The Bath Keepers Volume I Part 33

THE ROSEBUSH

A week after the memorable night on which the Fire of Saint-Jean attracted so many people to Place de Greve and gave rise to so many adventures, one evening, just at nightfall, a young man enveloped in a brown cloak was walking on Rue Dauphine in front of Landry the bath keeper's house, toward which he glanced every minute, scrutinizing with especial care a window on the first floor, with a jutting balcony, on which could be seen a superb rosebush covered with flowers and buds.

And as, when one is looking in the air, one does not see before one's face, the young man suddenly collided with a person who was walking along the street at a rapid pace.

"Ten thousand devils! be careful! can you not see where you are going?"

"Par le mordieu! you had only to look, yourself!"

"That voice! why, it is the young Comte de Marvejols!"

"Ah! it is the Sire de Jarnonville. Pray excuse me; but I was too distraught to see you. I am waiting--I am watching."

"Very good; I understand; you are _en bonne fortune_--there is some new intrigue on the carpet?"

"A new intrigue, yes; but _en bonne fortune_--not yet. Oh! it will be a hard task; there are great obstacles; but I must come out of it with credit to myself!"

"Are there blows to be dealt, sword thrusts to be exchanged? Do you need me to cudgel someone? to break down a door or to scale a wall?"

"Thanks, Jarnonville, thanks; but my intrigue must be carried on quietly and without fighting.--It has to do with a young and pretty girl! Oh!

the word _pretty_ falls far short of describing her! She is an enchanting creature, an angel of innocence and beauty, whom I met by chance, a week ago, at the Fire of Saint-Jean. She was with Ambroisine and her father--you know whom I mean, the bath keeper on Rue Saint-Jacques?"

"Yes, Master Hugonnet.--Well?"

"It was impossible to talk with the girl, for Ambroisine watched her like a duenna! But I saw that my aspect did not displease her; she blushed, and lowered her eyes. Her head is worthy of t.i.tian's brush. Ah!

I am mad over her!--You will understand that I did not lose sight of that adorable girl! After the fire, they left the square; I followed them and found that they brought that angel to this house. She is the daughter of Landry, the bath keeper; I tell you this in confidence, Jarnonville, because I know that you will not try to rob me of my conquest."

"I! oh, no! My heart is closed henceforth to all such tender sentiments; it no longer knows aught but regret and grief!"

As he spoke, the Black Chevalier let his head sink on his breast.

"Come, come, Jarnonville! do not abandon yourself constantly to your sad memories; you are still young; my word for it, you may again see happy days!--But let me finish my story:

"The next day I went boldly to Master Hugonnet's shop. Ambroisine had surprised me with my eyes fixed on her friend; I did not choose to feign with her, so I asked her about her pretty companion of the preceding night. She received me very harshly, as I expected; she told me that I would have nothing to show for my sighs, my amorous enterprises; that Bathilde--that is the divine creature's name--that Bathilde never went out; that it was an exceptional event, her going to see the fire the night before; but that her father and mother kept watch over her day and night as their most precious treasure--in fact, the haughty _baigneuse_ went so far as to read me a lecture. She told me that it would be frightful in me to think of seducing so much innocence and simplicity.--Poor Ambroisine! she did not realize that the more she expatiated on Bathilde's virtue, the more she increased my desire to possess her.--But I think that you are not listening, Jarnonville."

"I beg pardon; go on."

"I left Ambroisine, swearing that I would respect her friend, and I came at once to this street and began to do sentry duty here. For two days I saw no sign of the girl. I entered the baths--nothing. I was shaved in the shop--still nothing--no Bathilde. At last, three days ago, the window looking on yonder balcony opened, and a young woman appeared carrying a pot of flowers. She placed it carefully where it is now.--It was she, it was Bathilde. But had she seen me pacing the street? had she recognized me? That was something that I could not know; but the sight of her gave me hope. That beautiful rosebush had never been at that window; to place it on the balcony was to afford herself an excuse for coming there again. And, in fact, a few hours after the rosebush was placed there, the sweet girl appeared again and examined her flowers with much care. Never was a rosebush more scrupulously cleaned. She did not look at me while she was thus engaged, but I was certain that she saw me. Now and then a furtive glance was cast in my direction; but as it always met mine, she hastened to turn her head away.--However, since that day Bathilde continues to tend her flowers, to water them, to come several times a day to look at them. At first, I sent her kisses; yesterday, I did better--I wrote a few words, rolled the note around a stone, and, after dark, seizing a moment when no one was pa.s.sing through the street, I tossed it on the balcony. I am certain that she picked it up, for the stone is no longer there. But to-day she has not once appeared at the window; the rosebush has been pitilessly neglected! Is it to punish me for writing to her? Is it to make me understand that she does not share my love, that I must renounce all hope? Oh, no! that is impossible! I read that charming girl's eyes, her whole expression; she has not yet learned the art of concealing what she feels. I noticed her cheeks flush when she saw me, her lovely eyes kindle with a brighter light, a gleam of joy illumine her face!--Oh! she loves me! she loves me, Jarnonville! And she will be mine!"

The Black Chevalier had listened to Leodgard with a gloomy expression; when the young man had finished his story, he shook his head, saying:

"I do not like this business of seducing young girls! There is at the root of the whole matter something that offends and oppresses the heart.

Tell me of a deceived husband, of a jealous rival, of a cruel guardian, if you please. In such cases there is some danger, some risk to be run; there are often sword thrusts or dagger thrusts to be received or exchanged.--You fight, and that occupies, distracts, the mind. But in this instance! seduction! desertion! To make a poor creature weep who has not had the power to defend herself!"

"Ha! ha! ha! On my word, my dear Jarnonville, I cannot help laughing to listen to you! What! is it really you, the bully, the miscreant, the man who believes in nothing--for that is what you are called--who shed tears over the fate of a girl, because I propose to make love to her, and she is likely to hear me? A terrible catastrophe, truly!--How does it happen that you, whose heart, as you have just told me, is closed henceforth to all tender sentiments; that you who have taken the world in hatred and who look upon existence as a burden; who seek, in short, by doing ill to others, to avenge yourself for the ill that destiny has done to you--that you blame me for gratifying my pa.s.sions at the risk of causing a few tears to flow?"

The Sire de Jarnonville drew his heavy eyebrows together and muttered some words which Leodgard could not hear; then he raised his head abruptly and said to the young count:

"As I cannot be of any service to you here, I will leave you. Adieu!

good luck!"

"Oh! I beg your pardon--another word, Jarnonville," cried Leodgard, detaining the Black Chevalier. "I have a favor to ask of you--that is, if you are in a position to grant it. I lost yesterday at brelan all that I possessed; I have not a sou.--Money! money! When, in G.o.d's name, shall I have enough to gratify my desires? to enjoy life? For there is no enjoyment when one is constantly obliged to borrow, to have recourse to usurers. I have been in such straits of late that my valet, that knave Latournelle, has left me, on the pretext that I gambled away his wages! I no longer have any servants, except my father's; but I prefer to go without. That old villain Isaac Lehmann, the money lender, who ordinarily supplies me with funds, is away from Paris at this moment. Do you know another, Jarnonville? If so, will you give me his address; especially as Isaac is beginning to make trouble about lending me any more, although the old rascal knows well enough that he will be paid sooner or later."

"I thought that your father paid all your debts some time ago?"

"Yes, and forbade me to incur any more. Ah! if he knew!--Why, he threatened me with the Bastille!"

"And that does not prevent your running in debt again?"

"Can I live on the miserable allowance he gives me?--Well, Jarnonville, do you know a money lender who may consent to help me at this moment?"

"No, I do not know one, for I have never had any relations with those gentry; but I have two hundred gold pieces about me bearing the effigy of our monarch; I intended to play lansquenet to-night. Here is my purse; if you would like it, it is at your disposal."

"Faith! Jarnonville, it would be a great service to me; but I am afraid of being importunate."

"Not at all--take it."

"And your game of lansquenet?"

"If need be, I will play on credit; but, instead of going to La Valteline's to gamble, I will go to Durfeuille the financier's, and get drunk; that will be one way of employing my time."

"Very well; in that case, I accept; but it is my duty to warn you that I do not now know when I shall be able to repay this loan."

"No matter! no matter! Do not worry about that; it is the least of my anxieties. Adieu, count, adieu!"

The Sire de Jarnonville walked rapidly away, without listening to his debtor's thanks; and Leodgard placed the purse filled with gold in his belt, saying to himself:

"He has done me a great service. He's an original fellow, but he has his good points.--When I have spent this money, what shall I do to get some more?--But what am I thinking about? I have a well-lined purse upon me and I am sighing for a lovely girl. Pardieu! this is not the time to worry about the future! What disturbs me now is to see that window remain closed. It has been dark a long while; can it be that Bathilde will not come to the balcony?--Ah! it seems to me that I have never loved a woman as I love her. How different she is from the coquettes of the court! from our courtesans--aye, from our _pet.i.tes bourgeoises_! The purest innocence shines on that child's brow.--What bliss to teach her what love is--to be the first to make her heart beat!--But she does not appear!"

Leodgard stamped his foot impatiently and began to pace the street, without losing sight of the bath keeper's house.

Let us see what Bathilde was doing at that moment.

I need not tell you that on leaving the Place de Greve to return to her home Landry's daughter had not failed to discover that the handsome Comte de Marvejols was following her. She had not seemed to notice it, she had not released her hold of Ambroisine's arm for an instant, she had not turned her head; and yet she had seen that the young man was following her.

How had she done it?

That is a mystery which I am unable to solve. I can simply a.s.sure you that all women, young or old, from the most sophisticated to the most innocent, possess that faculty. Probably it is the second-sight of the Scotch, except that they have it in the back of the head.

Bathilde returned to her little room, disturbed by a sentiment that was entirely novel to her; her bosom rose and fell more rapidly, she felt happier than she had ever felt.

Was it her pride that was flattered, or her self-esteem?

No; the sweet child did not as yet know either of those sentiments.

It was something sweeter, more tender, which had found its way into her heart with the fiery glances of the handsome cavalier, and against which she had not known how to defend herself, for she was unaware of the danger; it had not occurred to her that it was wrong to glance occasionally at a comely youth who kept his eyes constantly fixed on her.

When she learned that the comely youth was Comte Leodgard de Marvejols, the girl had felt perhaps a secret thrill of terror; but it had not lasted--the young man's glances had soon dispelled it.