My Neighbor Raymond Part 24

"You're a terrible fellow. They accuse me of being fickle, a deceiver, but I am sure that you're a hundred times worse than I."

"I won't deny that I'm rather given to changing!"

"And the lady?"

"Oh! charming, delicious! a regular swell, with her carriage and livery!

We are here incog."

"So I imagine."

"She has granted me to-day a favor she has refused a thousand other men."

"What a lucky dog you are! You arouse my curiosity; might I not see her?"

"Oh! impossible, my dear fellow, impossible! she's a woman who is most particular about her reputation. If she knew that I had talked about her to one of my friends, she would be deadly angry with me and would never forgive me."

"Very good, I'll say no more about it; I see that it would be no kindness to you. I congratulate you, none the less, on such a brilliant conquest."

"It's worth what it costs, that's true. You know that in the matter of women I am rather particular; I don't take up with the first comer; I insist on good form and style."

I thought that Monsieur Raymond was trying to be sarcastic.

"Above all things, I like to subdue those who are cruel," he continued; "with them there are at least some merit and firmness--you understand.

But I wager that my charmer is getting impatient; adieu, neighbor! love and pleasure call me."

"Don't keep them waiting."

Raymond left my room, his bosom swelling with delight at being seen _en bonne fortune_, and returned to his own, closing the door behind him.

All that he had said increased my curiosity; I was convinced that he had been telling me fables, as usual. I gave no credit to his tales of great ladies; and I could see him cudgelling his brains for lies while he was talking to me; indeed, he seemed to go more into detail than his custom was, the better to pull the wool over my eyes.--You were not sly enough to catch me, my dear Raymond! it was because you had happened to see me with a flower girl that you put on so many airs and hurled epigrams at me; but I had a shrewd idea that your great swell was not worth my humble Nicette.

My window looked on the boulevard, and, while I waited for my soup, I opened the sash to enjoy the prospect. I was not _en partie fine_, consequently had no desire for a subdued light. I observed that my neighbor's blinds were not lowered, and my conclusion was strengthened that Raymond's affairs had not progressed very far.

As I watched the pa.s.sers-by, I saw a young man whom I knew stop in front of our restaurant. It was the same Gerville who lived in our house, and with whom Mademoiselle Agathe pa.s.sed the memorable night when I offered hospitality to Nicette. What was he doing there? He stopped and looked this way and that, as if he were expecting or seeking someone.

The window in my neighbors' Good! perhaps the lady would come there for a breath of air and I could see her face. But what was the matter? I heard an exclamation, and the window was suddenly closed; something extraordinary must have happened. In truth, I seemed to be becoming almost as inquisitive as Raymond.

I walked away from the window; a warm discussion was in progress in the next room. Faith! they could do what they chose! I proposed to dine, for I was hungry. At that very moment the waitress appeared with my soup.

But what a racket! Raymond suddenly rushed out of his room and into mine, pale, haggard, trembling, and in his haste jostled the servant and caused her to spill my soup on the floor.

"Oh! mon Dieu! what a mess, monsieur!" exclaimed the girl, picking up her tureen. "You have made me burn myself awfully--all that hot soup on my foot! I know that I shall have big blisters there!"

"It's all right, my girl; I'll pay for your soup."

"And what about my ap.r.o.n, which is ruined, and my leg?"

"I'll pay you for everything!" Raymond replied, with no idea what he was saying; and he pushed the girl out of the room and carefully closed the door.

"Well, well! what in the devil's the matter with you, Monsieur Raymond?

you look as if you'd had a fright!"

"Ah! my dear friend, I have good reason to!--something has happened--a circ.u.mstance--I am in a terrible plight. Wait till I look out of the window; but first be good enough to draw the curtain so that he can't see me."

"Are you going mad, neighbor?"

Raymond did not answer me; he went to the window and looked out, taking care to conceal himself behind the curtain, and putting his head out with the utmost precaution. I saw that he became paler than ever.

"He's there," he said at last.

"Who, pray?"

"Gerville."

"Oh, yes! so he is. But what difference does that make to you?"

"It makes a great difference to me. Don't you know that he is horribly jealous and quite capable of going to terrible lengths?"

"What of it?"

"Understand that he's here on my account. I am sure that he is watching for me; and he has some reason to, for I am with his mistress."

"What! can it possibly be Mademoiselle Agathe whom you chose to transform into a lady with a carriage and livery of her own?"

"What would you have, my dear fellow? I did it in order to disguise her better, to spare her reputation."

"Oh! so far as that goes, you may take my word that she has nothing to fear. Ha! ha! ha! Monsieur Raymond, what you must have are cruel creatures, women of a certain style!"

"You may jest about it later, my friend, but save me now, I implore you; my only hope is in you to extricate me from the frightful position I am in."

"For heaven's sake, explain yourself!"

"Gerville will come into this house, I am perfectly sure. Somebody must have told him that I am here. Be obliging enough to take my place for a moment, and give me yours in this room; I will leave my door open, he will see that I am alone, and his suspicions will vanish."

"But why don't you lock yourself in with your inamorata? he won't break down your door."

"He is quite capable of it! or else he would wait for me on the boulevard; and if I should go out with Agathe, you can judge for yourself what a scandalous scene there would be. Furthermore, we live in the same house, you know; and if he has discovered anything, how shall I ever dare to go home? He's just the man to lie in wait for me on the stairs at night."

"Then why in the devil did you meddle with his mistress?"

"What can you expect? a moment of folly. It was that morning I waited with her on our landing that it took me."

"Ah, yes! the morning you both played the spy on me."

"Oh! great G.o.d! he has come in!" cried Raymond, who had glanced out on the boulevard; "save me, my friend--in pity's name! Go--I'll join you later."

Giving me no time to reply, Raymond jammed my hat over my ears, dragged and pushed me out of my private room, and locked himself in. I made no resistance, and without any idea as yet as to what I proposed to do for my neighbor, whose most distinctive quality courage certainly was not, I entered the room where Agathe was. She uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me.

"Mon Dieu! it's Eugene! Is it you? is it really you?"