Molly Elliot Seawell

“ Meanwhile, in the gay little apartment in the Avenue de l’Impératrice, where the de Meneval ménage was situated, the necklace had become a haunting ghost as well as in the Rue Bassano.
As Léontine and her husband sat opposite each other at breakfast in the pretty little salle à manger, each felt like a criminal. It was a very pretty little salle à manger—just the sort of room for a young couple with a modest income, yet sufficient to live on. ”

“ The effect frightened her for a moment or two, because Major Fallière, perfectly astounded and highly offended, drew himself up stiffly and glared at her like an ogre. But she was so very pretty, her impertinence was accompanied with such a charming air of simplicity, that no man not an absolute ogre could withstand it. So, in spite of himself, old P. M. P.’s backbone relaxed, his eyes softened and he tugged at his mustache to disguise the smile that would persist in coming. ”

“ I will take the eight o’clock train. You will meet me at the station. We will go to the Pigeon House, where you will secure a table in that charming terrace garden you have told me so much about. We will have a jolly little supper—and I’ll pay for the champagne. No—no!” putting her hands over de Meneval’s mouth. “And it will be such fun to watch the queer people passing in and out of the music hall!”
“Some of them,” said de Meneval, with the hope of frightening Léontine, “are very queer indeed.” ”

“ We are so dull and disheartened to-day that nothing but a supper at the Pigeon House will cheer us up. You will take me there to-night. Remember, you promised me.”
“Did I?” asked poor de Meneval. He was, in truth, afraid to show his face at the Pigeon House lest the head waiter should quietly tap him on the shoulder and ask him to step up to the bureau and pay the whole of the nineteen hundred francs. And what would become of that story he had told Léontine about never having set foot in the Pigeon House since his marriage? ”

“ What a story was this to hatch about the most correct old gentleman in Paris! Papa Bouchard simply glared at Léontine, but that merry young woman was smiling and dimpling, as if debts and duns and trips to Verneuil and diamond necklaces were quite the ordinary ingredients of life. The hen that hatched a cockatrice was no more puzzled and dismayed than was Papa Bouchard at the vagaries of his ward. ”

“ It was opened by a soldier—de Meneval’s servant—whom Léontine had never seen before. The man’s unfamiliar face, and the unlooked-for sight that met her eyes as soon as she stepped over the threshold, made her turn as if to go out. In the middle of the room was spread a table, with preparations for an elaborate supper; and Léontine’s quick eye discovered that ladies were expected, for to three huge bouquets were appended cards with names written on them. “For the Sprightly Aglaia,” “For Olga, the Queen of the Dance;” “For Louise of the Fairy Foot.” ”

“ He was nerved, however, by the recollection of the apartment he had just seen; it had been given up the day before by a young journalist, [9] named Marsac, who had left various souvenirs of a very pleasant life there. The street was such a bustling, noisy street—and the Rue Clarisse was so quiet, so quiet! In the new street there were two music halls in full view and generally in full blast, gay restaurants blazing with lights, where all sorts of delicious, indigestible things to eat were to be had, and such an atmosphere of jollity and movement! ”

“ He was at perfect liberty to eat and drink all the things that were certain to make him feel ill the next day, a prerogative dear to a man’s heart. He had a charming woman opposite him, and a waiter who fairly overwhelmed him with attentions. Without an order from Monsieur Bouchard, François produced the wine appropriate to every course, and instead of being frowned on was rewarded for it. But in spite of white wines and red wines, Papa Bouchard stuck pretty close to the champagne, which speedily got into his tongue and his eyes as well as into his blood. ”

“ Léontine scarcely heard Élise’s fierce denunciations of the two reprobates in the Rue Bassano; all she really took in was the correspondence and the running to and fro about the necklace. She flew from the apartment, leaving Mademoiselle Bouchard in a state of collapse on the sofa, while Élise retailed every circumstance of horror she had found out about the renegades. Calling the first cab, Léontine drove rapidly home, rushed to her strong-box, and got the supposed paste necklace out. ”

“ The sight that met their eyes was Monsieur Bouchard apparently submitting with willingness to Madame Vernet’s endearments, while the lady herself sobbed out upon his breast:
“Oh, Paul, dearest, protect your own Adèle from that dreadful old woman!”
Now, this was too much for any woman to stand. Mademoiselle Bouchard, panting and trembling with wrath and horror, sank into a chair.
“Élise,” she gasped, putting her hand before her eyes, “put up your umbrella [247] between me and that disgraceful sight. I cannot look upon it.” ”

