Volume 14 / Part 2 — XII THE BARON VON SCHTAPELMERG

Thélénie galloped to her house, without once drawing rein. As she rode into the courtyard, she almost over-turned her husband, who was just starting out for a walk, and had barely time to jump into the stable. Then she dropped the reins, jumped to the ground, tossed her crop in the face of the servant who stepped forward, and, still in a rage at having been forced to retreat, cried:

“Where is monsieur? where is he hiding? tell him to come to me instantly.”

Chamoureau made bold to put his head out of the stable.

“Here I am, my love,” he said; “I am here. Your infernal horse came near upsetting me! Is it possible you didn’t see that? Your horses are too restive, they’ll play you some bad trick one of these days. You look annoyed; have you had a fall?”

“Hold your tongue, monsieur! It’s natural for you to fall; you know nothing about bodily exercise!”

“What’s that? I know nothing about bodily exercise! Why, it seems to me that there are some kinds in which I——”

“I am furious, monsieur; I am exasperated!”

“The deuce!”

“Yes; for I have been insulted, outraged, laughed at! But it shall not pass off so! I must have reparation; and I look to you for that!”

Chamoureau, scenting a duel in what his wife had said, and feeling no vocation for that sort of amusement, was strongly tempted to return to the stable. He walked about the courtyard, muttering:

“I had something in hand; what in the devil did I have in hand?”

“Be kind enough to listen to me, monsieur. I tell you that your wife has been insulted!”

“Insulted! you! Madame de Belleville! That strikes me as most extraordinary, for everybody in the neighborhood bows to the ground before us. They don’t talk about anything else but the dinner we gave them. They think that you ride a horse like Madame Saqui, like the late Franconi, I should say; they shout ‘hurrah!’ when you pass, and they are constantly throwing bouquets to us.”

“That’s just the reason, monsieur, why it’s an outrage that a woman, a child and a dog should have formed a league against me!”

“What! it was a dog, and a woman, and a child, who had the audacity to insult you?” cried Chamoureau, recovering all his courage when he found that there was no man concerned in the affair. “Fichtre! bless my soul! vive Dieu! where are the rascals, pray, that I may punish them! I will whip the woman, I mean the child—no, I mean the dog; in fact, I will castigate all three of them.”

“When it comes to administering punishment, I shall not need you, monsieur; what I want of you is that you should make inquiries and find out, first, whom the child belongs to—a little boy of seven or eight, I should think, who looks like a little villain, and who threw stones at my horse.”

“Ah! I’ll chastise that little scamp. What! he dared! Really, there aren’t any children nowadays!”

“He was dressed in a short brown jacket, worn out at the elbows, and torn everywhere, dirty green breeches covered with patches, no stockings, shoes full of holes, and nothing on his head except a forest of black hair which gives him the look of an imp.”

“Is the little fellow a beggar?”

“He looks like it, but I don’t say that he begged of me. You are to find out whom he belongs to—what his parents do; then I will take it on myself to go to speak to them.”

“Very good; I understand perfectly. You don’t want me to whip the child?”

“Do nothing more than I tell you. Then there’s a dog, a monstrous dog.”

“Describe him, if you please.”

“Mon Dieu! monsieur, I can’t do it very well. I was on horseback and the dog tried to jump at me; I had to keep twisting and turning to avoid him. I think he was of the bull-dog breed; he was very large, and seemed very savage.”

“Peste! what a savage beast! Wasn’t he muzzled?”

“Of course not, as he bit my horse.”

“He is unlawfully at large; I will complain to the authorities and have him impounded.”

“Just find out whom he belongs to; I will attend to the rest.”

“That may be rather difficult; didn’t you notice any particular marks?”

“Oh! how you irritate me, monsieur!”

“I mean, didn’t he have any blanket on him? They put blankets on some dogs, just as they do on horses.”

“No, monsieur, he had nothing on him; he’s white with black spots. I presume that he belongs to the little boy’s parents, as he instantly undertook to defend him.”

“True; your conjecture is very just; if he belongs to the boy’s parents, the boy is his little master, and it was as such that he defended him.—Now let us come to the woman: some wretched peasant, I suppose?”

“No, monsieur, a lady; but I know who she is!”

“Ah! you know her, do you?”

“I don’t know her, but I divined who she was: that Madame Dalmont, for whom you bought a miserable shanty down here!”

“Indeed! Madame Dalmont, the protectress of young Agathe, with whom our friend Edmond Didier is in love.”

“Exactly. Did you hear how they talked about those two women at our party?”

“I heard—that is to say, no, I didn’t hear. What did they say about those two ladies?”

“That they were creatures unfit to be received in society; that they led a scandalous life here, receiving no one but men, and, it is believed, lodging them at night;—do you understand?”

“What! they let lodgings?—furnished?”

Thélénie shrugged her shoulders impatiently and left her husband, saying:

“Don’t forget what I have told you to do, monsieur!”

Chamoureau left the house by the fine avenue of lindens of which he was so proud. Reflecting on the instructions his wife had given him, he said to himself:

“I shall find the child; that ought not to be difficult. But as for the dog—it seems that he’s very savage; I’ll inquire about him, but I won’t try to come to close quarters with him. What’s the use; he’ll never admit his culpability toward my wife.”

Communing thus with himself, the new landed proprietor made slow progress, because he halted at every tree on the avenue, examined it and walked around it admiringly, murmuring:

“This fellow must be at least fifty years old—what do I say? eighty years! perhaps more! How in the devil can one tell the age of a tree? That’s something the geologists have never thought of—the arborists, I should say, or, better still, the wood-cutters. And yet it’s a very important matter. When a man can say: ‘I have on my estate several centuries of trees,’ that should add immensely to its value. Let us see, let us see; that is something worth finding out—how to tell the age of a tree! Suppose I should find it out! I should think that I might then offer myself as a candidate for the Academy; I should be justified!”

Engrossed by his study of the trees, Chamoureau had not noticed a man who had entered his avenue and was walking toward him, looking to right and left, like one who is determined to observe everything.

This individual, whose dress was modest and suggested poverty rather than elegance, had nevertheless an arrogant manner and a self-assured bearing; his dirty round hat was perched on the right side of his head in true swaggering style, and the thick stick which he held in his hand was made to perform evolutions and revolutions which might have led one to think that he had been a drum-major. Adding to all this the face of a bird of prey, you will at once recognize Croque, Thélénie’s brother, less dilapidated than at the time of his visit to his sister some months before, but not apparently in the most prosperous circumstances.

Croque approached Chamoureau, who, on raising his eyes, was vastly surprised to see within a few feet of him that gallows-bird, who tried to salute him gracefully, as he said:

“A thousand pardons, monsieur; but am I not on the estate of Monsieur and Madame de Belleville?”

“You are indeed, monsieur, for this avenue, with these superb lindens, also belongs to us; it forms a part of the domain which my wife and I recently purchased.”

“Ah! monsieur, from what I hear, it must be to Monsieur de Belleville himself, in his own person, that I have the great honor of presenting at this moment my most sincere respects and compliments.”

Chamoureau, highly flattered by the respectful tone in which the stranger addressed him, began to think that he was not so ugly after all; and, striking an attitude as if he were on a pedestal, he bowed and replied:

“Yes, monsieur, I am Cha—I am Monsieur de Belleville.”

“Who married Madame Sainte-Suzanne—a charming woman, of the utmost refinement, distinguished to her finger-tips, and with a most superior mind.”

“Well, well!” thought Chamoureau, “he speaks well of my wife! He’s the first one to do that!”

“However, monsieur,” continued Croque, “I do not need to praise your excellent wife to you; for since you have taken her for your cherished companion in life, you must have learned to appreciate her numerous good qualities and her admirable perfections.”

