My Neighbor Raymond Part 27

"I can see it from here."

"If by any chance Gerville should leave you, or if he should take Agathe away, join me there."

"Agreed."

"I will wait for you, then. Au revoir, my dear neighbor! I beg you to excuse me for giving you so much trouble. What you are doing for me to-day is an act of genuine friends.h.i.+p. I have but one further request to make; keep an eye on my silhouette! motion to Agathe not to touch her handbag. Do this for me, my friend."

"I have done it already."

"No matter; do it again, for my peace of mind."

"I will try; au revoir!"

I returned to Agathe, who laughed till the tears came. I had not as yet thought of mentioning the silhouette to her; that was the bouquet for dessert. My neighbor's profile was pasted on a pink card, and we saw two lines written at the bottom. Poetry of Raymond's composition: that should be a curiosity.

"My profile with these little Loves is surrounded, Since I feel every day, love, for thee love unbounded."

Ingenious, in very truth! worthy of Berth.e.l.lemot! But as we noticed that one of the little Loves was standing on his nose, we concluded that it should read "I smell," instead of "I feel." Agathe proposed at first to stick my neighbor's likeness on the mirror in our dining room; but she changed her mind. She put it carefully away, intending to have copies made of it, which she proposed to enclose in amorous circulars composed from Raymond's billets-doux, and to send them to all the milliner's apprentices of her acquaintance, taking care to write at the bottom the address of the original of the portrait.

The champagne finished what the stimulating dinner had begun; we were in the mood to say and do all sorts of foolish things. Agathe stuffed herself with sweetmeats and jelly; I drew the corks; the wine foamed and sparkled, and soon pa.s.sed from our gla.s.ses to our lips; we no longer knew what we were saying, but we knew very well what we were doing!

Agathe threw aside all restraint; and if Raymond was listening, surely he must have thought that we were fighting.

But the champagne, which effervesces when it is first poured out, will not effervesce again unless it is well shaken, and in due time refuses to effervesce at all. In like manner, readers, the volcanoes which have displayed the greatest activity become extinct! In like manner, readers of the gentler s.e.x, those seductive fires which your lovely eyes emit, and to which you owe so many conquests, will die away. Everything has its day, alas! in nature; everything falls to ruin and decay; everything dies. It is the universal law; for that we are born, and each step in life is a step toward the grave; there is no possibility there of arranging compromises.

"Death hath rigors unexampled; Vainly pray we to her; The cruel creature stuffs her ears And lets us shout at will.

The poor man in his thatch-roofed cottage Is subject to her laws; The guard who stands at the Louvre gates Protects not kings from her."

I cannot say how the champagne led me to this quotation; however, I am sure that you will not take it ill of me; these lines are never misplaced, and I would like, indeed, to have been the author of them.

We had become virtuous then, in action at all events. I looked at my watch; almost eight o'clock! The deuce! and my rendezvous. The champagne had not entirely deprived me of memory, but I confess that Agathe was responsible for the loss of a large part of my zeal.

Raymond must have been on the watch at the Cafe Turc for a long while; as for Gerville, we had seen him leave the house more than an hour before; so that there was nothing to detain us. My companion donned her bonnet and shawl and tried to a.s.sume a demure and modest air, which she was unable to master, even by lowering her eyes. I did what I could to maintain a grave demeanor and a steady gait; that infernal champagne always did go to my head! However, we could safely show ourselves on the boulevard; we were only a little giddy.

We left the Meridien, where Raymond had paid for everything. The hostess and waitresses saluted us with smiling faces.

"Is there anything amusing in our looks?" I asked Agathe.

"No; but do you suppose that those people don't divine that we've been making a fool of Raymond? Perhaps they think he's my husband."

"Oh! that would be rather too much!"

"Bah! such things have been seen."

"Here we are at the Cafe Turc; shall we go in?"

"What for?"

"To relieve Raymond, who's doing sentry duty there."

"Let him stay there; I've no desire to be bored any more with his love; I have had enough of it. Everything has turned out as I wanted; but as such adventures never happen twice, I a.s.sure you that he will never inveigle me into a private dining room again."

"Poor Raymond! This _partie fine_ will have been very profitable to him, won't it? But here's the Chateau d'Eau; someone is waiting for me here, and I must leave you."

"What! already?"

"Our play is ended, my dear girl; we can be of no further a.s.sistance to each other; let us not postpone our separation until ennui succeeds pleasure, and the fumes of the champagne have entirely vanished; we shall retain a pleasant memory of this meeting, at all events."

