romance of youth, a — volume 1 by coppée, françois, 1842-1908

8/14/2019 Romance of Youth, a Volume 1 by Coppe, Franois, 1842-1908

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AROMANCEOFYOUTH

ByFRANCOISCOPPEE

WithaPrefacebyJOSEDEHEREDIA,oftheFrenchAcademy

FRANCOISCOPPEE

FRANCOISEDOUARDJOACHIMCOPPEEwasborninParis,January12,1842.Hisfatherwasaminor'employe'intheFrenchWarOffice;and,asthefamilyconsistedofsixtheparents,threedaughters,andason(thesubjectofthisessay)--theearlyyearsofthepoetwerenotspentingreatluxury.Afterthefather'sdeath,theyoungmanhimselfenteredthegovernmentalofficewithitsmonotonouswork.IntheeveninghestudiedhardatSt.GenevieveLibrary.Hemaderhymes,hadthemevenprinted(LeReliquaire,1866);butthepublicremainedindifferentuntil1869,whenhiscomedyinverse,'LePassant',appeared.FromthisperioddatesthereputationofCoppee--hewokeuponemorninga"celebratedman."

Likemanyofhiscountrymen,heisapoet,adramatist,anovelist,andawriteroffiction.HewaselectedtotheFrenchAcademyin1884.Smoothshaven,ofplacidfigure,withpensiveeyes,thehairbrushedbackregularly,theheadofanartist,CoppeecanbeseenanydaylookingoverthedisplayoftheParisiansecondhandbooksellersontheQuaiMalaquais;athomeonthewriting-desk,apageofcarefullypreparedmanuscript,yetsometimescoveredbycigarette-ashes;uponthewall,sketchesbyJulesLefebvreandJulesBreton;alittleinthedistance,thegauntformofhisattentivesisterandcompanion,Annette,occupiedwithhouseholdcares,everfearfulofdisturbinghim.Withinthistranquildomicilecan


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beheardthenoiseoftheParisianfaubourgwithitsthousanddifferentdins;thebustleofthestreet;theclatterofafactory;thevoiceoftheworkshop;thecriesofthepedlersintermingledwiththechimesofthebellsofanear-byconvent-aconfusingbuzzingnoise,whichtheauthor,however,seemstoenjoy;forCoppeeisParisianbybirth,Parisianbyeducation,aParisianoftheParisians.

Ifasapoetwecontemplatehim,Coppeebelongstothegroupcommonlycalled"Parnassiens"--nottheRomanticSchool,thesentimentallyriceffusionofLamartine,Hugo,orDeMusset!Whenthepoeticallutewaslaidasidebythetriadof1830,itwastakenupbymenofquitedifferentstamp,ofevenopposedtendencies.Observationofexteriormatterswasnowgreatlyadheredtoinpoetry;itbecameespeciallydescriptiveandscientific;theaimofeverypoetwasnowtorendermostexactly,evenminutely,theimpressionsreceived,orfaithfullytotranslateintoartisticlanguageathesisofphilosophy,adiscoveryofscience.Withsuchapoeticaldoctrine,youwilleasilyunderstandtheimportancewhichthe"naturalisticform"henceforthassumed.

Coppee,however,isnotonlyamakerofverses,heisanartistandapoet.Everypoemseemstohavesprungfromagenuineinspiration.Whenhesings,itisbecausehehassomethingtosingabout,andtheresultisthathispoetryisnearlyalwaysinteresting.Moreover,herespectsthelimitsofhisart;forwhilehisfriendandcontemporary,M.Sully-

Prudhomme,goesastrayhabituallyintophilosophicalspeculation,andhisimmortalsenior,VictorHugo,oftendeclaims,ifonemayventuretosayso,inamannerwhichistedious,Coppeesticksrigorouslytowhatmaybecalledtheproperregionsofpoetry.

FrancoisCoppeeisnotoneofthosesuperbhighpriestsdisdainfulofthethrong:heisthepoetofthe"humble,"andinhiswork,'LesHumbles',hepaintswithasincereemotionhisprofoundsympathyforthesorrows,themiseries,andthesacrificesofthemeek.Again,inhis'GravedesForgerons,LeNaufrage,andL'Epave',allpoemsofgreatextensionanduniversalreputation,hetreatsofsimpleexistences,ofunknownunfortunates,andofsacrificeswhichthedailypapersdonotrecord.Thecoloringanddesigningareprecise,evenifthetonebesomewhat

sombre,andnobodywilldenythatCoppeemostfullypossessesthetechniqueofFrenchpoetry.

ButFrancoisCoppeeisknowntofameasaprosewriter,too.His'Contesenprose'andhis'VingtContesNouveaux'aregracefullyandartisticallytold;scarcelyoneofthe'contes'failstohaveamoralmotive.Thestoriesareshortandnaturallyslight;some,indeed,inclinerathertotheessaythantothestory,buteachhasthatenthrallinginterestwhichjustifiesitsexistence.Coppeepossessespreeminentlythegiftofpresentingconcretefactratherthanabstraction.Asketch,forinstance,isthefirsttalewrittenbyhim,'UneIdyllependantleSeige'(1875).Inanovelwerequirestrongcharacterization,greatgraspofcharacter,andthenovelistshouldshowusthehumanheartandintellect

infullplayandactivity.In1875appearedalso'Olivier',followedby'L'Exilee(1876);RecitsetElegies(1878);VingtContesNouveaux(1883);andTouteuneJeunesse',mainlyanautobiography,crownedbyacclaimbytheAcademy.'LeCoupable'waspublishedin1897.Finally,in1898,appeared'LaBonneSouffrance'.Inthelast-mentionedworkitwouldseemthatthepoet,justrecoveringfromaseveremalady,hasreturnedtothedogmasoftheCatholicChurch,wherefromhe,likesomanyofhiscontemporaries,hadbecomeestrangedwhenayouth.Thepoemsof1902,'DanslaPriereetdanslaLutte',tendtoconfirmthecorrectnessofthisview.


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ThankstothejuvenileSarahBernhardt,Coppeebecame,asbeforementioned,likeByron,celebratedinonenight.Thishappenedthroughtheperformanceof'LePassant'.

Asinterludestotheplaysthereare"occasional"theatricalpieces,writtenforthefiftiethanniversaryoftheperformanceof'Hernani'orthetwo-hundredthanniversaryofthefoundationofthe"ComedieFrancaise."Thisisawidefield,indeed,whichM.Coppeehascultivatedtovariouspurposes.

TakeCoppee'sworksintheirsumandtotality,andtheworld-decreeisthatheisanartist,andanadmirableone.Heplaysuponhisinstrumentwithallpowerandgrace.Butheisnomerevirtuoso.Thereissomethinginhimbeyondtheexecutant.OfMalibran,AlfreddeMussetsays,mostbeautifully,thatshehadthat"voiceoftheheartwhichalonehaspowertoreachtheheart."Here,also,behindtheskilfulplayeronlanguage,thedeftmanipulatorofrhymeandrhythm,thegracefulandearnestwriter,onefeelsthebeatingofahumanheart.Onefeelsthatheisgivinguspersonalimpressionsoflifeanditsjoysandsorrows;thathisimaginationispowerfulbecauseitisgenuinelyhisown;thattheflowersofhisfancyspringspontaneouslyfromthesoil.NorcanIregarditasaughtbutanaddedgracethatthestringsofhisinstrumentshouldvibratesoreadilytowhatisbeautifulandunselfishanddelicate

inhumanfeeling.JOSEDEHEREDIAdel'AcademieFrancaise.

AROMANCEOFYOUTH

BOOK1.

CHAPTERI

ONTHEBALCONY

AsfarbackasAmedeeViolettecanremember,heseeshimselfinaninfant'scapuponafifth-floorbalconycoveredwithconvolvulus;thechildwasverysmall,andthebalconyseemedverylargetohim.Amedeehadreceivedforabirthdaypresentaboxofwater-colors,withwhichhewassprawledoutuponanoldrug,earnestlyintentuponhisworkofcoloringthewoodcutsinanoddvolumeofthe'MagasinPittoresque',andwettinghisbrushfromtimetotimeinhismouth.Theneighborsinthe

nextapartmenthadarighttoone-halfofthebalcony.SomeoneintherewasplayinguponthepianoMarcailhou'sIndianaWaltz,whichwasalltherageatthattime.Anyman,bornabouttheyear1845,whodoesnotfeelthetearsofhomesicknessrisetohiseyesasheturnsoverthepagesofanoldnumberofthe'MagasinPittoresque',orwhohearssomeoneplayuponanoldpianoMarcailhou'sIndianaWaltz,isnotendowedwithmuchsensibility.

Whenthechildwastiredofputtingthe"fleshcolor"uponthefacesofallthepersonsintheengravings,hegotupandwenttopeepthroughthe


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railingsofthebalustrade.Hesawextendingbeforehim,fromrighttoleft,withagracefulcurve,theRueNotre-Dame-des-Champs,oneofthequieteststreetsintheLuxembourgquarter,thenonlyhalfbuiltup.Thebranchesofthetreesspreadoverthewoodenfences,whichenclosedgardenssosilentandtranquilthatpassersbycouldhearthebirdssingingintheircages.

ItwasaSeptemberafternoon,withabroadexpanseofpureskyacrosswhichlargeclouds,likemountainsofsilver,movedinmajesticslowness.

Suddenlyasoftvoicecalledhim:

"Amedee,yourfatherwillreturnfromtheofficesoon.Wemustwashyourhandsbeforewesitdowntothetable,mydarling."

Hismothercameoutuponthebalconyforhim.Hismother;hisdearmother,whomheknewforsoshortatime!Itneedsaneffortforhimtocallhertomindnow,hismemoriesaresoindistinct.Shewassomodestandpretty,sopale,andwithsuchcharmingblueeyes,alwayscarryingherheadononeside,asiftheweightofherlovelychestnuthairwastooheavyforhertobear,andsmilingthesweet,tiredsmileofthosewhohavenotlongtolive!Shemadehistoilette,kissedhimuponhisforehead,afterbrushinghishair.Thenshelaidtheirmodesttable,whichwasalwaysdecoratedwithaprettyvaseofflowers.Soonthe

fatherentered.Hewasoneofthosemild,unpretentiousmenwholeteverybodyrunoverthem.

Hetriedtobegaywhenheenteredhisownhouse.Heraisedhislittleboyaloftwithonearm,beforekissinghim,exclaiming,"Houpla!"Amomentlaterhekissedhisyoungwifeandheldherclosetohim,tenderly,asheasked,withananxiouslook:

"Haveyoucoughedmuchto-day?"

Shealwaysreplied,hangingherheadlikeachildwhotellsanuntruth,"No,notverymuch."

Thefatherwouldthenputonanoldcoat--theonehetookoffwasnotverynew.Amedeewasthenseatedinahighchairbeforehismug,andtheyoungmother,goingintothekitchen,wouldbringinthesupper.Afteropeninghisnapkin,thefatherwouldbrushbackbehindhisearwithhishandalonglockontherightside,thatalwaysfellintohiseyes.

"Istheretoomuchofabreezethisevening?youafraidtogooutuponthebalcony,Lucie?Putashawlon,then,"saidM.Violette,whilehiswifewaspouringthewaterremaininginthecarafeuponaboxwheresomenasturtiumsweregrowing.

"No,Paul,Iamsure--takeAmedeedownfromhischair,andletusgooutuponthebalcony."

