"Monsieur, you must give me satisfaction!"

"Monsieur, you haven't seen the end of this!"

While he was thus apostrophized on all sides, Cherami calmly wiped the perspiration from his face, and said:

"Sapristi! what's the matter with them all? They are delightful!--I consider that you're a delightful lot! You ought to have got out of the way; that's what I did, when you ran into me while you were waltzing just now. Is it my fault, if you don't know how to keep on your legs?

What a terrible thing, if your estimable daughter's nose is a little bruised; and if your wife, monsieur, did show some admirable things! It seems to me that you ought to be flattered by the accident, for everybody must envy your good fortune."

These retorts were far from appeasing the wrath of the husbands, brothers, and fathers who had been maltreated in the persons of the objects of their affections. But Uncle Blanquette forced his way through the crowd, and said to him who had caused all the confusion, a.s.suming a tone which he strove to make dignified:

"Monsieur, you have caused a grave perturbation at my nephew's wedding party----"

"Ha! ha! _perturbation_ is a pretty word; I must remember it. Never mind; proceed, Papa Blanquette."

"People in our society do not indulge in such improper dances as those you have performed, monsieur."

"But, if I remember right, Aunt Merlin seemed to enjoy that dance pretty well."

"I didn't invite you to our ball, monsieur; so I consider it much too--much too----"

"Presumptuous!--you can't find the word, but that's it, I fancy; eh?"

"Yes, monsieur; too presumptuous, to appear where you're not invited, and especially in a costume so negligee as yours. You have thrown down enough persons; we don't care to have any more of it, and I beg you to go."

"Ah! that's your idea of politeness, is it? Very good! bonsoir! I will go! Your party isn't so very fine, after all; I haven't seen a single gla.s.s of punch. And you fancy that you do things in style, do you? No, no! you're a long way behind the times!"

"Be good enough to remember also, monsieur, that you owe me four hundred and ninety-five francs; and, if you don't quit, I will take harsh measures----"

"Bravo! I expected that--that's the bouquet! The idea of talking about your account at a ball! Look you, old Blanquette: you make me sick!

_Adieu, Rome, I go!_--Mesdames, I lay my homage at your feet. I am sorry to have jostled you a little; but, on my word of honor, it was the fault of your partners; they didn't know how to hold you."

This fresh insult to the male portion of the guests renewed their wrath, and they threatened to attack Cherami. He removed his yellow glove and threw it at their feet, saying:

"Here, this is all I can do for you! I expect you all to-morrow morning.

My friend Blanquette[C] of veal will give you my address. Bring pistols, sabres, swords, what you please. I shall have nothing but a rabbit's tail, understand, and with that rabbit's tail I defy you all!"

This heroic challenge seemed to calm the wrath of his adversaries to some extent. But, while they were staring at one another, a little, bald man darted forward and picked up the glove.

"That's my glove," he cried; "I recognize it; it's the left-hand glove that I lost; it has been mended on the thumb; this is the very one!"

Cherami did not hear Monsieur Courbichon. He left the ballroom, pa.s.sed rapidly through the cardroom, and, taking a hat from a nail and a cane from a corner, left the last of the rooms and descended the stairs, saying to himself:

"I snap my fingers at them. I'm not sorry I went to that party. I have my cue!"

And Cherami patted the pocket in which were the gold pieces he had won at ecarte.

At the foot of the staircase, he saw several ladies standing, waiting for their carriages; they were guests of the party on the first floor, just leaving the ball. In a moment, another young couple appeared, and one of the ladies said to another:

"What does this mean? the bride going away already?"

"Yes, I believe she doesn't feel very well."

"Aha! that's the bride, who goes so early!" cried Cherami, putting his head forward. "Yes! it's she! it's the faithless f.a.n.n.y! I recognize her."

These words were hardly out of his mouth, when the husband, who had his wife on his arm, left her abruptly, looked about, and rushed up to Cherami, to whom he said in a voice that trembled with emotion:

"Was it you who just spoke, monsieur?"

"What's that! Suppose it was? Well, yes, I did speak. Do you mean to say that it isn't my right?"

