The Bashful Lover Part 57

Let us leave the young couple asleep, and see what the engineers of this whole intrigue were doing.

On leaving Cherubin, Darena had gone in search of his friend Poterne, who, still dressed as a Polish count, was waiting for him at a restaurant in Menilmontant. The two gentlemen sat down to breakfast and discussed their plot.

"It goes as if it were on wheels," said Darena. "Cherubin is now with the girl, whom he thinks that I kidnapped for him! I trust that Chichette won't make any slips of the tongue. But no matter! with that accent of hers, anything will go; and besides, a lover never pays any attention to idioms!"

"Was my little Bruno at his post?"

"Yes; he is supposed to be the concierge's son. That boy has the look of a famous scamp."

"He has a lot of intelligence; he'll go a long way!"

"So I believe."

"Besides, for the last act of our comedy, it will be better to have n.o.body there but a boy, who won't interfere with us at all. And then, too, it will be much more probable that I was able to force my way into the house, if there's n.o.body but a boy to guard it; for we must strike the great blow now. A few thousand-franc notes, by the way, are all right; but they're gone too soon. We have an opportunity to obtain a good round sum and we mustn't let it slip; it won't come again."

"You are perfectly right, Poterne. What we are going to do to-day is not strictly honorable; but, after all, the little fellow is rich; sixty thousand francs won't ruin him."

"You don't want me to ask for more?"

"Oh, no! we mustn't flay him. It's understood then--in two hours you will go to the house."

"Why not earlier?"

"My dear Poterne, how impatient you are! we must give the lovers time to breakfast and to abandon themselves to the joys of love. Deuce take it!

everybody must amuse himself, after all; and consider, Poterne, that by leaving them together longer, you will inevitably take them _in flagrante delicto!_ That is much the shrewder way. You are supposed to be the husband; your wife has been spirited away, and you find her in her ravisher's arms; you bellow and roar and swear that you will kill them both--your wife especially! Cherubin pleads for mercy for her, and you refuse to accord it unless he signs notes of hand for sixty thousand francs.--You have some stamped paper, haven't you?"

"Oh! I have all that I need. But suppose the young marquis defends himself, suppose he refuses to sign?"

"Nonsense! a mere boy! You must threaten him with prosecution for abducting your wife; you will have your dagger, and you can still insist on killing her; Cherubin is too generous not to try to save her."

"I agree with you there."

"In all this, Monsieur Poterne, take good care not to hurt anybody! Your dagger isn't sharp, I trust?"

"Oh, no! there's no danger."

"And when you speak, a.s.sume some kind of an accent, so that he won't recognize you."

"I will be careful, and I will do a great deal in pantomime."

Everything being arranged, the gentlemen breakfasted and conversed at great length; ordered a pipe and cigars, and smoked to pa.s.s the time away.

More than two hours pa.s.sed. Poterne replaced his green spectacles on his nose, saying:

"Now I can go and finish up our business."

He rose; Darena did the same.

"Yes, it is time; let us go."

"But I don't need you," said Poterne; "besides, you mustn't go into the house with me, it would be imprudent. If Cherubin should see you, he would call on you to help him."

"I know all that, you old sharper; but you don't imagine, I presume, that I am going to let you go off all alone with notes for sixty thousand francs in your pocket? No, my dear fellow, I love you too dearly to lose sight of you. I propose to watch you into the house; I know that it has but one door; I shall keep my eye on that door, and if it should occur to you to run away too fast, I promise you that you will soon be overtaken."

"Oh! monsieur le comte! you have suspicions that hurt me terribly!"

"Why, no, it's simply _savoir-vivre_, it's the way of the world, that's all! Off we go."

The two worthies pa.s.sed the city wall to the outer boulevards, and walked toward Barriere de la Chopinette. When they were within three hundred feet of the house where he had left Cherubin, Darena stopped and said to his companion:

"Now, go on alone, ill.u.s.trious Poterne, and manage the business gracefully; remember that the whole thing must be carried through with the courtesy and formality which betray men of breeding."

Poterne went on to the house and knocked softly at the door, which Bruno opened.

"Are they upstairs?" queried Poterne in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Have they had their breakfast?"

"It went up more'n two hours ago."

"And they haven't called since?"

"Not a call; and they don't even make any noise--you can't hear 'em move."

"All right."

Poterne pulled his enormous hat over his eyes, made sure that his spectacles were secure, stuffed bunches of flax into his mouth to fill out his cheeks, and walked toward the stairs. He stole cautiously up, reached the door, saw the key outside, and said to himself:

"How imprudent lovers are! what a childish trick!"

He turned the k.n.o.b softly, then rushed into the room, shouting:

"Ah! traitor! guilty wife! I have caught you! You must die!"

Poterne expected shrieks of despair, as he had arranged with Chichette; but, hearing nothing at all, he walked farther into the room and was thunderstruck to see the lovers sound asleep at an extremely respectful distance from each other.

"Sapristi!" said Poterne to himself; "and I hoped to catch 'em in flagrante--as monsieur le comte said. They are amusing themselves by sleeping! If that's the way the young man makes love! Chichette must have made some stupid blunder. But no matter! I must act; besides, I surprise them together, that's the main thing; and if they're asleep, it's because it suits them to sleep."

Thereupon Poterne began to rush about the room with shrieks and imprecations. He pulled Chichette's ear and she awoke; he pinched her arm and she shrieked with him. Cherubin opened his eyes and saw that man, whom he recognized as the Comte de Globeski, storming and blaspheming and drawing from his breast a sort of dagger with which he threatened the young woman. Cherubin realized at once that his charmer's husband had run them to earth. He trembled and turned pale, and faltered:

"O mon Dieu! we are lost!--Don't kill her, monsieur, I entreat you! Kill me rather--although I have respected your wife's honor."

"Yes, yes, I will have my revenge, _per Diou!_ Bigre! Ah! you think, villain, to steal my wife from me!" screamed Poterne, stamping on the floor. "_Tarteiff sacre mein Herr!_ On the high road--stop my cab--no, my carriage.--Ah! madame, you shall die by my hand--on the honor of a Polish count!"

Chichette did not seem greatly alarmed; she continued to yawn and rub her eyes; Poterne pa.s.sed her and pinched her with more force; whereupon she gave a loud yell and exclaimed:

"Oh! how stupid that is! I don't want you to do such things to me!"