Itwascooluponthishighbalcony.Thesunhadset,andnowthegreatcloudsresembledmountainsofgold,andafreshodorcameupfromthesurroundinggardens.

"Good-evening,MonsieurViolette,"suddenlysaidacordialvoice."Whatafineevening!"

Itwastheirneighbor,M.Gerard,anengraver,whohadalsocometotakebreathuponhisendofthebalcony,havingspenttheentiredaybentover


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hiswork.Hewaslargeandbald-headed,withagood-naturedface,aredbeardsprinkledwithwhitehairs,andheworeashort,loosecoat.Ashespokehelightedhisclaypipe,thebowlofwhichrepresentedAbd-el-Kader'sface,verymuchcolored,savetheeyesandturban,whichwereofwhiteenamel.

Theengraver'swife,adumpylittlewomanwithmerryeyes,soonjoinedherhusband,pushingbeforehertwolittlegirls;one,thesmallerofthetwo,wastwoyearsyoungerthanAmedee;theotherwastenyearsold,andalreadyhadawiselittleair.ShewasthepianistwhopractisedonehouradayMarcailhou'sIndianaWaltz.

Thechildrenchatteredthroughthetrellisthatdividedthebalconyintwoparts.Louise,theelderofthegirls,knewhowtoread,andtoldthetwolittleonesverybeautifulstories:Josephsoldbyhisbrethren;RobinsonCrusoediscoveringthefootprintsofhumanbeings.

Amedee,whonowhasgrayhairuponhistemples,canstillrememberthechillsthatrandownhisbackatthemomentwhenthewolf,hiddenundercoveringsandthegrandmother'scap,said,withagnashingofteeth,tolittleRedRidingHood:"Allthebettertoeatyouwith,mychild."

Itwasalmostdarkthenupontheterrace.Itwasalldelightfullyterrible!

Duringthistimethetwofamilies,intheirrespectivepartsofthebalcony,weretalkingfamiliarlytogether.TheVioletteswerequietpeople,andpreferredrathertolistentotheirneighborsthantotalkthemselves,makingbriefrepliesforpoliteness'sake--"Ah!""Isitpossible?""Youareright."

TheGerardslikedtotalk.MadameGerard,whowasagoodhousekeeper,discussedquestionsofdomesticeconomy;telling,forexample,howshehadbeenoutthatday,andhadseen,upontheRueduBac,somemerino:"Averygoodbargain,Iassureyou,Madame,andverywide!"Orperhapstheengraver,whowasasimplepolitician,afterthefashionof1848,woulddeclarethatwemustaccepttheRepublic,"Oh,notthered-hot,you

know,butthetrue,therealone!"OrhewouldwishthatCavaignachadbeenelectedPresidentattheSeptemberballoting;althoughhehimselfwasthenengraving--onemustlive,afterall--aportraitofPrinceLouisNapoleon,destinedfortheelectoralplatform.M.andMadameVioletteletthemtalk;perhapseventheydidnotalwayspayattentiontotheconversation.Whenitwasdarktheyheldeachother'shandsandgazedatthestars.

Theselovely,cool,autumnalevenings,uponthebalcony,underthestarryheavens,arethemostdistantofallAmedee'smemories.Thentherewasabreakinhismemory,likeabookwithseveralleavestornout,afterwhichherecallsmanysaddays.

Winterhadcome,andtheynolongerspenttheireveningsuponthebalcony.Onecouldseenothingnowthroughthewindowsbutadull,graysky.Amedee'smotherwasillandalwaysremainedinherbed.Whenhewasinstallednearthebed,beforealittletable,cuttingoutwithscissorsthehussarsfromasheetofEpinal,hispoormammaalmostfrightenedhim,assheleanedherelbowuponthepillowandgazedathimsolongandsosadly,whileherthinwhitehandsrestlesslypushedbackherbeautiful,disorderedhair,andtworedhecticspotsburnedunderhercheekbones.


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Itwasnotshewhonowcametotakehimfromhisbedinthemorning,butanoldwomaninashortjacket,whodidnotkisshim,andwhosmelledhorriblyofsnuff.

Hisfather,too,didnotpaymuchattentiontohimnow.Whenhereturnedintheeveningfromtheofficehealwaysbroughtbottlesandlittlepackagesfromtheapothecary.Sometimeshewasaccompaniedbythephysician,alargeman,verymuchdressedandperfumed,whopantedforbreathafterclimbingthefiveflightsofstairs.OnceAmedeesawthisstrangerputhisarmsaroundhismotherasshesatinherbed,andlayhisheadforalongtimeagainstherback.Thechildasked,"Whatfor,mamma?"

M.Violette,morenervousthanever,andcontinuallythrowingbacktherebelliouslockbehindhisear,wouldaccompanythedoctortothedoorandstoptheretotalkwithhim.ThenAmedee'smotherwouldcalltohim,andhewouldclimbuponthebed,whereshewouldgazeathimwithherbrighteyesandpresshimtoherbreast,saying,inasadtone,asifshepitiedhim:"MypoorlittleMedee!MypoorlittleMedee!"Whywasit?Whatdiditallmean?

Hisfatherwouldreturnwithaforcedsmilewhichwaspitifultosee.

"Well,whatdidthedoctorsay?"

"Oh,nothing,nothing!Youaremuchbetter.Only,mypoorLucie,wemustputonanotherblisterto-night."

Oh,howmonotonousandslowthesedaysweretothelittleAmedee,nearthedrowsyinvalid,inthecloseroomsmellingofdrugs,whereonlytheoldsnuff-takerenteredonceanhourtobringacupofteaorputcharcoaluponthefire!

Sometimestheirneighbor,MadameGerard,wouldcometoinquireafterthesicklady.

"Stillveryfeeble,mygoodMadameGerard,"hismotherwouldrespond.

"Ah,Iambeginningtogetdiscouraged."

ButMadameGerardwouldnotletherbedespondent.

"Yousee,MadameViolette,itisthishorrible,endlesswinter.ItisalmostMarchnow;theyarealreadysellingboxesofprimrosesinlittlecartsonthesidewalks.Youwillsurelybebetterassoonasthesunshines.Ifyoulike,IwilltakelittleAmedeebackwithmetoplaywithmylittlegirls.Itwillamusethechild."

Soithappenedthatthegoodneighborkeptthechildeveryafternoon,andhebecameveryfondofthelittleGerardchildren.

Fourlittlerooms,thatisall;butwithaquantityofold,picturesquefurniture;engravings,casts,andpicturespaintedbycomradeswereonthewalls;thedoorswerealwaysopen,andthechildrencouldalwaysplaywheretheyliked,chaseeachotherthroughtheapartmentsorpillagethem.Inthedrawing-room,whichhadbeentransformedintoawork-room,theartistsatuponahighstool,pointinhand;thelightfromacurtainlesswindow,siftingthroughthetransparentpaper,madetheworthyman'sskullshineasheleanedoverhiscopperplate.Heworkedhardallday;withanexpensivehouseandtwogirlstobringup,itwasnecessary.Inspiteofhisadvancedopinions,hecontinuedtoengrave


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hisPrinceLouis--"AroguewhoistryingtojuggleusoutofaRepublic."Attheverymost,hestoppedonlytwoorthreetimesadaytosmokehisAbu-el-Kader.Nothingdistractedhimfromhiswork;noteventhelittleones,who,tiredofplayingtheirpieceforfourhandsuponthepiano,wouldorganize,withAmedee,agameofhide-and-seekclosebytheirfather,behindtheoldEmpiresofaornamentedwithbronzelions'heads.ButMadameGerard,inherkitchen,whereshewasalwayscookingsomethinggoodfordinner,sometimesthoughttheymadetoogreatanuproar.ThenMaria,arealhoyden,intryingtocatchhersister,wouldpushanoldarmchairagainstaRenaissancechestandmakealltheRouencrockerytremble.

"Nowthen,nowthen,children!"exclaimedMadameGerard,fromthedepthsofherlair,fromwhichescapedadeliciousodorofbacon."Letyourfatherhavealittlequiet,andgoandplayinthedining-room."

Theyobeyed;fortheretheycouldmovechairsastheyliked,buildhousesofthem,andplayatmakingcalls.DideveranybodyhavesuchwildideasatfiveyearsofageasthisMaria?ShetookthearmofAmedee,whomshecalledherlittlehusband,andwenttocalluponhersisterandshowherherlittlechild,apasteboarddollwithalargehead,wrappedupinanapkin.

"Asyousee,Madame,itisaboy."

"Whatdoyouintendtomakeofhimwhenhegrowsup?"askedLouise,wholentherselfcomplacentlytotheplay,forshewastenyearsoldandquiteayounglady,ifyouplease.

"Why,Madame,"repliedMaria,gravely,"hewillbeasoldier."

Atthatmomenttheengraver,whohadlefthisbenchtostretchhislegsalittleandtolighthisAbd-el-Kaderforthethirdtime,cameandstoodatthethresholdofhisroom.MadameGerard,reassuredastothestateofherstew,whichwasslowlycooking--andoh,howgooditsmelledinthekitchen!--enteredthedining-room.Bothlookedatthechildren,socomicalandsograceful,astheymadetheirlittlegrimaces!Thenthe

husbandglancedathiswife,andthewifeatthehusband,andbothburstoutintoheartylaughter.

ThereneverwasanylaughterintheapartmentoftheViolettes.Itwascough!cough!cough!almosttosuffocation,almosttodeath!Thisgentleyoungwomanwiththeheavyhairwasabouttodie!Whenthebeautifulstarryeveningsshouldcomeagain,shewouldnolongerlingeronthebalcony,orpressherhusband'shandastheygazedatthestars.LittleAmedeedidnotunderstandit;buthefeltavagueterrorofsomethingdreadfulhappeninginthehouse.Everythingalarmedhimnow.Hewasafraidoftheoldwomanwhosmelledofsnuff,andwho,whenshedressedhiminthemorning,lookedathimwithapityingair;hewasafraidofthedoctor,whoclimbedthefiveflightsofstairstwiceadaynow,and

leftawhiffofperfumebehindhim;afraidofhisfather,whodidnotgotohisofficeanymore,whosebeardwasoftenthreedaysold,andwhofeverishlypacedthelittleparlor,tossingbackwithadistractedgesturethelockofhairbehindhisear.Hewasafraidofhismother,alas!ofhismother,whomhehadseenthatevening,bythelightfromthenight-lamp,buriedinthepillows,herdelicatenoseandchinthrownup,andwhodidnotseemtorecognizehim,inspiteofherwide-openeyes,whenhisfathertookherchildinhisarmsandleanedoverherwithhimthathemightkisshercoldforeheadcoveredwithsweat!


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Atlasttheterribledayarrived,adaythatAmedeeneverwillforget,althoughhewasthenaverysmallchild.

Whatawakenedhimthatmorningwashisfather'sembraceashecameandtookhimfromhisbed.Hisfather'seyeswerewildandbloodshotfromsomuchcrying.Whywastheirneighbor,M.Gerard,theresoearlyinthemorning,andwithgreattearsrollingdownhischeekstoo?HekeptbesideM.Violette,asifwatchinghim,andpattedhimuponthebackaffectionately,saying:

"Nowthen,mypoorfriend!Havecourage,courage!"

Butthepoorfriendhadnomore.HeletM.Gerardtakethechildfromhim,andthenhisheadfelllikeadeadperson'suponthegoodengraver'sshoulder,andhebegantoweepwithheavysobsthatshookhiswholebody.

"Mamma!Seemamma!"criedthelittleAmedee,fullofterror.

