Paul and His Dog Volume I Part 27

Our widower heaved a deep sigh; but in a moment his face lighted up, and the clouds that darkened his brow vanished. The memory of the pearl-gray domino had changed the color of Chamoureau's thoughts from black to rose; he rubbed his hands and reflected:

"I am an ungrateful wretch to curse this costume. Even if it has caused me the loss of Monsieur Beaubichon's confidence--a trivial loss, for the fellow would give me only twenty-five francs to arrange a good marriage for him!--to make up for that, do I not owe to it the conquest of that magnificent brunette--a fascinating woman! fine figure, fine waist--and such features! _She_ wasn't afraid to show me her face! I am very seriously in love with her.--Madame de Sainte-Suzanne! She must be a great lady! What a pity that I am not of n.o.ble birth; but love knows no distances, and the proof of it is that she urged me to come to see her.

Let's see where she lives: Rue de Ponthieu, Champs-Elysees quarter--the swell quarter! the most _comme il faut_ quarter of Paris!--Freluchon and Edmond laughed at me; but they would have liked right well to know my conquest's name. I swore to be close-mouthed; that's a pity, for when one has a beautiful mistress, she does me credit; but I promised.

To-morrow, about three o'clock, I will call on Madame de Sainte-Suzanne; I will be careful about my dress. By the way, I hope Freluchon will send back my clothes, he has my new coat.--Ah! I wish it were to-morrow now!"

Chamoureau sent his servant to the costumer's with the Spanish costume, and told her to go thence to Freluchon's, inquire if he had returned, and if so, to bring back his clothes; then, enveloping himself in his dressing gown and stretching himself out in his great easy-chair, he abandoned himself ecstatically to his dreams. He fancied himself already at the feet of the glorious brunette, who had crowned his pa.s.sion; he drove with her in a caleche in the Bois de Boulogne, and his excessive happiness finally put him to sleep.

The ringing of the door-bell roused the business agent. He remembered that he had sent his servant on an errand, and that there was no one to open the door. Making up his mind regretfully to leave his chair, Chamoureau went to the door and instantly became wide awake when he saw two ladies of most respectable appearance, and both very good-looking.

The elder lady, who seemed to be twenty-seven or eight years of age, was of medium height, slender, perhaps a little thin, but exceedingly graceful. Although her face was not very pretty, it was charming; her blue eyes were at once soft and intelligent, her nose, slightly retrousse, gave a touch of archness to her expression; her mouth was not small, but it was not stupid either; her chestnut hair, which was combed smooth and with care, formed a suitable frame for the face, which was slightly pale and seemed to indicate delicate health.

Her companion, who was much younger, was evidently unmarried. She was a lovely blonde, as fair and rosy and fresh as a bud just about to open; her refined, regular features recalled the exquisite vignettes with which the English embellish their _keepsakes_. Her great dark blue eyes were almond-shaped, and shaded with long black lashes; a combination rarely seen in a blonde; her mouth was garnished with a double row of little pearls, and when she laughed, which she did very often, two tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks. Her abundant light curls played about that charming face. She was shorter than her companion, and constantly looked up into her face with a sweet, affectionate expression.

They were not mother and daughter, for there was only ten years'

difference between them; but the elder was evidently a sincere and beloved friend, and the younger almost a cherished daughter.

Chamoureau bowed very low, and the elder lady said to him:

"Is this the office of Monsieur Chamoureau, business agent?"

"Yes, madame, I am Chamoureau. Won't you be kind enough to step inside?"

The two ladies were ushered into the office, where Chamoureau offered them chairs, and the elder continued:

"A person for whom you have done some business, monsieur, told me that through your agency I might be able to find a small country house for sale. I know that they are to be found in the _Pet.i.tes-Affiches_; but I thought that by applying to you, monsieur, I could obtain more precise and definite information, and that you would undertake all the necessary negotiations, which a woman does not understand."

"Certainly, madame, and with the greatest zeal, I beg you to believe. I presume that madame desires to purchase a large house, a handsome villa, with a view to pa.s.sing the summer there?"

"No, monsieur, no, I do not wish to purchase a fine house; my means will not permit it. I want a modest, unpretentious place, but as attractive as possible, where we shall have everything that is necessary when one lives in the country all the year round; for it is with that purpose that I am looking for a house for my friend and myself, at some distance from Paris."

"Ah! you intend to leave Paris altogether! Are you not afraid of ennui?"

"Oh, no! far from it, monsieur! we don't care at all for Paris, do we, Agathe?"

"For my part, my dear friend, you know that I look forward with pleasure to living in the country! to have a garden, flowers to care for, and birds and hens--oh! it will be such fun!"

