Frederique Volume I Part 48

It was not his fault if nothing had come of that acquaintance, neither love nor friendship. I was very sure that he had been more fortunate than I, and that the liaison he had begun at Monsieur Bocal's party had led to something. But there was no reason why I should not convince myself of the fact, and I determined to pay Balloquet a visit.

I betook myself to the young physician's abode on Place Breda. Balloquet had established himself there in the hope of obtaining patients among the lorettes. He considered that with such a clientage his fortune was a.s.sured. He had my best wishes, but it was not medicine that he practised with those ladies.

As I was entering the house in which lived my jovial companion of the night of the weddings, the concierge stopped me.

"Where is monsieur going?"

"To see Monsieur Balloquet, physician."

"He has not lived here for two months, monsieur."

"His address, if you please?"

"Rue d'Amsterdam, No. 42, near the railroad station."

To Rue d'Amsterdam I went. It seemed that Balloquet had not obtained the practice that he hoped for among the lorettes; perhaps he had decided to be a railroad doctor--that is to say, to be on hand to attend to arriving and departing travellers. That would not be a bad idea.

I arrived at No. 42. It was a handsome house, and quite new, naturally enough, as the street was new. I asked for Dr. Balloquet. The concierge pointed to a staircase at the rear of the courtyard:

"Top floor, door facing you. He must be in."

The top floor was at least the fifth. It seemed to me that it must be a bad thing for a doctor to live so far up. Some of the patients who came to consult him would certainly find it hard work to climb so high.

Probably Balloquet loved fresh air, and made more visits than he received.

The hall was quite light and very clean and neat; but I had to climb six flights of stairs before I reached the top landing. I got there at last, and found the name of Balloquet, with his professional t.i.tle, on a little card nailed to the door that faced me. It occurred to me that a copper plate would be better. I thought that I remembered that he had a very fine one at his other lodgings; probably he was having it changed.

I pulled a dilapidated ta.s.sel, which had at one time done duty on a curtain. The bell rang shrilly, but n.o.body opened the door. Perhaps the apartment was very large. I rang again, but n.o.body appeared. Still, the concierge had said:

"He must be in."

I tried another method. Sometimes young men dread a woman's visit, especially when they have another woman with them. I coughed in several keys, and in a moment the door opened a little way and Balloquet's nose appeared. When he spied me, he threw the door wide open, crying:

"Why, it's my dear Rochebrune! Come in, my dear fellow, come in! That was a good idea of yours, to cough. I was apprehensive of other visits."

"A doctor doesn't ordinarily fear them."

"That depends on what kind they are."

"Perhaps you have company, and I disturb you?"

"Not at all. I am alone. Come in."

I pa.s.sed through a very small room, in which I did not see a single piece of furniture, into a large bedroom with an iron bed, a desk, chairs, two trunks, and a small book-case. Clothes and toilet articles were scattered about on all the furniture and in every corner. If picturesque disorder is the result of an artistic temperament, it is impossible to be more artistic than Balloquet, who offered me a chair, saying, as he removed the dressing gown in which he was wrapped:

"I'll go back to bed, with your permission?"

"Certainly; but you lie in bed very late; are you ill?"

"Not now; but I've had a hard time."

"You are changed, that is true. Where is your fine coloring, and the fresh complexion that procured you so many soft glances?"

"Oh! as to my fresh complexion, I have lost that entirely; but it will come back. It's infernally cold here!"

"That is true."

"Come nearer the fireplace."

"I haven't the slightest objection, but how will that help me? There's no fire."

"No fire! Gad! that's so. I remember now that I didn't find a single stick this morning in that trunk that I use as a woodbox; indeed, that's why I stayed in bed, because it was warmer here. Will you get into bed with me, without ceremony?"

"No, thanks; I prefer to be cold. But, tell me, Balloquet, what in the deuce has happened to you since I saw you last? Then you had a very pretty little suite of rooms, handsomely furnished; you had everything you wanted, and a fellow didn't freeze in your room; and to-day you are perched on a sixth floor, in a single room; for I don't see any other than the one I entered, and this is evidently the whole apartment."

"Yes; but how beautifully it's decorated, eh? Fresh paint, and this wall paper, and that ceiling with a centre-piece!"

"Yes, yes, it's all fresh and new; for all that, I should think that you'd need some furniture."

"Do you think so? For my part, when an apartment has pretty wall paper and fresh paint, it seems to me that very little furniture is required."

"Very little, possibly, but some; and I didn't see a single piece in the outer room."

"Furniture would make it look smaller, and it's none too large."

I began to laugh, and Balloquet followed suit, rolling himself up in the bedclothes.

"My dear Rochebrune," he continued, "I will conceal the truth from you no longer: you see before you a man who is completely _strapped_--yes, completely!"

"Parbleu! did you suppose that I hadn't discovered it?"

"I'll tell you what has happened to me.--Sapristi! where in the deuce is it? I can't find it, and I must have it."

"What are you looking for under your bedclothes?"

"A friend, a trusty companion, who is of great a.s.sistance to me."

"A dog taught to fetch and carry, eh?"

"No, no, it isn't a dog. Ah! here it is!"

And Balloquet produced a little squirrel which he had just captured at the foot of his bed, and which he proceeded to fasten to the back of a chair by a small chain.

"What do you do with that beast?"

"He's a gift from the sentimental Satine; and he would have gone the way of everything else, but for the fact that he has often helped me out of a sc.r.a.pe."

"That squirrel?"

"Yes, my dear fellow. Perhaps you will have ocular proof of it before long. But let me tell you the story of my misfortunes. I am sorry that you won't get into bed; I'm afraid that you are cold."