CHAPTER XII.
THE DENIS FAMILY.
Madame Denis did not think it proper that two young persons as innocentas her daughters should breakfast with a young man who, although he hadbeen only three days in Paris, already came in at eleven o'clock atnight, and played on the harpsichord till two in the morning. In vainthe Abbe Brigaud affirmed that this double infraction of the rules ofher house should in no degree lower her opinion of his pupil, for whomhe could answer as for himself. All he could obtain was that the youngladies should appear at the dessert; but the chevalier soon perceivedthat if their mother had ordered them not to be seen, she had notforbidden them to be heard, for scarcely were they at table, round averitable devotee's breakfast, composed of a multitude of little dishes,tempting to the eye and delicious to the palate, when the sounds of aspinet were heard, accompanying a voice which was not wanting incompass, but whose frequent errors of intonation showed lamentableinexperience. At the first notes Madame Denis placed her hand on theabbe's arm, then, after an instant's silence, during which she listenedwith a pleased smile to that music which made the chevalier's fleshcreep, "Do you hear?" she said. "It is our Athenais who is playing, andit is Emilie who sings."
The Abbe Brigaud, making signs that he heard perfectly, trod onD'Harmental's foot under the table, to hint that this was an opportunityfor paying a compliment.
"Madame," said the chevalier, who understood this appeal to hispoliteness perfectly, "we are doubly indebted to you; for you offer usnot only an excellent breakfast, but a delightful concert."
"Yes," replied Madame Denis, negligently, "it is those children: they donot know you are here, and they are practicing; but I will go and tellthem to stop."
Madame Denis was going to rise.
"What, madame!" said D'Harmental, "because I come from Ravenne do youbelieve me unworthy to make acquaintance with the talents of thecapital?"
"Heaven preserve me, monsieur, from having such an opinion of you," saidMadame Denis, maliciously, "for I know you are a musician; the lodger onthe third story told me so."
"In that case, madame, perhaps he did not give you a very high idea ofmy merit," replied the chevalier, laughing, "for he did not appear toappreciate the little I may possess."
"He only said that it appeared to him a strange time for music. Butlisten, Monsieur Raoul," added Madame Denis, "the parts are changed now,my dear abbe, it is our Athenais who sings, and it is Emilie whoaccompanies her on the guitar."
It appeared that Madame Denis had a weakness for Athenais, for insteadof talking as she did when Emilie was singing, she listened from one endto the other to the romance of her favorite, her eyes tenderly fixed onthe Abbe Brigaud, who, still eating and drinking, contented himself withnodding his head in sign of approbation. Athenais sang a little morecorrectly than her sister, but for this she made up by a defect at leastequivalent in the eyes of the chevalier. Her voice was equally vulgar.
As to Madame Denis, she beat wrong time with her head, with an air ofbeatitude which did infinitely more honor to her maternal affection thanto her musical intelligence.
A duet succeeded to the solos. The young ladies appeared determined togive their whole repertoire. D'Harmental, in his turn, sought under thetable for the abbe's feet, to crush at least one, but he only foundthose of Madame Denis, who, taking this for a personal attention, turnedgraciously toward him.
"Then, Monsieur Raoul," she said, "you come, young and inexperienced, tobrave all the dangers of the capital?"
"Yes," said the Abbe Brigaud, taking upon himself to answer, for fearthat D'Harmental might not be able to resist answering by some joke."You see in this young man, Madame Denis, the son of a friend who wasvery dear to me" (the abbe put his table-napkin up to his eyes), "andwhom, I hope, will do credit to the care I have bestowed on hiseducation."
"And monsieur is right," replied Madame Denis; "for, with his talentsand appearance, there is no saying to what he may attain."
"Ah! but, Madame Denis," said the Abbe Brigaud, "if you spoil him thus Ishall not bring him to you again. My dear Raoul," continued the abbe,addressing him in a paternal manner, "I hope you will not believe a wordof all this." Then, whispering to Madame Denis, "Such as you see him, hemight have remained at Sauvigny, and taken the first place after thesquire. He has three thousand livres a year in the funds."
"That is exactly what I intend giving to each of my daughters," repliedMadame Denis, raising her voice, so as to be heard by the chevalier, andgiving a side-glance to discover what effect the announcement of suchmagnificence would have upon him.
