Volume 14 / Part 2 — XIII THE WARNING

Edmond had been in Paris several days, because he had been led to hope that he would be appointed to a place to which a handsome salary was attached; he had gone through all the manoeuvring that is indispensable when one is seeking employment. And then the place had finally been given to another, who had taken very little pains to obtain it, but who had the patronage of a petticoat.

Edmond returned to Chelles, to Agathe, who saw by the expression of his eyes that he had been disappointed.

“You have failed to obtain the place that you expected, haven’t you, Monsieur Edmond? Well, you must not be cast down on that account; we can afford to wait, it seems to me. I am so happy, now that my dear good friend has said that I shall be your wife, that I feel as if I could not be any happier.”

Edmond did not feel the same way, and he could not restrain a sigh; but he kissed Agathe’s hand and promised to be patient.

The girl lost no time in telling her friend what there was new at Chelles since he went away.

“You must know, Monsieur Edmond, that a fine estate on the other side of the town, known as Goldfish Villa, has recently been sold. The people who have bought it are very rich, so they say; they have carriages and saddle horses. They have already given a great dinner, to which all the principal land owners of the neighborhood were invited; so that nobody speaks of them now without a reverence.”

“I presume they called on you to invite you?”

“No indeed!” cried Honorine; “we have only a tiny house! We are not worthy to be admitted to such dazzling heights!”

“What you tell me gives me a very low opinion of these people to begin with. Are they young?”

“Yes!—that is to say, we have seen only the wife; but it seems that the husband is young too. As for the lady, she is very good-looking, a brunette with black eyes and an elegant figure; and she rides superbly.”

“She rides, you say?”

“She does nothing else, and she passes our house every day.”

“Yes, and one day when I was at the window of the little summer-house at the end of the garden, she stared at me so persistently! Oh! I am quite sure that she will know me again.”

“Probably she didn’t expect to find such a sweet face in this part of the country.”

“I don’t know what she expected, but her manner of staring at me was not at all agreeable.”

“And I,” added Honorine with a laugh, “nearly had a duel with her.”

“A duel! this is worse and worse! How came you to quarrel with this woman?”

“I was out on the road and I heard shrieks; it was that little boy we have told you about—the lost child, as he is called by the peasants—whom the beautiful amazon was thrashing with her hunting crop because he didn’t get out of her way quickly enough. Naturally I took the child’s part, which made the lady very angry with me. I must confess that the boy put himself in the wrong by throwing a lump of earth which struck the horse in the head; he reared, and his rider was furious. I don’t know what she would not have done to little Emile if a defender had not arrived in the person of Ami, Monsieur Paul’s dog, who bravely championed the cause of the weaker, and forced the amazon to beat a retreat. Since that day Ami comes very often to see us; he has no difficulty in making us hear, for he scratches, or rather knocks, at the small garden gate, until it is opened; he passes a quarter of an hour with us, then goes back to the little gate and gives us to understand that he wants it opened; he looks at us both, sitting down in front of us, and offering us his paw like an old friend. That is by way of bidding us adieu, and then he trots off without further delay.”

“And his master?”

“His master doesn’t come himself, but he allows his dog to come; that is a good deal for him.”

“I should be very glad to see that man; what you have told me about him has aroused my curiosity.”

“We very rarely meet him; but it is probable that you will soon see Madame de Belleville.”

“Madame de Belleville, did you say?”

“Yes, that’s the name of the newcomers who have made so much stir. Do you know them?”

Freluchon had once told Edmond that Chamoureau called himself Monsieur de Belleville; but Thélénie’s former lover had paid no attention. And yet the name sounded familiar to him; he tried to recall where and when he had heard it.

“Well,” continued Agathe, “you don’t answer me. I asked you if you knew Monsieur and Madame de Belleville?”

“I am trying to think, mademoiselle; the name is not unfamiliar to me.”

“Try hard; something tells me that you do know that lady.”

“What can make you think that, dear Agathe?” asked Honorine.

“The extraordinary way in which she stared at me.”

“Really?—Then I hope to see her soon, in order to be able to tell you that you are mistaken.”

“Tutu—turlututu.”

“Ah! here’s Père Ledrux,” said Honorine. “Well! did you carry off the black hen?”

“Yes, madame; and not a minute too soon! She was making the others as bad as herself. We shall have to watch now and see if the rooster hasn’t taken a spite against another one. Because, you see, when the rooster is down on a hen, he thrashes her till she dies—and that makes the others feel bad.”

“Really, Père Ledrux, I wouldn’t have believed that there were so many crimes committed in a hencoop.”

“Oh, yes! and everywhere else. Animals, you see, they ain’t any better or worse than us humans; they hate each other and they fight!”

Agathe had become pensive; Edmond meanwhile was wondering if Madame de Belleville could possibly be Thélénie.

The gardener, who loved to gossip, continued:

“This little place of ours is getting well filled up; and more swells, too—a baron! nothing less.”

“What do you say, Père Ledrux? there’s a baron in the village?”

“Just that—a real baron, who’s hired a little belvedere within a couple of days; it’s about the size of a dovecote, but Monsieur Remplumé calls it a belvedere. It’s right at one end of his land, and he’s let it to this German baron, who’s an intimate friend, so they say, of the owners of the confectioner’s place, or Goldfish Villa; he’s dined there twice already.”

“Why, you know everything, Père Ledrux.”

“I tell you! I’ve seen the baron walking arm-in-arm with Monsieur de Belleville. So then I says to myself: ‘It seems that they know each other and are good friends.’”

“What sort of looking man is this German?”

“Well! he’s neither young nor old; he ain’t much to look at; in fact, he’s terrible homely; but he’s got rings on his fingers, gold fal-lals on his watch chain, and a fine cane with a gold head too. Oh! he looks as if he was well fixed. Monsieur Remplumé says he’s a nobleman from the Bavarian country.”

“And his name?”

“Wait a minute; it’s a hard name to pronounce; Baron j’tape—and then a merg! I could never get the name right. But look, I see him now on the road—yes, here comes this newly-arrived baron, walking with Madame de Belleville. If you want to get a look at them, all you’ve got to do is to go up to your little summer-house.”

“Really, it’s too good an opportunity to lose. Come, Monsieur Edmond,” said Honorine; “you shall see Madame de Belleville and this newcomer who, we are told, is a German baron.”

The party entered the little summer-house and went to the window. Thélénie, who was on foot this time, was walking very slowly, talking with her brother, but she had not taken his arm.

Croque was dressed in a brand-new black redingote and trousers; his boots were polished, his hat, although cocked over his ear, was new and glossy; he wore kid gloves, on which he kept his eyes fixed, and well-starched shirt-cuffs, which he made haste to pull down when they disappeared under his sleeves.

They were walking quite slowly and Thélénie seemed to be speaking with much earnestness. Croque, as he listened to her, strutted proudly along in his new clothes, and twirled his cane.

Although they were still at some distance from the window at which he was standing, Edmond instantly recognized Thélénie. Noticing his momentary embarrassment, Agathe said to him:

“I guessed right, did I not? You know that lady?”

“Yes, I think that I have met her and her husband; I knew her husband the better of the two.”

“Ah! her husband. Well, why do you leave the window? are you afraid to have her see you with us?”

“Oh! mademoiselle, everywhere, before the whole world, I should be proud and happy to be seen with you.”

“Very well! then stay at the window. She is coming near now; we shall see whether she will stare at you as she stared at me.”

“Bless my soul!” cried Honorine; “I don’t know whether that man is a great German nobleman, but he certainly is very ugly! and he cuts a most curious figure!”

Thélénie, although she pretended not to look in the direction of the summer-house, saw that there were people at the window; she touched Croque’s arm and whispered:

“Look carefully; there are those women.”

“I see; but there’s a young man with them.”

“A young man!”

Thélénie looked up and saw Edmond. Her face became ghastly pale. But, making a mighty effort to conceal her emotion, she stopped in front of the summer-house, bowed to the young man and said with a gracious smile:

“Why! it’s Monsieur Edmond Didier! I am delighted to meet you here. I hope that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you occasionally. We have bought a place here and mean to stay all summer.”

Edmond bowed very coldly, but made no reply.

Thereupon the beautiful brunette nodded her head to him very familiarly, and, as if she had not noticed the two ladies who were present, turned to Croque and said:

“Come, my dear baron, we must walk faster; my husband will not know what has become of us; he must be worried.—Au revoir, Monsieur Edmond!”

The pretended baron raised his hat and bowed very respectfully as he passed the window, muttering:

“Bigre! a pretty morsel, that young blonde! I wouldn’t object at all to that game!”

“Very well! take her, I give her to you,” said Thélénie, contracting her heavy eyebrows.

“You give her to me? that’s all right, so far as it goes. But unfortunately she isn’t at your disposal.”

“Can it be that Croque has lost all his imagination, ingenuity, audacity? Make a conquest of that girl, I tell you, and on the day that you furnish me with proof that you have succeeded,—that she has yielded,—I’ll give you three thousand francs!”

“Three thousand francs and such a sweet little phiz to win! I’ll do it or forfeit my name; not Schtapelmerg, but my real name.”

