The Bath Keepers.

VOL.1.

by Charles Paul de k.o.c.k.

I

RUE COUTURE-SAINTE-CATHERINE

It was two o'clock on a cold, damp morning; the fine snow, which melted as soon as it touched the ground, made the streets slippery and dirty, and Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine,--then called Couture-Sainte-Catherine,--although it was one of the broadest streets in Paris, was as black and gloomy as any blind alley in the Cite to-day.

But these things took place in the year one thousand six hundred and thirty-four; and I need not tell you that in those days no such devices for street lighting as lanterns, gas, or electric lights were known. The man who should have discovered the last-named invention, which, in truth, savors strongly of the magical, would surely have been subjected to the ordinary and extraordinary torture for a recompense.

Those were the good old times!

Everything new aroused suspicion; people believed much more readily in sorcerers, the devil, and magic, than in the results of study and learning and the reasoning of the human intellect.

Was it that men were too modest in those days? If so, they have reformed most effectually since then.

In those days, very few persons ventured to be out late in the streets of Paris, where the police was most inefficient and often worse.

The young n.o.blemen sometimes indulged in the pastime of beating the watch; that diversion was permitted to the n.o.bility. To-day, the prowlers about the barriers are the only cla.s.s who undertake to beat the gendarmes from time to time; but the gendarmes are not so accommodating as the watch of the old days.

There were not then some thirty or more theatres open every evening for the entertainment of the people of the capital and of the strangers drawn thither by its renown. A single one had been founded and was patronized by Cardinal de Richelieu, who, unfortunately for his glory, had undertaken to add to his other t.i.tles thereto the t.i.tle of author.

But all great men have had their weaknesses. Alexander drank too much, which was infinitely more reprehensible than to write wretched verses; Frederick the Great insisted that he was a talented performer on the flute; and Louis XIV danced in the comedies-ballets which Moliere composed for him.

The farces which were then being performed by Turlupin, Gros-Guillaume, and Gauthier-Garguille ended with the daylight, their theatres being in the open air. People dined at noon and supped at six o'clock; and when a worthy bourgeois remained at a friend's house as late as nine o'clock, he looked upon it as a genuine revel, as a youthful escapade, and hurried home at the top of his speed, carrying a lantern, and shuddering with terror many a time as he pa.s.sed through the lanes which were then called streets, and in which, if he should happen to meet any evil-minded person, he was certain of obtaining no a.s.sistance from any house or shop; for when the curfew had rung, everything must be closed, and you might not even have a light in your house, if you wished to read or work, or for any reason not to go to bed.

Why do we call that period "the good old time"?

That is a question I have often asked myself.

Is it because people were not ent.i.tled to go to bed, to work, to entertain their friends, to amuse themselves when they had the desire, the need, or the fancy so to do?

Is it because people broke their necks after dark in the streets?

because thieves, then called _Truands_, _Mauvais Garcons_, _Tireurs de Laine_, or _Coupeurs de Bourses_, plied their trade in broad daylight on Pont Neuf and in other localities, laughing in your face if you ventured to remonstrate?

Was it because the shops were dark and filthy, devoid of taste and refinement?

Was it because duels were fought on street corners, or in the public squares, two or four or twelve a day, as unconcernedly as we go boating to-day; and the authorities took no steps to prevent this butchery?

Was it because edicts were promulgated every day whereby such a one was forbidden to wear silk, another to wear velvet, this woman to have a gilt girdle, another to dress in certain colors, which were too brilliant, too conspicuous for her walk in life?

O short-sighted politicians! O paltry critics! who anathematize luxury, who seek to restrict refinement, who censure coquetry, and who do not understand that by such theories you strike at our commerce, our manufacturers, our mechanics--in a word, all our _workers_!

In heaven's name, what harm is done if a plebeian who has money dresses fashionably, luxuriously even, if such be his taste, his caprice?

Are you afraid that he may eclipse you, who a.s.sume to belong to the beau monde? Try to make yourself distinguished by your manners, your bearing, your grace, your courtesy, your language; surely you must know that those are things that cannot be bought!

For my own part, I would be glad to see all the working girls in silk dresses, velvet bonnets, and lace-trimmed caps, and all the workingmen in patent-leather shoes and white gloves.

Where would be the harm?

Is not the picture of refinement more attractive than that of slovenliness, poverty, and want?

Does not the money that a man spends on his dress do him more honor than that which he throws away at the wine shop?

But let us return to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, and to the period when the events that we are about to describe took place.

A young man came out of Rue des Francs-Bourgeois and pa.s.sed the Hotel de Carnavalet, before which artists and admirers of sculpture always paused to gaze at the waving lines of the great portal, and the masks and bas-reliefs that adorned the arches of the windows--the work of the immortal Jean Goujon.

Fortunate structure, which the genius of an artist was to make famous forever, and to which, at a later time, a woman of intellect was to add renewed l.u.s.tre by making it her residence!

But at the period of which we write, Madame de Sevigne had not taken up her abode at the Hotel de Carnavalet.

