"I have no reason to conceal the truth, least of all from you, whom I know to be less hard-hearted than you choose to appear.--Comte Leodgard has seduced, dragged down into the depths of despair, a poor girl who had been, until she fell in with him, as pure as the angels. He promised her, swore on his honor, that she should be his wife. She believed in the sincerity of his love and his oaths.--Bathilde's parents discovered her sin, and drove her from their house without pity. I took her in, and my father did not blame me--far from it!--But the author of all Bathilde's sufferings, the man who lives here, Comte Leodgard---- Can you believe, seigneur, that he has utterly deserted the girl he seduced?--Bathilde wrote to him that her parents had turned her out of doors; and he has not come to see her, he has not even deigned to answer her letter. He received it, however, for I myself gave it to his concierge. In the last month, I have come here twenty times, to see him, to speak to him--it is impossible to find him! He has refused to admit me!--And that man gives grand parties in his fine house! He pa.s.ses his nights in dissipation, while his poor victim weeps in despair and appeals to him in vain for a word of comfort!--Ah! it is frightful!--But I vowed that I would see this Leodgard, this unworthy n.o.bleman, who dishonors the name he bears--that I would see him and speak to him. I am only a woman, but I am brave and determined.--To-day, Providence has permitted me to meet you, and I am deeply grateful. I cannot doubt that, with your help, I shall be able to speak with the count."

Jarnonville listened attentively to what Ambroisine said; for a moment he seemed moved, but almost instantly, as if he regretted that he had allowed his heart to be touched, he pushed the girl away and would have walked on.

"A mere love story!" he said; "a woman seduced! What have I to do with all that? Comte Leodgard's intrigues do not concern me!"

"But a poor girl who is on the point of becoming a mother, and whose child, spurned by its father, will have no name, nothing to eat--that concerns you, for you are compa.s.sionate to children, I know!"

Jarnonville stopped; he pa.s.sed his hand across his forehead, heaved a profound sigh, and returned to Ambroisine, saying:

"Come with me!"

The chevalier retraced his steps to Leodgard's house and knocked; the gate swung open and he bade Ambroisine enter with him.

Seeing the girl in the courtyard, the concierge, who recognized her, cried:

"What are you doing here? Monsieur le comte will not receive you, as you know quite well! I have orders to send you away whenever you come here, so----"

"This young woman is with me," said Jarnonville, in a tone that imposed silence on the concierge. "Hold your peace!"

And taking Ambroisine's hand, he led her through the vestibule at the right into a room preceding the banquet hall, and said:

"Remain here. I will find Leodgard and send him to you, without telling him who it is that wishes to see him."

"Oh! thanks! thanks a thousand times, seigneur!--I knew that you would help me!"

Jarnonville left the room; and Ambroisine, undismayed, awaited Leodgard's appearance. She was not embarra.s.sed at finding herself in that sumptuous abode. Grandeur loses all its prestige when it loses its power to inspire respect.

Hardly five minutes had pa.s.sed when Leodgard entered the room in which Ambroisine awaited him.

"A lady to see me?" he exclaimed; "why does she not come to the salons where my guests are a.s.sembled?"

"Because that is not her place, monsieur le comte, and because, no doubt, you would not be pleased to see her there," said Ambroisine, stepping forward with a resolute air.

As he recognized Hugonnet's daughter, Leodgard could not restrain an angry gesture. He glanced at her disdainfully and muttered:

"What! is it you? By h.e.l.l! you are persistent! You have been to my house too often already; you must have understood that I did not choose to receive you. You have no right to violate a person's domicile thus!--Understand, my dear, that this is not your father's bathing establishment, where anyone who pleases has a right to enter."

"Oh! I know quite well that I am not in my father's house, monsieur le comte; there is no possibility of mistake on that score. For Master Hugonnet's house is the house of an honorable man, from which those who come to demand justice are not turned away."

"On my soul, I believe that she presumes to be impertinent!--Begone! I have nothing to say to you!"

"And I did not come here to talk, monsieur, but to demand an answer to the letter you have received."

"What letter?"

"The letter from Bathilde--that poor girl whom you have deceived and seduced, and who bears within her the result of her fault. When she implores you in her child's name, can you be deaf to her prayer? What shall I say to Bathilde, monsieur le comte?"

"Nothing! I do not answer such letters! Upon my word, these girls are mad! We do them the honor to think them pretty, to make love to them, and they expect that sort of thing to last forever!--Your friend will be consoled.--Adieu!"