Alas!heneverwillseeheragain!AttheGerards,wheretheycarriedhimandthekindneighbordressedhim,theytoldhimthathismotherhadgoneforalongtime,averylongtime;thathemustlovehispapaverymuchandthinkonlyofhim;andotherthingsthathecouldnotunderstandanddarednotaskthemeaningof,butwhichfilledhimwithconsternation.

Itwasstrange!Theengraverandhiswifebusiedthemselvesentirelywithhim,watchinghimeverymoment.Thelittleones,too,treatedhiminasingular,almostrespectfulmanner.Whathadcausedsuchachange?Louisedidnotopenherpiano,andwhenlittleMariawishedtotakeher"menagerie"fromthelowerpartofthebuffet,MadameGerardsaidsharply,asshewipedthetearsfromhereyes:"Youmustnotplayto-day."

AfterbreakfastMadameGerardputonherhatandshawlandwentout,takingAmedeewithher.Theygotintoacarriagethattookthemthroughstreetsthatthechilddidnotknow,acrossabridgeinthemiddleofwhichstoodalargebrasshorseman,withhisheadcrownedwithlaurel,

andstoppedbeforealargehouseandenteredwiththecrowd,whereaveryagileandrapidyoungmanputsomeblackclothesonAmedee.

Ontheirreturnthechildfoundhisfatherseatedatthedining-roomtablewithM.Gerard,andbothofthemwerewritingaddressesuponlargesheetsofpaperborderedwithblack.M.Violettewasnotcrying,buthisfaceshoweddeeplinesofgrief,andhelethislockofhairfalloverhisrighteye.

AtthesightoflittleAmedee,inhisblackclothes,heutteredagroan,andarose,staggeringlikeadrunkenman,burstingintotearsagain.

Oh,no!heneverwillforgetthatday,northehorriblenextday,when

MadameGerardcameanddressedhiminthemorninginhisblackclothes,whilehelistenedtothenoiseofheavyfeetandblowsfromahammerinthenextroom.Hesuddenlyrememberedthathehadnotseenhismothersincetwodaysbefore.

"Mamma!Iwanttoseemamma!"

Itwasnecessarythentotrytomakehimunderstandthetruth.MadameGerardrepeatedtohimthatheoughttobeverywiseandgood,andtrytoconsolehisfather,whohadmuchtogrievehim;forhismotherhadgone


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awayforever;thatshewasinheaven.

Inheaven!heavenisveryhighupandfaroff.Ifhismotherwasinheaven,whatwasitthatthoseportersdressedinblackcarriedawayintheheavyboxthattheyknockedateveryturnofthestaircase?Whatdidthatsolemncarriage,whichhefollowedthroughalltherain,quickeninghischildishsteps,withhislittlehandtightlyclaspedinhisfather's,carryaway?Whatdidtheyburyinthathole,fromwhichanodoroffreshlydugearthwasemitted--inthatholesurroundedbymeninblack,andfromwhichhisfatherturnedawayhisheadinhorror?Whatwasitthattheyhidinthisditch,inthisgardenfullofcrossesandstoneurns,wherethenewlybuddedtreesshoneintheMarchsunaftertheshower,largedropsofwaterstillfallingfromtheirbranchesliketears?

Hismotherwasinheaven!OntheeveningofthatdreadfuldayAmedeedarednotaskto"seemamma"whenhewasseatedbeforehisfatheratthetable,where,foralongtime,theoldwomaninashortjackethadplacedonlytwoplates.Thepoorwidower,whohadjustwipedhiseyeswithhisnapkin,hadputupononeoftheplatesalittlemeatcutupinbitsforAmedee.Hewasverypale,andasAmedeesatinhishighchair,heaskedhimselfwhetherheshouldrecognizehismother'ssweet,caressinglook,someday,inoneofthosestarsthatshelovedtowatch,seateduponthebalconyoncoolSeptembernights,pressingherhusband'shandinthe

darkness.

CHAPTERII

SADCHANGES

Treesarelikemen;therearesomethathavenoluck.AgenuinelyunfortunatetreewasthepoorsycamorewhichgrewintheplaygroundofaninstitutionforboysontheRuedelaGrande-Chaumiere,directedbyM.Batifol.

Chancemightjustaswellhavemadeitgrowuponthebanksofariver,uponsomeprettybluff,whereitmighthaveseentheboatspass;or,betterstill,uponthemallinsomegarrisonvillage,whereitcouldhavehadthepleasureoflisteningtwiceaweektomilitarymusic.But,no!itwaswritteninthebookoffatethatthisunluckysycamoreshouldloseitsbarkeverysummer,asaserpentchangesitsskin,andshouldscatterthegroundwithitsdeadleavesatthefirstfrost,intheplaygroundoftheBatifolinstitution,whichwasaplacewithoutanydistractions.

Thissolitarytree,whichwaslikeanyothersycamore,middle-agedandwithoutanysingularities,oughttohavehadthepainfulfeelingthatitservedinameasuretodeceivethepublic.Infact,uponthe

advertisementoftheBatifolinstitution(CoursdulyceeHenriIV.Preparationaubaccalaureatetauxecolesdel'Etat),onereadthesefallaciouswords,"Thereisagarden;"wheninrealityitwasonlyavulgarcourtgraveledwithstonesfromtheriver,withapavedgutterinwhichonecouldgatherhalfadozenoflostmarbles,abrokentop,andacertainnumberofshoe-nails,andafterrecreationhoursstillmore.Thissolitarysycamorewassupposedtojustifytheillusionandfictionofthegardenpromisedintheadvertisement;butastreescertainlyhavecommonsense,thisoneshouldhavebeenconsciousthatitwasnotagardenofitself.


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Itwasaveryunjustfateforaninoffensivetreewhichneverhadharmedanybody;onlyexpanding,atonesideofthegymnasiumportico,inaperfectrectangleformedbyaprisonwall,bristlingwiththeglassofbrokenbottles,andbythreebuildingsofdistressingsimilarity,showing,abovethenumerousdoorsonthegroundfloor,inscriptionswhichmerelytoreadinducedayawn:Hall1,Hall2,Hall3,Hall4,StairwayA,StairwayB,EntrancetotheDormitories,Dining-room,Laboratory.

Thepoorsycamorewasdyingofennuiinthisdismalplace.Itsonlyhappyseasons--therecreationhours,whenthecourtechoedwiththeshoutsandthelaughteroftheboys--werespoiledforitbythesightoftwoorthreepupilswhowerepunishedbybeingmadetostandatthefootofitstrunk.Parisianbirds,whoarenotfastidious,rarelylighteduponthetree,andneverbuilttheirneststhere.Itmightevenbeimaginedthatthisdisenchantedtree,whenthewindagitateditsfoliage,wouldcharitablysay,"Believeme!theplaceisgoodfornothing.Goandmakeloveelsewhere!"

Intheshadeofthissycamore,plantedunderanunluckystar,thegreaterpartofAmedee'sinfancywaspassed.

M.ViolettewasanemployeoftheMinistry,andwasobligedtoworksevenhoursaday,oneortwohoursofwhichweredevotedtogoingwearily

throughabundleofprobablysuperfluouspapersanddocuments.Therestofthetimewasgiventootheroccupationsasvariedastheywereintellectual;suchasyawning,filinghisnails,talkingabouthischiefs,groaningovertheslownessofpromotion,cookingapotatoorasausageinthestoveforhisluncheon,readingthenewspaperdowntotheeditor'ssignature,andadvertisementsinwhichsomecountrycureexpresseshisartlessgratitudeatbeingcuredatlastofanobstinatedisease.Inrecompenseforthisdailycaptivity,M.Violettereceived,attheendofthemonth,asumexactlysufficienttosecurehishouseholdsoupandbeef,withafewvegetables.

Inorderthathissonmightattainsuchadistinguishedposition,M.Violette'sfather,awatch-makerinChartres,hadsacrificed

everything,anddiedpenniless.TheSilvioPellicoofficial,duringtheseexasperatingandtiresomehours,sometimesregrettednothavingsimplysucceededhisfather.Hecouldseehimself,inimagination,inthelightlittleshopnearthecathedral,withamagnifying-glassfixedinhiseye,readytoinspectsomefarmer'sold"turnip,"andsuspendedoverhisbenchthirtysilverandgoldwatchesleftbyfarmerstheweekbefore,whowouldprofitbythenextmarket-daytocomeandgetthem,allgoingtogetherwithamerrytick.Itmaybequestionedwhetheratradeaslowasthiswouldhavebeenfittingforayoungmanofeducation,aBachelorofArts,crammedwithGreekrootsandquotations,abletoprovetheexistenceofGod,andtorecitewithouthesitationthedatesofthereignsofNabonassarandofNabopolassar.Thiswatch-maker,thissimpleartisan,understoodmoderngeniusbetter.Thismodestshopkeeperacted

accordingtothedemocraticlawandfollowedtheinstinctofanobleandwiseambition.Hemadeofhisson--asensibleandintelligentboy--amachinetocopydocuments,andspendhisdaysguessingtheconundrumsintheillustratednewspapers,whichhereadaseasilyasM.LedrainwoulddecipherthecuneiforminscriptionsonanAssyrianbrick.Also--anadmirableresult,whichshouldrejoicetheoldwatch-maker'sshade--hissonhadbecomeagentleman,afunctionary,sosplendidlyremuneratedbytheStatethathewasobligedtowearpatchesofcloth,asnearlikethetrousersaspossible,ontheirseat;andhispooryoungwife,duringherlife,hadalwaysbeenobliged,asrent-daydrewnear,tocarrythe


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soup-ladleandsixsilvercoverstothepawn-shop.

Atallevents,M.Violettewasawidowernow,andbeingbusyalldaywasverymuchembarrassedwiththecareofhislittleson.Hisneighbors,theGerards,wereverykindtoAmedee,andcontinuedtokeephimwiththemalltheafternoon.Thisstateofaffairscouldnotalwayscontinue,andM.Violettehesitatedtoabusehisworthyfriends'kindnessinthatway.

However,Amedeegavethemlittletrouble,andMammaGerardlovedhimasifhewereherown.TheorphanwasnowinseparablefromlittleMaria,aperfectlittlewitch,whobecameprettiereveryday.Theengraver,havingfoundinacupboardtheoldbearskincapwhichhehadwornasagrenadierintheNationalGuard,aheaddressthathadbeensuppressedsince'98,gaveittothechildren.Whatamagnificentplaythingitwas,andhowwellcalculatedtoexcitetheirimagination!Itwasimmediatelytransformedintheirmindsintoafrightfullylargeandferociousbear,whichtheychasedthroughtheapartment,lyinginwaitforitbehindarmchairs,strikingatitwithsticks,andpuffingouttheirlittlecheekswithalltheirmighttosay"Boum!"imitatingthereportofagun.Thishuntingdiversioncompletedthedestructionoftheoldfurniture.Tranquilinthemidstofthejoyousuproaranddisorder,theengraverwasbusilyatworkfinishingoffthebroadribbonoftheLegionofHonor,andthelargebullionepaulettesofthePrincePresident,whom,

asasuspiciousrepublicanandforeseeingthe'coupd'etat',hedetestedwithallhisheart.

"Truly,MonsieurViolette,"saidMotherGerardtotheemploye,whenhecameforhislittlesonuponhisreturnfromtheoffice,andexcusedhimselfforthetroublethatthechildmustgivehisneighbors,"truly,Iassureyou,hedoesnotdisturbusintheleast.Waitalittlebeforeyousendhimtoschool.Heisveryquiet,andifMariadidnotexcitehimso--uponmyword,sheismoreofaboythanhe--yourAmedeewouldalwaysbelookingatthepictures.MyLouisehearshimreadeverydaytwopagesintheMoralTales,andyesterdayheamusedGerardbytellinghimthestoryofthegratefulelephant.Hecangotoschoollater--waitalittle."

ButM.ViolettehaddecidedtosendAmedeetoM.Batifol's."Oh,yes,asadayscholar,ofcourse!Itissoconvenient;nottwosteps'distance.ThiswillnotpreventlittleAmedeefromseeinghisfriendsoften.Heisnearlysevenyearsold,andverybackward;hehardlyknowshowtomakehisletters.Onecannotbeginwithchildrentoosoon,"andmuchmoretothesameeffect.

Thiswasthereasonwhy,onefinespringday,M.ViolettewasusheredintoM.Batifol'soffice,who,theservantsaid,wouldbetheredirectly.

M.Batifol'sofficewashideous.Inthethreebookcaseswhichthemasterofthehouse--asnobandagreedyschoolmaster--neveropened,weresome

ofthosebooksthatonecanbuyuponthequaysbytherunningyard;forexample,Laharpe'sCoursdeLitterature,andanendlesseditionofRollin,whosetediousnessseemstooozeoutthroughtheirbindings.Thecylindricaloffice-table,oneofthosemasterpiecesofveneeredmahoganywhichtheFaubourgSt.Antoinestillkeepsthesecretofmaking,wassurmountedbyaglobeoftheworld.

Suddenly,throughtheopenwindow,littleAmedeesawthesycamoreintheyard.Ayoungblackbird,whodidnotknowtheplace,cameandperchedforaninstantonlyupononeofitsbranches.


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Wemayfancythetreesayingtoit:

"Whatareyoudoinghere?TheLuxembourgisonlyashortdistancefromhere,andischarming.Childrenarethere,makingmud-pies,nursesupontheseatschatteringwiththemilitary,loverspromenading,holdinghands.Gothere,yousimpleton!"

Theblackbirdflewaway,andtheuniversitytree,oncemoresolitaryandalone,droopeditsdispiritedleaves.Amedee,inhisconfusedchildishdesireforinformation,wasjustreadytoaskwhythissycamorelookedsomorose,whenthedooropenedandM.Batifolappeared.Themasteroftheschoolhadasevereaspect,inspiteofhisalmostindecorousname.Heresembledahippopotamusclothedinanampleblackcoat.HeenteredslowlyandbowedinadignifiedwaytoM.Violette,thenseatedhimselfinaleatherarmchairbeforehispapers,and,takingoffhisvelvetskull-cap,revealedsuchavoluminousround,yellowbaldnessthatlittleAmedeecompareditwithterrortotheglobeonthetopofhisdesk.

Itwasjustthesamething!Thesetworoundballsweretwins!TherewasevenuponM.Batifol'scraniumaneruptionoflittleredpimples,groupedalmostexactlylikeanarchipelagointhePacificOcean.

"WhomhaveIthehonor--?"askedtheschoolmaster,inanunctuousvoice,

anexcellentvoiceforproclaimingnamesatthedistributionofprizes.

M.Violettewasnotabraveman.Itwasveryfoolish,butwhentheseniorclerkcalledhimintohisofficetodosomework,hewasalwaysseizedwithasortofstammeringandshakingofthelimbs.ApersonsoimposingasM.Batifolwasnotcalculatedtogivehimassurance.Amedeewastimid,too,likehisfather,andwhilethechild,frightenedbytheresemblanceofthespheretoM.Batifol'sbaldhead,wasalreadytrembling,M.Violette,muchagitated,wastryingtothinkofsomethingtosay,consequently,hesaidnothingofanyaccount.However,heendedbyrepeatingalmostthesamethingshehadsaidtoMammaGerard:"Mysonisnearlysevenyearsold,andverybackward,etc."

TheteacherappearedtolistentoM.Violettewithbenevolentinterest,inclininghisgeographicalcraniumeveryfewseconds.Inreality,hewasobservingandjudginghisvisitors.Thefather'sscantyovercoat,theratherpalefaceofthelittleboy,allbetokenedpoverty.Itsimplymeantadayscholaratthirtyfrancsamonth,nothingmore.SoM.Batifolshortenedthe"speech"thatunderlikecircumstancesheaddressedtohisnewpupils.

Hewouldtakechargeofhis"youngfriend"(thirtyfrancsamonth,thatisunderstood,andthechildwillbringhisownluncheoninalittlebasket)whowouldfirstbeplacedinanelementaryclass.Certainfathersprefer,andtheyhavereasontodoso,thattheirsonsshouldbehalf-boarders,withahealthfulandabundantrepastatnoon.ButM.

Batifoldidnotinsistuponit.Hisyoungfriendwouldthenbeplacedintheinfantclass,atfirst;buthewouldbepreparedthereatonce,'abovo',onedaytoreceivelessonsinthisUniversityofFrance,'almaparens'(instructioninforeignlanguagesnotincludedintheordinaryprice,naturally),whichbydailystudy,competitionbetweenscholars(accomplishments,suchasdancing,music,andfencing,tobepaidforseparately;thatgoeswithoutsaying)preparechildrenforsociallife,andmakemenandcitizensofthem.

M.Violettecontentedhimselfwiththedayschoolatthirtyfrancs,and


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foragoodreason.Theaffairwassettled.EarlythenextmorningAmedeewouldenterthe"ninthpreparatory."

"Givemeyourhand,myyoungfriend,"saidthemaster,asfatherandsonarosetotaketheirleave.

Amedeereachedouthishand,andM.Batifoltookitinhis,whichwassoheavy,large,andcoldthatthechildshiveredatthecontact,andfanciedhewastouchingalegofmuttonofsixorsevenpounds'weight,freshlykilled,andsentfromthebutcher's.

Finallytheyleft.Earlythenextmorning,Amedee,providedwithalittlebasket,inwhichtheoldsnuff-takerhadputalittlebottleofredwine,andsomeslicedveal,andjamtarts,presentedhimselfattheboarding-school,tobepreparedwithoutdelayfortheteachingofthe'almaparens'.

Thehippopotamusclothedinblackdidnottakeoffhisskullcapthistime,tothechild'sgreatregret,forhewishedtoassurehimselfifthedegreesoflatitudeandlongitudewerecheckedoffinsquaresonM.Batifol'scraniumastheywereontheterrestrialglobe.Heconductedhispupiltohisclassatonceandpresentedhimtothemaster.

"Hereisanewdayscholar,MonsieurTavernier.Youwillfindouthow

faradvancedheisinreadingandwriting,ifyouplease."M.Tavernierwasatallyoungmanwithasallowcomplexion,abachelorwho,hadhebeenlivinglikehislatefather,asergeantofthegendarmes,inaprettyhousesurroundedbyappletreesandgreengrass,wouldnot,perhaps,havehadthat'papier-mache'appearance,andwouldnothavebeendressedateighto'clockinthemorninginablackcoatofthekindweseehangingintheMorgue.M.Tavernierreceivedthenewcomerwithasicklysmile,whichdisappearedassoonasM.Batifollefttheroom.

"Goandtakeyourplaceinthatemptyseatthere,inthethirdrow,"saidM.Tavernier,inanindifferenttone.

Hedeigned,however,toconductAmedeetotheseatwhichhewasto

occupy.Amedee'sneighbor,oneofthefuturecitizenspreparingforsociallife--severalwithpatchesupontheirtrousers--hadbeennaughtyenoughtobringintoclassahandfulofcockchafers.Hewaspunishedbyaquarterofanhour'sstandingup,whichhedidsoonafter,sulkingatthefootofthesycamore-treeinthelargecourt.

"Youwillsoonseewhatacurheis,"whisperedthepupilindisgrace;assoonastheteacherhadreturnedtohisseat.

M.Tavernierstruckhisrulerontheedgeofhischair,and,havingreestablishedsilence,invitedpupilGodardtorecitehislesson.

PupilGodard,whowasachubby-facedfellowwithsleepyeyes,rose

automaticallyandinonesinglestream,likearunningtap,recited,withoutstoppingtotakebreath,"TheWolfandtheLamb,"rollingoffLaFontaine'sfablelikethethreadfromabobbinrunbysteam.

"The-strongest-reason-is-always-the-best-and-we-will-prove-it-at-once-a-lamb-was-quenching-his-thirst-in-a-stream-of-pure-running-water--"

SuddenlyGodardwasconfused,hehesitated.Themachinehadbeenbadlyoiled.Somethingobstructedthebobbin.


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"In-a-stream-of-pure-running-water-in-astream--"

Thenhestoppedshort,thetapwasclosed.Godarddidnotknowhislesson,andhe,too,wascondemnedtoremainonguardunderthesycamoreduringrecess.

AfterpupilGodardcamepupilGrosdidier;thenBlanc,thenMoreau(Gaston),thenMoreau(Ernest),thenMalepert;thenanother,andanother,whobabbledwiththesameintelligenceandvolubility,withthesamepipingvoice,thiscruelandwonderfulfable.Itwasasirritatingandmonotonousasafinerain.Allthepupilsinthe"ninthpreparatory"weredisgustedforfifteenyears,atleast,withthismostexquisiteofFrenchpoems.

LittleAmedeewantedtocry;helistenedwithstupefactionblendedwithfrightasthescholarsbyturnsunwoundtheirbobbins.Tothinkthatto-morrowhemustdothesame!Heneverwouldbeable.M.Tavernierfrightenedhimverymuch,too.Theyellow-complexionedusher,seatednonchalantlyinhisarmchair,wasnotwithoutpretension;inspiteofhisblackcoatwiththe"take-me-out-of-pawn"air,polishedhisnails,andonlyopenedhismouthattimestoutterareprimandorpronouncesentenceofpunishment.

Thiswasschool,then!Amedeerecalledthepleasantreading-lessonsthat

theeldestoftheGerardshadgivenhim--thatgoodLouise,sowiseandseriousandonlytenyearsold,pointingouthisletterstohiminapicturealphabetwithaknitting-needle,alwayssopatientandkind.Thechildwasovercomeattheveryfirstwithadisgustforschool,andgazedthroughthewindowwhichlightedtheroomatthenoiselesslymoving,large,indentedleavesofthemelancholysycamore.

CHAPTERIII

PAPAANDMAMMAGERARD

One,two,threeyearsrolledbywithoutanythingveryremarkablehappeningtotheinhabitantsofthefifthstory.

Thequarterhadnotchanged,anditstillhadtheappearanceofasuburbanfaubourg.Theyhadjusterected,withingunshotofthehousewheretheViolettesandGerardslived,alargefive-storybuilding,uponwhoseroofstilltrembledinthewindthemasons'witheredbouquets.Butthatwasall.Infrontofthem,onthelot"ForSale,"enclosedbyrottenboards,whereonecouldalwaysseetuftsofnettlesandagoattiedtoastake,anduponthehighwallabovewhichbytheendofAprilthelilacshungintheirperfumedclusters,therainshadnoteffacedthisbrutaldeclarationoflove,scrapedwithaknifeintheplaster:

"WhenMeliewishesshecanhaveme,"andsigned"Eugene."