The hour was not propitious for halting in front of the mansion, for it was very near Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, which at that time extended to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine; moreover, the person who came from the first-named street did not seem to be in that frame of mind which fits us to pa.s.s judgment on the objects of beauty we may meet on our road.

He was, as we have said, a young man. Twenty-five years was his age; he was tall, slender, and well built; there was in his carriage and in every movement the ease of bearing which denotes the man of the world, and the manners which point to familiarity with cultivated society, and which one does not lose, even in low company, when one has inherited them from a long line of ancestors.

In addition to grace of form, this young man possessed a handsome face and clean-cut features; his brow was lofty and proud; his black eyes were large and bright, and surmounted by very dense eyebrows which almost met, thus imparting at times a somewhat sombre expression to the organs of vision below them, which flashed fire when animated by wrath, but could, on occasion, a.s.sume an expression of gentleness and tenderness which it was difficult to resist; a small mouth, well supplied with teeth, and shaded by a small moustache; an oval chin adorned by a _royale_; and a forest of black hair which fell in thick curls over his neck and shoulders--such, physically, was Leodgard de Marvejols.

As for his moral character, this story will instruct us sufficiently therein.

Clad in a handsome doublet of crimson silk, slashed with white satin; knee-breeches of the same material, held in place by a white belt with silver fringe, to which was attached a long sword, with a hilt of the finest steel, ornamented with fringe and bows of ribbon; the young cavalier's feet and legs were encased in funnel-shaped top-boots of yellow leather, with buckles at the instep; spurs affixed to those light boots indicated that they seldom contributed to wear out the pavements. A broad collarette, trimmed with lace, served as a cravat, and a small velvet cloak was thrown over the shoulders and clasped on one side. Lastly, a hat with a pointed crown and broad brim, turned up in front, and surmounted by a long white plume attached by a steel b.u.t.ton, was the young man's headgear; and it must be said that it was infinitely more graceful and refined than the hideous hats that we wear to-day.

We must do justice to the "good old times" in this respect: the costumes worn by men were much more graceful, more dignified, more attractive, than they now are; for we must, before everything, be impartial, and award praise as well as blame.

Leodgard de Marvejols walked rather quickly, but sometimes he stopped, like a person who is very much preoccupied, and to whom it matters little that it is two o'clock in the morning, and that the streets are deserted.

At these times he usually thought aloud, or talked to himself--a practice which is more common than is generally supposed; and as the young n.o.bleman had supped very copiously, his monologues were quite as energetic as if he were still accompanied by boisterous revellers.

At this time Leodgard was very near the new convent of the _Annonciades Celestes_, or _Filles Bleues_, which one of the mistresses of Henri IV, the Marquise de Verneuil, had founded in the year 1626.

The blue girdle and cloak worn by the Annonciades had already caused them to be styled _Filles Bleues_; which fact did not prevent those saintlike women from being held in great veneration in their quarter; so that, in broad daylight, people would have been terribly scandalized to hear our young man swear roundly so near that asylum of repentance, and exclaim, as he leaned against the wall of the convent:

"Par la mordieu! if that Jarnonville had not left the game, I should have won twice as much, thrice as much; I was in luck; I should have won until morning. And that D'Artigues, and Cournac--to refuse to take the dice--when I offered them their revenge at lansquenet--that swindlers'

game! and when I was losing! G.o.d d.a.m.n me! I would stake my patrimony, my moustaches, my mistress, if anyone would give me anything on them, and my soul, if the devil would take it.--Let me see: how much did I win from them? five or six hundred pistoles at most; and even so, I am not sure that their rose crowns aren't clipped or counterfeit. A n.o.ble night's work, on my word! as if that would make up what I have lost! I know that I may continue to win to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow; that I may win as often as I have lost.--Ah! I will win! I must! I must win enough to buy another _pet.i.te maison_, as I have lost mine to that infernal De Montrevers.--Where in the devil am I to take my pretty courtesan, Camilla, to-morrow?--This is strange; I feel dizzy; that Jurancon wine was good, but it is heady.--Where in the devil shall I take my new conquest to-morrow? Cournac refused to lend me his _pet.i.te maison_, on the pretext that he was to have company there. The c.o.xcomb!

he boasts of it, but it is a lie; I know from his esquire that when he goes there he is always alone! However, we shall find some place of shelter to take our belle; I am in funds now, and with a well-filled purse one is welcomed cordially everywhere.--Apropos of my purse, let us be sure that I haven't lost it. By h.e.l.l! I am quite capable of it, I am so dizzy!"

At that thought, the young man hastily put his hand to his belt; but his eyes almost immediately resumed a serene expression, as he felt his purse, which was round and full. He could not resist the desire to take it in his hands and feel the weight of it, saying to himself:

"At last, I am not going home with an empty purse. Ten thousand devils!

it is a long time since that has happened to me!"

And Leodgard was about to restore the purse to his belt, when a person who had drawn near to him, quietly and unperceived, caught his arm, saying: