Volume 14 / Part 2 — XI AN AMAZON

Two days later, Père Ledrux was working in Madame Dalmont’s little garden. Humming as usual, he approached the two friends, who were sitting amid a clump of trees.

“Well!” he said, “here’s more fine folks in the place; ah! but these are regular bigwigs, so it seems; even bigger than Madame Droguet!”

“Whom are you talking about, Père Ledrux?” asked Honorine.

“The folks who’ve bought the house with the goldfish.”

“What!” cried Agathe, “is there a house with goldfish in this village—and we didn’t know it?”

“Bless me! mamzelle, when it was for sale, nobody thought much about it; it was too dear for the natives here. It’s a splendid place, with a park and an English garden and a kitchen garden.”

“And goldfish apparently?”

“Yes, mamzelle; a big pond full of ‘em.”

“And you know who has bought the place?”

“Pardi! everybody in Chelles knows.”

“You see that that isn’t so, Père Ledrux, for we don’t know a word about it.”

“The buyers are Monsieur and Madame de Belleville—man and wife; both young. The lady’s a fine woman, and she’s always dressed up—my word!—as if she was going to a wedding.”

“Really? then they are living here?”

“Oh, yes! they’ve been here for the last ten or twelve days——”

“Oh! I’ve seen the lady, I have,” said Poucette, coming forward; “I’ve seen her several times—for the last three days you don’t see anything but her riding by here on horseback. Anyone would think it was our house she wanted to see; she rides in front of it and behind it, and she looks over the garden wall; that’s easy, on horseback!—She’s got a fine blue cloth habit, with a long skirt that hides her horse’s tail, and a man’s round hat. You ought to see how well she sits on her horse! Oh! she ain’t afraid, that lady ain’t! you can see that right off.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Faith, mamzelle, you can’t say that she ain’t good-looking; but with her great black eyes, when she looks at you, you’d think she wanted to frighten everybody. She’s got a bold, haughty way! for my part, I don’t like such ways.”

“When you see this beautiful amazon again, Poucette, call me; I am curious to see her.”

“All right, mamzelle; I’ll bet she’ll ride by again to-day; for I tell you she always rides round the house and then comes back this way.”

“That’s rather strange, don’t you think so, Honorine?”

“For my part, I see nothing extraordinary about it, my dear girl; this lady comes to live in a part of the country that she isn’t familiar with, and she goes out in the saddle; that’s the best way of becoming acquainted with the neighborhood. If she looks at the houses, it’s because she wants to know the people who live in them.”

“But why does she pass our house so often? why does she ride round it?”

“She passes it, no doubt, because it’s on her road when she goes out to ride. Poucette thinks that she rides round it; probably that is because it’s her shortest way home.”

“You always think that everything’s all right. Still, I am very curious to see this beautiful equestrian.”

“And I am not in the least, I assure you.—By the way, you don’t mention the husband; doesn’t he ride too?”

“Oh, no!” said the gardener; “the husband don’t know how to sit a horse very well, it seems; the first day Madame de Belleville went out to ride, her husband thought he’d go with her. So he took a horse, but he didn’t look as if he was very comfortable on him. ‘My dear love,’ he sings out to his wife, ‘please don’t go so fast! I’ve got out of the habit of galloping.’—But whether his wife didn’t hear him, or whether her horse wouldn’t stop, she was off like a flash in an instant. Monsieur de Belleville tried to overtake her, but patatras!—off he went, head over heels. He got up and went home, limping a little and swearing he’d never get on a horse again; but that don’t prevent madame’s going every day.”

“She has a servant follow her, of course?”

“No, she always goes alone. As Poucette says, she ain’t afraid. It seems there’s to be a dinner-party to-morrow, given by the owner of Goldfish Villa; all the bigwigs of the place are invited—the Droguets and Remplumés and Jarnouillards; you don’t hear anybody talking about anything else. Perhaps it’s to invite you that Madame de Belleville rides round your house the way she does.”

“Oh! no, Père Ledrux; it can’t be for that. In the first place, one doesn’t go on horseback to pay a ceremonious visit; and in the second place, we are not bigwigs, and as this lady chooses to make friends of all the people who talk ill of us, it is probable that we shall never make friends with her. But if you hear any more gossip, Père Ledrux, about Monsieur Edmond Didier’s frequent visits to us, I authorize you to say that there is nothing surprising in the fact of a young man’s paying court to the person he is to marry; for Monsieur Edmond and Agathe are engaged.”

“Well, well! I had a suspicion of that!” cried the gardener; “I says to myself: ‘That young man and that girl—hum! it might well be—they’re both very good-looking!’—But, you understand, I just said that to myself, by way of reflection; for it don’t concern me, it’s none of my business.—I’ll just go and take a look at your hens; it’s as sure as can be that the black one fights with the others; if you don’t eat her, I’ll have to take her away; she makes the others too miserable.”

“We don’t eat the hens whose eggs we have eaten; take her away, Père Ledrux.”

“Well! you understand, it’s in your interest; she’d spoil all the others.”

Père Ledrux went off to the hencoop, and Honorine had returned to the house, when Poucette came running to Agathe, crying out:

“Mamzelle, here she is, she’s coming this way.”

“Who? the amazon?”

“Yes, she’s on the narrow road, at the end of the garden; you can see her nicely from the summer-house.”

“Let us go there then!”

Agathe was soon at the window of the summer-house, and Poucette, who had followed her, pointed to a lady on horseback, coming from Gournay, and riding her horse at a gallop, with a poise and boldness worthy of a circus rider.

Thélénie was dressed in a beautiful habit of light blue broadcloth; on her head was a man’s hat, with a very broad brim, set a little on one side, and adorned with a waving mass of black ribbons. Her lovely black hair fell in corkscrew curls on each side of her face, and her great gleaming eyes shone with wonderful brilliancy beneath her hat-brim. She held in her right hand a dainty riding-crop, with which she lashed her horse vigorously when he showed signs of relaxing his pace.

Agathe gazed with unwearying admiration at the beautiful equestrian; she leaned from the window in order to see her better, saying to Poucette:

“Oh! how splendidly she rides! what grace! what fearlessness! She is a very pretty woman too!”

“Yes, at a distance! but wait till you see her near to.”

As Thélénie drew near Honorine’s house, she saw that there was someone at the window of the summer-house; instantly she changed her horse’s gait and brought him down to a walk.

“I can see her much better now,” said Agathe; “she has stopped galloping and is coming very slowly.”

“I guess she’s walking her horse so that she can see you better. Just see how she stares at you, mamzelle! wouldn’t you think she wanted to bury her eyes in your face?”

“That is true; she is looking at me so attentively!—I don’t think her so pretty now.”

“There! I knew it! She has a very wicked look, that fine lady has!”

“See; she is turning round to look at me.”

“If I was you, mamzelle, I’d stick out my tongue at her.”

“She is going on at last; I’m glad of that!”

“Never mind; she’ll know you another time!”

“Really, I can’t understand how a person can stare at one in that way!”

“And with such a look! anyone would think she’d have liked to beat you! I say, mamzelle, I’m sure that if Monsieur Edmond had seen that woman stare at you like that, he’d have gone out and said to her: ‘What business have you to look at my intended like that? Do you know her? Do you want anything of her?’”

“That is very likely; but I shan’t mention that woman to Edmond! After all, if she doesn’t find me to her taste, so much the worse for her! it’s all the same to me.”

“She must be pretty hard to suit! For my part, I think she finds you too good-looking, and that’s what vexed her.”

“How foolish you are, Poucette! what difference can it make to her whether I am good-looking or not?”

“Look you, mamzelle! that handsome amazon probably says to herself when she comes here to live: ‘I shall be the prettiest woman in the place; everybody will admire me!’ Especially as she’s mighty particular about her dress.—Well, you understand, so long as she don’t see anybody but the Droguets and Remplumés and Jarnouillards, she might well think herself the handsomest woman in the place; but now that she’s seen you, it’s another story.”

Agathe went to Honorine and told her what had happened, and described the impertinent way in which the new owner of Goldfish Villa had stared at her. Whereat Madame Dalmont began to laugh, saying:

“That serves you right! You were so curious to see this woman and now you are well paid for your curiosity.”

“Never mind, my dear; if I meet this Madame de Belleville again, and she stares at me as she did just now, I shall ask her what she wants of me.”

“You will be very foolish, Agathe; when people behave impertinently, the best way to mortify them is to pay no attention.”

Since her conversation with the owner of the Tower, Honorine had gone out quite frequently to sit on the tree trunk under the walnut. She declared that from there the view was very extensive, while Agathe maintained that it was quite as fine from the window of the summer-house. So that Madame Dalmont almost always selected the hours when her young friend was practising on the piano, to open the little gate and go out into the road. Did she hope to meet there again the excellent dog, who had shown her so much affection? or was it his master whom she hoped to see? But there was no sign of Paul or of his dog.

By way of compensation, the one engrossing subject of conversation in the neighborhood was the dinner given at Goldfish Villa. Père Ledrux and Poucette repeated to the two friends what was said in Chelles on that subject.

“It was a magnificent affair.”

“Besides the notable people from this region, there were lots of people from Paris, men especially, all of the best tone and of the most perfect refinement! Some smoked at dessert, but it was only to change the air.”

“They had things to eat that no one knew the names of, and wines to drink that looked like liqueurs.”

“There was a most beautiful porcelain service. A servant broke a plate on Monsieur Jarnouillard’s head; but it did nothing but spoil his coat, which was spoiled already.”

“The master of the house nearly strangled eating fish.”

“Monsieur Luminot got a little tipsy.”

“Madame de Belleville changed her dress after the second course.”

“Madame Remplumé was sick.”

“Monsieur Jarnouillard counted the different dishes of dessert—there were thirty-three.”

“They played cards and danced in the evening.”

“Monsieur Droguet fell while waltzing.”

“They played for infernally high stakes. Madame Droguet lost four francs at lansquenet. But Monsieur Antoine Beaubichon won three at écarté.”

“Everybody went away overflowing with admiration for Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.”

Such were the remarks which circulated through the village after the grand banquet. The names of the new owners of the villa were mentioned in Chelles only with the most profound respect. Monsieur Remplumé even went so far as to remove his hat when he passed their house. And when Thélénie pranced through the village on horseback, people ran to their doors and windows to see her pass, crying:

“There she goes! there she goes! she rides like a dragoon!”

To be sure, there were some urchins who yelled: “A la chienlit!” But those unseemly words were drowned by the applause and cheers.

Thélénie continued to gallop by Madame Dalmont’s house; but Agathe, instead of watching her, left the window if she were sitting at it, determined that that lady should not have the satisfaction of scrutinizing her as she did before.

One afternoon, when Honorine was sitting alone under the great walnut tree by the roadside, she suddenly heard piercing shrieks not far away. They evidently proceeded from a child’s lips, and the young woman, thinking that someone might be in need of assistance, hastened down the hill, and saw, some two hundred yards away, a woman on horseback striking with her crop a small boy in whom Honorine instantly recognized the one who had stolen her cherries.

The appearance of a lady on the scene did not calm Thélénie’s wrath; she continued to belabor the lost child, exclaiming: “Ah! you won’t stand aside when I tell you to look out, won’t you? You make signs to show that you aren’t afraid of me, and you make faces at me! You little blackguard, I’ll teach you to know me and respect me!”

When he caught sight of Madame Dalmont, little Emile ran to her for protection, still making a great outcry, in which there was at least as much anger as pain.

The amazon would have ridden after him, but Honorine barred her way.

“Mon Dieu!” she said, “what has this child done to you, madame, that you should punish him so severely?”

Thélénie eyed Honorine insolently as she retorted:

“What has he done to me? what business is it of yours? If I horsewhip him, it’s because I choose to do it, and because he deserves it. What are you meddling for?”

“Meddling—when I defend a child who is being beaten! Evidently, madame, you would see a child overwhelmed with blows without thinking of defending him!”

“What does this mean? that madame is pleased to give me a lesson, perhaps?”

“I might well give you a lesson in politeness, I fancy; for you adopt a tone which is very little in harmony with your costume.”

Thélénie bit her lips angrily; then she cried abruptly:

“Ah! you are Madame Dalmont, no doubt?”

“I am Madame Dalmont.”

“I might have guessed as much. Ha! ha! ha! I have frequently heard of madame and her little friend, Mademoiselle Agathe! Ha! ha! You ladies are very well known in Chelles.”

“I think not, madame, as we see very few people.”

“But you are much talked about all the same!”

“It is quite possible, madame; there are people whose sole occupation is gossip, slander, calumny. But what comes from the mouths of those people is not worth thinking about, really!”

“Do you mean that for me, madame?”

“How could I mean it for you? I do not know you!”

“I am Madame de Belleville, and I am not in the habit of putting up with an insult from anybody, no matter who it may be.”

“And I am Madame Dalmont, and I am not in the habit of fighting because I am not a man.”

Thélénie was irritated beyond measure by the young widow’s imperturbable calmness.

But while this dialogue was taking place between the two ladies, little Emile, thirsting for revenge for the blows he had received, picked up a large lump of earth and threw it with all his strength at the person who had beaten him. The clod did not reach her, but it struck one of the ears of her horse, and as it broke, spattered and soiled the beautiful blue skirt.

The horse, not expecting the assault, made a leap side-wise which might well have unseated his rider; but Thélénie, unshaken in her saddle, simply cried out in rage:

“Ah! you little villain!” she shrieked; “this time you shall feel my crop, and you’ll keep the marks of it!”

The lost child hid behind Honorine; but that obstacle did not seem to deter Thélénie.

“Stand aside, madame,” she cried; “move from in front of that rascal, or I won’t be answerable for my horse.”

“For heaven’s sake, madame, forgive the child!”

“No! no! and if you don’t move—So much the worse for you, if you get a taste of the crop too!”

With that the amazon urged her horse upon Honorine and the little boy; but, like the great majority of those noble-hearted creatures, the horse hesitated, stopped and tried to make a détour in order to avoid running down a woman and a child. The amazon persisted in her attempts to ride him upon them, when suddenly an unexpected defender changed the whole aspect of affairs. Ami rushed down the hill, and without pause or hesitation jumped at the rider, barking in a tone which indicated that he was not in a good humor.

At sight of that magnificent beast, who was doing his utmost to jump upon her, Thélénie, forced to defend herself, tried to strike Ami with her crop. But he cleverly avoided the blows, springing from side to side, but biting the horse at the same time.

“Madame! madame! call off your dog!” shouted the amazon; “he is biting my horse! you will be responsible for what may happen!”

“The dog is not mine, madame; but I am thankful for his arrival at this moment, for it has prevented you from doing a cowardly thing.”

“Oh! you haven’t heard the last of this, madame! The cursed dog! And I shall find this little wretch again, too. We shall see! we shall see! I will find that dog’s master!”

But harassed by Ami, who tried to bite her legs, and obliged to attend to her horse, whom the constant attacks of the dog were driving to frenzy, Thélénie had no choice but to abandon the field of battle. She plunged her spurs into the beast’s sides, and gave him the rein; he instantly galloped away at the top of his speed, and horse and rider soon disappeared altogether.

Ami started to pursue them, but Honorine called him back so vehemently that he returned to her side at last, still excited by the battle he had fought.

The young woman looked about in every direction, but to no purpose; the dog’s master did not appear. She was about to return to the house, when she noticed that little Emile was still by her side.

“Why did you throw a stone at that horse just now?” she asked.

“It wasn’t a stone, it was a lump of dirt.”

“No matter; you hoped to hit that lady, I suppose?”

“Yes, I aimed it at her.”

“That was a very naughty thing for you to do. Just think of all that might have happened: the lady galloped her horse at you——”

“And at you too.”

“And if it had not been for this good dog that arrived just in time, you might be badly hurt.”

“And you too.”

“None of those things would have happened if you had not thrown that lump of dirt.”

“What made that dragoon strike me with her whip?”

“Why didn’t you stand aside to let her pass?”

“She could pass well enough; there was plenty of room. Does she need the whole road for her and her horse?”

“My child, do you mean always to be naughty? You have already forgotten what I told you the other day; make people love you instead of making them fear you, and you will be much happier.”

The boy looked at the ground and muttered in a low voice:

“No one wants to love me!”

Honorine took a small coin from her purse and gave it to Emile.

“See, I will give you this,” she said, “but only on condition that you won’t throw any more stones or dirt at anybody. If I learn that you have done it again, I will never give you anything more.”

“Not cherries?”

“Neither cherries nor anything else; now go.”

Ami listened to this conversation, seated on his haunches, with the gravity of an examining magistrate. Then he followed Honorine to the garden gate, where she turned and said to him:

“Are you coming in with me, good dog? No; you won’t. Your master isn’t with you, so you came all by yourself to pay me a visit; that was very nice of you. When you choose to come again, just scratch at this gate, and you will always be welcome.”

Ami, who seemed to understand her words perfectly, yelped once or twice, then bounded away toward the Tower, barking loudly and joyously.