"I have two reasons for wishing to live in the country, monsieur: first, my health, which is not very good, and the doctors say that the pure country air will cure me entirely."

"Yes! yes!" cried the girl, taking her friend's hand, "I am perfectly sure that you will soon be as stout as I, who am a regular little ball.

You won't have any more pains in your chest, you'll have a good appet.i.te, and we'll walk a lot and eat all day long! Oh! you won't be sick any more, Honorine, I promise you; you'll get back your strength and color and be in magnificent health!"

"I trust so, my child; at all events, we must always hope for what will make us happy; the happiness we have in antic.i.p.ation is sometimes the only happiness we have at all.--But I haven't told you my second reason, monsieur. Unfortunately it is one of those to which everything must give way. It concerns the state of my purse. My means are very modest, monsieur, and in order that they may be sufficient for our needs, that we may have to undergo fewer privations, it is most important that we should leave Paris, where it costs so much to live in these days!"

"Dear Honorine, if you didn't have me with you, if you lived alone, you would be very comfortable, and you could have a lot of things which you deny yourself in order to give them to me!"

"It is unkind of you to say that, Agathe. You forget that you are my ward, my only companion; that you are a sister, a child, and a friend to me, all in one! That, if I am able to be of some little service to you as a guide, to protect you and to take the place of a family, your mother once did as much for me, and that I am simply paying my debt by giving you what I received from her. Lastly, what you forget above all--and I did not expect to have to remind you of it--is that without you, who have been for so long my faithful companion, I should be alone, I should have no one to love, no one to whom I could tell my thoughts, my memories, my dreams; no one to nurse me when I am sick; in short, that I should be very unhappy! Now say that you are a burden to me!"

The young woman's eyes were wet with tears. Agathe threw her arms about her neck and kissed her again and again.

"Ah! I was wrong, I was wrong!" she cried. "Forgive me, Honorine; you know that I don't know what I am saying, that I speak without thinking, I won't do it any more! Why, I know well enough that it would be as impossible for you to part with me as for me to live away from you."

"Well, it's all over now; let us forget it and apologize to monsieur, for we are wasting his time by forcing him to witness a scene which can hardly interest him."

The young woman was very generous to apologize to Chamoureau, for he had been paying no attention to their conversation for some time. He was thinking only of his clothes,--of the new coat left at Freluchon's, which Madame Monin did not bring back.

"I must have my coat to call on Madame de Sainte-Suzanne," he was saying to himself; "for I certainly will not appear there in a sack-coat."

"Well, monsieur, let us come down to business," continued the young woman. "Do you know of any modest house for sale in the outskirts of Paris?"

"There are plenty of them, madame; but first of all, in what part of the suburbs do you wish to live?"

"It makes no difference, monsieur."

"That will simplify matters."

"However, I should not care to live in one of those neighborhoods which have become the rendezvous of equestrians and driving parties; for in those places, if one leaves the house, one must dress as carefully as in Paris. That is not what we want; we want genuine country, where there is no formality, no ostentation, where one meets more peasants than city folk."

"I understand; in that case, madame would not care to purchase at Pa.s.sy, Auteuil, or Enghien?"

"No, too many people go there."

"And the distance--is that a matter of indifference to you, also?"

"Yes, although I should not want to be too far from Paris; I may have business there occasionally; and then, ladies must keep abreast of the fashions, and if it were a long journey it would be tiresome and expensive."

"Wait, madame; I believe that I have just what you want."

Chamoureau took down a pasteboard box, looked over some papers, and read:

"'A pretty country house for sale on easy terms, at Creteil, on the bank of the river.'"

"Oh! my dear friend, the bank of the river!--that's lovely!"

"Yes, but it isn't healthy."

"'Large house, six bedrooms----'"

"Oh! we don't need so many, monsieur!"

"'Billiard-room, stable, poultry yard, a garden of an acre----'"

"But the price, monsieur, the price?"

"Thirty-five thousand francs."

"That is too dear for me; I can hardly afford more than twenty thousand."

"Let us see if we can find something else then. Ah! it just occurs to me that a client of mine, who has just made a large amount of money on the Bourse, is looking for a small chateau now, and told me to sell a country estate of his a few leagues from the city, which is too modest for his present circ.u.mstances. Let us see if that would suit you; I imagine that we could get it at a bargain. I have a little memorandum here that he gave me--yes, here it is; listen, madame.

"'A small house at Ch.e.l.les, six leagues from Paris, near the main street and just on the outskirts of the town. Ground floor, first floor and attics; four rooms on each floor. A nice lawn in front, and yard behind, with hencoop, pump and a large shed; a pretty garden entirely planted, and a wall around the whole place.'"