Threeyearshadpassed,andlittleAmedeehadgrownatrifle.AtthattimeachildborninthecentreofParis--forexample,inthelabyrinthofinfectedstreetsabouttheHalles--wouldhavegrownupwithouthavinganyideaofthechangeofseasonsotherthanbythestateofthetemperatureandthenarrowstripofskywhichhecouldseebyraisinghishead.Eventodaycertainpoorchildren--thepoorneverbudgefromtheirhiding-places--learnofthearrivalofwinteronlybytheodorofroastedchestnuts;ofspring,bytheboxesofgilly-flowersinthefruiterer's


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stall;ofsummer,bythewater-cartspassing,andofautumn,bytheheapsofoyster-shellsatthedoorsofwine-shops.Thebroadsky,withitsconfusedshapesofcloudarchitecture,theburninggoldofthesettingsunbehindthemassesoftrees,theenchantingstillnessofmoonlightupontheriver,allthesegrandandmagnificentspectaclesareforthedelightofthosewholiveinsuburbanquarters,orplaytheresometimes.Thesonsofpeoplewhoworkinbuttonsandjetspendtheirinfancyplayingonstaircasesthatsmelloflead,orincourtsthatresemblewells,anddonotsuspectthatnatureexists.AttheoutsidetheysuspectthatnaturemayexistwhentheyseethehorsesonPalmSundaydecoratedwithbitsofboxwoodbehindeachear.Whatmattersit,afterall,ifthechildhasimagination?Astarreflectedinagutterwillrevealtohimanimmensenocturnalpoem;andhewillbreathealltheintoxicationofsummerinthefull-blownrosewhichthegrisettefromthenexthouseletsfallfromherhair.

AmedeehadhadthegoodfortuneofbeingborninthatdeliciousandmelancholysuburbofPariswhichhadnotyetbecome"Haussmannized,"andwasfullofwildandcharmingnooks.

Hisfather,thewidower,couldnotbeconsoled,andtriedtowearouthisgriefinlongpromenades,goingoutonclearevenings,holdinghislittleboybythehand,towardthemoresolitaryplaces.Theyfollowedthosefineboulevards,formerlyinthesuburbs,wherethereweregiantelms,

plantedinthetimeofLouisXIV,ditchesfullofgrass,ruinedpalisades,showingthroughtheiropeningmarket-gardenswheremelonsglistenedintheraysofthesettingsun.Bothweresilent;thefatherlostinreveries,Amedeeabsorbedintheconfuseddreamsofachild.Theywentlongdistances,passingtheBarriered'Enfer,reachingunknownparts,whichproducedthesameeffectuponaninhabitantofRueMontmartreastheplacesuponanoldmapoftheworld,markedwiththemysteriouswords'Mareignotum',woulduponasavantoftheMiddleAges.Thereweremanyhousesinthisancientsuburb;curiousoldbuildings,nearlyallofonestory.

Sometimestheywouldpassapublic-housepaintedinasinisterwine-color;orelseagardenhedgedinbyacacias,attheforkoftworoads,

witharborsandasignconsistingofaverysmallwindmillattheendofapole,turninginthefresheveningbreeze.Itwasalmostcountry;thegrassgrewuponthesidewalks,springingupintheroadbetweenthebrokenpavements.Apoppyflashedhereandthereuponthetopsofthelowwalls.Theymetveryfewpeople;nowandthensomepoorperson,awomaninacapdraggingalongacryingchild,aworkmanburdenedwithhistools,abelatedinvalid,andsometimesinthemiddle.ofthesidewalk,inacloudofdust,aflockofexhaustedsheep,bleatingdesperately,andnippedinthelegsbydogshurryingthemtowardtheabattoir.Thefatherandsonwouldwalkstraightaheaduntilitwasdarkunderthetrees;thentheywouldretracetheirsteps,thesharpairstingingtheirfaces.Thoseancienthangingstreet-lamps,thetragiclanternsofthetimeoftheTerror,weresuspendedatlongintervalsintheavenue,mingling

theirdismaltwinklewiththepalegleamsofthegreentwilightsky.

ThesesorrowfulpromenadeswithhismelancholycompanionwouldcommonlyendatiresomedayatBatifol'sschool.Amedeewasnowinthe"seventh,"andknewalreadythatthephrase,"thewillofGod,"couldnotbeturnedintoLatinby'bonitasdivina',andthattheword'cornu'wasnotdeclinable.Theselong,silenthoursspentathisschool-desk,orbesideapersonabsorbedingrief,mighthavebecomefataltothechild'sdisposition,haditnotbeenforhisgoodfriends,theGerards.Hewenttoseethemasoftenashewasable,asparehournowandthen,andmost


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ofthedayonThursdays.Theengraver'shousewasalwaysfullofgood-natureandgayety,andAmedeefeltcomfortableandreallyhappythere.

ThegoodGerards,besidestheirLouiseandMaria,tosaynothingofAmedee,whomtheylookeduponasoneofthefamily,hadnowtakenchargeofafourthchild,alittlegirl,namedRosine,whowaspreciselythesameageastheiryoungest.

Thiswasthewayithappened.AbovetheGerards,inoneofthemansardsuponthesixthfloor,livedaprinternamedCombarieu,withhiswifeormistress--theconciergedidnotknowwhich,nordiditmattermuch.Thewomanhadjustdesertedhim,leavingachildofeightyears.Onecouldexpectnothingbetterofacreaturewho,accordingtotheconcierge,fedherhusbanduponpork-butcher'smeat,tospareherselfthetroubleofgettingdinner,andpassedtheentiredaywithuncombedhair,inadressing-sacque,readingnovels,andtellingherfortunewithcards.Thegrocer'sdaughterdeclaredshehadmetheroneevening,atadancing-hall,seatedwithafiremanbeforeasalad-bowlfullofwine,preparedintheFrenchfashion.

DuringthedayCombarieu,althoughared-hotRepublican,senthislittlegirltotheSisters;buthewentouteveryeveningwithamysteriousairandleftthechildalone.Theconciergeevenutteredinalowvoice,withtheromanticadmirationwhichthatclassofpeoplehavefor

conspirators,theterribleword"secretsociety,"andassertedthattheprinterhadamusketconcealedunderhisstrawbed.

TheserevelationswereofanaturetoexciteM.Gerard'ssympathyinfavorofhisneighbor,forthecoupd'etatandtheproclamationoftheEmpirehadirritatedhimverymuch.Haditnotbeenhismelancholydutytoengrave,thedayafterthesecondofDecember--hemustfeedhisfamilyfirstofall--aBonapartistallegoryentitled,"TheUncleandtheNephew,"whereonesawFranceextendingitshandtoNapoleonIandPrinceLouis,whilesoaringabovethegroupwasaneaglewithspreadingwings,holdinginoneofhisclawsthecrossoftheLegionofHonor?

Onedaytheengraveraskedhiswife,ashelightedhispipe--hehadgiven

upAbd-el-KaderandsmokednowaBarbes--iftheyoughtnottointerestthemselvesalittleintheabandonedchild.Itneedednothingmoretoarousethegoodwoman,whohadalreadysaidmorethanonce:"Whatapity!"asshesawlittleRosinewaitingforherfatherinthelodgeoftheconcierge,asleepinachairbeforethestove.Shecoaxedthechildtoplaywithherchildren.Rosinewasverypretty,withbrighteyes,adrolllittleParisiannose,andamassofstraw-coloredcurlyhairescapingfromhercap.Thelittlerogueletflyquiteoftensomegutterexpression,suchas"Hangit!"or"Tol-derol-dol!"atwhichMadameGerardwouldexclaim,"WhatdoIhear,Mademoiselle?"butshewasintelligentandsooncorrectedherself.

OneSundaymorning,Combarieu,havinglearnedoftheirkindnesstohis

child,madeavisittothankthem.

Verydark,withalividcomplexion,allhairandbeard,andtryingtolookliketheheadofJesusChrist,inhislongblackblouseheembodiedthetypeofaclubconspirator,arepresentativeoftheworkingmen.AFreemason,probably;asolemndrunkard,whobecameintoxicatedofteneronbigwordsthanonnativewine,andspokeinaloud,pretentiousvoice,gazingbeforehimwithlarge,stupideyesswimminginasortofecstasy;hiswholepersonmadeonethinkofaboozypreacher.Heimmediatelyinspiredtheengraverwithrespect,anddazzledhimbythefascination


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whichtheaudaciousexertoverthetimid.M.GerardthoughthediscernedinCombarieuoneofthosesuperiormenwhomacruelfatehadcausedtobebornamongthelowerclassandinwhompovertyhadstifledgenius.

Enlightenedastotheartist'spoliticalpreferencesbythebowlofhispipe,Combarieucomplacentlyeulogizedhimself.Uponhisownadmissionhehadatfirstbeenfoolishenoughtodreamofauniversalbrotherhood,aholyallianceofthepeople.Hehadevenwrittenpoemswhichhehadpublishedhimself,notablyan"OdetoPoland,"andan"EpistletoBeranger,"whichlatterhadevokedanautographletterfromtheillustrioussong-writer.Buthewasnolongersuchasimpleton.

"WhenonehasseenwhatwehaveseenduringJune,andonthesecondofDecember,thereisnolongeranyquestionofsentiment."Heretheengraver,asahospitablehost,broughtabottleofwineandtwoglasses."No,MonsieurGerard,Ithankyou,Itakenothingbetweenmymeals.Theworkingmenhavebeendeceivedtoooften,andatthenextelectionweshallnotletthebourgeoisiestrangletheRepublic."(M.Gerardhadnowuncorkedthebottle.)"Onlyafinger!Enough!Enough!simplysoasnottorefuseyou.Whilewaiting,letusprepareourselves.JustnowtheEasternquestionmuddlesus,andbehold'Badinguet,'--[AnicknamegiventoNapoleonIII.]--withabigaffairuponhishands.Youhavesomewineherethatisworthdrinking.Ifhelosesonebattleheisdonefor.Oneglassmore?Ah!youmakemedepartfrommyusualcustom--absolutely

donefor.Butthistimeweshallkeepoureyesopen.Nohalfmeasures!Wewillreturntothegreatmethodsof'ninety-three--theCommitteeofPublicSafety,theLawofSuspects,theRevolutionaryTribunal,everydamnedoneofthem!and,ifitisnecessary,apermanentguillotine!Toyourgoodhealth!"

SomuchenergyfrightenedFatherGerardalittle;forinspiteofhisBarbespipe-bowlhewasnotagenuinered-hotRepublican.Hedarednotprotest,however,andblushedalittleashethoughtthatthenightbeforeaneditorhadproposedtohimtoengraveaportraitofthenewEmpress,verydecollete,andshowingherfamousshoulders,andthathehadnotsaidNo;forhisdaughtersneedednewshoes,andhiswifehaddeclaredthedaybeforethatshehadnotagowntoputon.

Soforseveralmonthshehadfourchildren--Amedee,Louise,Maria,andlittleRoseCombarieu--tomakearacketinhisapartment.Certainlytheywerenolongerbabies;theydidnotplayatmakingcallsnorchasetheoldfurhataroundtheroom;theyweremoresensible,andtheoldfurniturehadalittlerest.Anditwastime,forallthechairswerelame,twoofthelargeroneshadlostanarmeach,andtheEmpiresofahadlostthegreaterpartofitshairthroughtherentsinitsdark-greenvelvetcovering.Theunfortunatesquarepianohadhadnopityshownit;moreoutoftuneandasthmaticthanever,itwasnowalwaysopen,andonecouldreadabovetheyellowandworn-outkeyboardaoncefamousname-"SebastianErard,ManufacturerofPianosandHarpsforS.A.R.MadamelaDuchessedeBerri."NotonlyLouise,theeldestoftheGerards--alarge

girlnow,havingbeentoherfirstcommunion,dressingherhairinbands,andwearingwhitewaists--notonlyLouise,whohadbecomeagoodmusician,hadmadethepianosubmittolongtortures,buthersisterMaria,andAmedeealso,alreadyplayedthe'BouquetdeBal'or'Papa,lesp'titsbateaux'.Rosine,too,inhercharacterofstreeturchin,knewallthepopularsongs,andspententirehoursinpickingouttheairswithonefingerupontheoldinstrument.

Ah!thesongsofthosedays,thelastofromanticism,themake-believe'Orientales';'Odes'and'Ballads',bythedozen;'Comesd'Espagneet


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d'Italie',withtheirpages,turrets,chatelaines;bull-fighters,Spanishladies;vivandieres,beguiledawayfromtheirhomesunderthepaleofthechurch,"nearastreamofrunningwater,byagayandhandsomechevalier,"andmanyothersuchsillythings--Amedeewillrememberthemalways!Theybringbacktohim,clearlyandstrongly,certainhappyhoursinhischildhood!TheymakehimsmellagainattimeseventheodorthatpervadedtheGerards'house.Amule-driver'ssongwillbringupbeforehisvisiontheengraverworkingathisplatebeforethecurtainlesswindowonawinter'sday.Itsnowsinthestreets,andlargewhiteflakesareslowlyfallingbehindtheglass;buttheroom,ornamentedwithpicturesandbusts,islightedandheatedbyabrightcokefire.Amedeecanseehimselfseatedinacornerbythefire,learningbyheartapageofthe"Epitome"whichhemustrecitethenextmorningatM.Batifol's.MariaandRosinearecrouchedathisfeet,withaboxofglassbeads,whichtheyarestringingintoanecklace.Itwascomfortable;thewholeapartmentsmelledoftheengraver'spipe,andinthedining-room,whosedoorishalfopened,Louiseisatthepiano,singing,inafreshvoice,somelineswhere"Castilla"rhymeswith"mantilla,"and"Andalousie"with"jealousy,"whileheragilefingersplayedontheoldinstrumentanaccompanimentsupposedtoimitatebellsandcastanets.

OrperhapsitisaradiantmorninginJune,andtheyareinthedining-room;thebalconydoorisopenwide,andalargehornetbuzzesloudlyin

thevine.Louiseisstillatthepiano;sheissingingthistime,andtryingtoreachthelowtonesofadramaticromancewhereaCorsicanchildisurgedontovengeancebyhisfather:

Tiens,prendsmacarabiue!SurtoiveilleraDieu--

Thisisagreatday,thedaywhenMammaGerardmakeshergooseberrypreserves.Thereisalargebasinalreadyfullofitonthetable.Whatadeliciousodor!Aperfumeofrosesmingledwiththatofwarmsugar.MariaandRosinehavejustslippedintothekitchen,thegourmands!ButLouiseisaseriousperson,andwillnotinterrupthersingingforsuchatrifle.Shecontinuestosinginalowvoice:andatthemomentwhen

Amedeestandsspeechlesswithadmirationbeforeher,assheisscoldinginaterribletoneandplayingdreadfulchords,toandbehold!herecomethechildren,bothwithpinkmoustaches,andlickingtheirlipsvoluptuously.

Ah!thesewerehappyhourstoAmedee.TheyconsoledhimfortheinterminabledaysatM.Batifol's.

Havingpassedtheninthpreparatorygrade,underthedirectionoftheindolentM.Tavernier,alwaysbusypolishinghisnails,likeaChinesemandarin,thechildhadforaprofessorintheeighthgradePereMontandeuil,apoorfellowstupefiedbythirtyyearsofteaching,whosecretlyemployedallhissparehoursincomposingfive-acttragedies,

andwho,bydintofcarryingtoandgoingforhismanuscriptsattheOdeon,endedbymarryingthestagedoor-keeper'sdaughter.IntheseventhgradeAmedeegroanedunderthetyrannyofM.Prudhommod,amanfromthecountry,withasmatteringofLatinandaterriblyviolenttemper,throwingatthepupilstheinsultsofaplowboy.Nowhehadenteredthesixthgrade,underM.Bance,anunfortunatefellowabouttwentyyearsold,ugly,lame,andfoolishlytimid,whomM.Batifolreproachedseverelywithnothavingmadehimselfrespected,andwhoseeyesfilledwithtearseverymorningwhen,uponenteringtheschoolroom,hewasobligedtoeffacewithaclothacaricatureofhimselfmadebysomeofhispupils.


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EverythinginM.Batifol'sschool--thegrotesqueandmiserableteachers,theferociousandcynicalpupils,thedingy,dusty,andink-stainedrooms--saddenedanddispleasedAmedee.Althoughveryintelligent,hewasdisgustedwiththesortofinstructionthere,whichwasservedoutinportions,likesoldier'srations,andwouldhavelostcouragebutforhislittlefriend,LouiseGerard,whooutofsheerkindnessconstitutedherselfhisschool-mistress,guidingandinspiritinghim,andworkinghardattherudimentsofL'homond'sGrammarandAlexandre'sDictionary,tohelpthechildstrugglewithhis'DeViris'.Unfortunateindeedishewhohasnothad,duringhisinfancy,apetticoatnearhim--thesweetinfluenceofawoman.Hewillalwayshavesomethingcoarseinhismindandhardinhisheart.WithoutthisexcellentandkindLouise,Amedeewouldhavebeenexposedtothisdanger.Hismotherwasdead,andM.Violette,alas!wasalwaysoverwhelmedwithhisgrief,and,itmustbeadmitted,somewhatneglectedhislittleson.

Thewidowercouldnotbeconsoled.Sincehiswife'sdeathhehadgrowntenyearsolder,andhisrefractorylockofhairhadbecomeperfectlywhite.HisLuciehadbeenthesolejoyinhiscommonplaceandobscurelife.Shewassopretty,sosweet!suchagoodmanager,dressinguponnothing,andmakingthingsseemluxuriouswithonlyoneflower!M.Violetteexistedonlyonthisdearandcruelsouvenir,livinghishumbleidylloveragaininhismind.

Hehadhadsixyearsofthishappiness.OneofhiscomradestookhimtopassaneveningwithanoldfriendwhowascaptainintheInvalides.TheworthymanhadlostanarmatWaterloo;hewasarelativeofLucie,agood-naturedoldfellow,amiableandlively,delightinginarranginghisapartmentsintoasortofBonapartistchapelandgivinglittleentertainmentswithcakeandpunch,whileLucie'smother,acousinofthecaptain,didthehonors.M.Violetteimmediatelyobservedtheyounggirl,seatedundera"BatailledesPyramides"withtwoswordscrossedaboveit,acarnationinherhair.Itwasinmidsummer,andthroughtheopenwindowonecouldseethemagnificentmoonlight,whichshoneupontheesplanadeandmadethehugecannonshine.Theywereplayingcharades,andwhenitcameLucie'sturntobequestionedamongalltheguests,M.

Violette,torelieveherofherembarrassment,repliedsoawkwardlythattheyallexclaimed,"Now,then,thatischeating!"Withwhatnaivegraceandbashfulcoquetrysheservedthetea,goingfromonetabletoanother,cupinhand,followedbytheone-armedcaptainwithsilverepaulets,carryingtheplum-cake!Inordertoseeheragain,M.Violettepaidthecaptainvisitaftervisit.Butthegreaterpartofthetimehesawonlytheoldsoldier,whotoldhimofhisvictoriesandconquests,oftheattackoftheredoubtatBorodino,andthefrightfulswearingofthedashingMurat,KingofNaples,asheurgedthesquadronsontotherescue.Atlast,onebeautifulSundayinautumn,hefoundhimselfalonewiththeyounggirlintheprivategardenoftheveteranoftheOldGuard.HeseatedhimselfbesideLucieonastonebench:hetoldherhislove,withtheprofoundgazeoftheLittleCorporal,inbronzedplaster,

restinguponthem;and,fullofdeliciousconfusion,shereplied,"Speaktomamma,"droppingherbewilderedeyesandgazingatthebedofchina-asters,whoseboxwoodbordertracedtheformofacrossoftheLegionofHonor.

Andallthiswaseffaced,lostforever!Thecaptainwasdead;Lucie'smotherwasdead,andLucieherself,hisbelovedLucie,wasdead,aftergivinghimsixyearsofcloudlesshappiness.

Certainly,hewouldnevermarryagain.Oh,never!


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Nowomanhadeverexistedoreverwouldexistforhimbuthispoordarling,sleepingintheMontparnasseCemetery,whosegravehevisitedeverySundaywithalittlewatering-potconcealedunderhiscoat.

Herecalled,withashiverofdisgust,how,afewmonthsafterLucie'sdeath,onestiflingeveninginJuly,hewasseateduponabenchintheLuxembourg,listeningtothedrumsbeatingaretreatunderthetrees,whenawomancameandtookaseatbesidehimandlookedathimsteadily.Surprisedbyhersignificantlook,hereplied,tothequestionthatsheaddressedtohim,timidlyandatthesametimeboldly:"Sothisisthewaythatyoutaketheair?"Andwhensheendedbyaskinghim,"Cometomyhouse,"hehadfollowedher.Buthehadhardlyenteredwhenthepastallcamebacktohim,andhefeltastifledfeelingofdistress.Fallingintoachair,hesobbed,buryinghisfaceinhishands.Hisgriefwassoviolentthat,byafeminineinstinctofpity,thewretchedcreaturetookhisheadinherarms,saying,inaconsolingtone,"There,cry,cry,itwilldoyougood!"androckedhimlikeaninfant.Atlasthedisengagedhimselffromthiscaress,whichmadehimashamedofhimself,andthrowingwhatlittlemoneyhehadabouthimuponthetopofthebureau,hewentawayandreturnedtohishome,wherehewenthastilytobedandwepttohisheart'scontent,ashegnawedhispillow.Oh,horriblememories!

No!neverawife,nomistress,nothing!Nowhisgriefwashiswife,and

livedwithhim.

Thewidower'smorningawakeningwasfrightfulaboveallthingselse-hisawakeninginthelargebedthatnowhadbutonepillow.ItwastherethathehadoncehadtheexquisitepleasureofwatchinghisdearLucieeverymorningwhenasleep;forshedidnotliketogetupearly,andsometimeshehadjokinglyscoldedherforit.Whatserenityuponthisdelicate,sweetface,withitsclosedeyes,nestlingamongherbeautiful,disorderedhair!Howchastethislovelyyoungwifewasinherunconstraint!Shehadthrownoneofherarmsoutsideofthecovering,andtheneckofhernightrobe,havingslippeddown,showedsuchapurewhiteshoulderanddelicateneck.Heleanedoverthehalf-openedmouth,whichexhaledawarmandlivingodor,somethingliketheperfumeofa

flower,toinhaleit,andatenderpridesweptoverhimwhenhethoughtthatshewashis,hiswife,thisdeliciouscreaturewhowasalmostachildyet,andthatherheartwasgiventohimforever.Hecouldnotresistit;hetouchedhisyoungwife'slipswithhisown.Shetrembledunderthekissandopenedhereyes,whentheastonishmentoftheawakeningwasatoncetransformedintoahappysmileasshemetherhusband'sglance.Oh,blissfulmoment!Butinspiteofall,onemustbesensible.Herecalledthatthemilk-maidhadleftatdaybreakherpotofmilkatthedooroftheirapartment;thatthefirewasnotlighted,andthathemustbeattheofficeearly,asthetimeforpromotionswasdrawingnear.Givinganotherkisstothehalf-asleepLucie,hesaidtoher,inacoaxingtone,"Nowthen,Lucie,mychild,itishalf-pasteight.Up,upwithyou,lazylittleone!"

