San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 97

"And you go often?"

"Why, yes, as often as a woman can go who is all alone in the world and must always find some friend who is willing to go with her; for a lady cannot go to the theatre alone; it is neither amusing nor proper."

"Ah! madame is--madame has no----"

"I am a widow, monsieur."

"That is what I meant to say, madame. Forgive me--I am the presumptuous one--but I should be very happy to know----"

"For whom you have risked your life and burned yourself, and whether the person was worth the trouble?"

"Oh! madame, pray believe that that is not what I was about to say. In the first place, it seems to me that every person who is in danger deserves to be a.s.sisted, whatever her appearance or her rank. But with you, madame, I could not be otherwise than flattered to have had this adventure. I see that my question was indiscreet, and I withdraw it."

"And I, monsieur, on the contrary, am determined that you shall know whom you rescued so unselfishly; I like to believe that you will not regret your action."

"It is enough to see you and talk with you, madame, to form a most favorable opinion of you, and----"

"Oh! you know that it is not safe to trust to appearances, monsieur.

They are very deceitful, especially in Paris. Take this--take it, I beg you!"

As she was speaking, she had taken from a dainty little reticule the card which she offered to Adhemar; he took it at last, and put it in his pocket without glancing at it.

The messenger returned and informed the lady that her carriage was waiting. She thanked him, and was about to go, after bowing to Adhemar, when he offered her his hand, saying:

"Will you not allow me to escort you to your carriage, madame?"

"With great pleasure, monsieur."

They went out of the druggist's shop together, the lady having pa.s.sed her arm through her escort's, because the sight of a gentleman leading a lady by the hand, on the boulevard, in broad daylight, would have caused all the loiterers to stop and stare; less than that is enough to attract the attention and arouse the curiosity of the Parisian, who is excessively p.r.o.ne to loiter, and seizes on the wing every possible opportunity to kill time.

They soon reached the carriage, which the lady entered; then she said to Adhemar:

"It may be that your injured arm will pain you if you walk, monsieur.

Will you not allow me to take you home, or wherever you wish to go?"

"You are a thousand times too kind, madame; but I do not desire to cause you so much trouble, and I a.s.sure you that my hand doesn't pain me at all."

She did not insist, but pursed her lips as one does when one is annoyed.

Then she bowed low to Adhemar, and said to the cabman:

"No. 40, Rue de Paradis-Poissonniere."

The cabman closed the door, mounted his box, and drove away; and Adhemar, standing on the same spot, looked after it, muttering:

"Why on earth did I refuse to let her drive me home? What a fool a man is, sometimes! You long for a thing--for it would have given me great pleasure to spend a longer time with her--and you refuse it! Why? I haven't any good reason to give myself, even. But, yes, I have one! She is good-looking, I feel certain that she would attract me, that I should speedily fall in love with her; and I do not propose to fall in love again! But does that purpose involve a resolution not to form an agreeable intimacy? And then, what right have I to a.s.sume that this lady would have listened to me?--Let us see what her name is. As for her address, I remember that; she told the cabman loud enough."

He took the card from his pocket and read:

"Nathalie Dermont--nothing more; and there's no _widow_ on the card. Why is that omitted? But still, if her husband has been dead some time, she's not bound to go on styling herself _widow_. She's an exceedingly attractive woman! A pretty face and figure, and nothing stupid about her! Ah! that is the princ.i.p.al thing to guard against; for a stupid woman is deadly! However, I haven't wasted my day, at all events."

III

A DEALER IN SECOND-HAND CLOTHES

Dodichet had as his mistress for the moment--or, rather, as his companion in pleasure, for, as he had money only occasionally and by chance, he rarely indulged in the luxury of a mistress--he had, we will say, for an intimate acquaintance a young woman who danced in the ballet at one of the smaller theatres, and who was always ready to accept an invitation to dinner or supper, when he was sufficiently in funds to allow him to extend such an invitation.

Dodichet betook himself to the abode of this stage artist, whose name was Boulotte, and who lived on the fifth floor of a house on Faubourg du Temple. Mademoiselle Boulotte, who was in the act of compounding a new kind of mineral rouge, with bricks pounded up in flour, uttered a cry of joy when Dodichet appeared.

"Have you come to take me to dine at the restaurant?" she said. "My word! but it comes just at the right time; I've had nothing but a sausage to-day, and that's too light."

"No, Boulotte; no, dear angel of my dreams,--when they are golden,--I have not come to invite you to dinner; because the tide is low, and I don't propose to take such a woman as you to any cheap place."

"Oh! that wouldn't make any difference to me! there are cheap places where they give you very good stewed rabbit. But still, if you haven't any money, I'll give you half of my black radish and fried potatoes, which I'm just going out to buy."

"You are a dear, good child; you share with a friend all that you possess. That isn't very much, to be sure; but it's all the more creditable of you to give away half of it. Thanks, my dear love, but I cannot accept the feast you offer me. I am on the lookout for a certain person; I saw him two days ago, but at sight of me he ran like a thief; I couldn't catch him, but I shall sooner or later!"

"Is it somebody who owes you money?"

"No; he doesn't owe me any, but he'll give me some, all the same. Oh!

I'll worm it out of him, and without remorse too, as he's very rich.

Then, I'll give you a regular Belshazzar, with truffles and champagne!"

"Why will this man give you money?"

"Because I know his secret."

"What sort of a secret?"

"If I should tell you, it wouldn't be a secret any longer."

"So you think I am very leaky, do you?"

"My dear little Boulotte, when I know a secret, which may be the goose with the golden eggs to me, I should be a great fool if I gave it away.

But let's drop the subject; that wasn't what I came here for. Boulotte, you must do me a favor."

"One, two, three! go on, don't hesitate; for I'm quite sure you don't want to borrow money of me."

"What do you take me for? You probably know some of the women who sell second-hand clothes and such things, don't you?"

"Yes, I know several of 'em; but they have pretty poor stuff. Do you want to buy me a shawl?"

"Nonsense! do you know one named Madame Putiphar?"

"Madame Putiphar? No, I don't know her; do you want to make her acquaintance?"