Volume 14 / Part 2 — IV CHAMOUREAU MARRIED

Chamoureau, who was in such utter despair when he lost his Eléonore—or who pretended to be, for genuine sorrow does not act a part and make a public display of its tears; it seeks solitude and finds solace in its memories—Chamoureau had contracted a second marriage; he had become the husband of the woman whose charms had turned his head. At last he possessed the fair Thélénie, if it is proper to say that one possesses a woman when she gives herself to one without love. In my opinion one has only the usufruct in such cases.

The newly-married pair had taken a handsome apartment on Rue Saint-Lazare. Thélénie had informed her husband that she proposed to have a carriage, and he had bowed to his wife’s wishes, saying:

“My dear love, we will have whatever you wish; I shall always consider it a pleasure and a duty to gratify all your desires.”

“In that case, monsieur, you may begin by ceasing to call me thou; there is nothing in worse form than to thee-and-thou one’s wife; and I am a stickler for good form.”

“What, my dear love, after three days of married life, thou—you want——”

“You have thee-and-thoued me three days already, and that’s too much; I tell you again, monsieur, that in good society a man and wife don’t do it. You seem desirous to appear like a petty government clerk.”

“I don’t agree to that—but I thought——”

“Enough—it’s decided: you are not to call me thou any more.”

“What! not even in the blissful moments when my affection——”

“Hush! that’s enough.”

“The devil! that will embarrass me terribly.”

From that moment Chamoureau no longer ventured to use the familiar form of address to his wife; in her presence he was like a scholar before his teacher, or rather, like a soldier before his commanding officer. He dared not speak unless he was questioned; he had no opinions, tastes, desires; Madame Chamoureau took all that responsibility on her shoulders.

As is frequently the case with women who have led very dissipated lives, Thélénie, after her marriage, assumed a very severe demeanor and bearing; she became a veritable prude, frowned if anyone made a ribald remark before her, and scolded her husband if he presumed to laugh at it. She refused to go to the Théâtre de Palais-Royal, and she could not understand how women could have the effrontery to waltz.

Such was Madame de Belleville; for the newly-married pair answered to no other name, and Thélénie had said to her husband more than once:

“Remember, monsieur, that your name is no longer Chamoureau; when anyone calls you by that name, don’t answer, but turn a deaf ear and go your way.”

“But, my dear love, there are people who have known me a long while, and who know perfectly well that my name is Chamoureau.”

“Tell those people once for all that you answer to no name but Belleville.”

“There are some who think that I live at Belleville, and that that’s what I mean.”

“Bah! monsieur, what difference does all that make? Suppose you should cease to be the friend of the pack of fools with whom you used to associate, where would be the harm?”

“That’s true; in that case, I cease to know my former acquaintances; I have a handsome fortune, and I ought not to frequent the same kind of society.”

“Oh! by the way, monsieur, there are two persons to whom I give you leave to speak, and even, if—if it will be agreeable to you to see them—you may ask them to call on us; I shall not be sorry to let them see the comfort and elegance of our home.”

“Very well, dear love; and who are these two persons whom you are kind enough to be willing to receive?”

“Monsieur Edmond Didier and his friend Freluchon.”

“Oho! why, if I’m not mistaken, you demanded, before marrying me, that I should break off all relations with those two gentlemen.”

“It is quite possible, monsieur; I may have desired it then; now I feel differently. Am I not at liberty to change my mind?”

“Oh! yes, indeed! absolutely at liberty.”

“This Freluchon was your intimate friend, I know, and I do not wish to deprive you of his company.”

“Oh! thanks a thousand times, my adored wife! I am deeply sensible of——”

“Don’t talk to me like that any more! Adored wife! Anyone would think we were acting a melodrama! Call me madame, and stick to that.”

“Very well, I understand, madame—madame—and I will stick to that.”

Some days after this conversation, which will give an idea of the kind of happiness which Chamoureau enjoyed since he had ceased to be a widower, he came face to face with Freluchon one morning on the boulevard.

The latter began by laughing in his former friend’s face.

“Good-day, Freluchon; what are you laughing at?”

“Parbleu! at your expression—your new rig—your new face—for you have manufactured a new face for yourself with all the rest.”

“Freluchon, you see a very happy man.”

“No one would think it to see you walk.”

“Freluchon, I am married again; the lovely Thélénie has become my wife.”

“Aha! so that’s what gives you such an idiotic look, is it? I supposed at first that it was the result of your new wealth; but you’re married, so there’s a double explanation.”

“Yes, Freluchon, I am.”

“You have been married once already; but you were bent on doing it again, and it was your right.”

“Ah! my friend, I am the most fortunate of men!”

“You say that as if you were reciting a fable: ‘A crow perched on a tree——’”

“Tell me, Freluchon, why won’t you believe that I am happy?”

“Bless my soul! I ask nothing better than to believe it. If it is so, so much the better; but as I know these women, as I know that when they have once found a dupe to cover up their past misconduct, they acquire such authority over him that he becomes a mere nobody—an utterly ridiculous person—well, I didn’t know that that rôle would suit you. But it does suit you, so it’s all right, it’s your business. March gayly on, my poor Chamoureau, and may——”

“Oh! I beg your pardon—allow me to stop you right there. I must tell you that my name is no longer Chamoureau, or, at least, I no longer answer to that name.”

“The deuce! have you taken your wife’s name, pray? are you Monsieur Thélénie?”

“No, my name is De Belleville now.”

“What does this new farce mean?”

“It means that my wife, my superb wife, cannot endure the name of Chamoureau; it’s a weakness of hers, but to be agreeable to her, I have taken the name of the place where I was born—Belleville—and we are known by no other name now—Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.”

“Gad! that’s another good one! But after all, you may call yourself Romulus if you choose; it’s all one to me, absolutely.”

“By the way, Freluchon, that isn’t all; my wife, who is very affable with me, although——”

“Although it doesn’t appear?”

“No, I mean, although—although she doesn’t mean to be—has authorized me to invite you and your friend Edmond Didier to come to see us.”

“Ha! ha! ha! worse and worse!”

“What’s the matter?”

“And it is you whom she selects for such errands?”

“Why not?”

“Poor Chamoureau!”

“De Belleville, I beg you, Freluchon; De Belleville! Don’t call me anything else.”

“Very well, my dear Seigneur de Belleville—for if you are not yet a seigneur, I am sure that you soon will be——”

“Do you think so?”

“You are well fitted to reach any height—with the help of your wife’s cotillon.”

“What do you mean by her cotillon?”

“In other words, her influence. You will thank Madame de Belleville, in my behalf; I do not expect to avail myself of her invitation.”

“Why not?”

“As I am very absent-minded, I fear that I might make a mistake, and call her Madame Chamoureau; and I am sure that she would turn me out of doors on the instant.”

“What a paltry reason!”

“As for Edmond Didier—oh! that’s a different matter. I hardly ever see him now.”

“Indeed? have you had a falling out?”

“Not at all; but he is in love, yes, very seriously in love this time; and as his passion lies in Chelles, he has hired a place in that region and he never stirs from there.”

“Chelles? I wonder if this passion of his can be a lady for whom I bought a little place at Chelles in the spring—Madame Dalmont?”

“Precisely; that is to say, it is not Madame Dalmont whom he’s in love with, but her young friend, a very pretty girl who lives with her—Mademoiselle Agathe.”

“Oh, yes! I remember—a very pretty blonde, that is true. I understand now why he took so much trouble to have that purchase concluded so quickly: Mademoiselle Agathe had already caught his eye.”

“Parbleu! when a young man becomes so obliging, so zealous, so eager to make himself useful, you may be sure that love has something to do with it.”

“So you don’t see Edmond now?”

“I see him when I go to Chelles, to his lodgings; but as I am not in love, I don’t go very often. Still, there’s a very pretty peasant girl there, Mademoiselle Poucette. But when you attempt to joke with her, why! she cuffs you as if she’d pound you to a jelly.—So, my dear fellow, you need not expect a call from Edmond. As I tell you, he is hooked this time; he’s head over ears in love; but this young woman cannot be his mistress—and then——”

“Then he will marry her.”

“That would do very well if he still had the sixty thousand francs that he did have; one can live upon that amount. But he has very little of it left; and as for the young lady, I fancy that she has nothing but her lovely eyes, and they won’t do to make soup.”

“Oh, no! money before everything! That is my wife’s principle, too.”

“I don’t doubt it; she has famous principles, has your wife!—Adieu, Chamoureau de Belleville, lord of the outskirts and of other places which I will not mention. When you have a coat of arms, I advise you to put in some stag’s horns; they look well against the background of the shield.”

Freluchon walked away, still laughing.

“That devilish Freluchon!” said Chamoureau to himself as he looked after him; “he’s always in high spirits; but I don’t believe he has thirty-two thousand two hundred francs a year! After all, I am quite as well pleased that he is not coming to our house; I am quite certain he would call me Chamoureau; he would do it on purpose!”

When he reached home, the happy bridegroom lost no time in seeking Thélénie, and telling her that he had met Freluchon. The name of Edmond’s friend instantly fixed Thélénie’s attention.

“Well, did you invite him to come to see us, and to bring his friend Monsieur Edmond?” she asked.

“Yes, to be sure, I did what you told me; but they won’t either of them come.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Freluchon has contracted the habit of laughing in everybody’s face; he joked me about my change of name, and declared that if he came to see us he couldn’t help calling me Chamoureau. As you may imagine, I didn’t insist.”

“But his friend, Monsieur Edmond Didier?”

“Oh! that’s a different matter! He has a love-affair on the brain; a passion—oh! a grand passion—Look out, my dear, you’ll drop that book you have in your hand.”

“Never mind, monsieur; what does the book matter? Go on; you say that Monsieur Edmond is very much in love—as usual—some caprice for a grisette, for that gentleman takes to that type of woman.”

“No, madame, this time it’s a respectable young woman with whom he is in love.”

“How do you know that she is respectable?”

“Because I know her; she’s a fascinating blonde.”

“You know her, you say, monsieur; and you have never mentioned it to me!”

“Never mentioned what to you?”

“Why, Monsieur Edmond’s love for this girl, whom you know, and whom you consider so pretty.”

“Why, madame, I couldn’t mention it to you, because I knew nothing about it myself; it was Freluchon who told me.”

“But you said that you knew this woman! You don’t seem to know what you are saying, monsieur! Oh! how you irritate me!”

“My dear love, do be careful; you’re tearing the lace in your sleeves—you will have it in rags.”

“Oh! don’t bother about my lace, monsieur; it suits me to tear it, apparently. But for God’s sake, tell me exactly what Monsieur Freluchon said to you about his friend Edmond. Speak, monsieur! why don’t you speak? you see that I am waiting!”

At that moment Thélénie’s eyes emitted flames, and their expression was so far from loving that Chamoureau found them less beautiful than usual. He had never seen his superb wife’s face wear such a savage, threatening expression; he felt ill at ease, he was frightened, and he stammered:

“Madame, you—you—dis—dis—distress me; what—what—what’s the m—m—matter?”

Thélénie strove to calm herself as she replied:

“Why, nothing’s the matter, monsieur; only my nerves are on edge this morning, and the slightest thing upsets me, irritates me. Go on, I am listening.”

Chamoureau repeated to his wife all that Freluchon had told him concerning Edmond’s new love-affair. Thélénie listened attentively; she tried to remain calm; to avoid tearing her lace; and she rejoined with apparent tranquillity:

“So these women who live at Chelles are known to you?”

“Yes, my dear love; it was through me that they bought Monsieur Courtivaux’s house—for twenty thousand francs, as I remember.”

“What sort of women are they?”

“Madame Dalmont, the one who bought the house, is a widow, some twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, with an interesting, but sad face; of moderate means, she told me herself. Her young friend, the one Monsieur Edmond is so much in love with, must be about sixteen or seventeen—she’s an orphan, I believe—but such a pretty face! lovely fair hair, blue eyes——”

“Enough, monsieur! you have extolled this surprising beauty too much already! I shall end by thinking that you are in love with her too!”

“Ah! madame, you know very well that you alone, whose unapproachable charms——”

“And Monsieur Edmond has hired a house at Chelles? he lives there now?”

“Yes, in order to be near those ladies.”

“At whose house he visits?”

“Naturally.”

After a few minutes of silence, Thélénie said:

“Monsieur, all comme il faut people have a house in the country, a villa to which they go for the summer. Of course you do not expect me to stay cooped up in Paris all summer, like a shopkeeper on Rue Saint-Denis.”

“Madame—I think—faith! I don’t know; I will do whatever you want.”

“I want a country house, monsieur; we will hire one.”

“Very well, my dear love; I will look about for one, I will read the Petites-Affiches.”

“Don’t take all that trouble; just tell them to put the horses in the carriage, and we will look for a house in the neighborhood that I like best.”

Chamoureau executed his wife’s orders with alacrity, while she, left to her reflections, said to herself:

“Ah! I will know this woman whom you love, ungrateful Edmond! and I will find a way to put a spoke in your love-affairs!”

Mademoiselle Héloïse, who had retained her former footing of intimacy with her old friend, because she was careful to call her nothing but Madame de Belleville, suddenly appeared, in evident uneasiness, and whispered to Thélénie:

“I say, my dear, I just saw—down in the street, standing in front of the house, that horrid man who came to your old rooms one day, so wretchedly dressed, all in rags, and who had such a strange name—Croque, I think.”

“Ah! you recognized him?”

“Yes, although he is dressed a little better than he was the other time. He has one of those faces that one doesn’t forget! he looks like a night-owl!”

“So Croque has found my trail,” thought Thélénie, “and some day he will present himself again. Oh, well! it matters little, after all; I have an idea now that I may have occasion to make use of him.”