, and when it was discharged, sat regarding his companion with round eyes, At last, clearing his throat, he said nervously:

"After all, do you know--now one comes to think it over--I am not sure, upon my honour, that our arrangement is feasible?"

"What?" exclaimed Beguinet, with a violent start. "Not feasible? How is that, pray? Because I have opened my heart to you, do you back out? Oh, what treachery! Never will I believe you could be capable of it!"

"However, it is a fact. On consideration, I shall not rob you of her."

"Base fellow! You take advantage of my confidence. A contract is a contract!"

"No," stammered Tournicquot, "I shall be a man and live my love down.

Monsieur, I have the honour to wish you 'Good-night.'"

"He, stop!" cried Beguinet, infuriated. "What then is to become of _me_? Insolent poltroon--you have even destroyed my rope!"

THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE

"Once," remarked Tricotrin, pitching his pen in the air, "there were four suitors for the Most Beautiful of her s.e.x. The first young man was a musician, and he shut himself in his garret to compose a divine melody, to be dedicated to her. The second lover was a chemist, who experimented day and night to discover a unique perfume that she alone might use. The third, who was a floriculturist, aspired constantly among his bulbs to create a silver rose, that should immortalise the lady's name."

"And the fourth," inquired Pitou, "what did the fourth suitor do?"

"The fourth suitor waited for her every afternoon in the suns.h.i.+ne, while the others were at work, and married her with great eclat. The moral of which is that, instead of cracking my head to make a sonnet to Claudine, I shall be wise to put on my hat and go to meet her."