"Monsieur le comte," said Ambroisine, falling at Leodgard's knees, "for the love of heaven, have some pity for Bathilde, who believed your oaths!--Give her back her honor; remember that her parents have cast her out!--Excuse me for not addressing you with more respect. Treat me as harshly as you will, but be moved by Bathilde's suffering, I implore you!"

"Enough! enough! let me hear no more of all this! And above all, girl, never put your foot in my house again, for I shall not always be so patient!"

As he spoke, Leodgard roughly extricated himself from Ambroisine's hands, and hurried from the room.

"The villain!" said the girl, as she rose. "Ah! poor Bathilde, who will take care of your child?"

"I will!" said Jarnonville, who had returned to Ambroisine; and he made haste to escort her from the hotel in Rue de Bretonvilliers.

x.x.xII

Pa.s.sEDIX PUTS ON A NEW SKIN

One fine winter's day, the Chevalier Pa.s.sedix, who had left his lodgings in the morning shivering with cold, being but poorly protected by his threadbare and scanty cloak, returned to the Hotel du Sanglier with a radiant face and with his head in the air, throwing the doors open like a man who is not afraid of being rebuked for making too much noise.

Instead of going upstairs to his lodgings, the chevalier entered the room on the ground floor with which we are already acquainted, wherein Dame Cadichard, the mistress of the establishment, was wont to sit and take her meals.

Pa.s.sedix appeared in the room at the moment that his hostess was about to attack some panada which her old servant, Popelinette, had just placed before her. He threw himself into a venerable easy-chair opposite Dame Cadichard and stretched out his legs, crying:

"Sandis! what a beastly chair! May G.o.d d.a.m.n me if it isn't stuffed with nutsh.e.l.ls!"

Widow Cadichard cried out in amazement, almost in anger, when she saw the lack of ceremony with which her fifth-floor tenant presumed to make himself at home before her, and carried his impertinence to the point of criticising her easy-chair.

"What is the meaning of this tone, these manners, Monsieur de Pa.s.sedix?"

she demanded at last, pausing over her panada. "Since when has it been the fashion to enter a room where there is a lady without even putting your hand to your hat? And why do you stretch yourself out in that chair, if you don't find it soft enough for you?"

"Enough, sweet Cadichard, enough, I beg! Put a curb on your tongue, whose intemperance begins to annoy me. I have been patient with your nonsense long enough, and I am disposed to be so no longer.--Put that in your pocket, Dame Cadichard!--That panada you are eating has a very sorry look. For shame! I will bet that there's no sugar in it! I desire a breakfast somewhat more substantial than that.--Where is Popelinette, that I may send her to the nearest wine shop?--Hola! Popelinette!"

"My servant is not at your orders, monsieur le chevalier; she does housework for the tenants who pay me. When you do that, she will work for you too."

Without a word in reply, the Gascon took from his belt a stout purse full of gold pieces, and threw it on the table at which his hostess was seated. Then he said to her:

"Well! _belle dame_, there is enough money to pay more than I owe you.

Be good enough to make up my account, so that we may become good friends once more! For I have learned to appreciate the truth of the proverb: 'Short reckonings make long friends!'--That is very melancholy for the human race! It proves that the human race is d.a.m.nably selfish! But I do not undertake to correct it; I take it as I find it.--Make up your account, Dame Cadichard, and pay yourself from this all that I owe you to this day."

The hostess was struck dumb by the sight of that well-lined purse, which had almost fallen into her soup; for the gold which it contained shone with the brilliancy of good alloy. In the joy and amazement caused by her tenant's action, she tried to say something; but she could only stammer a few incoherent words, ending with a sneeze, whose ramifications extended to her panada. So she confined herself to stirring that compound, until, recovering her speech at last, she cried, with the most gracious of smiles:

"Mon Dieu! what in the world has happened to you, chevalier? What change has taken place in your position since yesterday? for only yesterday you could not give me anything on account of my rent!"

"What has happened to me, my dear hostess? Why, one of those very simple events which happen every day to people who have rich relations.--One of my uncles has deceased; _mortuus est!_ And that uncle, who could not endure me, who was never willing to see me on his birthday, or on New Year's Day, thought better of it when he was on his deathbed, and made me his only heir, to the exclusion of certain cousins who fawned on him and wheedled him from morning till night!"

"Ah! that is fine, monsieur le chevalier!--Believe that I share with you in your joy at what has happened."

"I do not doubt it! And first of all, you will share with me by taking your dues from this purse.--Well, this morning, I met a friend who was coming to bring me the good news!--He threw his arms about my neck and embraced me until he nearly strangled me.--I was about to ask him the reason, when he cried: