Monsieur Cherami Part 56

How many times I have heard all that! and I used to shrug my shoulders in pitying contempt, thinking: 'For heaven's sake, messieurs, do at least try to remember to-day what you said yesterday!'--But I would like right well to know why this Monsieur Cherami called me 'the faithless f.a.n.n.y.' Do you know, Adolphine, you, who know so many things without seeming to?"

Adolphine blushed, as she replied:

"That gentleman dined with Gustave at the restaurant where you gave your wedding supper and ball. Gustave, in all probability, told him of his love and his disappointment; and then Monsieur Grandcourt, Gustave's uncle, came there after his nephew and took him away. Monsieur Cherami stayed at the restaurant, and it seems that he was a little tipsy."

"And in his devotion to his friend, he reproached me for my perfidy! Ah!

that was very well done! To fight to avenge one's friend is a deed worthy of the knights of old. When I see Monsieur Cherami again, I will offer him my compliments."

"Do you mean that you bear him no ill-will for calling you faithless?"

"Oh! not the least in the world! If women lost their tempers every time they were called faithless, they would spend most of their time in anger."

While interviews of this sort were constantly taking place between the two sisters, both of whom were engrossed by the same thought, although one was compelled to stifle her sighs, while the other made no secret of her hopes, a certain person was taking much pains to bring back to them the subject which interested them so deeply. The reader will have guessed that we refer to Cherami.

x.x.xIX

THE HUNT FOR THE FEATHER-MAKERS

After Auguste's death, the ex-Beau Arthur had reflected thus:

"I must wait until a few weeks have pa.s.sed; it wouldn't be decent for my lovelorn Gustave to return at once and throw himself at the pretty widow's feet; _non est hic locus_; it isn't always best to take active steps; in order that they may succeed, they must be taken at the opportune moment. I still have some debris of the five hundred francs my dear friend loaned me, and I have the change of the hundred-franc note which poor Monleard left me to pay for the breakfast, which cost only seventeen francs fifty. With that, and with a pa.s.sably pretty switch, and a pa.s.sably decent costume, one can enjoy this paltry life of ours to some slight extent. Gad! at this moment I should be very glad to meet those two grisettes whom I saw one day at an omnibus office at Porte Saint-Martin. Parbleu! the same day I made the acquaintance of Gustave.

They were both pretty--one was a brunette, the other a blonde--one plump and one thin--a morsel for an attorney; and, judging from appearances, one bright and one stupid. Their names were Laurette and Lucie, and they were feather-girls on Rue Saint-Denis. I have never met them since. Par la sambleu! it's my fault, I'm a jacka.s.s! I had only to go into all the feather-shops on Rue Saint-Denis--to tell the truth, I haven't always been in a position to play the gallant with young ladies--to invite them to the play and to supper, and I can't do anything less than that by way of renewing the acquaintance. But, now that I'm in funds, what prevents me from looking them up? That idea smiles upon me. It reminds me of happy days.--My mind is made up: before I begin my search for Gustave, I will go in quest of Laurette and Lucie; this very evening, after dinner, I will try my hand at hunting the feather-girls."

Cherami dined, and acquitted himself of the task like one who had not breakfasted twice. Then, his head being a little heated by the fumes of a bottle of old Pommard, he betook himself to Rue Saint-Denis, looking to right and left in quest of feather-shops. He did not go far without discovering one. He opened the door and entered with a haughty air, scrutinizing all the young women in the establishment.

The forewoman eyed the individual who had struck an att.i.tude _a la_ Spartacus in the centre of the shop, where he stared at one after another without speaking, and said to him:

"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he would like?"

Cherami, having taken time enough to examine all the shopgirls, of whom there were ten or twelve, replied in a drawling tone:

"A thousand pardons, madame; I did come in here in search of something; there is no doubt of that; but I don't see what I want; no, I don't see it."

"If monsieur will tell me what he desires, I can tell him at once whether he will find it here."

"Very good, madame; I am looking for children's caps--for a little boy of five."

All the girls in the shop laughed aloud; but the forewoman a.s.sumed a sour expression as she rejoined:

"Did monsieur take this for a hat-shop?"

"Have I made a mistake? Oh! I beg your pardon; I am distressed; it was all these feathers that misled me; they put so many feathers on hats nowadays. Accept my apologies, madame; your humble servant."

Having executed a graceful bow, Cherami left the shop, saying to himself:

"That's one; I did that very well; it wasn't a bit bad. My two young friends are not there. Let's try another."

A little farther on, he saw another establishment for the sale of flowers and feathers. He entered as before, and struck the same att.i.tude.

"We are waiting for monsieur to say what he wants," said an old woman.

"Mon Dieu! madame," said Cherami, examining the girls, of whom there were not so many as in the first shop, "I would like--I wanted a coat, either blue or black, but made in the latest style, and, above all things, becoming to me. I don't care for the price, but I am particular about being well dressed."

"You are not in a tailor's shop, monsieur!" retorted the old woman superciliously, while the workgirls exchanged glances and laughed till they cried.

But the old woman bade them be silent, and added:

"Apparently you didn't look to see what we keep here, monsieur?"

"What! am I not in a shop of outfitters for both s.e.xes?"

"No, monsieur; we sell only flowers and feathers."

"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; but your shop has a sort of resemblance to the Magasin du Prophete. It isn't so brightly lighted, I agree; but these flowers, these wreaths--it's all so pretty! and, in Paris, outfitters' shops look like stage decorations.--Accept my apologies, madame."

"Two!" said Cherami, when he was in the street once more. "My pretty grisettes are not there either. Patience! we shall find them at last.

Ah! I see another feather-shop; they fairly swarm in this street.

Forward!"

In the third shop, Cherami asked for shirts, while pa.s.sing in review the workgirls and apprentices, without finding those whom he sought. He succeeded, as before, in making the young women laugh and in obtaining a tart response from the mistress of the place.

In the fourth shop, after staring about for some time, Cherami exclaimed:

"I don't see any; this is very strange; I don't see any, and yet I was certain that I saw several in the window."

"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he desires?" said the forewoman.

"I want to buy a Bayonne ham, madame; the best you have."

This time the laughter was general, and the mistress shared the merriment of her workgirls; so that Cherami had an opportunity to examine them at his leisure. At last, when the hilarity had subsided somewhat, the forewoman, still smiling, said to him:

"We don't sell hams here, monsieur; pray, what sort of a place did you take this for?"

"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; isn't this a provision shop?"

"No, monsieur; it's a flower and feather shop."

"Ah! I am a miserable wretch! But let me tell you what misled me: it was the birds that I saw in the window. I said to myself: 'That's game; therefore, they sell provisions.'"

"Those are birds-of-paradise that you saw, monsieur; they're used to put on ladies' hats, but not to eat."

"Birds-of-paradise! Pardon me, but they are in paradise, in very truth, since they live under the same roof with such charming ladies! I renew my apologies, and beg you to accept my respects."

Cherami left the fourth shop, saying to himself: