The Flower Girl of The Chateau d'Eau Volume I Part 11

"Up already, my dear?"

"I must earn a lot of money to-day, mother, in order to bring you all that you need."

"But I need nothing, as I have the material for making herb tea."

"Oh! n.o.body knows! if you get better, perhaps a little beef soup won't be a bad thing for you. When a fellow is out on the boulevard early, he is more apt to find work. There are maids who have bundles to send, people who have to go into the country and are looking for a cab----"

"Poor Georget! what a miserable trade yours is! Knowing how to write and figure as you do, you ought to have found a place in some office, or a clerkship in some shop."

"Oh, yes! and wait a year or two before earning any kind of a salary!

Don't think about that any more, mother; I am very happy as I am! A clerk! shut up all day in an office! oh! how sick I should get of that!

then I should never see her!"

"Who is it that you'd never see, my child?"

Georget blushed, but made haste to reply:

"I mean that I shouldn't see you during the day, whenever I wanted to.

By the way, mother, I must go to see the gentleman on the third floor, the gentleman who is so kind, although he doesn't show it. I am going to return his twenty francs."

"Isn't it a little too early? He isn't up yet, probably."

"Oh! I am very sure that he gets up early; he isn't one of the kind to coddle himself. Anyway, I'll ask his valet, that mulatto who's such a strange creature, they say."

"Go, my dear, and thank the gentleman from me, until I can do it myself."

Georget cast a glance at the mirror to make sure that nothing was lacking in his costume. When a man is in love, he becomes particular about his looks, and Georget would have been very glad to please the pretty flower girl of the Chateau d'Eau, who seemed to look upon him as a child; that distressed the poor boy, he was sorry that he was not at least twenty years old, because he thought that then she would pay more attention to him. For we are never content with the pa.s.sage of time; when we are young, we think that it doesn't move fast enough; later, we complain because it moves too fast. And yet we know that the wisest course is to take it as it comes; probably we are not often wise, as we are always growling about it.

Georget went down to the third floor, and rang softly at Monsieur Malberg's door; a very dark mulatto, whose hair age had not yet turned white, and who spoke French very well for a colored man, and very ill for a Parisian, opened the door and recognized the young messenger whom he had met sometimes on the stairs.

"Hullo! it's Monsieur Georget. Morning, Monsieur Georget! What you come here for so early?"

"Monsieur Pongo, I would like to speak to your master, Monsieur Malberg."

"Oh! master not up yet, he still sleep; I get up sooner, to tidy the room, rub floor here in the morning without waking master."

"If he is still asleep, I will wait."

"Yes, you sit down on a nice little chair, like this."

"Thanks, Monsieur Pongo; I hope I am not in your way; go on with your work."

"Yes, yes, then I go very soft and see if monsieur still sleep."

The mulatto went into another room. Georget sat down and waited. After a few moments he heard voices in the next room and supposed that Monsieur Malberg was awake. But still he was left alone, n.o.body came, and Georget, beginning to be impatient, coughed, walked about the room and stole softly to the door, which was ajar. He was surprised to find that the mulatto was alone, but that as he did his work, he kept up a steady conversation with all the furniture and other objects in the study, which to him were people to whom he gave names, according to the custom of the people of his country.

"You stay there, Broubrou!" said Pongo to a tall Voltaire easy-chair.

"You all right, you satisfied, all brushed, all cleaned, all ready for master to use, unless he take Babo, the little horsehair chair. Oh!

Babo, you'd be mighty pleased if master took you instead of Madame Broubrou! she take up much more room.--There! now you all cleaned, well rubbed, good 'nough to eat.--But I forget Zima; where you hide yourself, Zima? oh! no good for you to hide yourself, I know all right how to find you."

And the mulatto looked in every corner of the room, and at last succeeded in finding a small bamboo cane with a gilt head. It was that cane to which Pongo had given the name of Zima. He took it up and shook it impatiently, muttering:

"Ah! Mamzelle Zima, you try to make fun of Pongo and keep out of sight a long time. Suppose me cross and not rub you head to make you shine, how you like that, eh, Mamzelle Zima?"

At this point, the scene between the mulatto and the cane was interrupted by shouts of laughter. They came from Georget, who, not being used to the customs of Africa, had been unable to restrain longer the desire to laugh, caused by the faithful Pongo's monologue. He turned when he heard the laughter, and seeing the youth, began to laugh too, and, cane in hand, to take several steps of a strange dance which recalled the famous dance of the _Cocos,_ performed in all the melodramas in which negroes are introduced.

A ring at the bell interrupted this extemporaneous ballet; Pongo dropped Mademoiselle Zima, and left the study, saying:

"That's master, he ring for me; he awake, I go tell him that you waiting."

A few moments later the mulatto returned, and ushered Georget into Monsieur Malberg's bedroom; that gentleman was enveloped in an ample dressing-gown and held a newspaper, which he seemed to be reading.

He glanced at Georget, who remained bashfully in the doorway of the room, twisting his cap about in his hands.

"It's you, is it, young man? What do you want of me so early in the morning? Is your mother sicker?"

"Oh, no! thanks to heaven and to you, monsieur! But I have come because I found this twenty francs in the pocket in which monsieur was kind enough to put some herbs for me to make my mother some tea. It was another kindness on monsieur's part, no doubt, but he is too kind; we must not keep this money, for it would take us too long to return it; and so I have brought the twenty francs back."

The gentleman in the dressing-gown resumed the perusal of his newspaper, as he answered in a crabbed tone:

"I don't know what you mean; the money is yours, if it was in your pocket; keep it and let me alone."

"But, monsieur, I am very sure that that twenty francs isn't mine, as I didn't own a sou to buy sugar, and that was why I was crying on the landing."

"Well! what then? how does that concern me?"

"Why, monsieur, as n.o.body else but you put anything in my pocket, it must have been you who put these five-franc pieces there."

"You are dreaming!"

"Oh, no!"

"It wasn't I!"

"I am sure that it was!"

"Corbleu! you tire me! Well, suppose it was? If I chose to put those five-franc pieces in your pocket, am I not at liberty to put my money where I choose? Do you propose to prevent me from helping you, when I have too much money, and know that you haven't enough? You are very proud, it seems, master messenger?"

"Oh! it isn't that, monsieur; but you have already overwhelmed us with your kindness; it would be wrong to show our appreciation of it by accepting what we don't need."

"You lie! you do need money, for last night you were without a sou, and I don't suppose that you have earned any during the night."

"But, monsieur, my mother has all she needs now, and I am going to earn some money to-day."

"Oho! you are very confident, aren't you? How do you know that you will find work to-day, that it will be a good day for you?"

"Why! monsieur, it very seldom happens that a whole day pa.s.ses without someone employing us; a man would have to be very unlucky to have that happen."