"Mere Fourcy, call off your dog, for heaven's sake! What an ugly beast!

he's biting my legs! Come and drive him away, Cezarine!"

That voice, which was recognized as belonging to Virginie, put an end to the terror of the peasants, who began to suspect that they had been fooled by the young ladies from Paris; to put them entirely at ease, the dog pulled off the sheet in which Virginie had enveloped herself, and took in his jaws a lantern which she had placed on her head, wrapping the sheet about it and allowing the light to shine through two small holes.

The dog raced about the room with the lantern, and the light disclosed a ridiculous tableau. The men and women were inextricably commingled, and, even without mischievous intention, the proprieties had not been altogether respected, because, when one is frightened, one conceals oneself as best one can. The position of Cezarine and the tall youth was the most equivocal; but the light of the lantern lighted the room but dimly, and there were many things which there was no time to see. They began by setting free Pere Mauflard, who had a table, two benches and three nurses upon him; then the lamp was relighted and they could recognize one another. Amid the tumult Denise had remained quietly in a corner with Coco; but, on hearing Virginie's shrieks, she flew to her a.s.sistance and helped her to rid herself of the sheet in which she was entangled.

"Why! was it you playing ghost?" inquired the young girl.

"Yes, my dear, I thought I'd act a scene from a fairy pantomime for you; and if it hadn't been for your infernal dog, who jumped at--at the base of my back, while I was giving a groan, I'd have frightened you a great deal worse!"

"Oh! what a pity!" said Cezarine, with a languishing glance at the gawky youth, "it was so nithe! I'm very fond of fairy thenes."

"Your fairy scene is to blame for my being all bruised up," said Pere Mauflard.

The peasants, offended because they had been made game of, refused to prolong the festivity, and left Mere Fourcy's house, saying:

"What do fine ladies like them amount to anyway! one wants to see Pere Mauflard's drawers, and the other dresses up as a ghost; they act as if they was pretty gay girls!"

When the neighbors had gone, no one thought of anything but retiring.

Virginie and her friend went to their chamber and to bed, and soon fell asleep, one nursing her bites, the other lisping that the tall young man had many of Theodore's attributes. Mere Fourcy and Coco went to sleep also. Denise alone could obtain no rest; she thought constantly of Auguste, of the change in his fortunes, and of what she could do for him to prove her friendship. But she no longer felt any inclination to ask the advice of the ladies from Paris, because all the foolish antics in which she had seen them indulge had somewhat lessened her esteem for them. She felt that she must be guided by her heart alone; she was sure that it would never give her any advice for which she would need to blush.

The next morning, after breakfast, the ladies, being already sadly bored in the country, where they desired at first to pa.s.s a fortnight, bade Mere Fourcy and Denise adieu and took their places in the Paris coach.

"Ah! my dear," said Virginie, "how I long to be in Paris! it seems to me that it's six months since I saw Rue Montmartre and the Ambigu-Comique."

"What do you think of me, who haven't theen Theodore for twenty-four hourth!"

"Say what you will, there's no place but Paris for fun and dress and the theatre and punch!"

"Ah! if I had to live in the country, I thould die there!"

XIX

A MAN IN A THOUSAND

After his visit to the old man on the fifth floor, Auguste had made a vow to be prudent and to profit by the lesson which the unfortunate Dorfeuil had unconsciously given him. But an old proverb says: "Drive away the natural, and it returns at a gallop;" and Auguste's nature still impelled him to do foolish things. Moreover, being unable thenceforth, by reason of an instinctive delicacy for which he cannot be blamed, to seek diversion at his window, he was driven to seek it elsewhere. From his more prosperous days Auguste had retained the habit of playing the grand seigneur, of reckoning the cost of nothing, of following only his first impulse. He was as generous to the unfortunate as to his mistresses: to confer pleasure on others is such a gratifying habit that it is very hard to abandon it. There are people, however, who have never known that gratification.

Upon examining his cash-box, Bertrand had discovered the enormous deficit consequent upon Auguste's visit to the old man. Unable to understand how his master could have spent so much money in so short a time, Bertrand concluded that they had been robbed, and made an infernal row. He proposed to go down and cudgel Schtrack and his wife, to teach them to allow thieves to enter the house; but Auguste detained him, saying:

"Don't get excited, my dear fellow, we haven't been robbed."

"Why, monsieur, we had about ten thousand francs left three days ago; now I can find only seven--and you say we haven't been robbed!"

"No, Bertrand; it was I who took the money."

"Oh! excuse me, lieutenant; if you have got it, that's different."

"I don't say that I have it; I tell you that I had a use for it."

"A thousand crowns in three days! you're doing well, lieutenant. I don't quite see why we came up to the fifth floor, for you didn't spend any more on the first."

"I met an old friend, Bertrand,--he was in dest.i.tution."

"We may very well be there, too, and it won't be long either, if we go on at this rate. Excuse me, lieutenant, I know how generous you are, I know your kind heart; but still you must remember that you haven't twenty thousand francs a year any more; and when you can't have anything but a piece of beef for dinner, it don't seem to me that it's the time to give other people partridges."

"Don't be angry, Bertrand; I am going to be prudent--yes, miserly."

"Miserly! nonsense, lieutenant! you'll never have that fault! In fact, I don't believe it would help us now."

"I am not without prospects; I am promised a place in a government office."

"Really?"

"With a salary of six thousand francs."

"Impossible!"

"Quite possible, on the contrary; but you see everything in dark colors."

"It is you who see everything in rose color, monsieur."

"If that place should fail me, it is probable that I shall go into a banking-house, as bookkeeper."

"Did you ever keep books, monsieur?"

"No; but what difference does that make? Do you suppose that one has to study for a place like that, as one would study mechanics? With a neat handwriting, familiarity with rates of exchange and mathematics, and a little intelligence, you can fill any sort of clerkship. I know that there are people who study two or three years to learn how to copy a letter, and others who consider themselves Archimedeses, Newtons or Galileos, because they pa.s.s their lives doing sums."

"It seems to me, monsieur, that when a man has a place, he ought to work."

"Very well, I will work, Bertrand; that won't trouble me any. I have done nothing, because I had nothing to do; but the moment I have employment, you will see how ardently I will go at my work. Ah! I wish I were there now!"

"So do I, monsieur; in the first place, because you would be earning money, and in the second place, because, when a man is busy, he does fewer foolish things. Who is it who is going to get these places for you?"

"For the first one, a lovely woman, who has a cousin who's very intimate with the minister's secretary. Oh! I tell you, Bertrand, these women--they're the only ones to obtain things; and, say what you will, their acquaintance isn't always a burden; when they take a person under their protection, they go about it with such zeal, such ardor, that they can't fail."

"And the other place, lieutenant--is it a woman who is going to obtain that for you, too?"

"No, it's a young man, with whom I have dined quite often--an excellent fellow, and most obliging. His uncle is partner in a bank; he has promised to speak to him about me, and the first vacant place will be given me."

"That would come in very handily, monsieur."

"But you must see that, in order to make yourself agreeable to those whose support you require, there is always more or less money to be spent: with the charming young woman, it's theatre parties and little presents; with the young man, luncheons and dinners to be given him; for it isn't fashionable to help people unless you believe them to be in comfortable circ.u.mstances."

"I understand: one must be ruined altogether before one has any resources."