The Barber of Paris Part 22

The marquis hastily departed and the barber closed his door, saying,--

"After all, he may do as he pleases now, since I have been paid."

While this interview was taking place in the Rue des Bourdonnaise, the young girl whom they had left in the luxurious boudoir, arose from the lounge as soon as those who brought her had departed. She approached a mirror which reflected the whole figure; one glance sufficed to distract and give her occupation. Julia arranged her hair, pa.s.sing her fingers through it and re-formed its ringlets; she examined herself, she smiled; Julia was a coquette; so to some extent is every woman, they say. To judge whether she be more or less so it is only necessary to count the minutes that she pa.s.ses before her mirror; ordinarily she is not the prettiest who there looks at herself longest.

At last Julia appeared satisfied with herself; she left the mirror and ran about the boudoir and into the neighboring room, admiring everything which she had pretended to view with indifference as long as anyone could see her. She stopped before an alabaster clock which bore a little love. The hand pointed nearly to eleven o'clock. Julia sighed and frowned, and threw herself into an easy chair, murmuring,--

"He does not come."

While the young girl sighingly regarded the clock, Chaudoreille asked Marcel to lead him to the dining-room, saying that he was dying of hunger and that since the morning he had been running in the service of monsieur le marquis. Marcel hastened to offer his guest a good supper, to which the chevalier did full honor. While eating, Chaudoreille recounted his exploits to his old friend, and as Marcel listened to everything in good faith, our Gascon, delighted at finding someone who had faith in his prowess, had already killed fifteen rivals and delivered eight victims of tyranny, before he had begun a second helping.

"Old fellow," said Marcel, opening his eyes wide, and helping himself to drink, "it seems to me that you have a hot head."

"Hot? By jingo, say boiling; say volcanic. It is not my fault, but I can't be moderate. I am a rake of honor, a real devil; that is the word."

"But why did you call for help against the statues in the garden?"

"Listen, my dear Marcel: At first I could not see that they were statues, and when one is brave one believes that one sees robbers everywhere; you don't understand that, because you are cool-blooded, and, besides that, you can very well understand that I could not allow myself to kill anybody in the Marquis de Villebelle's house without having asked permission."

"Hush, no one names the marquis here."

"Ah, I understand. That is correct. It is necessary to have some mystery. Hang it! This is the abode of love incognito. Say, Marcel, have you been living long in this house?"

"Nearly five years."

"You must have seen some beauties."

"I have seen nothing, for here it is necessary to see and not to see."

"I understand very well. What the deuce do you take me for, a caitiff?

That is all right. You have a golden place. The marquis is generous, is he not?"

"Yes."

"You earn at least twenty pistoles a year."

"Double that."

"Fortunate rascal. When I say rascal, you are the most perfectly honest man that I know. I even believe that you are the only one that I know.

Good old Marcel! I am very much pleased to have met you again. I have looked for you all over, in the gambling houses and in the gambling h.e.l.ls even."

"Oh, I have not played for a long time."

"Nonsense, you are joking."

"No, since our adventure I have lost my taste for playing. To go to prison when one is innocent is very disagreeable."

"Oh, well, old fellow, there are a good many thieves who don't go and that makes the balance correct. As for me, I confess that I still play.

It amuses me. Besides, it is the pleasure of a great n.o.bleman, and there is nothing more n.o.ble than to play and lose right down to your boots."

"Since I am only a valet I have no need of following that fashion."

"You are wrong. It is always necessary to follow the great. You played a very strong game of piquet."

"Me? Oh, on the contrary, I am a very weak player."

"Pure modesty. Hang it! I wish I could take a lesson from you. We have had our supper. While waiting for your master to come, let us play a game to pa.s.s the time."

"That will be very difficult; for we have no cards here. When by chance I have found some upstairs which have been left by my master and his friends I have burned or sold them."

"That is very awkward; and I, who have nearly always a pack in my pocket, necessarily left mine at home."

"Wait, Chaudoreille! taste this liqueur. That will be much better than playing."

Thus saying, Marcel filled two gla.s.ses with creme de vanille and placed one before his comrade.

"Yes, I am very fond of liqueur," said Chaudoreille. "This has an exquisite perfume. We could have drunk and played at the same time."

"But I tell you that I have not any cards."

"You have some dice, at least."

"No more than I have cards."

"Mercy! Some dominoes?"

"Nothing to play with, I tell you."

"Devil stifle you! How shall we pa.s.s the time without playing? Oh, what a delightful idea! I have thought of a very agreeable little game which you will easily understand. You have before you a full gla.s.s of liqueur and I have the same. They are of equal size; I will play you a crown on the first fly."

"What fly?" said Marcel.

"Listen now. There are a good many flies in this room, and he whose gla.s.s is first visited by one of them will win a crown from the other.

Is it agreed?"

"That is a droll game, but I like it well enough."

"In that case let's shake hands on it. That settled, attend to our play."

Chaudoreille no longer budged. With his eyes fixed attentively on his own gla.s.s and that of his adversary, he waited impatiently for a fly to come and taste the sweet liqueur. Neither of them made a movement, for fear of frightening the winged insects. They had already remained motionless for five minutes before their gla.s.ses when Marcel sneezed.

"The devil confound you?" cried Chaudoreille. "You drove away the most beautiful fly which was approaching my gla.s.s. She was just going in."

"Is it my fault if I feel a desire to sneeze?"

"It is a trick, my dear fellow, and, in all conscience, you should lose the game.

"You are joking, no doubt."