Volume 14 / Part 2 — XVIII THE BEGINNING OF A FÊTE

As she approached the village, Thélénie’s terror rapidly vanished and her schemes of vengeance acquired new force in her mind.

“How that man treated me!” she thought; “how contemptuously he drove me from his presence! Ah! if I ever have an opportunity to show him how I hate him, I will not let it slip.—Shall I mention this meeting to Croque? No! He would be afraid of dog and master alike, and would be quite capable of flying the country on the instant; I must, on the contrary, conceal from him the fact that Duronceray lives in the neighborhood.”

Many people from Paris, who had been invited for the whole day, had already arrived at Goldfish Villa. Mademoiselle Héloïse was of the number, as well as several others of Thélénie’s old friends, before whom she was very glad to parade her new splendor.

Chamoureau, who was unacquainted with most of his wife’s guests, was greatly embarrassed in doing the honors of his house to so many people, and was impatiently awaiting Thélénie’s return.

At last the majestic equestrian appeared and her husband ran to meet her, crying:

“Hurry, hurry, my dear love! More than twenty people have come already, and I don’t know any of them, except Mademoiselle Héloïse, whom I know a little. I have no idea how to entertain so many people.”

“Why, monsieur, you must tell everyone to do what he pleases; no sort of restraint; that’s how people amuse themselves in the country. Isn’t the baron here, to help you to do the honors?”

“Monsieur de Schtapelmerg is playing, madame; he’s an indefatigable gambler, you know. Whenever he can get hold of anybody to play with him, he goes at it. At this moment he is at a game of billiards with Monsieur Luminot, who has just arrived; and the baron is making some magnificent shots.”

“I hope, monsieur, that you won’t both drink too much to-day as you did yesterday; I understand that the baron fell into a mud-hole.”

“Not at all; he slipped, made a misstep; that may happen to anybody.”

“For shame, monsieur! the idea of a man who has a fine house, and horses and carriages, getting tipsy like any porter!”

“I swear, madame——”

“If the baron doesn’t behave better, I’ll turn him out of doors.”

“Turn Monsieur de Schtapelmerg, your old friend, out of doors!”

“Well, well! I must go and dress. Send Héloïse to me.”

“What! my dear love, aren’t you coming to the salon to receive your guests?”

“The idea of my appearing in this costume! that would be very nice.”

“Ah, yes! that’s true; you are in your riding habit. Why, your back’s all covered with dirt! did you fall?”

“I never fall from my horse; I leave that for you to do! Have Monsieur Edmond and Monsieur Freluchon arrived?”

“Not yet; I imagine that they won’t come till evening. By the way, my dear love, I have something to tell you that will please you.”

“Later, monsieur; I haven’t time to listen to you at this moment.”

And Thélénie went up to her apartment, while Chamoureau said to himself:

“I’ll tell her that by-and-by, at table; at the same time that I tell her of my invention, my marvellous invention for ascertaining the age of trees.—Ah! that will confer honor on me, and will cause my name to be handed down to posterity!”

Chamoureau returned to the salon rubbing his hands, and with such a self-satisfied air, that Doctor Antoine, who had just arrived, and who had his share of curiosity, at once went up to him and asked him the reason.

“You have received some pleasant news, I’ll be bound, Monsieur de Belleville,” he said; “rubbing one’s hands is always a sign of satisfaction, unless it means that one is cold. But as this is August and the weather is fine, it can hardly be the last reason that makes you rub yours.—Some little surprise you are arranging for the fête, eh? Tell me what it is; I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

“My dear doctor, I am in truth rather well pleased with myself; but my satisfaction has nothing to do with our fête; I have two reasons for it, in fact, I may say three. In the first place, after long and fatiguing studies, I have succeeded in making a discovery which will be of great benefit to science.”

“What! are you interested in science, Monsieur de Belleville?”

“I am interested in everything, doctor; I am always meditating, although I may not have that appearance.”

“Really! And this scientific discovery has a bearing upon hygiene?”

“What did you say?”

“I asked you if it related to hygiene, to therapeutics—in short, if it is a discovery of interest to the medical profession?”

“Oh! not at all, doctor; there’s not the least bit of medicine in my discovery. It is—you won’t mention it to anybody yet?”