Howcouldheconsolehimselfforsuchlosthappiness?Hehadhisson,yes--andhelovedhimverymuch--butthesightofAmedeeincreasedM.Violette'sgrief;forthechildgrewtolookmorelikehismothereveryday.

CHAPTERIV


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THEDEMONABSINTHE

ThreeorfourtimesayearM.Violette,accompaniedbyhisson,paidavisittoanuncleofhisdeceasedwife,whoseheirAmedeemightsomedaybecome.

M.IsidoreGaufrehadfoundedandmadesuccessfulalargehouseforCatholicbooksandpictures,towhichhehadaddedanimportantagencyforthesaleofallkindsofreligiousobjects.Thisvastestablishmentwascalled,byastrokeofgeniusofitsproprietor,"BonMarchedesParoisses,"andwasfamousamongalltheFrenchclergy.Atlastitoccupiedtheprincipalpartofthehouseandalltheout-buildingsofanoldhotelontheRueServandoni,constructedinthepompousandmagnificentstyleofthelatterpartoftheseventeenthcentury.Hedidagreatbusinessthere.

Alldaylong,priestsandclerical-lookinggentlemenmountedthelongflightofstepsthatledtoaspaciousfirstfloor,lightedbylarge,highwindowssurmountedbygrotesqueheads.Therethelong-beardedmissionariescametopurchasetheircargoesofglassbeadsorimitationcoralrosaries,beforeembarkingfortheEast,ortheGaboon,toconvertthenegroesandtheChinese.

Thememberofthethirdestate,drapedinalongchocolate-colored,straightfrock-coat,holdingagiganticumbrellaunderhisarm,procured,dirtcheapandbythethousand,pamphletsofreligioustenets.Thecountrycurate,visitingParis,arrangedfortheimmediatedeliveryofaremonstrance,inelectrotype,Byzantinestyle,signingaseriesoflong-datedbills,contracting,byzealsupplementedbysomereadycash,tofulfilhisliabilities,throughthegenerosityofthefaithfulones.

There,likewise,ayoungdirectorofconsciencescametolookforsomedevotionalwork--forexample,the12moentitled"Widows'TearsWipedAway,"bySt.FrancoisdeSales--forsomepenitent.TherepresentativefromsomedeputationfromadevoutlyCatholicdistrictwouldsolicitareductionuponapurchaseofthe"TwelveStationsoftheCross,"

hideouslydaubed,whichheproposedtopresenttotheparisheswhichhisadversarieshadaccusedofbeingVoltairians.AbrotheroftheChristianDoctrine,orasisterofSt.VincentdePaul,wouldbargainforcatechismsfortheirschools.Fromtimetotime,evenaprinceofthechurch,abishopwitharistocraticmien,envelopedinanamplegown,withhishatsurroundedwithagreencordandgoldentassels,wouldmysteriouslyshuthimselfupinM.IsidoreGaufre'sofficeforanhour;andthenwouldbereconductedtothetopofthestepsbythecringingproprietor,profusewithhis"Monseigneur,"andobsequiouslybowingunderthehaughtybenedictionoftwofingersinavioletglove.

ItwascertainlynotfromsympathythatM.Violettehadkeptuphisrelationswithhiswife'suncle;forM.Gaufre,whowasservilelypolite

toallthoseinwhomhehadaninterest,wasusuallydisdainful,sometimeseveninsolent,tothosewhowereofnousetohim.Duringhisniece'slifehehadtroubledhimselfverylittleabouther,andhadgivenherforaweddingpresentonlyanivorycrucifixwithashellforholywater,suchashesoldbythegrosstobeusedinconvents.Aself-mademan,havingalreadyamassed--sotheysaid--aconsiderablefortune,M.Gaufreheldinverylowestimationthispoordevilofacommonplaceemployewhoseslowadvancementwasdoubtlessduetothefactthathewaslazyandincapable.Fromthegreetingthathereceived,M.ViolettesuspectedthepooropinionthatM.Gaufrehadofhim.Ifhewentthere


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inspiteofhisnaturalprideitwasonlyonhisson'saccount.ForM.Gaufrewasrich,andhewasnotyoung.Perhaps--whocouldtell?--hemightnotforgetAmedee,hisnephew,inhiswill?Itwasnecessaryforhimtoseethechildoccasionally,andM.Violette,inpursuanceofhispaternalduty,condemnedhimself,threeorfourtimesayear,totheinflictionofavisitatthe"BonMarchedesParoisses."

ThehopesthatM.Violettehadformedastohisson'sinheritingfromM.Gaufrewereveryproblematical;forthefather,whomM.Gaufrehadnotbeenabletoavoidreceivingathistableoccasionally,hadbeenstruck,evenshocked,bythefamiliaranddespotictoneoftheoldmerchant'sservant,asuperbNormandywomanofabouttwenty-fiveyears,answeringtotheroyalnameofBerenice.Theimpertinentwaysofthisrobustwomanbetrayedherpositioninhermaster'shouse,asmuchasthediamondsthatglitteredinherears.Thiscreaturewouldsurelywatchthewillofherpatron,asexagenarianwithanapoplecticneck,whichbecamethecolorofdregsofwineafteraglassofbrandy.

M.Gaufre,althoughverypracticalandachurchwardenatSt.Sulpice,hadalwayshadatasteforliaisons.Hiswife,duringherlife--hehadbeenawidowerforadozenyears--hadbeenoneofthoseunfortunatebeingsofwhompeoplesaid,"Thatpoorladyistobepitied;shenevercankeepaservant."Shehadinvaintakengirlsfromtheprovinces,withoutbeautyandcertifiedtobevirtuous.Onebyone--aFlemishgirl,anAlsatian,

threeNivernaise,twofromPicardy;evenayounggirlfromBeauce,hiredonaccountofhercertificateas"thebest-behavedgirlinthevillage"--theywereunsparinglydevouredbytheminotauroftheRueServandoni.Allwereturnedoutofdoors,withaconscientiousblowintheface,bythejustlyirritatedspouse.Whenhebecameawidowerhegavehimselfuptohisliaisonsinperfectsecurity,butwithoutscandal,ofcourse,astohispassionforservants.Newcountry-girls,wearingstrangeheaddresses,respondedfavorably,invariouspatois,tohispropositions.AnAlsatianbowreignedsixmonths;aBretoncapmorethanayear;butatlastwhatmustinevitablytakeplacehappened.ThebeautifulBerenicedefinitelyboundwithfettersofirontheoldlibertine.Shewasnowall-powerfulinthehouse,whereshereignedsupremethroughherbeautyandhertalentforcooking;andasshesawhermaster'sfacegrowmore

congestedateachrepast,shemadeherpreparationsforthefuture.WhocouldsaybutthatM.Gaufre,arealdevoteeafterall,woulddevelopconscientiousscruplessomeday,andendinamarriage,inextremis?

M.Violetteknewallthis;neverthelessitwasimportantthatAmedeeshouldnotbeforgottenbyhisoldrelative,andsometimes,thoughrarely,hewouldleavehisofficealittleearlierthanusual,callforhissonashelefttheBatifolboarding-school,andtakehimtotheRueServandoni.

Thelargedrawing-rooms,transformedintoashop,whereonecouldstillsee,uponforgottenpanels,rococoshepherdsofferingdovestotheirshepherdesses,werealwaysanewsubjectofsurprisetolittleAmedee.

Afterpassingthroughthebook-shop,wherethousandsoflittlevolumeswithfiguredgrayandyellowcoverscrowdedtheshelves,andboysinecrulinenblouseswererapidlytyingupbundles,oneenteredthejewellerydepartment.There,underbeautifulglasscases,sparkledalltheglitteringdisplayandshowyluxuryoftheChurch,goldentabernacleswherethePaschalLambreposedinaflamingtriangle,censerswithquadruplechains,stolesandchasubles,heavywithembroidery,enormouscandelabra,ostensoriesanddrinking-cupsincrustedwithenamelandfalsepreciousstones-beforeallthesesplendorsthechild,whohadreadtheArabianNights,believedthathehadenteredAladdin'scave,orAboul-


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Cassem'spit.Fromthisglitteringarrayonepassed,withouttransition,intothesombredepotofecclesiasticalvestments.Hereallwasblack.Onesawonlypilesofcassocksandpyramidsofblackhats.Twomanikins,oneclothedinacardinal'spurplerobe,theotherinepiscopalianviolet,threwalittlecoloroverthegloomyshow.

ButthelargehallwithpaintedstatuesamazedAmedee.Theywereallthere,statuesofallthesaintsinlittlechapelsplacedpromiscuouslyupontheshelvesinrows.

Nomorehierarchy.TheEvangelisthad,foraneighboralittleJesuitsaint--anupstartofyesterday.TheunfortunateFourierhadathissidetheVirginMary.TheSaviourofmenelbowedSt.Labre.Theywereofplasterrunintomoulds,orroughlycarvedinwood,andwerecoloredwithpaintasglaringastheredandblueofabarber'spole,andcoveredwithvulgargildings.Chinsintheair,ecstaticeyesshiningwithvarnish,horriblyuglyandallnew,theyweredrawnupinlinelikerecruitsattheroll-call,themitredbishop,themartyrcarryinghispalm,St.Agnesembracingherlamb,St.Rochwithhisdogandshells,St.JohntheBaptistinhissheepskin,and,mostridiculousofall,poorVincentdePaulcarryingthreenakedchildreninhisarms,likeamidwife'sadvertisement.

Thisfrightfulexhibition,whichwasofthenatureoftheTussaudMuseum

oramasquerade,positivelyfrightenedAmedee.Hehadrecentlybeentohisfirstcommunion,andwasstillburningwiththemysticalfever,butsomuchuglinessoffendedhisalreadyfastidioustasteandthrewhimintohisfirstdoubt.

Oneday,aboutfiveo'clock,M.Violetteandhissonarrivedatthe"BonMarchedesParoisses,"andfoundUncleIsidoreintheroomwherethepaintedstatueswerekept,superintending--thepackingofaSt.Michel.Thelastcustomerofthedaywasjustleaving,theBishop'inpartibus'ofTrebizonde,blessingM.Gaufre.Thelittleapoplecticman,thegiverofholywater,leftalonewithhisclerks,feltunderrestraintnolonger.

"Payattention,youconfoundedidiot!"hecriedtotheyoungmanjustreadytolaythearchangelintheshavings."Youalmostbrokethedragon'stail."

Then,noticingAmedeeandM.Violettewhohadjustentered:

"Ah!Itisyou,Violate!Good-day!Good-day,Amedee!Youcomeatanunluckytime.Itisshipping-daywithus.Iaminagreathurry--Eh!MonsieurCombier,byyourleave,MonsieurCombier!DonotforgetthethreedozenoftheApparitiondelaSaletteinstuccoforGrenoble,withtwenty-fivepercent.reductionuponthebill.Areyouworkinghard,Amedee?Whatdoyousay?HewasfirstandassistedatthefeastofSt.Charlemagne!Somuchthebetter!--Jules,didyousendthesix

chandeliersandtheplatedpyxandtheStationsoftheCross,NumberTwo,totheDamesduSacre-Coeurd'Alencons?What,notyet?Buttheordercamethreedaysago!Youmusthurry,Itellyou!--Youcansee,Violette,Iamoverflowingwithwork--butcomeinhereamoment."