Unfortunately for the future establishment of the Demoiselles Denis, thechevalier was not thinking of uniting the three thousand livres whichthis generous mother gave to her daughters to the thousand crowns a yearwhich the Abbe Brigaud had bestowed on him. The shrill treble ofMademoiselle Emilie, the contralto of Mademoiselle Athenais, theaccompaniment of both, had recalled to his recollection the pure andflexible voice and the distinguished execution of his neighbor. Thanksto that singular power which a great preoccupation gives us overexterior objects, the chevalier had escaped from the charivari which wasexecuted in the adjoining room, and was following a sweet melody whichfloated in his mind, and which protected him, like an enchanted armor,from the sharp sounds which were flying around him.
"How he listens!" said Madame Denis to Brigaud. "'Tis worth while takingtrouble for a young man like that. I shall have a bone to pick withMonsieur Fremond."
"Who is Monsieur Fremond?" said the abbe, pouring himself out somethingto drink.
"It is the lodger on the third floor. A contemptible little fellow, withtwelve hundred francs a year, and whose temper has caused me to havequarrels with every one in the house; and who came to complain thatMonsieur Raoul prevented him and his dog from sleeping."
"My dear Madame Denis," replied the abbe, "you must not quarrel withMonsieur Fremond for that. Two o'clock in the morning is an unreasonabletime; and if my pupil must sit up till then, he must play in the daytimeand draw in the evening."
"What! Monsieur Raoul draws also!" cried Madame Denis, quite astonishedat so much talent.
"Draws like Mignard."
"Oh! my dear abbe," said Madame Denis, "if you could but obtain onething."
"What?" asked the abbe.
"That he would take the portrait of our Athenais."
The chevalier awoke from his reverie, as a traveler, asleep on thegrass, feels a serpent glide up to him, and instinctively understandsthat a great danger threatens him.
"Abbe!" cried he, in a bewildered manner, "no folly!"
"Oh! what is the matter with your pupil?" asked Madame Denis, quitefrightened.
Happily, at the moment when the abbe was seeking a subterfuge, the dooropened, and the two young ladies entered blushing, and, stepping fromright to left, each made a low courtesy.
"Well!" said Madame Denis, affecting an air of severity, "what is this?Who gave you permission to leave your room?"
"Mamma," replied a voice which the chevalier recognized, by its shrilltones, for that of Mademoiselle Emilie, "we beg pardon if we have donewrong, and are willing to return."
"But, mamma," said another voice, which the chevalier concluded mustbelong to Mademoiselle Athenais, "we thought that it was agreed that wewere to come in at dessert."
"Well, come in, since you are here; it would be ridiculous now to goback. Besides," added Madame Denis, seating Athenais between herself andBrigaud, and Emilie between herself and the chevalier, "young personsare always best--are they not, abbe?--under their mother's wing."
And Madame Denis presented to her daughters a plate of bon-bons, fromwhich they helped themselves with a modest air which did honor to theireducation.
The chevalier, during the discourse and action of Madame Denis, had timeto examine her daughters.
Mademoiselle Emilie was a tall and stiff personage, from twenty-two totwenty-three, who was said to be very much like her late father; anadvantage which did not, however, suffice to g
ain for her in thematernal heart an affection equal to what Madame Denis entertained forher other two children. Thus poor Emilie, always afraid of beingscolded, retained a natural awkwardness, which the repeated lessons ofher dancing-master had not been able to conquer.
Mademoiselle Athenais, on the contrary, was little, plump, and rosy;and, thanks to her sixteen or seventeen years, had what is vulgarlycalled the devil's beauty. She did not resemble either Monsieur orMadame Denis, a singularity which had often exercised the tongues of theRue St. Martin before she went to inhabit the house which her husbandhad bought in the Rue du Temps Perdu. In spite of this absence of alllikeness to her parents, Mademoiselle Athenais was the declared favoriteof her mother, which gave her the assurance that poor Emilie wanted.Athenais, however, it must be said, always profited by this favor toexcuse the pretended faults of her sister.
Although it was scarcely eleven o'clock in the morning, the two sisterswere dressed as if for a ball, and carried all the trinkets theypossessed on their necks, arms, and ears.
This apparition, so conformable to the idea which D'Harmental had formedbeforehand of the daughters of his landlady, gave him a new subject forreflection. Since the Demoiselles Denis were so exactly what they oughtto be, that is to say, in such perfect harmony with their position andeducation, why was Bathilde, who seemed their equal in rank, as visiblydistinguished as they were vulgar? Whence came this immense differencebetween girls of the same class and age? There must be some secret,which the chevalier would no doubt know some day or other. A secondpressure of the Abbe Brigaud's foot against his made him understandthat, however true his reflections were, he had chosen a bad moment forabandoning himself to them. Indeed, Madame Denis took so sovereign anair of dignity, that D'Harmental saw that he had not an instant to loseif he wished to efface from her mind the bad impression which hisdistraction had caused.