“What a brazen air that woman has!” said Agathe, when the brother and sister had disappeared. “She spoke to you just as if you were alone; she didn’t condescend even to bow to us. Shall you go to her house?”

“Oh no! no, indeed! I assure you that I haven’t the slightest intention of doing so.”

“Why, you are unreasonable, Agathe,” said Honorine; “if Monsieur Edmond is intimate with this lady’s husband, why do you wish him not to go to their house?”

“I knew Chamoureau before he married that woman, madame; now——”

“Chamoureau? why, that is the name of the real estate agent to whom we went to buy this house, and who would never have done anything about it, I fancy, but for you.”

“Just so, madame; he is the very man, who, after inheriting twenty thousand francs a year, married Madame Sainte-Suzanne.”

“What! he is the husband of that magnificent amazon? But in that case her name is Madame Chamoureau.”

“To be sure.”

“And why does she call herself De Belleville?”

“Because the name of Chamoureau did not seem to her sufficiently distinguished.”

“Ha! ha! ha! this is delicious! What a discovery! Just let her stare at me so obstinately again, and I’ll say: ‘Has Madame Chamoureau anything to say to me?’”

“That would be the best way to put her to flight, I assure you! But you must excuse her; she is bewildered by the position she occupies; and the high and mighty airs she assumes prove how unused she is to her newly-acquired wealth.”

Night had come, and Edmond remained at Madame Dalmont’s to dinner. In the bottom of his heart he was displeased to find Thélénie in the same place with the girl he loved; something whispered to him that his love for Agathe was one of the motives which had brought his former mistress to Chelles. He was conscious of a vague uneasiness; for that woman had sworn to be revenged upon him, and he knew that she was capable of defying heaven and earth to keep her oath.

However, Edmond did his utmost to conceal his pre-occupation, but it is difficult to dissemble successfully before the eyes of those who love us. Agathe’s eyes often rested on the young man, and she sighed as she said to herself:

“How that woman smiled at him! how she looked at him!”

Suddenly Honorine’s attention was attracted by a scratching as of claws, and blows on the small garden gate.

“I will wager that Ami has come to see us!” she cried.

“He doesn’t usually come in the evening,” said Agathe.

“No matter; it is he, I am sure.”

And the young woman hastened to the gate which opened into the fields.

It was in fact Ami who had knocked; he rushed into the garden, then ran back to Honorine and gambolled about her. She put her hand on the dog’s head, saying:

“What, Ami! is it you? so late? How does it happen that you come to Chelles in the evening? Is your master in the neighborhood?”

Ami listened attentively, then ran into the living-room on the ground floor, where Agathe and Edmond were.

“Honorine was right,” said the girl, as she went to pat Ami, “it is Monsieur Paul’s dog—the owner of the Tower. Make his acquaintance, my dear; he is very fond of me, and I am sure that he will love you too.—Come, Ami, look at Monsieur Edmond. Do you see, I put my hand in his, to show you that you must love him as you do me. Come, give me your paw; that’s right; and let monsieur shake hands with you.”

Ami looked earnestly at Edmond, but his eyes were full of kindliness, and he did exactly what Agathe told him.

“Now I am happy,” she cried; “for you may be sure, Monsieur Edmond, that you have now a new friend, who will be perfectly well able to defend you, if he should see that you were in danger.”

“It is very strange, however, that the dog should come so late to call upon us,” said Honorine; “it makes me feel uncomfortable. Do you suppose that his master is sick—that he has come to ask for help?”

“Oh! my dear, you are very foolish to be alarmed; just see how lively and contented Ami is! If he were the bearer of bad news, he wouldn’t play about us like this.”

“I agree with mademoiselle,” said Edmond. A moment later, he added: “It’s a very dismal thing to call one’s fiancée ‘mademoiselle.’ Don’t you think so, madame?”

Honorine smiled, while Agathe hastily rejoined:

“And I think it’s horrible to say ‘monsieur’!—It’s so ceremonious, monsieur!”

“Well! what prevents you from calling each other Agathe and Edmond simply?”

“Oh! madame! have we your permission?”

“I see no harm in it, when you are engaged.”

“Oh! what joy, my dear good friend! How sweet it will be, Edmond!—Do you hear, Monsieur Edmond?”

“No more ‘monsieur,’ dear Agathe!”

“True; but one dares not begin all at once. Never mind; I shall soon get used to calling you Edmond—just Edmond.”

“And I—Agathe, my beloved Agathe!”

“Oh! monsieur, my dear friend didn’t sanction the ‘beloved’!”

“But she didn’t forbid it, mademoiselle!”