Andoncemoreorderinghisbookkeeper,acaptiveinhisglasscase,tosendtheofficersthenotesthatthecureofSourdevalhadallowedtogotoprotest,UncleIsidoreusheredM.Violetteandhissonintohisoffice.


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Itwasanancientroom,andM.Gaufre,whoaimedattheaustere,hadmadeitgloomierstillbyasafe,andblackhairclothfurniture,whichlookedasiftakenfromavestryroom.Thepretty,high,andovalapartment,withitslargewindow,openinguponagarden,itsceilingpaintedinlightrosyclouds,itswoodworkornamentedwithwreathsandquivers,stillpreservedsomeofthecharmandeleganceofformerdays.Amedeewouldhavebeenamusedthere,hadnotUncleIsidore,whohadseatedhimselfbeforehisdesk,launchedatonceanunkindquestionatM.Violette.

"Bytheway,haveyouobtainedthepromotionthatyoucountedsomuchuponlastyear?"

"Unfortunately,no,MonsieurGaufre.YouknowwhattheAdministrationis."

"Yes,itisslow;butyouarenotoverwhelmedwithwork,however.Whileinabusinesslikethis--whatcares,whatannoyances!Isometimesenvyyou.Youcantakeanhourtocutyourpens.Well,whatiswantedofmenow?"

Theheadofaclerkwithapencilbehindhisear,appearedthroughthehalf-opendoor.

"MonsieurleSuperieurofForeignMissionswishestospeakwithMonsieur."

"Youcansee!Notoneminutetomyself.Anothertime,mydearViolette.Adieu,mylittleman--itisastonishinghowmuchhegrowstolooklikeLucie!YoumustcomeanddinewithmesomeSunday,withoutceremony.Berenice's'souffleaufromage'issomethingdelicious!LetMonsieurleSuperieurcomein."

M.Violettetookhisdeparture,displeasedathisuselessvisitandirritatedagainstUncleIsidore,whohadbeenhardlycivil.

"Thatmanisaperfectegotist,"thoughthe,sadly;"andthatgirlhas

himinherclutches.MypoorAmedeewillhavenothingfromhim."

Amedeehimselfwasnotinterestedinhisuncle'sfortune.Hewasjustthenapupilinthefourthgrade,whichfollowsthesamestudiesasattheLyceeHenriIV.Havingsuddenlygrowntall,hewasannoyedatwearingshorttrousers,andhadalreadyrenouncedallinfantilegames.ThedanglingcrowswhichillustratedthepagesofhisBurnoufgrammarwerealldatedthepreviousyear,andhehadentirelyrenouncedfeedingsilkwormsinhisdesk.Everythingpointedtohisnotbeingaverypracticalman.Geometrydisgustedhim,andasfordates,hecouldnotrememberone.Onholidayshelikedtowalkbyhimselfthroughquietstreets;hereadpoemsatthebookstalls,andlingeredintheLuxembourgGardenstoseethesunset.Destinedtobeadreameranda

sentimentalist--somuchtheworseforyou,poorAmedee!

HewentveryoftentotheGerards,buthenolongercalledhislittlefriends"thou."Louisewasnowseventeenyearsold,thin,withoutcolor,andwithalankfigure;decidedlyfarfrompretty.People,inspeakingofher,begantosay,"Shehasbeautifuleyesandisanexcellentmusician."HersisterMariawastwelveyearsoldandaperfectlittlerosebud.

Astotheneighbor'slittlegirl,RosineCombarieu,shehaddisappeared.


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Onedaytheprintersuddenlydepartedwithoutsayingawordtoanybody,andtookhischildwithhim.Theconciergesaidthathewasconcernedinsomepoliticalplot,andwasobligedtoleavethehouseinthenight.Theybelievedhimtobeconcealedinsomesmalltown.

Accordingly,FatherGerardwasnotangrywithhimforfleeingwithouttakingleaveofhim.Theconspiratorhadkeptallhisprestigeintheeyesoftheengraver,who,byaspecialrunofill-luck,wasalwaysengagedbyapublisherofBonapartistworks,andwasbusyatthatmomentuponaportraitofthePrinceImperial,intheuniformofacorporaloftheGuards,withanimmensebearskincapuponhischildishhead.

FatherGerardwasgrowingold.Hisbeard,formerlyofareddishshade,andwhatlittlehairtherewasremaininguponhishead,hadbecomesilverywhite;thatwonderfulwhitewhich,likeatardyrecompensetored-facedpersons,becomestheirfull-bloodedfacessowell.Thegoodmanfelttheweightofyears,asdidhiswife,whosefleshincreasedinsuchatroublesomewaythatshewasforcedtopantheavilywhensheseatedherselfafterclimbingthefiveflights.FatherGerardgrewold,likeeverythingthatsurroundedhim;likethehouseopposite,thathehadseenbuilt,andthatnolongerhadtheairofanewbuilding;likehiscuriousoldfurniture,hismendedcrockery,andhisengravings,yellowwithage,theframesofwhichhadturnedred;liketheoldErardpiano,uponwhichLouise,anaccomplishedperformer,nowwasplayingasetof

Beethoven'swaltzesandMendelssohn's"SongsWithoutWords."Thispooroldservantnowhadonlytheshrill,tremblingtonesofaharmonica.

Thepoorartistgrewold,andhewasuneasyastothefuture;forhehadnotknownhowtomanagelikehisschool-friend,theintriguingDamourette,whohadformerlycheatedhimoutofthe'prixdeRome'byafavor,andwhonowplayedthegentlemanattheInstitute,inhisembroideredcoat,andreceivedallthegoodorders.He,thesimpleton,hadsaddledhimselfwithafamily,andalthoughhehaddrudgedlikeaslavehehadlaidnothingaside.Onedayhemightbestrickenwithapoplexyandleavehiswidowwithoutresources,andhistwodaughterswithoutadowry.Hesometimesthoughtofallthisashefilledhispipe,anditwasnotpleasant.

IfM.Gerardgrewgloomyashegrewolder,M.Violettebecamemournful.Hewasmorethanfortyyearsoldnow.Whatadecline!Doesgriefmaketheyearscountdouble?Thewidowerwasamerewreck.Hisrebelliouslockofhairhadbecomeadirtygray,andalwayshungoverhisrighteye,andhenolongertookthetroubletotossitbehindhisear.Hishandstrembledandhefelthismemoryleavinghim.Hegrewmoretaciturnandsilentthanever,andseemedinterestedinnothing,noteveninhisson'sstudies.Hereturnedhomelate,atelittleatdinner,andthenwentoutagainwithatotteringsteptopacethedark,gloomystreets.Attheoffice,wherehestilldidhisworkmechanically,hewasadoomedman;heneverwouldbeelectedchiefassistant."Whatdepravity!"saidoneofhisfellowclerks,ayoungmanwithabrightfuture,protectedbythe

headofthedepartment,whowenttotheracesandhadnothisequalinimitatingthe"Gnouf!gnouf!"ofGrassot,theactor."Amanofhisagedoesnotdeclinesorapidlywithoutgoodcause.Itisnotnatural!"Whatisit,then,thathasreducedM.Violettetosuchadegreeofdejectionandwretchedness?

Alas!wemustadmitit.Theunhappymanlackedcourage,andhesoughtconsolationinhisdespair,andfounditinavice.

Everyeveningwhenhelefthisofficehewentintoafilthylittlecafe


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ontheRueduFour.Hewouldseathimselfuponabenchinthebackoftheroom,inthedarkestcorner,asifashamed;andwouldaskinalowtoneforhisfirstglassofabsinthe.Hisfirst!Yes,forhedranktwo,threeeven.Hedranktheminlittlesips,feelingslowlyrisewithinhimthecerebralraptureofthepowerfulliquor.Letthosewhoarehappyblamehimiftheywill!Itwasthere,leaninguponthemarbletable,lookingat,withoutseeingher,throughthepyramidsoflumpsugarandbowlsofpunch,theladycashierwithherwelloiledhairreflectedintheglassbehindher--itwastherethattheinconsolablewidowerfoundforgetfulnessofhistrouble.Itwastherethatforonehourhelivedoveragainhisformerhappiness.

For,byaphenomenonwellknowntodrinkersofabsinthe,heregulatedandgovernedhisintoxication,anditgavehimthedreamthathedesired.

"Boy,oneglassofabsinthe!"

Andoncemorehebecametheyounghusband,whoadoreshisdearLucieandisadoredbyher.

Itiswinter,heisseatedinthecornerbythefire,andbeforehim,sittinginthelightreflectedbyagreenlampshadeuponwhichdarksilhouettesofjockey-ridersarerunningatfullspeed,hiswifeisbusyingherselfwithsomeembroidery.Everyfewmomentstheylookat

eachotherandsmile,heoverhisbookandsheoverherwork;thelovernevertiredofadmiringLucie'sdelicatefingers.Sheistoopretty!Suddenlyhefallsatherfeet,slipshisarmaboutherwaist,andgivesheralongkiss;then,overcomewithlanguor,heputshisheaduponhisbeloved'skneesandhearshersaytohim,inalowvoice:"Thatisright!Gotosleep!"andhersofthandslightlystrokehishair.

"Boy,oneglassofabsinthe!"

Theyareinthatbeautifulfieldfilledwithflowers,nearthewoodsinVerrieres,uponafineJuneafternoonwhenthesunislow.Shehasmadeamagnificentbouquetoffieldflowers.Shestopsatintervalstoaddacornflower,andhefollows,carryinghermantleandumbrella.How

beautifulissummerandhowsweetitistolove!Theyarealittletired;forduringthewholeofthisbrightSundaytheyhavewanderedthroughthemeadows.Itisthehourfordinner,andhereisalittletavernundersomelindens,wherethewhitenessofthenapkinsrivalstheblossomingthickets.Theychooseatableandordertheirrepastofamoustachedyouth.Whilewaitingfortheirsoup,Lucie,rosyfrombeingoutalldayintheopenairandsilentfromhunger,amusesherselfinlookingatthebluedesignsontheplates,whichrepresentedbattlesinAfrica.Whatajoyousdinner!Thereweremushroomsintheomelet,mushroomsinthestewedkidneys,mushroomsinthefilet.Butsomuchthebetter!Theyareveryfondofthem.Andthegoodwine!Thedearchildisalmostintoxicatedatdessert!Shetakesitintoherheadtosqueezeacherry-stonebetweenherthumbandfirstfingerandmakesitpop-slap!

intoherhusband'sface!Andthenaughtycreaturelaughs!Buthewillhavehisrevenge--waitalittle!Herises,andleaningoverthetableburiestwofingersbetweenhercollarandherneck,andthemischievouscreaturedrawsherheaddownintohershouldersasfarasshecan,begginghim,withanervouslaugh,"No,no,Ibeseechyou!"forsheisafraidofbeingtickled.Butthebesttimeofallisthereturnthroughthecountryatnight,theexquisiteodorofnew-mownhay,theroadlightedbyasummerskywherethewholezodiactwinkles,andthroughwhich,likeasilentstream,theChemindeSt.Jacquesrollsitsdiamondsmoke.


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romance of youth, a — volume 1 by coppée, françois, 1842-1908

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