The White House Part 2

After coughing vainly in the pa.s.sage, Robineau decided to go up to his room, in order to put away his portfolio and make preparations for his toilet. He climbed the four flights of a dark and dusty staircase, of a type not uncommon on Rue Saint-Honore; he entered his apartment, which consisted of two small rooms, one of which served as waiting-room, wardrobe and kitchen, the other as bedroom, dressing-room and salon. The first was scantily furnished, but the second was decorated with more or less taste, and it was orderly and clean; in fact, everything was in its place--a rare thing in a bachelor's quarters.

Robineau opened one of the drawers of his commode, took out his black dress coat and his dancing trousers, and to his delight, found a spotlessly white pique waistcoat. He spread them all on the bed, then looked at himself complacently in the mirror over the mantel; and his mirror showed him, as usual, a coa.r.s.e, bloated face, small black eyes, a large round nose, a small mouth, a low forehead, very thick light hair, and thin, compressed lips. Robineau considered it a charming face; he smiled at himself, a.s.sumed affected poses, bowed to himself, and exclaimed:

"I am very good-looking, and in full-dress I ought to produce a great effect."

After looking at himself in the mirror for several minutes, he returned to his commode, fumbled in the drawers, turned everything upside down, and cried:

"Evidently I have no silk stockings. If worse comes to worst, I might buy a pair--I still have twenty-three francs left from my month's pay; but that would straiten me; if I want to risk a little at ecarte, I can't do it. I know well enough that if I should ask Alfred to lend me money, he wouldn't refuse; but I don't want to appear to be short, and, in truth, as I have some very fine silk stockings, I don't see why I should buy others. Mademoiselle Fifine simply must return them; if not, it's all over, we are out, and I give her no more guitar lessons. She will think twice; a girl doesn't find every day a lover who plays the guitar and who is obliging enough to teach his sweetheart how to play."

Robineau took down a guitar that hung in a corner of the room, went to the open window looking on the courtyard, and hummed a ballad, accompanying himself on the instrument. When Fifine was in her room on the fifth floor, the guitar was ordinarily the signal which notified her that Robineau awaited her; but it was hardly possible to hear the music in the shop.

After he had sung for some time, Robineau looked again at his watch; he stamped the floor impatiently and was about to go down to the pa.s.sage, when someone rang at his door.

"It is she! She must have heard me!" he cried as he ran to open the door. But instead of his charmer, he found a young solicitor's clerk, whom he knew as the friend of one of Fifine's shopmates.

"Have they come up?" inquired the young man, not entering the room, but simply thrusting his head forward to look.

"What do you mean? have who come up?"

"The young ladies. I simply must speak to Thenas; I went up to their room at all risks and knocked; no one answered, but, as I came down, I heard your guitar; and knowing that you gave lessons to Mademoiselle Fifine, I thought that they were in your room."

"Alas, no! they are still in the shop; they won't come up for a good hour at least; it is most annoying to me, for I have something very important to ask Fifine."

"Well! isn't there any way to let them know that we are here?"

"Oh! if we should go to the shop, they would be angry; it's expressly forbidden; and then I don't care to do it myself; when one is in one of the departments of the government, one has to maintain a certain decorum; especially just now, we have to be moral; the rules are very strict on that point."

"We can get the young ladies to come out without going to the shop."

"Faith! it's an hour since I came in, and began trying to think of a way to do it."

"Wait! I am never at a loss.--There's no concierge in this house, is there?"

"No."

"So much the better--we can do what we please.--Have you two or three plates?"

"Plates? hardly; I very rarely eat in my room."

"No matter--a salad-bowl, a vase, anything you please."

Robineau looked in his buffet and returned with a porcelain preserve dish and one plate, saying:

"These are all I can find."

"Excellent," said the solicitor's clerk, taking the two objects.

"What do you propose to do with them?"

"You will see; follow me, and shout as I do, with all your lungs, when we are near the shop."

The young man went slowly down stairs, holding the plate in one hand and the preserve dish in the other. Robineau followed, curious to see what he was going to do. When they reached the first floor, the clerk began to shout: "Stop thief!" and Robineau followed suit. Then the young man hurled the plate into the pa.s.sage; whereupon Robineau ran after him to stop him.

"The devil!" he exclaimed, "that will do; don't throw my preserve dis.h.!.+"

But it was too late; the dish had already followed the plate; it broke into a thousand pieces, and at the crash all the young women rushed from the shop to inquire what was going on.

At sight of them, the solicitor's clerk roared with laughter.

"I knew that I'd make you leave your work," he cried.

"Oh! it was a sell!" cried the shop-girls, with a laugh, while Robineau gazed sadly at the ruins of his preserve dish and murmured:

"Yes, it's a very pretty scheme! But I won't entrust any more of my dishes to this fellow."

The girls laughed uproariously; the young clerk was already talking with Mademoiselle Thenas, and Robineau was about to approach Fifine, when there was a cry of "Here's madame!" whereupon the young milliners vanished like a flock of swallows, and the young men were once more alone in the pa.s.sage.

"Well! now they have gone back again!" said Robineau.

"I told Thenas what I wanted to tell her," replied the other; and he left the house, enchanted with his ruse, while Robineau, who was minus a plate and preserve dish, and had not even spoken to Fifine, went upstairs to his room, consigning clerks and milliners to the devil. He arranged once more all the component parts of his costume, and had almost determined to go out to buy some silk stockings, when he heard two little taps at his door, and Mademoiselle Fifine appeared at last.

Fifine was a buxom, jovial wench of twenty-four, whose coloring was a little high, whose fair hair was of rather a doubtful shade, whose eyes were a little too prominent, and whose figure was a little too short; but there was a touch of decision in her manner which indicated a young woman of character, whom one might have taken for a roisterer, had she worn trousers.

"Well! what's in the wind, my friend? What's all this business of smas.h.i.+ng dishes in order to see us? Dieu! what extravagance indeed! The girls called that very gallant!"

As she spoke, Fifine threw herself on a couch opposite the bed, and continued to eat cherries, which she carried in a handkerchief.

"If you think that it was an invention of mine, you are much mistaken!"

rejoined Robineau sourly; "it was that little clerk, who, without a word to me--Don't throw your stones all over my room, I beg you."

"I'll sweep your room! Mon Dieu! Monsieur Neatness! Pray take care! he would rather have me swallow the stones, no matter what the result might be--eh, my dear friend?--What on earth is the matter with you to-night, Raoul? your nose is longer than usual; have you some secret trouble?"

"Oh! it's nothing to laugh at."

"Well, I'm not inclined to cry. If you want me to cry, play me an act of melodrama; play me Monsieur Truguelin in _Clina_. When you come to the suicide, I'll throw a cherry-stone at you."

"Come, Fifine, let us talk sense, I beg you."

"Come then and sit down beside me, so that I can pinch you. You see, I feel tremendously like pinching something to-night."

"I have no time to fool."

"Dieu! how agreeable this lover of mine is!"

"I am going to a reception this evening at my intimate friend Alfred de Marcey's, son of the Baron de Marcey, who has nearly a hundred thousand francs a year."

"Ah! so that's the reason one can't look you in the face, and the reason you threw your dishes downstairs. Exactly! when one visits a baron, one shouldn't eat next day. You've grown two inches already."