“Well, well! now he’s calling me ‘mademoiselle’ again!”

“You called me ‘monsieur.’”

“Hush, child!” cried Honorine; “someone knocked at the garden gate.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Agathe.

“I am certain that there’s someone there; and see, Ami is running in that direction, and he doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Who can come so late?”

“Late! why, it isn’t nine o’clock.”

“That is late for the country; we will go with you and see who it is. Poucette is singing upstairs and did not hear.”

“Stay here; I’m not afraid; besides, Ami is with me.”

Honorine soon reached the end of the little garden. The dog was jumping against the gate, wagging his tail and uttering short, joyous little yelps. There was no possibility of mistake as to the person who was outside, and Honorine soon found herself face to face with the owner of the Tower.

“Excuse me, madame,” said Paul, as he raised his hat to the young woman. “It is rather late for me to call upon you; but I have been to see Guillot’s family and the good people kept me longer than I thought; time passes so quickly with those who are glad to see one! When I left them I discovered that Monsieur Ami had deserted me. I thought that there was no other house but yours in this part of the country, to which he could have come, and I see that I was not mistaken.—Really, madame, I am afraid that the dog is a nuisance to you; his visits are becoming too frequent; you must send him away when he is unwelcome.”

“No, monsieur, we shall not send him away, because we are fond of him and his visits give us pleasure.—But will not you, monsieur, pass through this gate? shall we never have a visit from anybody but your dog?”

Ami’s master replied by entering the garden, and Honorine was conscious of a feeling of gratification which she did not try to conceal.

She escorted her guest to the living-room, where Agathe and Edmond had remained. The former sprang to her feet when she saw Paul, exclaiming:

“Oh! this is a pleasant surprise, monsieur!”

“You must not thank monsieur too much,” said Honorine; “if Ami had not come to see us, I fancy that monsieur would never have honored us with a visit.”

“Madame——”

“But it is wrong of me to say that.—You do not like society, and you lay aside your habits to-day, in our favor; we should be very grateful to you for it.”

Paul had remained in the doorway, looking at Edmond, whom he had not previously met.

“Allow me,” said Honorine, “to present Monsieur Edmond Didier; he is the only person who comes now and then to enliven our solitude; but he is entitled to do so, for he loves Agathe, and I have promised to let them marry when they are a little more sensible.”

Paul’s brow seemed to brighten; he bowed to Edmond and took the seat that Honorine offered him.

The conversation was a little cold and intermittent at first; but before long Switzerland was mentioned, and Italy; the owner of the Tower had travelled extensively, he described vividly the different countries he had visited, interspersing his narrative with curious anecdotes, incidents that had happened to him on the road and in public houses. And he told it all without ostentation, simply and with a facility that fascinated his hearers. The moments passed and no one thought of the time.

Suddenly Paul stopped, as if ashamed of having monopolized the general attention so long.

“I am afraid that I have abused your patience and bored you,” he said. “Forgive me; you see how dangerous it is to receive one who has been a long while without talking.”

“We should be very happy,” replied Honorine, “if you would come sometimes and bore us in this same way. It must be very sad to live alone all the time, to see no one. Are you a misanthrope?”

“I have abundant reason to be.”

“And you are determined to see only evil-minded persons about you?”

“Ah! I no longer say that, madame!”

“And will it always be necessary for your dog to come here in order to induce you to honor us with a visit?”

Paul was about to reply, when the dog, who up to that time had lain quietly at his feet, suddenly raised his head, pricked up his ears and gave a low, prolonged growl.

“Well, well! what is it, Ami?” said Agathe; “are you tired of staying with us? do you want to go?”

The dog seemed to be listening, and in a moment began to growl again.

“This is strange!” said Paul, “there must be a cause for this exhibition of temper on Ami’s part; his eyes are blazing and his hair is standing on end.”

Ami left the room abruptly and rushed into the garden, barking violently.

“There certainly is something wrong,” said Edmond; “perhaps some nocturnal prowler is passing the house.”

They had all followed the dog, which continued to bark, rushing against the wall, as if he wished to scale it.

“Mon Dieu! are we surrounded by robbers?” exclaimed Honorine.

“This is very extraordinary!” said Paul; “I have never seen him in such a fit of anger; he is ordinarily content to bark at people whom he doesn’t like or doesn’t know. But see what a frenzy he is in now; it is impossible to pacify him—he won’t listen to me.”

Ami ascended the steps leading to the summer-house, and from there he leaped over the wall, and darted along the road. Paul hurried to the gate and started in pursuit of his dog. Edmond would have followed him, but the two ladies held him back, for they were afraid and unwilling to be left without a protector.