“ Léontine, who was delicate-minded, always called her money “our money,” and de Meneval deeply and affectionately appreciated this.
“And it will be duller than ever at that odious little cottage in the suburbs of Melun.”
“Oh, yes. Léontine, I am afraid it is I who have brought this on you.”
“No, no, no—it is I, or rather Papa Bouchard’s old-fashioned, stingy ideas. He has no notion of what a modern way of living costs.”
“But he will find out in the Rue Bassano, if I’m not mistaken,” said de Meneval, laughing suddenly. ”

“ Papa Bouchard—as the artillery captain had the impudence to call him—did, it is true, keep a tight hand on Léontine’s fortune, and would allow her only half her income, at which Léontine grumbled and incited Captain de Meneval to grumble, too. But Papa Bouchard, having full power as trustee, met their complaints and protests with a proposition to cut down their allowance to one-fourth of their income, at which the two young people grew frightened, and desisted.
Now, there dwells in every masculine breast a germ of lawlessness that no discipline ever invented can wholly kill. ”

“ Man or parrot, it is the same. After having been brought up in the way he should go, he longs to go it. Such was the case with Pierrot, with Pierre and with Monsieur Bouchard.
It was the bird that first made a dash for liberty. After ten years of irreproachable conduct, Pierrot, on that June morning, suddenly jumped from the balcony, where he had been walking the railing [6] in the most sedate manner, and scuttled off in the direction of the Alcazar d’Été, the Ambassadeurs, the Moulin Rouge, and the very gayest quarter of Paris. ”

“ It is this—that I like a gay life, and as that worthy fellow says, I would not go back to the Rue Clarisse for a million of monkeys, and all the money in the Bank of France beside. I intend to lead a very gay life, hereafter. I am a changed, a reformed man. Léontine, I shall allow you three-fourths of your income to spend—and if you get into straits, come to Papa Bouchard and perhaps I’ll do something handsome. Victor, when next you have a little party of Pouters on hand, don’t forgot your Papa Bouchard. ”

“ But she was so very demure, so modest, not to say bashful, that she seemed more like a nun than a widow. And so timid—everything frightened her. She trembled when the guard asked her for her ticket, and clung quite desperately to Monsieur Bouchard’s arm in the station at Verneuil. [36] She had expected her aunt and uncle to meet her, and when they were not to be found, blushingly accepted Monsieur Bouchard’s services in getting a cab. And that day, on stepping into the railway carriage to go to St. Germains, there was the dear little diffident thing again. ”

“ The mere giving of money tends to pauperize. The giving of work is the intelligent mode of benefiting a man or a woman.”
“That’s it precisely,” cried Léontine, instantly losing her air of gravity, and jumping up to kiss the bald spot on the top of Papa Bouchard’s head. Then she resumed her chair and her serious manner simultaneously. “That’s what I knew you’d say, dear Papa Bouchard. I had your approval in mind all the time. It came about in this way,” continued Léontine, solemnly. “There is a very worthy man—a Pole, Putzki by name—who is one of the best tailors in Paris. ”

“ And then, the diamond necklace lay heavy on his heart and danced up and down before his eyes, for Victor de Meneval really loved his charming young wife, and argued to himself that if that stingy old hunks of a Papa Bouchard had not held him so tight the present predicament would not have existed.
However, time waits for no man; and when the eight o’clock train from Paris was due Captain de Meneval was at the little station waiting for it. And when it rolled in Léontine sprang gracefully out of her compartment. ”

“ Meanwhile, sweet sounds of the orchestra and of singing floated out from the open windows of the Pigeon House. More people strolled on the terrace, including many officers of the garrison; and when the intermission came, a flock of girls, each escorted by [133] a young man, generally an officer, came out, laughing and chattering, and took their places at the little tables. Some had only a glass of lemonade or wine, others had time for a pâté or some trifle of the kind. It was very pretty and picturesque, and Léontine, never having seen anything of the kind, was delighted. ”

“ If Pierrot bothered Papa Bouchard slightly, he added immensely to the suppressed gaiety of the two listeners, de Meneval and Léontine, and they went off into spasms of silent laughter whenever Pierrot screamed out any appropriate remark.
Papa Bouchard, however, got a good deal of solid enjoyment out of his supper in spite of his old friend of the Rue Clarisse, and Pierrot did not interfere in the least with Madame Vernet’s pleasure.
“The fact is,” said Monsieur Bouchard, confidentially, to Madame Vernet, after the third glass of champagne, “I wasn’t quite candid about that devilish bird.” ”

“ The concierge had gone to bed when he got home, and he dared not disturb the whole house at that hour. He spent a sleepless night, with Pierre snoring peacefully in the next room. The fellow had not come home till two o’clock in the morning. Monsieur Bouchard utilized the watches of the night in making up a story to tell the concierge to account for the enquiries he meant to make concerning Madame Vernet. A concierge, he well knew, is the nearest approach to an omniscient being on this planet. ”

“ And you no doubt expect me to pay it out of your wife’s income! I wonder what Léontine would say to this!”
[50] “That’s just what I’ve been wondering, too,” replied de Meneval, somewhat dolefully. “Léontine is the dearest girl in the world, but she is a woman, after all. I can prove to her that I have never given a franc’s worth to any other woman, except something to eat and drink, but all the same I’d just as soon she would think I spent my Melun evenings sitting in my quarters, with her picture before me and reading up on ballistics, as an artillery officer should.” ”

“ Léontine, throwing her parasol on the [206] sofa, began to march up and down the room in wrath and excitement.
“These are his quiet evenings! He doesn’t know anything about the Pigeon House since he was married! I shouldn’t have minded it if he had told me all about it, but to pretend to such economies, and at the same time be secretly indulging in these extravagances—these shameless orgies—oh, it is too much!”
Léontine had completely forgotten Putzki and Louise and the object of her sudden descent on her husband. ”

“ He is demented, and his latest hallucination is that Madame Vernet has stolen the necklace she wears; that it is worth forty thousand francs, that she stole it from his wife—and he has no wife.”
“But I tell you,” shouted de Meneval, quite beside himself, “that I never saw this woman before. She has my wife’s diamond necklace, and I can prove it. Call Monsieur Bouchard!”
“You see how it is,” coolly remarked Dr. Delcasse to the two police officers, “the only thing is to get him out of the way as quietly as possible. ”

“ Everything seemed extremely jolly—these places were undoubtedly pleasant, and he was not so much surprised as he had been at de Meneval’s fondness for it. At that very moment de Meneval and Léontine were watching [139] him and counting the chances of slipping out without being caught. But Papa Bouchard, quite unconscious of this, was becoming more and more interested in what was going on before him and around him. “At these places, though,” he was thinking, “one should have a companion—a person of the other sex—someone to help one enjoy—it’s dreary trying to be happy alone.” ”

“ I’m sure I have been told by a number of persons—members of my own family—that the Pigeon House is a perfectly respectable place. So let us have a pleasant evening here, and I will take you back to Paris by the eleven o’clock train.”
“Oh, Monsieur Bouchard, there is nothing I should like better, but I am afraid——”
“Don’t, don’t be afraid. There isn’t the least chance of anyone I know turning up. I have a young jackanapes of a family connection stationed here—a young officer—but I think I have pretty effectually shut [143] the door of the Pigeon House in his face.” ”

“ These, Pierre might be expected to remove when he began to hang on the walls the severely classic pictures that constituted Monsieur Bouchard’s collection of art. But Pierre seemed to know by clairvoyance Monsieur Bouchard’s latent tastes. He hung “The Coliseum by Moonlight”—a very fine etching—immediately under a red-and-gold young lady who was making a quarter past six with her dainty, uplifted toe. “Socrates and His Pupils” were put where they could get [24] an admirable view of another red-and-gold young lady who was making twelve o’clock meridian as nearly as a human being could. ”

“ If you had, you would not talk about a man’s imposing on his wife’s innocence. Love is clairvoyant, and most men know what their wives wish to believe, and gratify them accordingly. It’s a very complex subject, and needs to be dealt with intelligently.”
[51] “I think our standard of intelligence is not the same,” grimly responded Monsieur Bouchard. “But when I tell Léontine about this nineteen hundred francs due at the Pigeon House, I trust she will be able to deal with you intelligently.”
“I am afraid she will,” replied de Meneval, with some anxiety ”

“ De Meneval was getting warm over this, and Monsieur Bouchard was forced to admit that he supposed the Pigeon House was respectable.
“But that doesn’t prevent these jolly little suppers to the young ladies of the ballet, and especially those given to them by the officers. I assure you it is mere harmless eating and drinking. The poor girls have to work hard, and when they get through of an evening I dare say very few of them have two francs to buy something to eat. So a number of us have got into the way of giving these poor souls supper after the performance. ”

“ Now, it was plain that this pretty Léontine took liberties with her guardian, godfather and trustee, and also that Papa Bouchard liked these liberties. It was in vain that he tried to assume a stern air with Léontine. She pinched his ear when he scolded, drew caricatures of him when he frowned, and when at last he was forced to smile, as he always was, perched herself on the arm of his chair and declined to be evicted. And she [62] was so very pretty! The French have a saying that the devil himself was handsome when he was young. ”

“ When the young man returns with the officers I shall simply, with your permission, direct them to convey him to my sanatorium—it is less than half a mile from here—and I will telephone to my assistant to have a strait-jacket, a padded cell and a cold douche ready for the unfortunate young man, and we will take care of him, never fear. When I release him, depend upon it, he will be actually cured. I am not Dr. Vignaud, I beg you to believe.”
At this moment de Meneval, with a couple of officers, was entering the garden. ”

“ Most men are inventive enough in the matter of personal justification. But it is one thing to make up and tell a plausible tale, and another to get that tale believed. Élise openly sniffed at the theory advanced by Monsieur Bouchard that it was absolutely necessary for him to live nearer the courts. Also, that he was really inspired by a desire to save Mademoiselle the annoyance of clients coming and going.
“You remember, my dear Céleste, you complained of Captain de Meneval the last time he was here. ”

“ Léontine covered her face with her chiffon scarf, to avoid the sight of the young ladies pointing skyward with their toes.
“And I wonder what Aunt Céleste will say when she sees them,” continued this impish Léontine.
“She won’t see them. They will be removed to-morrow,” hastily put in Papa Bouchard.
“You’d better, you dear old thing, if you value your life. I shall have to [64] tell Victor about this. How he will laugh! I do all I can to make him laugh and to amuse him when he is with me, for it is so dull for him when he is obliged to stay at Melun. ”

“ I always thought parrots were the incarnation of the devil. I can’t imagine how the creature found out my name. At all events,” he added, tenderly, “neither bird nor devil, neither man nor woman, nor even your [144] aunt and uncle, can spoil the evening for us.”
“I don’t think my aunt and uncle can be coming,” replied Madame Vernet. And she spoke the truth.
“So much the better,” whispered Papa Bouchard.
The waiter, the same astute François who had waited on de Meneval and Léontine, now appeared with the champagne. ”

“ And as if in answer to his name, the door was burst open, and in rushed Pierre, pale and breathless.
“Monsieur,” he cried to Papa Bouchard; “all is discovered, and we are in the greatest danger. My wife Élise found out everything from the concierge in the Rue Bassano this evening. ”

“ By which Monsieur Bouchard, who was no fool, found out three things: first, that Madame Vernet had been beforehand with the concierge; second, that Madame Vernet did not have an aunt and uncle at Châlons, although she seemed to have uncles and aunts in every town, village and hamlet in France; and third, that wherever she might be she certainly was not at Châlons. ”

“ Papa Bouchard, quite beside himself, turned to Major Fallière.
“Sir,” he said, solemnly, “you wear the uniform of an officer, and I presume you are a gentleman. Believe me, this lady—” indicating Léontine—“is the wife of a brother officer of yours, Captain de Meneval. The truest kindness you can do him or her [224] is to persuade her to leave this scene of dissipation and return to Paris with me.” ”

“ Dr. Delcasse, slapping his hat down angrily on his head, marched indignantly [180] out, and de Meneval, still furious at the treatment to which he had been subjected, poured out his injuries:
“And but for having been recognized by some of the waiters as I was being dragged away I should at this moment be an inmate of a lunatic asylum, sent there by the wiles of a shameless adventuress, brought to the Pigeon House by Monsieur Bouchard.” This was de Meneval’s exact language.
“Take care, sir; take care!” cried Papa Bouchard, in a voice trembling with wrath. ”

“ Léontine, taking advantage of his amazed silence, kept on, rapidly:
“Then there is another deserving case—Louise, a milliner and modiste. She has a husband who squanders her money on his pleasures. If Victor did that I think it would kill me. Like Putzki she does not ask money, but [69] work. Out of sympathy for her, I have had her make me four ball gowns, nine visiting and house costumes, some little négligées and things, and about eighteen hats. And here are the bills.”
With this Léontine drew out two huge bills and thrust them into Papa Bouchard’s scowling face. ”

“ Papa Bouchard turned pale. Was ever such a diabolical trap laid for an innocent man? He was not at all sure, if he gave the true account of how he came by the stones, that Captain de Meneval would not carry out his threat and deny the whole business. The fellow had actually laughed while he was making the threat, and seemed to regard it as an excellent joke to impair the peace and honor of a respectable elderly gentleman. Papa Bouchard got up, sat down again, and groaned.
“Léontine,” he said, to that professedly [76] indignant young woman, “you don’t understand.” ”

“ Shall I take it to-morrow for Captain and Madame de Meneval?”
“You are trifling, Monsieur le Capitaine,” coolly answered Papa Bouchard. “You understand perfectly well what I mean.”
“But, Papa Bouchard,” put in Léontine, faintly, “while I don’t object to the cottage, it would be cruel to Victor to force him away from Paris. It is so dull, anyway, at Melun. The only recreation he has is when he comes to Paris. Poor, poor Victor!”
Léontine was almost weeping—de Meneval was swearing between his teeth. Papa Bouchard was waving his [89] arm about, serene in the consciousness of power. ”