“Certainly, monsieur, I am acquainted with my wife’s perfections; she has superb eyes, jet-black hair———”

“Oh! monsieur, physically she is incomparably beautiful, beyond doubt, but the physique is nothing compared with the heart, the mind and the virtues! There are many beautiful women in the world, but such virtues as those of your good wife are less common—if I dared, I would say very rare!”

“Thélénie must have rendered this man some great service!” thought Chamoureau; “he discovers too many virtues in her; I am not acquainted with so many as that.—May I know with whom I have the honor of talking?” he said, turning to Croque.

Croque drew himself up, twirled his cane so rapidly that Chamoureau for a moment feared for his nose, and replied:

“I am the Baron von Schtapelmerg. I imagine that that name is not unknown to you, and that your wife must often have spoken to you of me?”

“Baron von—I beg your pardon?”

“Schtapelmerg.”

“Oh, yes! Schtapel—Yes, I have it.”

“You know me, do you not?”

“Faith! no; this is the first time I ever heard your name; otherwise I should have remembered it, as it’s rather uncommon!”

“You surprise me very much. What! Madame Sainte-Suzanne—I beg your pardon; I always think of her by that name.”

“There’s no harm done.”

“Has she forgotten her old friend, her devoted Schtapelmerg?”

“Were you a friend of hers?”

“Ah! monsieur!—a friend—in life and death! Twenty times I have fought for that charming woman!”

“You have fought for her?”

“I did little else at one time, monsieur; if anyone looked at her too closely, if anyone trod on her foot or tore her dress—instantly my sword was unsheathed. Ah! I am not given to jesting! I am very sensitive on the point of honor.—One! two! parry that thrust! pif! spitted!”

“Sapristi!” muttered Chamoureau, while Croque went through the motions of spitting a linden. “Here’s a man that I’ll never quarrel with! But he seems to be a friend to be relied on.”

“Lately, monsieur, after travelling in Bavaria, my native land, and visiting some of my numerous domains——”

As he said this, Croque pushed back under his coat sleeve a bit of ragged shirt which persisted in showing itself.

“I was saying that, on returning from one of my principalities, my first thought, on reaching Paris, was to call upon my noble and respected friend, Madame Sainte-Suzanne. There I learned that that most gracious woman had recently espoused a young, noble and fashionable gentleman, blessed with an immense fortune and with amiable qualities in proportion; I was told your name—Monsieur de Belleville!”

Chamoureau, who had appeared at first somewhat surprised to hear this individual in threadbare coat and rusty tile speak of his domains, forgot that seedy costume as soon as the words gentleman, fashionable, and amiable fell upon his ear. He was radiant, his face fairly beamed, and he extended his hand to the pretended baron, exclaiming:

“Monsieur de Schtapel—what’s your name——”

“Merg.”

“Yes, that’s it; I was afraid of pronouncing it wrong. My dear baron, as you are my wife’s friend, I venture to hope that you will consent to be mine also from this moment. It will be an honor and—the keenest satisfaction to me to offer you my friendship. Shake hands!”

“Ah! tarteiff! you are what I call a man! I judged you at the first glance; I said to myself: ‘Ten thousand cabbages! there’s a man who is worthy to be hitched up with Madame Sainte-Suzanne; they were born for each other!’—And you offer me your friendship! Sapreman! here’s my hand. Bah! these damned musketeer sleeves are intolerable; they get torn and soiled in an hour; no matter—here’s my hand. Now, if you have an enemy, if anyone has the misfortune to look askance at you—why, it no longer concerns you—it’s my affair—mine!”

“Oh! really, baron, I should not want you to go so far as that.”

“Nonsense! I tell you that it no longer concerns you; that’s the way I deal with my real friends! But I beg your pardon—you must realize my impatience; I would be glad to present my respects to Madame de Belleville.”

“That is quite natural; we will go to her. She has just come in from her ride, which she takes every morning. Do you know how well she rides?”

“Do I know? why, it was I who held her stirrup at the riding-school of—at the circus, in fact!”

“I shall have the pleasure of taking you to my wife.”

“Bless my soul! don’t put yourself out. You were going somewhere, and you mustn’t change your plans on my account. Madame is at the château; that’s enough for me; I will go alone.”

“No indeed! I shall be very glad to witness the joy which my wife cannot fail to feel when she sees you.—Come, baron, come.”

Croque would have preferred that Monsieur de Belleville should not be present at his first interview with his sister, but it was impossible to object. Moreover, after the conversation he had just had with his brother-in-law, he was justified in concluding that it was very easy to make him believe whatever one chose.

Thélénie had just changed her dress and was half reclining on a couch, when her husband entered her apartment, exclaiming from the outer room:

“My dear love, I am bringing someone whom you will be delighted to see, a visitor whom you did not expect, but who will give you great pleasure.”

Thélénie did not deign to turn her face toward the door, but contented herself with asking:

“Who is it? what’s the matter? whom have you brought?”

“Monsieur de Schtapelmerg.”

“Who’s he? Schtapelmerg! Where does he come from? I don’t know any such person.”

“She has forgotten your name, baron.”

“When madame hears my voice, I am quite sure that she will recognize me at once and will not ask again who I am.”

There was a shrill, strident tone in Croque’s voice which, in truth, made it easy to recognize; so that, as soon as he began to speak, Thélénie faced about abruptly, and, after examining him, exclaimed:

“What! is it you?”

“Yes, dear and noble lady; it is I, the Baron von Schtapelmerg, your old friend, who was always the most sincere and devoted of your servants. I have just had the honor of informing your highly honored husband, Monsieur de Belleville, of that fact, madame, having had the pleasure of meeting him on my way here; and I already entertain for him the most sincere esteem, having, at the first glance, seen that he is endowed with capacities of all sorts.”

Croque finished his harangue by bowing low to Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.

Thélénie had much difficulty in refraining from laughing in the faces of her husband and the pretended baron, especially when she saw Chamoureau press Croque’s hand warmly, saying:

“Faith, my dear baron, if I suit you, I can say without flattery that you are altogether to my taste, and that my wife could not have an acquaintance who would be more agreeable to me.”

“You hear, charming lady; now I am your husband’s friend too; and I like to believe that you have kept a little place warm for me in your heart. Tarteiff!”

“Certainly, Monsieur de—I cannot possibly remember your name.”

“Schtapelmerg—descended, I venture to say, from one of the most venerable families of Bavaria.”

“Yes, yes! I know it. But, my dear baron, allow me to tell you that you are really rather careless in the matter of dress! I know that a man pays little attention to such details when travelling; but upon my word, if I didn’t know you as I do, seeing you appear in this garb I should never have detected in you the true aristocrat.”

“I deserve the rebuke. Yes, I deserve it. I am dressed like a ragamuffin, that is true! You see, in the train, while I was dozing, a fellow traveller took my hat, which was quite new, and left me with this one. I didn’t notice it till I left the train.”

“There’s some very clever stealing done on railway trains,” said Chamoureau; “I myself, one day—that is to say, one evening—or rather it was just between daylight and dark; but there was a man——”

“I believe that we will postpone your story, monsieur,” said Thélénie, interrupting her husband. “But how about the things I gave you to do—have you attended to them?”

“Not yet, my sweet love; I was going out for that purpose, when I met the dear baron in the avenue of lindens. At that moment I was thinking of something very important—how old those magnificent trees probably are.”

“It seems to me, monsieur, that you will do better to think of my commissions—while I talk with this old friend, who has many things to tell me, no doubt.”

“Oh! yes, belle dame; I have to tell you about a lot of people, whom I met on my travels.”

“In that case, dear love, I will leave you to talk with the baron, to whom I will not say adieu, for I am sure that he will do us the honor to dine with us, and even to pass a few days with us.”

“I ask nothing better, ten thousand cabbages! I will stay as long as you choose; this must be a good place to loaf!”

Thélénie flashed an angry glance at her brother; the words loaf and ten thousand cabbages seemed sadly out of place in the mouth of a Bavarian baron.

But, at a gesture from her, Chamoureau made haste to leave the room, after pressing Herr Schtapelmerg’s hand once more.

“Faith, my dear girl,” said Croque, when his brother-in-law had disappeared, “there’s nobody like you for picking up men of this bake! if you had ‘em made expressly, they wouldn’t be any better! And rich, very rich, with it all—so I understand. My compliments, madame; a most excellent marriage!”

“There is no doubt that my dear husband must be a great simpleton to believe the fable you told him. You must have plenty of cheek to present yourself as a baron, dressed as you are!”

“I never lack cheek, you know!”

“How did you learn that I was here?”

“We idlers always know everything that’s going on. I am sufficiently interested in you not to lose sight of you. I was told that you had made a rich marriage, and I soon learned that you called yourself Madame de Belleville! Very pretty! very coquettish! It was not hard to find out the rest!”

“What is your object in coming here?”

“In the first place to inquire for your health and congratulate you on your marriage; secondly——”

“To ask me for more money?”

“What the devil do you expect? Living’s so dear!”

“Have you spent already the thousand francs I gave you some time ago?”

“Oh! they’re a long way off. In the first place, I paid debts, settled with tradesmen; that ruined me. I can’t bear to have debts! In that respect I carry delicacy to the point of absurdity, perhaps. However, a man can’t make himself over, so I never borrow; especially as no one would lend me.”

Having satisfied herself that they were quite alone, Thélénie went back to Croque, who had thrown himself into an easy-chair and stretched himself out as if he proposed to go to sleep.

“Listen, Croque,” she said; “I am willing to give you money again,—to come to your assistance, but you must do something for me.”

“Whatever you choose, I will do! I am at your service, and you know my talents.”

“There are two women whom I hate and detest; one of them is my rival, the other has insulted me; and they live together.”

“Very good. Where do they live?”

“Here, in this very village; they occupy a small house—quite isolated; I will show it to you.”

“You let me know what you want, and things will move; express train, no stops!”

“Oh! we must act prudently; I don’t know yet what I shall do; the main point now is for you to establish yourself in this place.”

“Am I not all right here in your house?”

“No; you may come here, but it will be better for our plans that you should have lodgings elsewhere. First of all, to act up to the character you have assumed, you must begin by dressing differently. I receive a great many people here, and everybody isn’t as stupid——”

“As your husband?”

“Exactly. Here are five hundred francs to replenish your wardrobe. Return to Paris and get yourself suitable clothes.”

“Never fear; I shall be superb!”

“And when you speak, don’t drop into slang, as you did just now.”

“There are some people in the best society who talk slang—as a joke. It’s admissible.”

“Don’t swear by ten thousand cabbages! that’s horribly vulgar!”

“I should say that it was extremely German.”

“And then, don’t be forever playing the windmill with your cane; you look like a merry-andrew.”

“Enough, beautiful princess; I will be perfumed, curled and corseted; in fact, I will be very comme il faut in my dress as in my speech.”

“Very good; go back to Paris and come here to-morrow with a proper wardrobe.”

“I will be very chic. So I don’t dine here to-day?”

“No; you will need time to make your purchases, and you must come back to-morrow.”

“But what about that dear De Belleville, who counts on finding me here?”

“Oh! don’t let that disturb you; I will tell him that you absolutely insisted on going to Paris to change your clothes.”

“’Tis well; I go then, and I return to-morrow.”

“Yes; and I will set about finding you a little place near by.”

“Au revoir then. To-morrow the Baron von Schtapelmerg will do credit to Madame de Belleville.”

Croque took leave of Thélénie, went away by the avenue of lindens, and, overjoyed to have five hundred francs in his pocket, could not resist the temptation to play the windmill with his cane.