“I will be dumb.”

“It’s a method of ascertaining, the moment you look at a tree, how old it is.”

“Oho! one can tell pretty nearly now, by observing the size of the trunk and the lines of the bark; but one can never be quite sure; it is only probable.”

“Well, thanks to me, doctor, there will be no more doubt, no more guessing; we can be absolutely sure of not making a mistake of a month, or even of a day!”

“This strikes me as a very interesting thing; how in the devil do you go to work to determine it with such certainty?”

“Ah! that is my secret, but I will disclose it at dinner; I am keeping it for dessert, as well as a pleasant surprise I am arranging for my wife.”

“You might tell me now.”

“No; I want the effect I produce to be universal.—But excuse me; I see Monsieur and Madame Droguet, I must go to receive them.—Ah! there’s Freluchon too. This is very good of him; he didn’t promise to come to dinner. When I say that it’s good of him, I mean, if he doesn’t call me Chamoureau!”

Freluchon had arrived among the first, because he was very curious to see the company that assembled at his old friend’s house since he had married the fair Thélénie. The specimen that he had met the preceding evening, in the person of the Baron von Schtapelmerg, had simply redoubled his curiosity; moreover, he had determined to keep an eye upon that gentleman, of whose titles of nobility he was exceedingly suspicious.

As for Croque, he had been severely reprimanded by his sister for getting drunk the night before, and had promised to be abstemious, to watch himself closely, to refrain from swearing and to let his cane alone. On these conditions, plus an irreproachable costume, she gave him permission to play; she even gave him carte blanche if he should happen to play with Edmond. But he was expressly forbidden to cheat with any other of the guests.

All the large landowners and all the leading inhabitants of the neighborhood were assembled in the salons of Goldfish Villa. They awaited impatiently the appearance of Madame de Belleville, who had not yet completed her toilet. To pass the time they talked and criticised their neighbors, according to immemorial usage. The guests who had come from Paris made sport of the figures, the costumes and the bonnets of the local celebrities; the latter whispered together and agreed that the tone and manners and language of the ladies from Paris were decidedly free.

However, as almost all of these last had inserted a de in their names, and as their dresses were in the extreme of fashion, these remarks were made in very low tones and did not prevent a profusion of curtsies and profound reverences on both sides.

“How are you, my dear fellow!” cried Freluchon, shaking Chamoureau’s hand; “the devil! but this is simply gorgeous! These salons are magnificent, and the furniture in the best taste! To be sure, I see some amusing faces. Oh I what a queer lot! I think we shall have some sport!”

“Freluchon, I beg you, don’t make fun of anyone!”

“You are delightful, really! What difference does it make to you, if I have a little fun at the expense of that yellow, wizened-up old fellow in the corner, or of that bulky dame yonder, provided that they don’t detect it? Don’t you know that one-half of the world makes sport of the other half?”

“I have never made sport of anybody.”

“Yes, you have; you made sport of us when you pretended to weep for Eléonore.”

“It seems to me, Freluchon, that the time is ill chosen to remind me of the past!”

“Then let me laugh at the present. By the way, I recognize the stout party yonder; it was she who shut her door in my face one night when I went there to ask for Edmond.”

“That is Madame Droguet, a person in very comfortable circumstances.”

“She doesn’t look as if she were comfortable in her corsets! Poor soul! she has tried to make her waist small! Who’s that little fellow behind her, standing on one leg the way canaries do when they sleep?”

“That is her husband; he is crazy over dancing.”

“It will give me pleasure to see him dance.—But where’s your wife?”

“She is dressing; she spends a long time at her toilet; she keeps people waiting a good while.”

“Because she wants to produce a great effect when she finally appears.—And the baron of last evening, Monsieur de Schtapelmerg?”

“He is playing billiards.”

“Is he drunk again as he was yesterday?—You were both pretty bad.”

“Oh! Freluchon, don’t go back to that, I beg you!”

“If you refuse to let me laugh, I’ll call you Chamoureau.—Come, come, be calm, my friend; I don’t mean to make you wretched—I will leave that to your stunning spouse.—I am going to join Monsieur Thousand Sauerkrauts; that is a man I am most desirous to know more intimately.”

