Sidonie (Fremont jeune et Risler aîné).

Front matter

Class 'S _

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BOOK I. Chaptkb Paob

I. — A Wedding-Party at Vefours 5

II. — Story of “Little Ch^be” — Three Families on a Floor 17

III. — Story of “Little Chebe” — Imitation Pearls . . 83

IV. — Story of “ Little Chebe ” — The Fire-Flies of Sayigny 46

V. — How “Little Chebe’s” Story ends .... 58

BOOK II. I. — “My Wife’s Reception-Day” 65

II. — Real Pearl, and Imitation Pearl .... 75

III. — The Tayern of the Rue Blondel . . . .83

IV. — At Sayigny 96

V. — Sigismond Planus’s Fears for his Cash-Account . 101

VI. — Stock-taking . . . . . , .111

VII. — A Letter 123

BOOK III. I. — The Avenger 124

II. — Explanation ..... , 141

III. — Poor Little Mademoiselle Zizi . . . .154

IV. — The Waiting-Room 160

V. — The Seine . 169

CONTENTS.

BOOK I Y. Chapter Pagb

I. — Perplexities 194

II. — Revelations .199

III. — Note to meet . . .211

IV. — The New Clerk of the House of Fromont . . 226

V. — A. Concert-Room 239

BOOK I.

V -

CHAPTER I. A WEDDIN Gr-P AIIT Y AT VEFOTTRS

“ Madame Chebe 1 ”

“ My dear boy ? ”

“ I am so bappy ! ”

It was certainly the twentieth time that day that William Risler had announced his excessive happiness. Always, too, in the same words, and in the same heart-felt tone — soft and low — indicating, to a close observer, that he placed a certain restraint on himself lest he should say too much.

Hot for the world would the newly-made husband make an exhibition of himself — but his happiness choked his utterance, and made it difficult for him to speak. All that day he had, at intervals, whispered in the ear of his mother-in-law, “ At last I am a happy man ! ”

For hours the poor fellow had feared that he was dreaming — that he had been fooled by an ecstatic

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vision-— but the hands of the large clock at V ef ours pointed to ten, and he had not jet been roughly awakened. He lived over the events of the day : he saw himself in his simple bachelor’s room ; he had just placed in the pocket of his new coat two pairs of white gloves. A few hours later, the weddingprocession had started. In one of the many carriages he beheld a shimmering cloud of silk and tulle, that betokened the presence of the bride. Then came the entrance into church — two-by-two — following the floating white cloud ; the organ, the priest, the benediction, the wax-candles, the jewels, and the spring toilets ! Then the crowd in the vestry-room, where the small, white sylph was kissed and embraced by parents and friends, while he himself was warmly congratulated by the first merchants in Paris, who had assembled to do him honor.

Then the coming out again into the common world — the last triumphant peal of the organ swelling tumultuously through the widely-opened door of the church — the murmurs and comments of the crowd gathered at the entrance ; even the words of a stout woman, wearing a large white apron — words unnoticed at the time — now returned to Pisler.

“ Well, the husband is not much to look at, but the bride is a beauty ! ” and the woman was right, he thought.

Then came a breakfast at the factory, where the huge room was gay with flowers ; the drive in the Bois — a concession to Madame Ghebe, so true a

A WEDDING-PARTY AT VA FOURS.

Parisian by birth and education that she would hardly have thought her daughter married without a visit to the cascade, and a glimpse of the lake.

Finally, the return to a grand dinner just as the street-lamps began to twinkle along the boulevard. He heard again the rattle of the carriages as the bridal procession drew up with a needless amount of noise and bustle before the private staircase at Yefours.

And now, worn out by happy excitement, Kisler leaned back in his chair and quietly surveyed the large table, in the form of a horseshoe, around which were seated twenty-four familiar faces, in whose joyous eyes he read only the reflection of his own happiness.

Dessert had been served, and the fruits, flowers, and ices, gave color and light to the gay scene. A buzz of conversation filled the room ; some of the chairs were pushed slightly away from the table, and all was going on well.

Yes, Risler was content. With the exception of his brother Frantz, every soul for whom he cared in the world was near him. Opposite sat Sidonie — yesterday “Miss Sidonie,” to-day his wife and “ madame.” She had laid aside her veil, emerged, as it were, from her white cloud, and her pretty, pale face, crowned by a wreath of orange-blossoms and heavy braids of hair, rose from the severe simplicity of her closely-fitting robe of white silk. In her eyes sparkled an air of latent rebellion, and about her mouth lingered an expression of discon-

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tent ; but newly-made husbands rarely read such signs aright.

