"To sum up, the fillette craves sentiment, the grisette pleasure, the lorette money.

"I venture to hope, messieurs, that you will accept this superficial study of women instead of a _bonne fortune_; especially as it is a very long while since fortune has been kind [_bonne_] to me; and, unluckily, I have had no leisure to think of love making, so that I could tell you nothing worthy of a hearing after all that I have had the pleasure of listening to."

VI

MONSIEUR FOUVENARD'S _BONNE FORTUNE_.--THE GINGERBREAD WOMAN

Everybody had listened with pleasure to Monsieur Dumouton's study of womankind. Only Monsieur Faisande, without a word, left his seat and disappeared while the author was talking. The disappearance of the Treasury clerk did not grieve us overmuch, nor did it interfere with our drinking and laughing and saying whatever came into our heads. But as Balloquet seemed to possess some private information concerning that modest personage, I determined to question him on the subject; for I was anxious to know whether I was mistaken in my conjectures, and whether I owed Monsieur Faisande an apology for the evil thoughts of him that had come to my mind.

Fouvenard was the only one of the party who had not yet narrated his little adventure. Dupreval, our host, turned to that gentleman, whose features, the nose alone excepted, were buried beneath the wilderness of beard, moustache, whiskers, and eyebrows, which invaded his face and threatened to transform it into a wig.

Monsieur Fouvenard pa.s.sed his hand across his forehead and ran it through his mane, as he said:

"I have been looking over my catalogue, but I haven't succeeded in disentangling anything as yet. And so, messieurs, I propose to tell you the story of my last love affair; it is still quite fresh. It is not my last _bonne fortune_, but it is the most entertaining, I think, of the later ones; you may judge for yourselves.

"Two or three months ago, having nothing to do one Sunday, and being unable to endure the day in Paris, which, as you all know, messieurs, is insufferable on Sunday, especially when it's fine; for then the streets and boulevards are overrun by a crowd of people with outlandish faces, walking arm in arm, four or five and sometimes six in a row, and making it as tiresome to walk as it is difficult--in a word, I jumped aboard a train in the first railway station I came to, without so much as inquiring where it would take me. I believe I would have travelled a long distance--to Belgium, perhaps--I was so disgusted with Paris that Sunday! But the train I took did not go so far; my journey was very brief, and I soon found myself in the pretty village of Sceaux. When I say _village_, I am wrong, for Sceaux is a small town; but the instant that I see trees and fields and green gra.s.s, I cannot believe that I am near a town.

"I left my car, or my diligence,--I am not sure which I was in,--and walked about at random. The Bal de Sceaux, once so brilliant and crowded, has lost much of its popularity. Everything has its day, messieurs! open-air b.a.l.l.s as well as great empires, and beauty! The Vendanges de Bourgogne had ceased to exist. That lively restaurant, where so many banquets and ultra _chicard_ b.a.l.l.s used to be given, and where the women danced in _tableau vivant_ costume,--a place that owed its vogue originally to its excellent sheep's trotters,--has closed its doors; let us hope that it will reopen them. And even the Meridien!--the Meridien! I will not insult you by asking you if you ever went there!

Who is the man, provided he is ever so little a lady's man, who has not been to the Meridien, where the private rooms were so well arranged for congenial parties? Well, messieurs, that charming little restaurant, which, as you know, was close by here, has also closed its doors. In fact, everything has been demolished, even the Cadran Bleu. That once famous resort has vanished from Boulevard du Temple. Upon my word, it is really heartrending! Where shall we go now to dine, when we have a pretty woman to entertain? I am grieved to say it, messieurs, but suitable places are becoming very rare in Paris; one must needs go _extra muros_ to find silence, secrecy, and all the comforts which add to the charm of a tete-a-tete; and one has not always the leisure to go out of Paris.

"Excuse me for indulging in these reflections--I return to my subject. I had been strolling about Sceaux for some time, and I noticed that those peasant girls who were dressed coquettishly and arrayed in all their finery, those, in short, who seemed disposed to dance and enjoy themselves generally, were leaving the town and going in the direction of Fontenay-aux-Roses.

"I at once made inquiries of a worthy woman who sold gingerbread, and who seemed to view with an expression of alarm the general desertion of the population. By the purchase of a huge gingerbread man for four sous, for which I paid cash, and by praising her cookery, I gained the huckster's good will.

"'Where are all these girls going in their Sunday clothes?' I inquired, bravely attacking my gingerbread man's foot.

"'Mon Dieu! monsieur, as if there was any need of asking! _Pardine!_ they're going to Fontenay, on the pretext that there's a fete there to-day; and there'll be a little fair, and a man to tumble and play tricks, and make a fool of himself. As if it wasn't a hundred times nicer here! As if our ball wasn't a hundred times finer! But they all have the devil in 'em, and they lead each other on. There's no way to stop 'em. So you're my first customer to-day; I ain't sold two sous'

worth all day long.'

"'Well, why don't you do as everybody else does? What is there to hinder you from moving your stall and your gingerbread to Fontenay-aux-Roses?'

"'Oh! monsieur, we folks don't go changing about like that. People have been used to seeing me here, on this same spot, for thirty years; and if they should miss me, especially on a Sunday, they'd say: "Why, where in the world's old Mere Giroux? She must be sick, or dead."--And it would hurt my trade if folks thought that; because, you see, monsieur, I have regular customers, although you might not think so. They're folks from Paris, who always buy stuff of me for their young ones, when they come to Sceaux. And it don't pay to put our customers out; we can't afford to lose regular ones when we have any, just to make a few more sous one day; and I have some, as I tell you.'

