San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 51

Madame Baldimer bestowed a glance on Celestin which signified: "You are no better than a fool!" but she contented herself with that pantomime, and said simply:

"What else?"

"He has called here several times to find out whether you had returned from the country."

"I know that; my concierge told me."

"Your absence has seemed very long to him--especially as you didn't tell him where you were going."

"Ah! he would have liked to know--and so would you, wouldn't you? But go on."

"Why, that's all."

"What! no new intrigues, no escapades, no card parties?"

"No, nothing--for the last few days we have been so virtuous!"

"No husbands deceived, no rivals to dread?"

"Nothing of the sort. There was a wager on the subject of a very pretty grisette, who is courted by a messenger; but Albert refused to go into it. Indeed, the thing isn't so easy as I thought at first. This very morning, I believed I had won my bet; my plans were carefully laid--the girl ought to have stepped into a very clever trap that I had laid for her. But, not at all; she avoided it! Those little grisettes sometimes have the presumption to insist on being virtuous. We should be very much to be pitied, if we hadn't the ladies of fas.h.i.+onable society to fall back on."

"Ah! that's an unkind fling of yours; but beware; there are some great flirts who may do as the grisettes do; one must not be sure of anything in this world. Let us return to what you were saying: a very pretty grisette, and a messenger for your rival. Do you know, that would be very interesting! Messengers are not long-suffering, and they don't stand by and allow their loves to be taken from them with the complaisance and patience of the majority of our husbands in fas.h.i.+onable society. You really must involve Albert in this intrigue. He must fall in love with this grisette. If she is pretty, I see no great difficulty about it; and you are so clever, Monsieur Celestin, surely you can bring it about. Oh! it would be so amusing!"

Celestin was utterly unable to understand Madame Baldimer's purpose in urging him to do his utmost to make Albert fall in love with a pretty grisette.

"Well, monsieur, don't you hear me?" cried the fair American, irritated by the young man's silence.

"Yes, madame; yes, I hear you perfectly. But I confess that I don't understand you! and my brain is in a whirl when I try to divine your object. You do all that you can to turn Albert's head. If he seems to be a little less enamored of you, you redouble your fascinations and coquetries to bring him to your feet; and, lo! you insist now that your adorer shall fall in love with a pretty grisette, and scold me because my friend is not involved in a lot of other intrigues! I say again, all this is infernally hard to understand."

Madame Baldimer frowned, as she replied:

"But it isn't necessary that you should understand me, monsieur; it is enough, it seems to me, that it is my wish."

"I am very sorry, madame, but you should not do so much to inflame Albert's pa.s.sion for yourself. He, who used to take fire at the mere sight of a woman, is indifferent now to the loveliest; and it is your fault."

"Really! Do you think that he loves me to that point?"

"I am afraid so, for his sake."

Madame Baldimer reflected a few moments, then rose, and said, with a gracious smile:

"Adieu, Monsieur de Valnoir! our interview has been very long, and I have nothing further to ask you."

"Shall I see you soon?"

"I think so; however, I will write, as before, when I have anything to ask you. I do not need to remind you that Albert must not know that you have seen me."

Celestin smiled and bowed, and stepped forward to take the fair American's hand; but she had already vanished.

"A strange woman!" muttered Celestin, looking around the room in surprise. "Gad! I have known a great many of them, but never one whose heart was so difficult to decipher as hers. Never mind; she is very beautiful, very refined, very fas.h.i.+onable, and it will be delicious to whisk her away from my dear friend Albert."

Celestin left the lovely widow's abode, and repaired to the boulevard, where he met Mouillot, who ran up to him, crying:

"Victory! he is ours! we have him, or at least we shall have him this evening!"

"Whom are you talking about?"

"Parbleu! little Tobie, the man of the fetich."

"The deuce! who found him?"

"Bastringuette, apparently; for she just left a message with a waiter at Tortoni's, who repeated it to me not a minute ago, that the young man we want will be at the Pate des Italiens this evening."

"Ah! that is delicious; do the others know it?"

"No, as I have just learned of it. But I will undertake to tell Balivan, and you must let Albert know. Let us all meet here to-night at eight.

Tobie is to be on Place des Italiens at nine, and we must meet earlier than that."

"Very good; we will be there."

Bastringuette had, in fact, met Tobie the night before, quite late, on an unfrequented street; it was dark, and Monsieur Pigeonnier was walking very fast. But the flower girl had eyes which rivalled an eagle's, and she had easily recognized the man she had been asked to find.

Since the game of bouillotte in Balivan's studio, little Tobie, who had gone away with four hundred and fifty francs in his pocket, had not been fortunate in his speculations; he had flattered himself that he would be able to do a fine stroke of business with that money, to make some advantageous purchase, and thereby to redeem his olive before long. But, instead of that, a creditor, who had succeeded in finding him at home by dint of pa.s.sing the night at his door, had compelled him, by the use of some exceedingly brutal arguments, to pay a long overdue note for three hundred and eighty francs.

So that Tobie was not in a position to redeem his fetich, and that is why he never appeared on the boulevards, why he shunned all the places where he was likely to meet any of the witnesses of his transaction with Varinet, and fled as soon as he caught sight of an acquaintance; for he would have been forced to confess that he had not the wherewithal to redeem his olive, which would have humiliated him beyond measure. If he could gain time, he hoped to be able to move his aunt, Madame Abraham, or at least to obtain an interest in some profitable transaction in which his commission would be large enough to enable him to settle with Varinet. Almost always, in unpleasant emergencies, we imagine that we are saved, as soon as we succeed in gaining time; we are happy when we have much of it to spend, and we do not reflect that time is life, the only really valuable thing in this world; that one may regain fortune, honors, the favors of a fair lady! but that a day lost can never be recovered.

Hearing somebody running behind him in the street, little Tobie had a fright; but he recovered his courage when he heard a woman's voice calling:

"Why don't you stop, monsieur, when I say I want to speak to you?

_fichtre!_ if you make women run like this, they must have lots of fun with you!"

Tobie stopped, scrutinized Bastringuette, and demanded:

"What do you want of me?"

"I don't want anything, my little darling; you're too dainty for me. I don't like men with pink cheeks."

"Ah! I think I recognize you now; you're the girl who sells violets."

"When there is any, my little ducky."

"If you've been running after me to offer me flowers, you might have saved yourself the trouble."

"No, it isn't for that; I have a message for you."

"Who gave it to you?"

"A lady, and a very pretty lady too."