Du Bousquier was depicted as a species of celibate Pere Gigogne, a monster, who for the last fifteen years had kept the Foundling Hospital supplied.His immoral habits were at last revealed! these Parisian saturnalias were the result of them, etc., etc.Conducted by the Chevalier de Valois, a most able leader of an orchestra of this kind, the opening of the CANCAN was magnificent.
"I really don't know," he said, "what should hinder a du Bousquier from marrying a Mademoiselle Suzanne What's-her-name.What IS her name, do you know? Suzette! Though I have lodgings at Madame Lardot's, I know her girls only by sight.If this Suzette is a tall, fine, saucy girl, with gray eyes, a slim waist, and a pretty foot, whom I have occasionally seen, and whose behavior always seemed to me extremely insolent, she is far superior in manners to du Bousquier.Besides, the girl has the nobility of beauty; from that point of view the marriage would be a poor one for her; she might do better.You know how the Emperor Joseph had the curiosity to see the du Barry at Luciennes.He offered her his arm to walk about, and the poor thing was so surprised at the honor that she hesitated to accept it: 'Beauty is ever a queen,' said the Emperor.And he, you know, was an Austrian-German,"added the chevalier."But I can tell you that Germany, which is thought here very rustic, is a land of noble chivalry and fine manners, especially in Poland and Hungary, where--"Here the chevalier stopped, fearing to slip into some allusion to his personal happiness; he took out his snuff-box, and confided the rest of his remarks to the princess, who had smiled upon him for thirty-six years and more.
"That speech was rather a delicate one for Louis XV.," said du Ronceret.
"But it was, I think, the Emperor Joseph who made it, and not Louis XV.," remarked Mademoiselle Cormon, in a correcting tone.
"Mademoiselle," said the chevalier, observing the malicious glance exchanged between the judge, the notary, and the recorder, "Madame du Barry was the Suzanne of Louis XV.,--a circumstance well known to scamps like ourselves, but unsuitable for the knowledge of young ladies.Your ignorance proves you to be a flawless diamond; historical corruptions do not enter your mind."The Abbe de Sponde looked graciously at the Chevalier de Valois, and nodded his head in sign of his laudatory approbation.
"Doesn't mademoiselle know history?" asked the recorder of mortgages.
"If you mix up Louis XV.and this girl Suzanne, how am I to know history?" replied Mademoiselle Cormon, angelically, glad to see that the dish of ducks was empty at last, and the conversation so ready to revive that all present laughed with their mouths full at her last remark.
"Poor girl!" said the Abbe de Sponde."When a great misfortune happens, charity, which is divine love, and as blind as pagan love, ought not to look into the causes of it.Niece, you are president of the Maternity Society; you must succor that poor girl, who will now find it difficult to marry.""Poor child!" ejaculated Mademoiselle Cormon.
"Do you suppose du Bousquier would marry her?" asked the judge.
"If he is an honorable man he ought to do so," said Madame Granson;"but really, to tell the truth, my dog has better morals than he--""Azor is, however, a good purveyor," said the recorder of mortgages, with the air of saying a witty thing.
At dessert du Bousquier was still the topic of conversation, having given rise to various little jokes which the wine rendered sparkling.
Following the example of the recorder, each guest capped his neighbor's joke with another: Du Bousquier was a father, but not a confessor; he was father less; he was father LY; he was not a reverend father; nor yet a conscript-father--"Nor can he be a foster-father," said the Abbe de Sponde, with a gravity which stopped the laughter.
"Nor a noble father," added the chevalier.
The Church and the nobility descended thus into the arena of puns, without, however, losing their dignity.
"Hush!" exclaimed the recorder of mortgages."I hear the creaking of du Bousquier's boots."It usually happens that a man is ignorant of rumors that are afloat about him.A whole town may be talking of his affairs; may calumniate and decry him, but if he has no good friends, he will know nothing about it.Now the innocent du Bousquier was superb in his ignorance.
No one had told him as yet of Suzanne's revelations; he therefore appeared very jaunty and slightly conceited when the company, leaving the dining-room, returned to the salon for their coffee; several other guests had meantime assembled for the evening.Mademoiselle Cormon, from a sense of shamefacedness, dared not look at the terrible seducer.She seized upon Athanase, and began to lecture him with the queerest platitudes about royalist politics and religious morality.
Not possessing, like the Chevalier de Valois, a snuff-box adorned with a princess, by the help of which he could stand this torrent of silliness, the poor poet listened to the words of her whom he loved with a stupid air, gazing, meanwhile, at her enormous bust, which held itself before him in that still repose which is the attribute of all great masses.His love produced in him a sort of intoxication which changed the shrill voice of the old maid into a soft murmur, and her flat remarks into witty speeches.Love is a maker of false coin, continually changing copper pennies into gold-pieces, and sometimes turning its real gold into copper.
"Well, Athanase, will you promise me?"
This final sentence struck the ear of the absorbed young man like one of those noises which wake us with a bound.
"What, mademoiselle?"
