Paul and His Dog Volume I Part 62

"Ah! there spoke my blockhead! instead of keeping quiet, of making the most of the mistake--in short, of being happy! My chatterbox spoils everything by jabbering like a magpie! Why, you wretch, if you hadn't breathed a word, you would be at this moment the conqueror of the haughty Thelenie!"

"You should say, that if it had gone any further, she'd have killed me when she found that she'd been deceived, as she was so enraged by the few kisses she gave me!"

"She wouldn't have killed you; women don't kill men for that sort of offence."

"What about Lucretia?"

"What in the devil has Lucretia to do with it; what connection is there between Thelenie and Tarquin's wife?--I say, on the contrary, that she wouldn't have driven you away, because, when a thing is done, why, it's done! She'd have scolded you at first, but then she'd have forgiven you because she couldn't do anything else."

"Is it possible? Do you really think she would have forgiven me, Freluchon?--Oh! unlucky wretch that I am! why did I speak? why did I let her hear my voice? He is right; it began so well! _Nox erat! Ardebat Alexim!_ Oh! I am in despair to think that I spoke!"

"And when one has done one's utmost to make one's friend happy, to gratify his most ardent desires, monsieur appears in a rage, he complains, he almost threatens one with his wrath!"

"I was wrong, Freluchon; forgive me, my dear fellow. I realize now that I was wrong. But what can you expect? all these things upset me--these alternations of joy and sorrow; I no longer know where I am; I can't seem to see.--Come, my dear fellow; you have forgiven me--what do you advise now?"

"What do I advise? Oh! now, my poor friend, your case is ruined, totally ruined, the best thing that you can do is not to think of this woman any more, to forget her entirely!"

Chamoureau rushed about the room, crying:

"But I can't do it! it's impossible! every time that she maltreats me and spurns me, I am more in love than ever! Forget that magnificent woman!--for she is magnificent; and in her anger, when she glared at me like a panther that contemplates devouring you, she was superb! I have never seen anything so fine as those eyes when she said to me: 'I will be revenged; say to your friends that this jest will cost them dear!'"

"Ah! she said that, did she?"

"Yes; so you and Monsieur Edmond are duly warned."

"Oh! we have no fear of that woman's vengeance!"

"If I were in your place, I should dread it; she's one of the women who don't look as if they weren't up to snuff, as the plebeians say!"

"Forget her, Chamoureau; that's all I have to say to you."

"Forget her! why, it's more impossible than ever, now that I have tasted her kisses! now that I know her way of kissing!--Ah! my friend! I had never been kissed like that, even by Eleonore!"

"I can believe that! Your wife knew that it was you she was kissing, while this woman took you for another."

"That isn't it at all! it's because Eleonore wasn't pa.s.sionate, loving, maddening, like the lovely Thelenie."

"Aha! you propose to cry down your wife now, do you? That's very pretty!

We are becoming ungrateful! Chamoureau, you make me blush! I shall not be surprised to hear you say in a day or two: 'How glad I am that I'm a widower!'"

"That isn't what I meant."

"No, but that is your thought!--Look you, I am speaking seriously now, so be reasonable; your love for this woman is absolutely devoid of sense."

"Adieu, Freluchon!"

"Come some day and dine with me; we'll go to the _Folies-Nouvelles_, a charming little theatre, where one always sees some very light-hearted females; you will very soon find someone to divert your thoughts."

"Adieu, Freluchon!"

Chamoureau would not hear of any distractions.

He hurried away from his friend's rooms, went home, shut himself in his office, paid no heed to his charwoman, who told him that several clients had come to inquire for him, neglected all the business that had been entrusted to him, and when the persons who had employed him came to find out how their affairs were progressing, he stared at them with a dazed expression and replied:

"What? what is it? what do you want?"

"That little matter of mine, monsieur--what condition is it in?"

"What's that?--what matter? I don't know anything about it."

"What! you don't know anything about it! Do you mean to say that you haven't attended to it?"

"Apparently not."

"In that case, monsieur, if you don't propose to attend to it, I will employ another agent."

"As you please; it's all the same to me."

"Indeed! it's all the same to you, is it? Then give me my papers, instantly!"

Chamoureau gave up the papers, the clients went away in a rage, and the office gradually became deserted. Chamoureau pa.s.sed the day seated at his desk, with his head resting on his hands.

"My master certainly's got a screw loose," said Madame Monin to the concierge; "he's been cracked ever since the night he dressed as a Spaniard. The man's going crazy; I don't dare to buy charcoal for him, I'm afraid of finding him suffocated to death some fine morning."

A fortnight had pa.s.sed since our widower had become as despondent as Werther, when Madame Monin brought him a letter one morning. Chamoureau took the letter with an indifferent air, broke the seal, still thinking of Thelenie, and read without at first paying much attention to what he was reading.

But soon his face changed, became animated; he rubbed his eyes to a.s.sure himself that he read the letter aright, then read it again, this time with the utmost care. A cry of joy escaped from his lips and he slapped his thighs, saying:

"Is it possible! I am not mistaken! Rich! rich! twenty thousand francs a year--left me by that cousin--my G.o.dfather--for he was my G.o.dfather, but I have never heard a word from him. And he leaves me his fortune, his whole fortune! and he had saved, in America, property worth twenty thousand francs a year!--I must read the notary's letter again; I am still afraid that I read it wrong, that I have made a mistake!"

Chamoureau had made no mistake: a distant relation, who had been his G.o.dfather, and whose name he had never heard mentioned since the day he was baptized, had made his fortune in America, and had never married.

Suddenly a longing to see his native country once more had come to him; he had turned his fortune into cash and had sailed for France. On landing at Havre, he was taken violently ill; he had barely time to send for a notary, and as he did not know what to do with the fortune he had brought back with him, he remembered that he had a G.o.dson and made that G.o.dson his sole legatee.

Such was the information which a notary of Paris, who had been communicated with by a confrere at Havre, had transmitted to Chamoureau, requesting him to call at his office as soon as possible, provided with all the doc.u.ments necessary to establish his ident.i.ty.

Having read once more the letter that announced this unexpected, unhoped-for good fortune, which instantly changed his whole future, Chamoureau ran to his bedroom to dress to go out; and he jumped and danced and sang and did a thousand foolish things, so that his servant, seeing him waltzing about the room as he put on his suspenders, stopped short, terrified beyond words.

"What in the world's the matter with you, monsieur?" she cried; "here you are dancing, waltzing all by yourself!"

"The matter, Madame Monin, the matter! Ah! you see before you the happiest of men!

"Wealth, in this world Thou dost all for me!"

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, you were so dismal this morning! you looked like an undertaker's mute!"

"But now I am rich, Mere Monin, very rich! I have inherited twenty thousand francs a year! This letter tells me of it."

"Good G.o.d! is it possible, monsieur? An inheritance you didn't expect?"