Monsieur Cherami Part 76

The little bald man almost ran away. Cherami shrugged his shoulders, saying to himself:

"Old guinea-hen! I might have guessed that the simple word _duel_ would frighten him! He won't be my second. Sapristi! I haven't my cue!"

Cherami was almost at the end of Boulevard Beaumarchais, when he heard a voice exclaim:

"Yes, yes, it's him; there he is--the man who keeps us waiting for dinner, and never comes! G.o.d bless my soul! it takes you a long time to smoke your cigar."

At the sound of those familiar accents, Beau Arthur turned, and saw Madame Capucine, attended as always by her two brats; the elder still wearing his Henri IV hat, with the feathers falling over his eyes; the younger eating gingerbread, and finding a way to stuff his fingers into his nose at the same time.

"Ah! upon my word, it's the lovely Madame Capucine," said Cherami, joining the group.

The stout woman, glancing at her debtor's fashionable attire, smiled amiably, as she rejoined:

"I ought not to speak to you again, by good rights! That was a very pretty trick you played us at Pa.s.sy: to leave us on the pretext of smoking a cigar! Oh! monsieur would only be gone a few minutes; and it was eleven months ago!"

"I was blameworthy, I know it; I treated you badly! But if you knew what events were in store for me that day in the Bois de Boulogne!"

"My aunt bears you a grudge! Oh! she's furious with you."

"I will make my peace with the venerable Madame Duponceau. And the first time that I go to the Bois de Boulogne----"

"No, no; you needn't go to the Bois de Boulogne for that. My aunt isn't at Pa.s.sy now; she didn't like it there. It's a place where you have to dress too much; it's enough to ruin you."

"Ah! so the dear aunt has changed her villa once more? She is just a little bit fickle. And whither has she transported her sheep--that is to say, her rural Penates?"

"To Saint-Mande. You see, we're just going to take the omnibus to go there."

"What! you are going to your aunt's? How funny! It seems to be written that I shall always meet you, lovely creature, when you are on your way to your aunt's. But this isn't Sat.u.r.day?"

"No; but to-morrow is my aunt's birthday, Saint elisabeth's day; and it's our duty to go to wish her many happy returns."

"Ah! yes, I understand; Madame Duponceau's name is elisabeth."

"Do you want to make your peace with her? Here's an excellent chance.

Come with us; you can congratulate my aunt, and dine at Saint-Mande. My husband is coming to join us there at five o'clock."

Cherami reflected for some minutes. He remembered that Capucine was a corporal in the National Guard, and thought that he might perhaps consent to act as his second. That hope decided him; he smiled at his stout friend, and replied:

"You do whatever you please with me. I had important business in Paris; but your husband can help me about it, I think. I am at your service. Ho for Saint-Mande!"

"Good! you are very obliging. If you go on as you have begun, I will forgive you, too."

These words were accompanied by a languishing glance of immeasurable length. It made Cherami shudder.

"I am terribly afraid," he thought, "that she would like me to take up Ballot's duties."

Madame Capucine called Jacqueline. An old servant, all twisted and bent, came limping along, with an enormous basket on her arm.

"Tudieu!" thought Cherami; "here's a soubrette who will hardly divert the attention of the haberdasher's young clerk."

"Is the 'bus there, Jacqueline?"

"It's just comin', madame."

"Let's hurry up and get seats, Monsieur Cherami. Will you take Aristoloche by the hand?"

"With pleasure."

"My! what a pleasant surprise this will be for Aunt Duponceau! She's very fond of you, you fickle man!"

"She has no ingrate to deal with, in me."

They entered the omnibus, and Cherami agreed to hold young Aristoloche on his knees, in order to save his mamma six sous. She tried to provide for Narcisse in the servant's lap, but the conductor declared that he must pay, which seemed to cause Jacqueline the keenest satisfaction. At last they started, and in due time arrived at Saint-Mande.

Madame Duponceau's latest purchase was at the entrance to the avenue.

The house was even smaller than that at Pa.s.sy; and there was no garden: it was replaced by a courtyard in which naught could be seen, in any direction, save rabbit-hutches; it was a veritable library of rabbits.

The aunt appeared, shaking her head as always. She uttered a cry of surprise when she saw Cherami, then offered him her cheek, saying:

"Kiss me; I forgive your disappearance at Pa.s.sy."

The penalty seemed to Cherami a little severe, but he submitted to it; and while he was in training, Madame Capucine offered him her cheek.

"Do the same for me," she said; "I forgive you, too."

"The devil! this dinner comes pretty high!" said Beau Arthur to himself, after kissing both ladies.

"You must come and see what a pretty little place I've got," said Madame Duponceau; "what a pity that you always come in winter!"

"I don't see what difference that makes here, as you have no garden."

"But I have rabbits."

"Are they finer in summer than in winter?"

"No; but they show themselves more, because they ain't cold."

"They show themselves quite enough as it is, in my opinion. I should be glad of a little refreshment."

"And then you must tell us what happened to you at Pa.s.sy that kept you from coming back to dinner with us."

Cherami allowed himself to be taken all over the house; he was not even spared an inspection of the attic. He found everything charming, admirable, even the lean-to where the servant slept. At last, when the inspection was at an end, they begged him to tell them his adventures in the Bois de Boulogne. He told the whole story, taking care not to mention names; and when he had finished, Madame Duponceau cried:

"That's what it is to fight a duel with pistols!"

"Corbleu de mordieu!" thought Cherami; "what an idiot I am to take the trouble to tell anything to such mummies! This will teach me a lesson; I ought to have told them about Blue Beard."

The dinner hour arrived, but Monsieur Capucine did not. They waited another half-hour; but the two boys complained so loudly of hunger, that it was decided to adjourn to the table.