The White House Part 39

"Very little; he was a fool, an ignoramus; he never received his friends, never entertained! He was wrapped up in his beets!"

"Well! I mean to entertain, to receive my friends.--Are there any distinguished people in the neighborhood?"

"Not many; a few countrymen, a few obtuse creatures, who do not even send their children to my school."

"Ah! do you keep a school?"

"Yes, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, a school for males. I take children from the age of two to the age of twenty-five; I teach them everything, no matter what! When they leave my hands, they strike everybody dumb with amazement; they floor all their adversaries by the force of their logic! Belles-lettres, philosophy, physics, philology, chemistry, mathematics, dead languages, living languages, English handwriting, round-hand and copying-hand. I teach all these to my day scholars for six francs a month!"

"That's nothing at all," said Edouard.

"Is it not, monsieur?--Well! these Auvergnats prefer to let their children play tip-cat rather than send them to me!--_O tempora, O mores!_"

"Is the society of Saint-Amand select?" inquired Robineau.

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, at Saint-Amand, as at all small towns, there are some agreeable and some original people. There is a market there every Sat.u.r.day, for wine, hemp, paper and cheese.--I have only two children from the town in my school, but they belong to the best families."

"I have a letter for the local notary," said Robineau. "I shall go to see him to-morrow, and ask him to invite all the best people in the town to a fete, in my name."

Alfred and Edouard, who, albeit they did not admit it to each other, were engrossed by the same subject, tried to lead the conversation in another direction.

"Do you know the village of Chadrat?" Alfred asked.

"Chadrat! yes, it's a vile hole--a wretched hamlet! I haven't a child from Chadrat in my school! The natives, like the Tartars, are brought up in ignorance and in contempt of shirts. They don't even know how to spell!"

"Have you ever heard of the White House?" asked Edouard.

"The White House?--That's a female boarding-school, isn't it?"

"No, it's an unoccupied house that is the terror of the neighborhood."

"Oh, yes! I think I remember. I had some talk about it with my pupils, and we took a walk to the valley, where we saw nothing extraordinary.--Indeed, messieurs, I ask you whether people brought up in an atmosphere of knowledge can possibly believe in ghosts?--_Non est hic locus!_--I believe in fools, in idiots, in numskulls;--I have the honor to drink to the health of Monsieur de la Roche-Noire;--but ghosts!--_Retro Satanas!_--They don't enter into my system of education."

"So I say," a.s.sented Robineau; "I call it nonsense--old women's tales."

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, you think like Tacitus, and you express your thoughts like Livy. I have the honor to drink to your health."

There were still several bottles of good wine in the cellars of the old castle. Monsieur Cunette had not dared to drink them, because an account had been taken before he was left in charge. Robineau caused a number of them to be produced; the young men did full justice to them, and Monsieur Ferulus did nothing but hold out his gla.s.s and drain it. As they voted the dinner very good, it occurred to them, at dessert, to express their acknowledgments to Mademoiselle Cheval, whom Robineau wished to retain as cook at the chateau. Francois was told to send her in, and soon a tall, stoutly built damsel, with plump red cheeks, appeared and curtsied to the company.

"Mademoiselle Cheval," said Robineau, "I am very well pleased with the culinary talent you possess. I take you into my service as _cordon bleu_ if that is agreeable to you."

Mademoiselle Cheval coughed, bowed, wiped her forehead, and replied in a hoa.r.s.e voice:

"Pardi! if I didn't know how to cook, it would be funny--when I used to work for a master who had twenty thousand francs a year to spend and drank nothing but the best wines!--Dieu! wasn't I well-fixed there!

Always dressed in _Segrovie_ wool! I'd be there still if I hadn't fallen in love with one of the Swiss bodyguards!"

The cook was about to tell the story of her love affairs when the strains of bagpipe, fife and tambourine announced the arrival of the peasants. Robineau realized that it was his duty to go out and receive the guests to whom he had promised a ball. So they left the table, to the great regret of Monsieur Ferulus, who seemed disposed to pa.s.s the evening there, and went into the courtyard, where the Auvergnats were a.s.sembled. Robineau tried to a.s.sume a seignorial air as he saluted the good people, who were glad to come to his house to dance. Alfred and Edouard accosted the prettiest of the peasant girls, to obtain a moment's distraction; for one must needs divert one's thoughts, even when one is in love, and especially when one is not certain of being loved in return. The two young men were not yet at that point; they thought a great deal about little Isaure, it is true, but they did not choose to avow to themselves that there was anything more than curiosity in their desire to see her again. When we begin to love, we play with our sentiments; and when we try to overcome them, we discover that it is too late to remedy the mischief.

They went to the garden, and selected the place where the beets were fewest and stationed an orchestra there on empty casks; that was not very dignified, but as the notabilities of the neighborhood were not present, they could afford to be less particular. The orchestra consisted of bagpipes, drums and fifes. The peasants took their places in high glee. Robineau considered it inc.u.mbent on him to open the ball, and, his two friends having already invited the prettiest girls, he selected the one who wore the best clothes. Monsieur Ferulus, seeing that monseigneur proposed to dance, hastened to take a partner and to stand opposite Monsieur de la Roche-Noire.

The ball began; the Auvergnat music was not melodious, but it was noisy, and the dancers, male and female, were accustomed to accompany their steps with shouts and clapping of hands. It was difficult to remain indifferent amid such an uproar. Alfred and Edouard capered and twirled about with their partners, and laughingly struck the great hands that the peasant girls held out to them. Monsieur Ferulus never ceased to say to his partner:

"You are opposite Monsieur de la Roche-Noire; be careful of your steps, stand straight, lower your eyes, and watch your partner."

The Auvergnate followed her own devices, shouting, stamping and clapping her hands. As the Auvergne _bourrees_ never come to an end, Robineau danced for half an hour, until he could hold out no longer. Monsieur Ferulus was drenched, but he thought that politeness forbade him to leave the ball before Monsieur de la Roche-Noire. Luckily for them both, the concierge and the gardener appeared laden with hampers of wine, and the orchestra spontaneously paused to partake of refreshments.

They drank, then the dancing began again; they stopped again to drink, then returned to their capering. This lasted four hours, for the Auvergnats are indefatigable drinkers and dancers.

But it was after eleven o'clock; the open-air ball-room, which had been indifferently well lighted with candle ends, began to grow dark. Alfred and Edouard had taken their partners to walk in the garden, and the village maidens had returned to the dance in some slight disarray. Some papas and mammas were sleeping on the benches; Monsieur Ferulus had taken his leave long before, and Robineau, who was anxious to retire, was thinking that he would be glad to show his guests to the door, when he heard outcries and loud oaths from one part of the a.s.semblage.

Messieurs Vincent and Cunette did not dance, but they had not stopped drinking since the opening of the ball. The concierge had finished himself, and the gardener had attained the level reached by his comrade.

But Monsieur Vincent was ugly in his cups; it took very little to anger him, and then he always wanted to fight everybody. He had fallen into a dispute with an Auvergnat, and they had already come to blows, Cunette, like a staunch friend, taking Vincent's part, when Robineau, who was very angry that anyone should presume to fight on his premises, appeared on the scene, not doubting for an instant that his presence would suffice to restore tranquillity.

"What! is it my concierge and my gardener who are making all this noise?" he said as he drew near. "Why are you fighting, knaves?"

"Go to the devil! Let us alone!" said Cunette, not recognizing his master. "I am defending my friend Vincent, and----"

"Villain! do you dare to speak thus to me?"

"I'll hit you if you come any nearer!" cried Vincent, striking to right and left; and the new seigneur, being in the midst of the _melee_, was in imminent danger of receiving a storm of blows, when Mademoiselle Cheval succeeded in forcing her way through the crowd, and taking her master in her arms as easily as if she were lifting a child, she bore him away, clearing a pa.s.sage by distributing fisticuffs on every side.

Meanwhile Francois, Alfred and Edouard, each armed with a broomstick, succeeded in driving all the guests outside the walls. Messieurs Cunette and Vincent went to bed, and peace finally reigned once more within the chateau.

"That was a very nice party!" said Alfred, as he and Edouard returned, laughing heartily, from expelling the peasants.

"Oh, yes!" replied Robineau, feeling his ribs, "I shan't forget my ball!

If ever I ask those worthies to dance here again!--Ouf! what an infernal racket! I came near being beaten to death!--And how disrespectful my servants were. I will discharge them to-morrow."

"Why, my dear fellow, they were drunk! You must forgive them."

"They will simply get drunk again!"

"But you won't employ them every day distributing provisions and entertaining the peasants!"

"No! G.o.d forbid!"

"You chose to begin on a large scale; one must pay for one's apprenticeship in everything."

"Good-night, Monsieur Jules," said Edouard.

"Good-night, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," said Alfred, following Edouard from the room.

Robineau was left alone. It was nearly midnight; his bedroom was lighted only by a single candle and three-fourths of it was in darkness.

Robineau called Francois to help him to undress, and ordered him to sleep in the adjoining room, so that he might come to him at once if he should call.

At last Robineau climbed into bed, after placing a lamp by the bedside.

The man of Clermont-Ferrand recurred to his mind. His bedroom began to seem too large; the hangings to be very gloomy, and Susannah's face, which he had admired in the morning, frightened him at night. He was no longer so much in love with the antique, and he did not go to sleep until he had determined to begin on the morrow to give a more modern aspect to his domain.