Hext to Sidonie and Frantz, the person whom Kisler most loved was Madame Fromont, whom he always called “ Madame George,” the wife of his partner, and the daughter of the deceased Fromont, his former patron, and his hero and model. He had placed her next himself, and in his way of speaking to her one read at once the deference and tenderness with which he regarded her. She was a very young woman, about Sidonie’s age, but of a better style of beauty, more quiet, more refined. She talked very little, feeling somewhat out of place in this mixed circle, though she was perfectly amiable, and well bred in her manner.

On Kisler’s other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride’s mother, who was dazzling to behold, in a robe of glossy green satin. All that day the good woman’s thoughts had been as brilliant as her dress, and she had said to herself a hundred times, u My daughter marries Fromont and Risler.” For to her mind it was not Pisler alone whom her daughter married, it was the firm itself, so famous in Paris ; and, each time that Madame Chebe arrived at this conclusion, she drew herself up so erect that the silk of her waist creaked like the harness of a warhorse.

What a contrast to her husband, who sat farther off ! This little man, with his glossy bald head, as round and as empty as a tenpin-ball, looked as furiously indignant as his wife was radiant ; this, to be

A WEDDING-PARTY AT V 3 FOURS. 9

sure, was but liis usual expression. This evening he was not so shabby as was his custom, and his new black coat was a proper pendant to his wife’s green satin ; but, unfortunately, his thoughts were as sombre as his coat. “ Why had he not been put next the bride, as was his right? Why had that place been given to young Fromont ? And why did old Gardinois, the Fromonts’ grandfather, sit on the other side of Sidonie ? Of course, every consideration must be paid to the Fromonts and none to the Chebes, and yet such people had the face to wonder at revolutions ! ”

Fortunately, as a safety-valve for his indignation, the irate little man had next him his friend Dellobelle, a superannuated actor, who listened to his complaints with a majestic and unmoved countenance. A man may have been driven from the stage by the jealous machinations of managers, kept from it for fifteen years, and yet have in reserve many impressive attitudes and magnificent poses. So on this especial evening Dellobelle felt that much was expected of him, and he had adopted a half-smiling, h&lf-serious air, at once condescending and solemn. One would have imagined him at a feast in the first act of a new play, assisting at a banquet where all the meats were of pasteboard. In fact, this absurd Dellobelle had precisely the air of playing a part, feigning to listen to what was said, but really meditating only on his reply.

Singularly enough, the bride, too, had a little of the same expression. On her young and pretty face

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was to be detected a certain preoccupation, and occasionally a faint smile, as if she were talking to herself.

It was with this same faint smile that she replied to the not over-refined witticisms of Grandfather Gardinois, who was seated on her right.

“ It is not quite two months,” continued the good man, with a boisterous laugh, “ since this little minx, this Sidonie here, talked of going into a nunnery — a monastery, I fancy, would have suited her better ! ”

Every one applauded this poor joke of the old peasant, whose colossal wealth, as well as native shrewdness, inspired respect. Among the few he fancied was “ little Chebe,” as he called her : he had known her from infancy, and understood her thoroughly, while she in her turn was too recently endowed with wealth not to venerate riches, and treated him always with an odd mixture of veneration and coquetry.

To George Fromont, who sat on her left, however, her manner was very reserved. Their conversation was simply an exchange of civilities, and seemed like an affectation of indifference. Suddenly came the flutter and rustle of silks, the half silence, and the general indications of rising from the table, and above all was heard the shrill voice of Madame Chebe addressing a cousin from the country, who was in an ecstasy of admiration at the calm dignity of the bride, who was at that moment standing, leaning on the arm of M. Gardinois.

“.I tell you, cousin,” exclaimed the proud mother, “ no one has ever yet been able to read the thoughts

A WEDDING-PARTY AT V£ FOURS.

or feelings of my Sidonie ! ” Then the guests with much laughter passed into the grand salon.

While the guests, who were invited only to the ball which was to crown the festivities, were assembling, and the orchestra were tuning their instruments, while the youths hovering in the doorway were mentally deciding with whom to dance, Risler took refuge in a smaller, darker, and cooler room, communicating with the salon . Sigismond Planus, his old friend, and the cashier for thirty years of the mercantile house of Fromont, joined him. They were alone, and could say a few words in comfort.