"I was about to leave Mere Giroux, who was so proud of having regular customers, when I saw three girls coming along, arm in arm, hopping rather than walking. Two of them had the costume and general aspect of the peasant girls of the neighborhood; they were dressed very coquettishly, in white gowns, silk ap.r.o.ns, little caps trimmed with lace and bows of ribbon, and even gloves, messieurs; yes, it's not a rare thing nowadays, in the outskirts of Paris, on a holiday, to see gloved peasant girls. They don't use musk as yet, thank G.o.d! but with time and railroads, I feel sure that the women of nature will soon perfume themselves like cultivated women; and, to tell the truth, it will be an agreeable change, for they don't smell very sweet as a rule. I ask Nature's pardon, but it's the truth.

"My two peasants, then, had paid much attention to their costume; but, for all that, under their fine clothes they were genuine rustics. One could see that by their arms and feet, by their manners, by their loud laughter, and by the red blotches with which their faces were covered.

Moreover, those same faces, while they were not ugly, were not specially attractive, except for their extreme freshness. So that my eyes did not rest long on those young women; but it was not so with the third member of their party, although her dress was almost a counterpart of her companions'.

"You see, it isn't the cap that makes a girl pretty, but the way she puts it on and wears it; and so it is with the rest of her attire. The young person who caught my eye was some eighteen years of age; she was above middle height, slender, graceful, and willowy; for one can see that, at a glance, in the slightest motion of the body. There was nothing extraordinary about her features, but the face as a whole attracted one instantly. She was a blonde, with blue eyes and red lips; when she laughed, her mouth a.s.sumed a delicious expression, in which innocence and mischief were blended; her teeth were well arranged, and, while they could not be described as 'pearls set in rose leaves,' as it is customary to describe a pretty woman's mouth, they were beyond reproach; her hair, which was slightly tinged with gold, was arranged in little curls, in the style called, I believe, _a la neige_. In that respect, there was a notable difference between her and her two companions, whose hair was glued to their temples in little heartbreakers. What more can I say? There was an indefinable something about that girl which indicated that she had not always lived in the fields. There was a savor of Paris about her; for a woman who never leaves her village does not acquire the manners, the bearing, the ease, which contrast so sharply with the awkward accomplishments of the country.

"My pretty blonde wore a striped lilac and white dress. She also wore a silk ap.r.o.n; but hers was of a grayish purple which harmonized perfectly with her gown. Her cap was very simple, but in the best taste, and perched so daintily on the top of her head that it seemed hardly to touch it. Her shoes were black, and the feet within them were small, narrow, and gracefully arched; the leg was small, but not thin, and gave promise of excellent outlines. You will agree, messieurs, that all this was well adapted to attract my glances.

"The three girls were pa.s.sing Mere Giroux, when she detained them.

"'Well, where are you girls going, I'd like to know,' she cried, 'that you're all rigged up and sail by, all three of you, proud as ortolans, without so much as bidding me good-day?'

"They stopped at that, and bade the dealer in gingerbread good-morning.

"'Bonjour, Mere Giroux!'

"'It's because we're in a hurry; we're going to Fontenay-aux-Roses.'

"'We're going to dance.'

"'We're going to see the shows, and the animals, and the monkeys.'

"'Mon Dieu! you can see all that here! It ain't worth while to go out of your way to see monkeys!'

"'Nonsense! it's going to be a lovely fete at Fontenay. You can see for yourself that everybody's going there.'

"'Everybody's just stupid enough; when one makes a spitball, the rest would rather be hung than not do as much.'

"'Oh! Mere Giroux! how spiteful you are!'

"'I say, you Dargenettes, do your parents let you go running about the country like this, without them?'

"'_Pardi!_ n.o.body'll kidnap us. Besides, Mignonne's with us.'

"'Bless my soul! Mignonne's a fine dragon, ain't she? Why, she's younger'n you! and she rolls her eye the minute anyone looks at her, as if it gave her cramp in the stomach.'

"Mignonne was evidently the pretty blonde in the centre, for she answered at once with a saucy little smile, and a glance at me out of the corner of her eye; for during this conversation I was still standing near the gingerbread stall, and still munching my four-sous'

purchase.

"'If I am young, Mere Giroux, that doesn't prevent my keeping an eye on these girls; for I've been in Paris, and I'm not to be caught.'

"'You, Mignonne! nonsense! You'll be caught sooner than the others, I'll bet! You're too sugary; you'll melt!'

"'Anyway,' cried the other two, 'do you suppose we're afraid of men?

Why, there's nothing frightful about 'em!'

"'If they'd grow, I'd plant a field of them.'

"Whereupon they roared with laughter; but pretty Mignonne took no part in it; she pulled her companions away, crying:

"'Au revoir, Mere Giroux! Au revoir!'

"'What! ain't you going to buy as much as a stick of barley sugar, to suck on the way?'

"'By and by, when we come back; to cool us off.'

"When the girls had gone, the huckster complained more loudly than ever about the nuisance of the fetes in the neighboring villages. For my part, I was determined to have another look at the blonde whom they called Mignonne, but I desired, first of all, to obtain some information concerning her. I began by buying a huge square of gingerbread, larded with almonds, while loudly praising what I had already eaten. Mere Giroux, flattered to the melting point, gazed at me with an expression that seemed to say:

"'Ah! if all the young men who come to Sceaux only liked gingerbread as much as this gentleman does!'