"Was it you who said: 'It's the faithless f.a.n.n.y'?"

"Yes, pardieu! it was. Oh! I never deny my words."

"This is neither the time nor the place for an explanation, monsieur; but I will call on you to-morrow, and, if you're not a coward, you will give me satisfaction."

"I, a coward! Arthur Cherami, a coward! Well, well! that's a good one!

And I have just challenged the whole Blanquette wedding party! I am always ready to fight with whatever anyone chooses--from a pin to a cannon, I'm your man!"

"We will see about that to-morrow. Your address?"

"There it is. I always carry a card about me with a view to affairs of this sort."

Monleard took the soiled yellow card which Cherami drew from his pocket, and hastened after his wife, who was already in the carriage. This little scene had taken place so rapidly that the persons who were standing had been able to catch only a few words.

The carriage which contained the newly married pair drove away. Cherami looked about for a cab, and having finally found one, jumped in, and called out to the driver:

"Rue de l'Orillon, Barriere de Belleville. I will tell you when we reach my hotel."--Then he stretched himself out comfortably on the back seat, with his feet on the other, murmuring: "The day has been complete. An excellent dinner, punch, cards, a ball, and a duel! And this morning I hadn't the wherewithal to buy a small loaf! In my place, a fool would have jumped into the water. But, with clever people, there is always some resource."

XVII

FURNISHED LODGINGS ON RUE DE L'ORILLON

Rue de l'Orillon, which is outside the barrier, near the Belleville theatre, bears not the slightest resemblance to Rue de Rivoli, or to Rue de la Paix. There is much mud there at almost all seasons, and there are very few shops of the Magasin du Prophete variety; indeed, I think that I can safely say that there are none.

It was in a wretched furnished lodging on this street outside the walls that the ci-devant Beau Arthur, who had once dwelt in the fashionable precincts of the Champs-elysees and the Chaussee d'Antin, had been compelled to take up his abode. He did not often pay his rent; however, on the day when he received his quarterly stipend, he sometimes persuaded himself to give two or three five-franc pieces to his landlady, and she waited patiently for her arrears, because she was proud to furnish lodgings to a man who had once had thirty-five thousand francs a year, and who still retained a trace of his former social position in his manners and his language.

The room occupied by Cherami was not furnished like the apartments of the Hotel du Louvre. A blue wallpaper, at thirteen sous a roll, took the place of hangings; but this paper, already old, was torn in several places, and the breaches were concealed by sc.r.a.ps of paper of a different design, and, in many instances, of a different color, which gave to the room a sort of Harlequin aspect which was not altogether disagreeable--especially to those persons who like that costume. Now, Harlequins are very popular in Rue de l'Orillon.

A miserable cot-bed, surmounted by a rod which had never been gilded, and over which was thrown a curtain of yellow cloth much too narrow to surround the bed, stood opposite the window. At the foot of the bed was a screen four feet high, which was supposed to be a protection against the wind that came in under the ill-fitted door. A Louis XVI commode, an old Louis XV armchair, and a desk which claimed to be Louis XIII, with a few common chairs, were all the furniture that the apartment contained.

On the mantel were two kitchen candlesticks, a small box of matches, and several cigar-b.u.t.ts, but not a single pipe: Arthur would have deemed himself a dishonored man if he had put a pipe to his lips.

It was noon, and Cherami lay on his bed, having just waked up. He stretched his arms, rubbed his eyes, and, glancing at the window, said to himself:

"On my word, I believe I've had quite a nap! Yes, if I can judge by the sun, which is shining in at my window, the morning must be well advanced. It is often unpleasant not to have a watch; but, at all events, in a furnished lodging-house there should be a clock on each mantel. That villainous Madame Louchard, my landlady, promises me every month that indispensable complement of my furniture, and I am like Sister Anne, I see nothing coming. _Par la sambleu!_ as they say in Marivaux's plays, the rest has done me good, for yesterday was a tiresome day! But it seems to me that I had at least a dozen duels on hand for this morning; the deuce! and I don't know what time it is."