The Bashful Lover Part 55

Darena pulled a wire beside the low door that gave admission to the house. A little fellow of some thirteen years, with an impudent expression, whose knavish and insolent bearing harmonized well with a very dirty costume, answered the bell, his cap over his ear, his blouse flapping in the wind, and his hands black with dirt. He bestowed a glance of intelligence on Darena, who recognized little Bruno, the same urchin of whom Poterne had tried to make a monkey, and who, on his side, had conceived the idea of appropriating the skin which he had used in studying his character. Later Poterne had found Bruno, who had squandered his disguise; the business agent took the liberty of thrashing the boy, then forgave him, and charmed by the happy talents which young Bruno manifested, determined to employ him again when the opportunity should present itself. In the scheme which had been devised to dupe Cherubin, it was necessary to station some intelligent person, who could be trusted, in the house which had been hired. Poterne instantly thought of the urchin, to whom he did not pay much, and who had all the qualities essential to forward their designs.

"Ah! this is the concierge's son," said Darena, glancing at Bruno as they entered the house, and leading Cherubin through a sort of vestibule, toward the staircase. "Where's your father, my boy? is he away?"

"Yes, monsieur, he had to go to a place ten leagues from here, to see my aunt, who is very sick."

"And you are keeping the house?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Has the lady who slept here had everything that she wanted?"

"Oh, yes! monsieur; don't you be afraid; that lady hasn't wanted for anything. She's upstairs. By the way, she says that she's beginning to get tired of being all alone."

"Patience! monsieur here has come to keep her company.--How about the breakfast; is it ordered?"

"Yes, monsieur; and it will be fine, I tell you. I was the one that went to the restaurant----"

"This little rascal is overflowing with intelligence," said Darena, turning to Cherubin, "and I recommend him to you in case you need anything.--Well, my dear friend, here you are with your charmer now, and I will leave you."

"What! you are going to leave me?" cried Cherubin, almost in an offended tone.

"Why, I don't see that there is anything more for me to do here; the rest is your business. You are going to breakfast tete-a-tete with a little foreigner, who is mad over you. Would not a third person be in the way?"

"Oh, yes! of course. Well, then, au revoir."

"Au revoir, my dear marquis, and may love crown you with its sweetest favors!"

Darena smiled, almost ironically, as he shook hands with Cherubin; then he flashed a glance at Bruno and left the house, closing the door behind him.

Cherubin felt intensely excited when he found himself in that strange house, in a quarter which was entirely unfamiliar to him, with no other company than a boy who stared at him with a sly expression, as he cracked nut after nut which he took from under his blouse.

The vestibule had two doors, both of which were open, disclosing the interior of two rooms, in one of which the only furniture was several rickety tables, and in the other, one table and a wretched cot bed; the windows on the boulevard were supplied with iron bars, but entirely unprovided with curtains.

Cherubin, who had seen this at a glance, reflected that Darena had not spent much money in furnishing the house. Then he turned to Bruno, who was still breaking nuts, sometimes with his teeth and sometimes with his feet, and humming at intervals a tune of which nothing could be heard save: _tu tu tu tu tu tu r'lu tu_.

"Where is madame la comtesse's apartment?"

"Whose?" queried the ex-bootblack, looking up with an insolent expression.

"I ask you where the young lady is, who has been in this house since last night?"

The boy thrust his tongue into his cheek,--a street Arab's trick when he proposes to lie--and answered:

"Oh, yes; the young foreign lady, who was kidnapped, and who slept here--_tu tu tu r'lu tu_--she's upstairs, on the first floor, in the finest apartment in the house, where she's sighing and having a stupid time--_tu tu tu r'lu tu!_"

Cherubin asked no further questions; he went upstairs--there was but one flight--and stopped at a door, the key of which was on the outside. His heart beat very fast at the thought that he was about to stand in the presence of the young Pole who had consented so readily to leave her husband and go with him; but he remembered how pretty she was, and he decided to knock.

"Come in," cried a voice, "the key's in the door."

Cherubin recognized Madame de Globeska's accent; he opened the door and found himself face to face with the young woman.

Chichette Chichemann wore a very simple costume, into which a few odds and ends of lace, flowers and fur had been introduced, in an attempt to set it off; but they produced the contrary effect in the eyes of a good judge. But Cherubin was not as yet an expert in such matters; moreover, a man in love pays no heed to such details. What impressed him at once was Chichette's pretty face, over which was perched the same velvet toque that she wore at the Cirque; and as he entered the room she greeted him with a pleasant smile, crying:

"Ah! here you are; that's very lucky! for I was beginning to be awfully bored, all alone here!"

Encouraged by this greeting, Cherubin seated himself beside the young woman, and said to her in a very tender tone:

"Ah! madame, then you will pardon what my excessive love has led me to undertake? You have consented to trust my honor, to fly from him who--from him who--that is, from that gentleman who looked so ugly and who a.s.suredly is not worthy to--to----"

Cherubin had never said so much at one time; he stopped, for he did not know how to finish his sentence. But Chichette gave him no time; she instantly replied:

"Yes, yes! I've fled from my tyrant. But let's talk about something else."

"She doesn't want me to talk about her husband!" said Cherubin to himself; "she wants me to talk about something else--my love, no doubt.

She is charming.--And so," he continued aloud, "you do not regret having entrusted to me the care of your happiness, and being here at this moment, far from your native country [_pays_]?"

"My pays? oh, yes, I always regret my little pays! but I hope to see him again some day. Let's talk about something else."

"Ah! how kind you are, madame! how lovely you are! If you knew how--I--I--I love you!"

It required a great effort on Cherubin's part to say that, and he dared not look at the young woman, fearing that she would consider his declaration rather abrupt. But Mademoiselle Chichette, far from seeming offended, began to laugh idiotically, and replied:

"Yes, yes! I know. Ha! ha! It's nice to love, and you have very fine eyes. Ha! ha! I'd like right well to laugh with you."

And the so-called Polish countess, who seemed, in truth, much inclined to laugh, and who showed some very pretty teeth, looked at the young man in a meaning fashion, and did not tell him to talk about something else.

For a moment Cherubin was tempted to kiss his enslaver, who almost offered him her fresh, pink cheeks; he confined himself to taking a hand, which he laid upon his heart and pressed it hard.

Chichette, tired perhaps of having her hand pressed to Cherubin's heart, said to him, still laughing:

"How your thingumbob goes tick-tack! It's like a big clock."

"Oh! it is emotion, madame; it is pleasure; it is----"

"Aren't we going to breakfast?" cried Chichette suddenly; "I'm hungry, I can hear my belly crying; it goes _flouc-flouc_!"

These words brought Cherubin back to less romantic thoughts; he ran to the door, opened it, and shouted:

"I say, young one--what about that breakfast?"

"Here it is, monsieur, here it is! Right away, smoking hot!" replied Bruno; "the restaurant man's just this minute come."

And a moment later a wine-shop waiter came up the stairs with the young concierge. They laid a table with two covers; they produced a basket filled with bottles, with seals of all colors; they covered the table with freshly opened oysters, and placed several covered dishes on another table. At sight of the oysters the so-called Pole indulged in the most plebeian demonstrations of delight, and began to dance about the room, crying:

"Ah! oysters! I like oysters so much! I'd let myself be hamstrung for some oysters."

Cherubin was amazed to hear Madame de Globeska express herself in such terms, but he attributed it to her ignorance of the language.

The waiter was too much accustomed to such expressions to be surprised.