The White House Part 48

"That is altogether novel!" said Robineau; "and what are the prizes to be?"

"Superb, monseigneur! a _Syntax_ and the _De Viris Ill.u.s.tribus_ for the men; the _Explanation of Participles_ and the _Cuisiniere Bourgeoise_ for the ladies."

"The Auvergnats who win those will be well pleased!" said Edouard.

"What next, my dear friend?" said Robineau.

"Next, monseigneur, to take the place of tournaments, which we could not give for lack of knights, it occurred to me that you would not be sorry to have an imitation of the gymnastic games, as they used to be performed at the festival of Eleusis, and even before the Roman Emperors. Consequently, some Auvergnats, to whom I have given full instructions, will execute in the courtyard such sports as throwing the discus, foot-races, wrestling and boxing."

"You won't serve them with anything to drink beforehand, I trust!"

"No, monseigneur! Next, flourishes, executed by the three musicians whom I have hired in the town, will announce that the banquet is served. At dessert, I shall sing couplets in your honor, and you will be kind enough to encore the last--that is always done."

"Very well, that is understood."

"Next, monseigneur, we shall go to the ball room, which will be decorated as the Greeks used to decorate the places devoted to such a.s.semblages: flowers, garlands, and mottoes everywhere."

"You will have the mottoes written in French, won't you, Monsieur Ferulus?"

"No, monseigneur, in Latin and Greek, that is more dignified."

"Never mind, do me the favor to write them in French; otherwise, if the ladies should ask me for their meaning, it might embarra.s.s me."

"If you absolutely insist upon it----"

"Yes, I insist upon it. What next?"

"Next, monseigneur, a bomb, fired in your courtyard, will announce the fireworks, which will crown that beautiful day by a rain of fire."

"A rain of fire! The deuce! You will take care that it doesn't rain on the company."

"I will answer for everything, monseigneur; I, myself, shall handle the fireworks, and I am as expert at it as if I had invented powder."

"Well, messieurs, what do you think of this fete?" said Robineau, rubbing his hands in high glee.

"I hope that you will distribute programmes," said Alfred. "But who are to be your guests to-morrow, pray?"

"All the best people of Saint-Amand: n.o.bles, people of great wealth, and men of great merit. You will see, messieurs, that all the agreeable people are not in Paris. And the women too! Dieu! you will see women of all colors!"

"What! do you mean that you expect to have Africans, mulattoes?"

"No, not that; I mean that you will see beauties of all types; and such wit! and such style! It's a pity that we haven't adopted the custom of Turkey; if we had, I would marry twelve wives instead of one, for upon my word, there are more than twelve of whom I have made the conquest.

But above all, there is a certain Mademoiselle de la Pincerie. Ah! as for her, I believe that I have dealt her the fatal blow, and she has excited my imagination considerably, too!"

"Who is this Mademoiselle de la Pincerie?"

"She is a charming young lady: tall, well-built and stately, and dances like a fairy! In short, she is Mademoiselle Cornelie de la Pincerie, daughter of Monsieur le Marquis de la Pincerie, of one of the oldest families in Poitou, who settled in Auvergne because they found that b.u.t.ter was cheaper here. It was the father who told me that; he is a very profound thinker, a great political economist. For forty-three years he has been working at a philanthropic project, tending to prove that one can make soup with nothing but a calf's foot, which would effect a great saving in soup stock!"

"Deuce take it! It is very unfortunate for the oxen that he has not finished that work yet!"

"There's another daughter too, but she is a widow: very good-looking still, but rather a flirt, I am inclined to think. And then there is a brother of the marquis; and he is good nature personified! However, messieurs, you will see the whole family to-morrow; indeed, I intend to ask them to pa.s.s some time at my chateau."

The young men were about to leave the courtyard, when Monsieur Ferulus, who had disappeared for a moment, ran back and detained Robineau, saying:

"You know, Monseigneur de la Roche-Noire, that I have engaged a full staff of servants; but you have not yet had the opportunity to see them all. By the way, I have deemed it proper to give them names more befitting their employment than those which they formerly bore. I have just called your household together in the large gallery; do you care to pa.s.s them in review?"

"It seems to me that that is the correct thing to do," said Robineau; "I ought at least to know all the people who are in my pay. Let us go to pa.s.s my servants in review."

They went to the gallery, where all the domestics of the chateau were a.s.sembled. Monsieur Ferulus, who was very fond of ceremonials, had drawn up all the servants in a line, ordering each of them to hold in his hand some implement of his profession. The concierge had his keys, the gardener a spade, Francois a switch for beating clothes, the coachman a whip, the groom a cap, the scullions larding-needles, Mademoiselle Cheval a saucepan, and Jeannette, who had found no warming pan in the chateau, held a foot-warmer under her arm.

"Excellent! this looks exceedingly well," said Robineau, halting in front of them; "nine servants, to say nothing of the horses and dogs; that is very nice."

"Allow me, monseigneur, to tell you the new name of each one," said Ferulus; and taking his stand before one after another, and pointing to them with a stick, as if he were exhibiting wax figures, he began with the concierge.

"This, monseigneur, is your concierge. Instead of Cunette, an unseemly name, which suggests a rebus, we will call him, with your permission, Custos, which, as you well know, is the Latin for guardian;--you hear, your name is Custos."

"My name is Cunette," cried the concierge; "and I maintain that it is a better name than your Cudechausse."

"I tell you it is Custos, you ignoramus."

"But----"

"Silence!--This, monseigneur, who is your gardener, is named Olitor, the real name of his profession. Olitor, present your spade."

"What nonsense is that you are talking?" said the gardener angrily; "my name is Vincent. What have you to say against that name? Do you suppose that at my age you are going to stuff a new one into my ears?"

"Olitor, my dear fellow, is very easy to say."

"Catch me answer that name! It's a dog's name."

"It's a gardener's name; just look in the dictionary."

"Oh! let me alone! Do you suppose dictionaries grow in my garden?"

"I tell you that you are called Olitor by monseigneur's orders."

"And I tell you that our master can't order such silly nonsense as that!"

"Silly nonsense! The fruit of my long investigation!"

"My dear Ferulus," said Robineau, stepping forward majestically, "I do justice to your learning, and I know that so far as erudition is concerned you could swallow all these fellows without winking; but I shall not give new names to my servants; it would be likely to mix me all up; so I shall simply call them by the name of their profession, that is to say, concierge, gardener, valet; I like that better."

"_Vive monseigneur!_" said Cunette, tossing his hat in the air; while Ferulus turned away, muttering between his teeth:

"This is what comes of taking pains to establish a household with taste!

This is the way learning is encouraged! _Numerus stultorum est infinitus!_"

Robineau, having made the acquaintance of all the rest of his new servants, came to Jeannette, who was the last in the line, and who presented the foot-warmer to him.