"Adieu, then, my dear Eugene! may we enjoy ourselves as much when we next meet!"

Agathe went her way, and I started to make the circuit of the Chateau d'Eau.

XVI

THE ROSE WITHOUT THORNS

Six times I had walked around the pond. From time to time I halted in front of the lions, which I contemplated from every point of view; then, for variety's sake, I listened to the plash of the water as it fell into the pa.s.sage through which it flows back to the ca.n.a.ls. All this was most entertaining, no doubt, and still I began to weary of it. The sentinel watched me closely; doubtless he began to look upon me as a suspicious character.

It grew dark, and I was on the point of going away, when I saw coming toward me a woman in a little cap. Was it she at last? I dared not flatter myself that it was; I had been mistaken so many times, for my eyesight is not very good; but she continued to approach me. Yes, it was really she. Caroline accosted me with a smiling face; she was not in her best clothes; but there was a certain daintiness in her costume: her cap was neatly tied, and her hair had been in curl papers all day, I would have sworn; a woman does not take so much pains for a man to whom she does not intend to listen. The girl seemed to me a sly minx enough! But although the champagne had made me even more reckless than usual, I was not inclined to offer my arm to a grisette, in a cap, within the walls of Paris.

"I was beginning to lose all hope of seeing you," I said.

"Why? it's only a quarter past eight, and I can't get away from my shop any earlier."

"Let us go for a stroll in the fields."

"In the fields? oh, no! it's too late. I can't be out later than nine; my aunt would scold me."

"That's a very tiresome aunt of yours. Let us go in somewhere."

"No, I don't want to. Oh! if I should be seen with you!"

I did not choose to tell her that I was no more anxious than she to exhibit myself on the boulevard with her, for, after all, there were some social conventions which I did not care to defy. She wore an ap.r.o.n and a cap, and that fact annoyed me greatly. Certainly I think no more of a milliner than of a flowermaker, but Agathe was dressed as a lady, and I could afford to offer her my arm; a bonnet and shawl make a vast difference in a woman; and that is one of the petty foibles to which a young man has to submit when he goes into society, even though he despise them. If Nicette had met me at noon instead of at midnight, I certainly should not have escorted her to Madame Jerome's on foot.

"Suppose we walk a little on Rue des Marais," said Caroline; "I am not so much afraid of being seen there."

"Very well."

That suggestion was most welcome to me. We went down the stairs, took the Pa.s.sage du Wauxhall, and in a moment we were on Rue des Marais, a street most favorable for sentimental promenades. Mademoiselle Caroline seemed to know the best places.

The subject of our conversation may be divined: between two lovers, between a gallant and a coquette, between a pretty woman and a comely youth, between a young man and a grisette, the same subject is always discussed; they talk of love and nothing else. For centuries, love has formed the staple subject of conversation between man and woman; many observations must have been made thereupon, and still the theme is not exhausted. To be sure, everyone treats it in his own way, but the end in view is always the same, is it not?

The fumes of the champagne led me to discuss the subject rather cavalierly; Mademoiselle Caroline, who probably had not dined so sumptuously as I had, stood on her dignity. I could obtain nothing from her; she kept her aunt constantly to the fore, complaining of the severity with which she was treated; but as she had no means of providing for herself, she must needs submit to necessity.

I fancied that I could divine the girl's ambition; she loved liberty, referred with a sigh to the matter of bonnets and dresses, and seemed to be as sick of her aunt as of her shop. I afforded her a glimpse of a possible means of becoming free and happy; I dropped a word or two concerning a nicely furnished little room of which she would be mistress, where she could work as she chose, where, in short, everything would be subject to her wishes. It was all very alluring, and Mademoiselle Caroline listened very attentively; she did not reply in words, but she sighed and looked down. I talked of dresses, theatres, pleasure parties; she looked at me with a smile, and allowed me to steal a very affectionate kiss. I had found her weak side: the girl was disgusted with her present life; she longed to be her own mistress; in a word, she wanted to have a chamber of her own. Those little grisettes are all alike; that is what they all aspire to; as if when they once had lodgings of their own their fortunes were made. I saw that the flowermaker cherished that aspiration, and that until it was fulfilled she would accord me no favors. That denoted, not love exactly, but foresight and shrewdness. What should I do? Faith! one more foolish thing. Caroline was fascinating; perhaps grat.i.tude would attach her to me. Grat.i.tude, because I desired to seduce her! you will say. I agree that it is hardly the fitting word, but observe that I gave her an opportunity to reflect at leisure.