"Madame," said he directly, with the most gracious air he could assume,"that which I already see of your family fills me with the most livelydesire to know the rest. Is not your son at home, and shall not I havethe pleasure of seeing him?"
"Monsieur," answered Madame Denis, to whom so amiable an address hadrestored all her good humor, "my son is with M. Joulu, his master; and,unless his business brings him this way, it is improbable that he willmake your acquaintance."
"Parbleu! my dear pupil," said the Abbe Brigaud, extending his handtoward the door; "you are like Aladdin. It is enough for you to expressa wish, and it is fulfilled."
Indeed, at this moment they heard on the staircase the song aboutMarlborough, which at this time had all the charm of novelty; the doorwas thrown open, and gave entrance to a boy with a laughing face, whomuch resembled Mademoiselle Athenais.
"Good, good, good," said the newcomer, crossing his arms, and remarkingthe ordinary number of his family increased by the abbe and thechevalier. "Not bad, Madame Denis; she sends Boniface to his office witha bit of bread and cheese, saying, 'Beware of indigestion,' and, in hisabsence, she gives feasts and suppers. Luckily, poor Boniface has a goodnose. He comes through the Rue Montmartre; he snuffs the wind, and says,'What is going on there at No. 5, Rue du Temps Perdu?' So he came, andhere he is. Make a place for one."
And, joining the action to the word, Boniface drew a chair to the table,and sat down between the abbe and the chevalier.
"Monsieur Boniface," said Madame Denis, trying to assume a severe air,"do you not see that there are strangers here?"
"Strangers!" said Boniface, taking a dish from the table, and setting itbefore himself; "and who are the strangers? Are you one, Papa Brigaud?Are you one, Monsieur Raoul? You are not a stranger, you are a lodger."And, taking a knife and fork, he set to work in a manner to make up forlost time.
"Pardieu! madame," said the chevalier, "I see with pleasure that I amfurther advanced than I thought I was. I did not know that I had thehonor of being known to Monsieur Boniface."
"It would be odd if I did not know you," said the lawyer's clerk, withhis mouth full; "you have got my bedroom."
"How, Madame Denis!" said D'Harmental, "and you left me in ignorancethat I had the honor to succeed in my room to the heir apparent of yourfamily? I am no longer astonished to find my room so gayly fitted up; Irecognize the cares of a mother."
"Yes, much good may it do you; but I have one bit of advice to give you.Don't look out of window too much."
"Why?" asked D'Harmental.
"Why? because you have a certain neighbor opposite you."
"Mademoiselle Bathilde," said the chevalier, carried away by his firstimpulse.
"Ah! you know that already?" answered Boniface; "good, good, good; thatwill do."----"Will you be quiet, monsieur!" cried Madame Denis.
"Listen!" answered Boniface; "one must inform one's lodgers when one hasprohibited things about one's house. You are not in a lawyer's office;you do not know that."
"The child is full of wit," said the Abbe Brigaud in that banteringtone, thanks to which it was impossible to know whether he was seriousor not.
"But," answered Madame Denis, "what would you have in common betweenMonsieur Raoul and Bathilde?"
"What in common? Why, in a week, he will be madly in love with her, andit is not worth loving a coquette."
"A coquette?" said D'Harmental.
"Yes, a coquette, a coquette," said Boniface; "I have said it, and I donot draw back. A coquette, who flirts with the young men and lives withan old one, without counting that little brute of a Mirza, who eats upall my bon-bons, and now bites me every time she meets me."
"Leave the room, mesdemoiselles," cried Madame Denis, rising and makingher daughters rise also. "Leave the room. Ears so pure as yours oughtnot to hear such things."
And she pushed Mademoiselle Athenais and Mademoiselle Emilie toward thedoor of their room, where she entered with them.
As to D'Harmental, he felt a violent desire to break Boniface's headwith a wine-bottle. Nevertheless, seeing the absurdity of the situation,he made an effort and restrained himself.
"But," said he, "I thought that the bourgeois whom I saw on theterrace--for no doubt it is of him that you speak, Monsieur Boniface--"
"Of himself, the old rascal; what did you think of him?"
"That he was her father."
"Her father! not quite. Mademoiselle Bathilde has no father."
"Then, at least, her uncle?"
"Her uncle after the Bretagne fashion, but in no other manner."
"Monsieur," said Madame Denis, majestically coming out of the room, tothe most distant part of which she had doubtless consigned herdaughters, "I have asked you, once for all, not to talk improprietiesbefore your sisters."
"Ah, yes," said Boniface, "my sisters; do you believe that, at theirage, they cannot understand what I said, particularly Emilie, who isthree-and-twenty years old?"
"Emilie is as innocent as a new-born child," said Madame Denis, seatingherself between Brigaud and D'Harmental.
"I should advise you not to reckon on that. I found a pretty romance forLent in our innocent's room. I will show it to you, Pere Brigaud; youare her confessor, and we shall see if you gave her permission to readher prayers from it."
"Hold your tongue, mischief-maker," said the abbe, "do you not see howyou are grieving your mother?"
Indeed Madame Denis, ashamed of this scene passing before a young man onwhom, with a mother's foresight, she had already begun to cast an eye,was nearly fainting. There is nothing in which men believe less than inwomen's faintings, and nothing to which they give way more easily.Whether he believed in it or not, D'Harmental was too polite not to showhis hostess some attention in such circumstances. He advanced toward herwith his arms extended. Madame Denis no sooner saw this support offeredto her than she let herself fall, and, throwing her head back, faintedin the chevalier's arms.
"Abbe," said D'Harmental, while Boniface profited by the circumstance tofill his pockets with all the bon-bons left on the table, "bring achair."
The abbe pushed forward a chair with the nonchalan
ce of a man familiarwith such accidents, and who is beforehand quite secure as to theresult.
They seated Madame Denis, and D'Harmental gave her some salts, while theAbbe Brigaud tapped her softly in the hollow of the hand; but, in spiteof these cares, Madame Denis did not appear disposed to return toherself; when all at once, when they least expected it, she started toher feet as if by a spring, and gave a loud cry.
D'Harmental thought that a fit of hysterics was following the fainting.He was truly frightened, there was such an accent of reality in thescream that the poor woman gave.
"It is nothing," said Boniface, "I have only just emptied thewater-bottle down her back. That is what brought her to; you saw thatshe did not know how to manage it. Well, what?" continued the pitilessfellow, seeing Madame Denis look angrily at him; "it is I; do you notrecognize me, Mother Denis? It is your little Boniface, who loves youso."
"Madame," said D'Harmental, much embarrassed at the situation, "I amtruly distressed at what has passed."
"Oh! monsieur," cried Madame Denis in tears, "I am indeed unfortunate."
"Come, come; do not cry, Mother Denis, you are already wet enough," saidBoniface; "you had better go and change your linen; there is nothing sounhealthy as wet clothes."
"The child is full of sense," said Brigaud, "and I think you had betterfollow his advice."
"If I might join my prayers to those of the abbe," said D'Harmental, "Ishould beg you, madame, not to inconvenience yourself for us. Besides,we were just going to take leave of you."
"And you, also, abbe?" said Madame Denis, with a distressed look atBrigaud.
"As for me," said Brigaud, who did not seem to fancy the part ofcomforter, "I am expected at the Hotel Colbert, and I must leave you."
"Adieu, then," said Madame Denis, making a curtsey, but the watertrickling down her clothes took away a great part of its dignity.
"Adieu, mother," said Boniface, throwing his arms round her neck withthe assurance of a spoiled child. "Have you nothing to say to MaitreJoulu?"
"Adieu, mauvais sujet," replied the poor woman, embracing her son, andyielding to that attraction which a mother cannot resist; "adieu, and besteady."
"As an image, mother, on condition that you will give us a nice littledish of sweets for dinner."
He joined the Abbe Brigaud and D'Harmental, who were already on thelanding.
"Well, well," said the abbe, lifting his hand quickly to his waistcoatpocket, "what are you doing there?"
"Oh, I was only looking if there was not a crown in your pocket for yourfriend Boniface."
"Here." said the abbe, "here is one, and now leave us alone."
"Papa Brigaud," said Boniface, in the effusion of his gratitude, "youhave the heart of a cardinal, and if the king only makes you anarchbishop, on my honor you will be robbed of half. Adieu, MonsieurRaoul," continued he, addressing the chevalier as familiarly as if hehad known him for years. "I repeat, take care of Mademoiselle Bathildeif you wish to keep your heart, and give some sweetmeats to Mirza if youcare for your legs;" and holding by the banister, he cleared the firstflight of twelve steps at one bound, and reached the street door withouthaving touched a stair.
Brigaud descended more quietly behind him, after having given thechevalier a rendezvous for eight o'clock in the evening.
As to D'Harmental, he went back thoughtfully to his attic.