"She isn't used to that."

"Never mind--I regret Amelia; I have only known her a week."

"And you haven't had time to tire of her yet, eh? Well, console yourself; I'll bet you something that we shall find those two young women at the Opera ball."

"You think so? It isn't probable, they've no money."

"A grisette may have no money to pay her rent, but she always has enough to go to the ball. I thought that you were farther advanced in such matters, Edmond; you still have much to learn, my son."

"Very well! if they're at the ball, so much the better; no matter how much they may be disguised, I am very sure that I can recognize Amelia; she has a funny little accent that she can't lay aside."

"And what about me! how shall I recognize Henriette? She has a very distinct mark, a raspberry; to be sure, I doubt if she'll let me look at the place where it is, in the ball-room."

"Let us start; we'll go into the Cafe du Pa.s.sage for a little while."

"One moment! Chamoureau is coming. We can't go without him."

"What's that! Chamoureau coming? What on earth induced you to ask that donkey? If he were amusing, or unpretentious, I wouldn't say a word; a man may be stupid and a good fellow; but he isn't that sort. And then, since he lost his wife, he pulls out his handkerchief as soon as she's mentioned! He is forever lamenting and weeping for his Eleonore!--Great G.o.d! let him weep for his wife, let him regret her--I wouldn't prevent him; but I have no inclination to share his grief. That you should sigh with him--that's all right, I can understand that; for his wife was very nice. You were always at their house; you took madame to the theatre and to drive."

"It was Chamoureau's wish."

"And that suited you very well. I am not blaming anybody. Indeed, Chamoureau has the head of a fellow to whom that sort of thing is sure to happen. But frankly, why do you want him to come and groan in our ears? Surely he won't go to the masquerade with us."

"You think so, my dear fellow, but you don't know Chamoureau at all; he is infinitely more amusing than you think. He's a man to be studied; I propose this evening to put you in a position to judge him. But hush! I hear someone blowing his nose on the stairs; it must be he."

III

A WIDOWER

The doork.n.o.b did, in fact, turn at that moment, and the person of whom they were speaking entered Edmond's room.

Monsieur Chamoureau was a man of about thirty-five years of age, who appeared fully forty; not that his face was lined or his features altered; on the contrary, his ears were red and his complexion ruddy.

But he was already blessed with a protruding paunch and had only a bunch of light hair on the top of his head, quite separate from that which still adorned his ears and the base of his skull. The good man's features were not repellent: his eyes were of the blue seen in faence; his nose, which was a little too long, was very straight; his mouth was small and delicate, his teeth were very handsome, his chin was well-rounded and embellished by a little dimple that would have made a chubby-cheeked angel envious, and his light whiskers were very unkempt.

He was of medium height, but not well-built; his calves were conspicuous by their absence, and his knees often met when he walked. All this, however, did not prevent Monsieur Chamoureau from considering himself a very handsome man.

"Well! here's Chamoureau at last!" said Freluchon, offering the newcomer his hand. "I knew he would come, for he promised."

"Good-evening, messieurs. Monsieur Edmond, it is very presumptuous of me to come to your apartment like this, but Monsieur Freluchon asked me to; I don't quite know why, for you two are going to enjoy yourselves, you think of nothing but ending your Carnival in good style, while I--Ah!

G.o.d!----"

Here Monsieur Chamoureau drew his handkerchief and blew his nose at great length.

"You did very well to come, Monsieur Chamoureau. Come to the fire and warm yourself."

"Sapristi! how fine you are, Chamoureau! You have a brand-new coat, I do believe, and trousers too, eh?"

"Yes; one must dress decently."

"We think of amusing ourselves, Monsieur Chamoureau, that is true; but it's not a crime. And you yourself, if you could divert your thoughts in our company, where would be the harm?"

"I, divert my thoughts! Ah! Monsieur Edmond, when a man has met with such a loss as mine, there is no possible distraction. It is all over; I must bid pleasure adieu forever."

"Forever! that's a terribly long time. It's two months already since you lost your wife."

"Two months and four days, monsieur; and it seems to me as if it were yesterday. Ask Freluchon if I didn't tell him so when I dined with him to-day."

"You did; you said it while we were eating that lobster with Marengo sauce, that was so good."

"A little too much garlic, my friend, a little too much garlic; it was pretty well seasoned, but you can get it even better at Javault's on Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Hotel de Ville."

"You think that it's better there?"

"Oh! I am sure of it, my dear fellow! that's an excellent restaurant.

And when you happen to want a truffled snipe _a la provencale_, just order it in the morning when you go out to walk; it will be all ready for you at six o'clock, and you can tell me what you think of it."

"You seem to know the good places, Monsieur Chamoureau."

"What would you have? my knowledge goes back to the time of my marriage; Eleonore liked good things to eat and we often dined at restaurants--with Freluchon. He always went with us; my wife liked to have him because he knew all about wines and I knew very little. My wife would say: 'If Freluchon doesn't come with us, we shall have some wretched madeira.'--But he never refused to come, the dear fellow."

"It was a pleasure to me."

"To be sure, where my wife was, one could never be bored; she had so much wit!"

"Ah! she was agreeable, was she?"

"Agreeable! Eleonore! Why, monsieur, she was a very superior woman--a regular bluestocking! She could have written her own memoirs if she had wanted to; but she wouldn't do it, she was too bright for that. She just sparkled with fun, with imagination. I shall never find another woman like her, never! never! What a loss I have sustained! I can never be consoled; when I lost her, I lost all!"

Monsieur Chamoureau drew his handkerchief again and began to weep.

"Come, come, Monsieur Chamoureau," said Edmond, "you must be reasonable!"

"It's too much for me, my dear friend. I feel that I am no longer of any account on earth, bereft of my Eleonore!"

Freluchon seized the tongs and began to stir the fire, saying:

"Chamoureau, do you remember the trick she played on an old lady one day?"

"Ah, yes! at Saint-Cloud!"

"At Saint-Cloud, just so; it was at a restaurant, one very hot day in summer."

"Yes, yes; there was only one small salon with two tables vacant."

"That's right. Eleonore--I mean your wife----"