While Freluchon betook himself to the billiard room, Doctor Antoine went from one to another of the persons whom he knew, and whispered:

“Monsieur de Belleville has a surprise in store for the dinner.”

“What is it, doctor?”

“I can’t tell; he has discovered a method of telling the exact age of a tree simply by examining the trunk.”

“Really! how on earth does he do it?”

“Ah! that is what he is going to tell us at dinner.”

“Why at dinner, pray? are we going to have trees for dessert?”

“I have told you all I know.”

“I would never have believed that Monsieur de Belleville would discover anything.”

“It seems that he isn’t such a fool as he looks.”

These last reflections came from the groups formed by the guests from Paris. Meanwhile the report that the master of the house had made an interesting discovery quickly spread through all the rooms, and reached the ears of Freluchon, who had renewed his acquaintance with the Baron von Schtapelmerg.

It was Monsieur Jarnouillard who said to them:

“It seems that Monsieur de Belleville is a man of great talent—a profound student, deeply versed in the abstract sciences!”

“Whom are you talking about?” cried Freluchon.

“Of our host, Monsieur de Belleville.”

“You call Chamoureau a learned man?”

“Who is Chamoureau? where do you find a Chamoureau?”

“I find him here; that is Monsieur de Belleville’s former name.”

“Ah! I didn’t know that circumstance.”

“It makes no difference.—Why do you say that he’s a profound student?”

“Because he has discovered the secret of telling the age of a tree simply by looking at the trunk.”

“So! he has discovered that, has he? But look you; when he says to a tree: ‘Your age is thus and so,’ the tree can’t contradict him.”

“True! I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So you see that there’s no great merit in that; but you are mistaken—it’s not the age of trees, but the age of women that the master of this house has the knack of guessing at first sight.”

“By examining the trunk?”

“Oh! I don’t say what he examines; but if by the trunk you mean the torso, it may be that.”

“Oh! that is much more amusing! And he never gets a year out of the way?”

“Not a week!”

“Pardieu! that is likely to lead to some very amusing revelations! What in the devil did Doctor Antoine mean by telling us that it was a matter of trees?”

“He must have heard wrong.”

“I must go at once to the ladies and correct his mistake.”

Monsieur Jarnouillard instantly sought his wife, who was talking with Mesdames Remplumé and Droguet, and said to them:

“It isn’t trees that Monsieur de Belleville tells the age of without ever making a mistake, just by examining the trunk; it’s women.—So beware, mesdames! I felt I ought to warn you; he is never a week wrong!”

“What is Monsieur Jarnouillard talking about?” exclaimed Madame Droguet; “Monsieur de Belleville tells our age by examining what?”

“He says the trunk.”

“What is the meaning of such indecency? Just let him try examining anything of mine and telling me how old I am—he’ll get a warm welcome!”

“If I was certain that that’s what we were invited here for,” said Madame Remplumé, “I would go away this minute!”

“Tell us our ages! the impertinent fellow! It would be very smart of him, for I don’t know my own age.”

“Nor I either, my dear friend! As if a woman ever needed to know her age! Nobody but a concierge ever does, and that depends on the neighborhood.”

The arrival of the mistress of the house put an end to all this tittle-tattle.

Thélénie was superb; her dress was gorgeous; her novel, original method of arranging her beautiful black hair was voted admirable, especially as some beautiful pearls and diamonds were scattered through it and produced a marvellously brilliant effect.

Never had her lovely black eyes shone with a brighter gleam, never had her smile embodied more seduction; and so, when she appeared in the salon, a concert of eulogistic remarks arose on all sides, and even Freluchon himself could not help thinking:

“She is a magnificent creature, and no mistake: fine figure, fine costume, fine face! What a pity that her heart doesn’t correspond! I know that that is of no consequence in the eyes of many people, who care for nothing in a woman except what excites their senses and flatters their self-esteem. But when one has studied them a little, one knows all the harm that a woman can do to whom nature has given everything except a heart! Their power is immense! To be sure it lasts but one season; but that season is long enough for them to do much harm—and sometimes, from caprice, a little good.”

Thélénie had a smile for all, an affable glance for this one, a compliment for that one; upon her arrival in the midst of her guests, her salons were transformed, and gayety and animation superseded the ennui which had begun to make headway. One bright woman is enough to effect such a miracle.

Madame de Belleville proposed a walk in the garden, where divers games had been arranged for the amusement of the company; and she set the example by leading the ladies thither. The ex-vivandière seized the opportunity to say to her hostess in an undertone:

“My dear and lovely Madame de Belleville, is it true that your husband has discovered the secret of divining a woman’s age and telling it at once, simply by examining her corsets?”

“Oh! madame, who can have told you such a thing?” said Thélénie, laughing heartily; “and how could you believe it? Who has been telling you this fairy tale?”

“Monsieur Jarnouillard told it to us as a positive fact; Monsieur de Belleville is to make his experiments during dinner.”

“Ha! ha! what an excellent joke!”

“Jarnouillard!—Come here a moment. From whom did you get this story concerning Monsieur de Belleville’s secret relative to women’s ages?”

The lank, yellow, ugly miser looked around and pointed to Freluchon, crying:

“From that young man from Paris over there.”

“Oh! then I am not surprised,” said Thélénie; “that is Monsieur Freluchon; his one delight is to laugh and make jokes.”

“I call it very ridiculous!” said Madame Droguet.

Thélénie went up to the diminutive young man and bestowed a gracious smile on him.

“You caused those ladies a terrible fright, Monsieur Freluchon!” she said.

“I, madame? how so?”

“By making them believe that my husband has a secret method of telling all their ages.”

“Isn’t it true? Isn’t that what Cha—that your husband guesses?”

“No; it’s the age of trees, not of women.”

“Frankly, I thought that it was much more agreeable to investigate the age of the fair sex! I should never have imagined that my friend Cha—de Belleville would have taken an interest in any other study. Excuse the mistake—it is quite natural.”

“Did Monsieur Edmond Didier come with you?”

“No, madame.”

“Shall we see him this evening?”

“I think so—unless he cannot make up his mind to quit his love-making; for he is passionately in love, you know—the dear fellow!”

Thélénie with difficulty repressed a nervous gesture; but she found it more difficult to mask the threatening expression which passed over her face and which Freluchon did not fail to observe, although she affected to smile as she murmured:

“Yes, so I have been told. But Monsieur Edmond has been in love so often! it is never a serious matter with him.”

“It is true,” said Freluchon, playing with his switch, “that I have known him to have love-affairs which lasted only a short time. But this time it is a genuine passion, a sincere attachment, for he expects to marry his love very soon.”

“Oh! he says that, but he will think twice before doing it.”

“Why so? Mademoiselle Agathe is a charming girl; she is bright and talented; she has an equable, sweet disposition, and much charm.”

“Ha! ha! ha! what an eloquent portrait! Look out! One would think that you too were in love with the young lady.”

“Isn’t she the girl who lives with that other woman in the Courtivaux house?” said Madame Droguet.

“As you very elegantly express it, madame,” Freluchon replied, “she is that girl. By the way, I haven’t as yet seen any other girl in the neighborhood.”

“But they say that those women——”

Thélénie hastily interrupted the giantess, whispering:

“Hush! not now! You can talk about her this evening—when the lover is here!”

Then she hurried the ladies toward a part of the garden where a small Théâtre de Guignol[C] had been set up, calling:

“Come, mesdames, come; we have a marionette theatre here, and I believe the performance is going to begin.”

Freluchon remained where he stood, looking after Thélénie and saying to himself:

“I can’t get it out of my head that that woman is meditating some dirty, spiteful trick, which she means to play on Edmond. I am sorry I urged him to come to this affair. But still a man should never be afraid of such women; if this one should become too impertinent I will Chamoureau her till her head swims. This Baron von Schtapelmerg has the look of a genuine recruiting officer.—Ah! I see yonder, among those young men from Paris, a former travelling salesman, who, if I remember aright, used to speak German perfectly. I must put him in communication with Monsieur Thousand Sauerkrauts!”

And Freluchon walked toward the young man in question and shook hands with him. Then he passed his arm through his, and, as if by accident, took up a position with him beside Croque, who, in common with a large majority of the guests, had stopped in front of the canvas theatre commonly called: Théâtre de Guignol.