Chapter II
THE INN-YARD OF THE BELLE ETOILE
The face was, indeed, one to fall in love with at first sight. Thosesentiments that take such sudden possession of young men were nowdominating my curiosity. My audacity faltered before her; and I feltthat my presence in this room was probably an impertinence. This pointshe quickly settled, for the same very sweet voice I had heard before,now said coldly, and this time in French, "Monsieur cannot be aware thatthis apartment is not public."
I bowed very low, faltered some apologies, and backed to the door.
I suppose I looked penitent, and embarrassed. I certainly felt so; forthe lady said, by way it seemed of softening matters, "I am happy,however, to have an opportunity of again thanking Monsieur for theassistance, so prompt and effectual, which he had the goodness to renderus today."
It was more the altered tone in which it was spoken, than the speechitself, that encouraged me. It was also true that she need not haverecognized me; and if she had, she certainly was not obliged to thank meover again.
All this was indescribably flattering, and all the more so that itfollowed so quickly on her slight reproof. The tone in which she spokehad become low and timid, and I observed that she turned her headquickly towards a second door of the room; I fancied that the gentlemanin the black wig, a jealous husband perhaps, might reappear through it.Almost at the same moment, a voice at once reedy and nasal was heardsnarling some directions to a servant, and evidently approaching. It wasthe voice that had thanked me so profusely, from the carriage windows,about an hour before.
"Monsieur will have the goodness to retire," said the lady, in a tonethat resembled entreaty, at the same time gently waving her hand towardthe door through which I had entered. Bowing again very low, I steppedback, and closed the door.
I ran down the stairs, very much elated. I saw the host of the BelleEtoile which, as I said, was the sign and designation of my inn.
I described the apartment I had just quitted, said I liked it, and askedwhether I could have it.
He was extremely troubled, but that apartment and two adjoining roomswere engaged.
"By whom?"
"People of distinction."
"But who are they? They must have names or titles."
"Undoubtedly, Monsieur, but such a stream is rolling into Paris, that wehave ceased to inquire the names or titles of our guests--we designatethem simply by the rooms they occupy."
"What stay do they make?"
"Even that, Monsieur, I cannot answer. It does not interest us. Ourrooms, while this continues, can never be, for a moment, disengaged."
"I should have liked those rooms so much! Is one of them a sleepingapartment?"
"Yes, sir, and Monsieur will observe that people do not usually engagebedrooms unless they mean to stay the night."
"Well, I can, I suppose, have some rooms, any, I don't care in what partof the house?"
"Certainly, Monsieur can have two apartments. They are the last atpresent disengaged."
I took them instantly.
It was plain these people meant to make a stay here; at least they wouldnot go till morning. I began to feel that I was all but engaged in anadventure.
I took possession of my rooms, and looked out of the window, which Ifound commanded the inn-yard. Many horses were being liberated from thetraces, hot and weary, and others fresh from the stables being put to. Agreat many vehicles--some private carriages, others, like mine, of thatpublic class which is equivalent to our old English post-chaise, werestanding on the pavement, waiting their turn for relays. Fussy servantswere to-ing and fro-ing, and idle ones lounging or laughing, and thescene, on the whole, was animated and amusing.
Among these objects, I thought I recognized the traveling carriage, andone of the servants of the "persons of distinction" about whom I was,just then, so profoundly interested.
I therefore ran down the stairs, made my way to the back door; and so,behold me, in a moment, upon the uneven pavement, among all these sightsand sounds which in such a place attend upon a period of extraordinarycrush and traffic. By this time the sun was near its setting, and threwits golden beams on the red brick chimneys of the offices, and made thetwo barrels, that figured as pigeon-houses, on the tops of poles, lookas if they were on fire. Everything in this light becomes picturesque;and things interest us which, in the sober grey of morning, are dullenough.
After a little search I lighted upon the very carriage of which I was inquest. A servant was locking one of the doors, for it was made with thesecurity of lock and key. I paused near, looking at the panel of thedoor.
"A very pretty device that red stork!" I observed, pointing to theshield on the door, "and no doubt indicates a distinguished family?"
The servant looked at me for a moment, as he placed the little key inhis pocket, and said with a slightly sarcastic bow and smile, "Monsieuris at liberty to conjecture."
Nothing daunted, I forthwith administered that laxative which, onoccasion, acts so happily upon the tongue--I mean a "tip."
The servant looked at the Napoleon in his hand, and then in my face,with a sincere expression of surprise. "Monsieur is very generous!"
"Not worth mentioning--who are the lady and gentleman who came here inthis carriage, and whom, you may remember, I and my servant assistedtoday in an emergency, when their horses had come to the ground?"
"They are the Count, and the young lady we call the Countess--but I knownot, she may be his daughter."
"Can you tell me where they live?"
"Upon my honor, Monsieur, I am unable--I know not."
"Not know where your master lives! Surely you know something more abouthim than his name?"
"Nothing worth relating, Monsieur; in fact, I was hired in Brussels, onthe very day they started. Monsieur Picard, my fellow-servant, Monsieurthe Comte's gentleman, he has been years in his service, and knowseverything; but he never speaks except to communicate an order. From himI have learned nothing. We are going to Paris, however, and there Ishall speedily pick up all about them. At present I am as ignorant ofall that as Monsieur himself."
"And where is Monsieur Picard?"
"He has gone to the cutler's to get his razors set. But I do not thinkhe will tell anything."
This was a poor harvest for my golden sowing. The man, I think, spoketruth, and would honestly have betrayed the secrets of the family, if hehad possessed any. I took my leave politely; and mounting the stairsagain, I found myself once more in my room.
Forthwith I summoned my servant. Though I had brought him with me fromEngland, he was a native of France--a useful fellow, sharp, bustling,and, of course, quite familiar with the ways and tricks of hiscountrymen.
"St. Clair, shut the door; come here. I can't rest till I have made outsomething about those people of rank who have got the apartments undermine. Here are fifteen francs; make out the servants we assisted todayhave them to a _petit souper_, and come back and tell me theirentire history. I have, this moment, seen one of them who knows nothing,and has communicated it. The other, whose name I forget, is the unknownnobleman's valet, and knows everything. Him you must pump. It is, ofcourse, the venerable peer, and not the young lady who accompanies him,that interests me--you understand? Begone! fly! and return with all thedetails I sigh for, and every circumstance that can possibly interestme."
It was a commission which admirably suited the tastes and spirits of myworthy St. Clair, to whom, you will have observed, I had accustomedmyself to talk with the peculiar familiarity which the old French comedyestablishes between master and valet.
I am sure he laughed at me in secret; but nothing could be more politeand deferential.
With several wise looks, nods and shrugs, he withdrew; and looking downfrom my window, I saw him with incredible quickness enter the yard,where I soon lost sight of him among the carriages.