“ Sigismond, old boy ! I am perfectly happy ! ”

Sigismond wished to express his delight, but Risler gave him no opportunity of doing so. All the joy in the good man’s heart bubbled to the surface, and liS continued :

“ J ust think of it, Sigismond ! Is it not astonishing that a pretty young girl like that could accept me? I know quite well that I am old and ugly, for I am forty-four. Many another she might have married, without counting Frantz, who you know worshiped her. But no — she wanted old Risler, and she has got him.

“ It all came about, too, in such an extraordinary fashion. For some time I had fancied her sad and out of spirits. I feared lest some unfortunate love-affair caused this state of things. In vain did her mother and I talk it over together. We could think of no one whom she could possibly care a sou for. Finally, one morning, in came Madame Chebe, all in

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tears, to my office. £ It is you, William, whom she loves ! ’ she cried. And so it was. Just think of that, my friend ! And who ever heard of a man having two such strokes of good luck, following so close on one another, as I have had in this year ? To be admitted into the house of From on t, as full partner, with no capital but my brains, and to have Sidonie for my wife ! ”

At this moment a couple floated into the room, a youthful pair, alike handsome, alike young ; wafted as it were on the intoxicating strains of the bewildering music. The bride was looking straight into the eyes of her husband’s partner, and the lips of both were moving rapidly as they whispered each in the ear of the other.

“ It is false ! ” hissed Sidonie, fiercely, but still smiling.

“ I swear it is true ! ” answered the young man, even paler than the bride. “ My uncle insisted on it ; he was dying, and you had gone. How could I resist ? ”

From afar off Risler looked at the pair in ad^ miration. “How pretty she is! How well they dance together ! ” But, as the two caught sight of Risler, they separated, and Sidonie went directly toward her husband.

“You here?” she said. “Every one is looking for you. Why are you not in the ballroom ? ” and as she spoke she hastily retied his cravat, while Risler smiled out of the corner of his eyes at Sigismond, and was too delighted with the little hand

A WEDDING-PARTY AT VAPOURS.

fluttering at his throat to notice the trembling of each slender finger.

“ Give me your arm,” she said, and they entered the drawing-room together. Her long, white train made his badly-cut, badly-fitting coat appear still more awkward ; but a coat cannot be made over like the knot of a cravat, and it w r as necessary to accept him as he was. Nevertheless, Sidonie had a moment of gratified vanity as she bowed to the right and to the left oh their passage up the room. Unfortunately, it soon came to an end, for in the corner sat a young and pretty woman whom no one asked to dance. As soon as he perceived her, Risler at once went to her, and Sidonie found herself compelled to take a seat at her side. It is needless to say that this lady was “ Madame George.” To whom else would he have spoken with this respectful tenderness ? In whose hand but hers would he have placed his little Sidonie 5 s, as he said : “ You will love her, will you not? You are so good, and she needs your advice so much — your knowledge of the world ? 55

“But, my good friend,” interrupted Madame George, “ Sidonie and I are intimates already. We have every reason to love each other . 55 And her quiet, honest eyes looked frankly into those of her old companion.

Utterly ignorant of the ways of women, and in the habit of treating Sidonie as a mere child, Bisler continued, in the same tone : “ Take pattern by her, little one ; there is but one Madame George in the world. She is just like her father, a true Fromont ! 55

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Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed without reply ; hut a slight shiver ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the smallest bud on her wreath of orange-blossoms. But the good Bisler saw nothing.

The ball, the music, the lights, and the flowers, had intoxicated him ; he thought every one as happy as himself, and knew and suspected nothing of all the rivalries and small hatreds that went on about him. He did not see Dellobelle, with his elbow on the chimney-piece, one hand on nis hip holding his hat, waiting for the time to come to utilize his especial talents ; nor did he notice M. Chebe leaning against a pillar of the door, more furious than ever against the Fromonts.

“ Oh, these Fromonts ! Why should they occupy such a conspicuous position at this wedding ? What had they to do with it ? — and he, the father of the bride, had not even been presented to Madame George ! ” — and the little man cast enraged glances at his wife, who sat smiling in supreme content.

At this wedding, as at almost all others, the distinct circles jostled each other, but did not harmonize. Finally, one gave way to the other. “ Those Fromonts,” who so irritated M. Chebe, and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, a distinguished solicitor, and the old millionaire Gardinois, all retired about midnight, quickly followed by M. and Madame George Fromont. Then the bride, with her mother and Risler, slipped away, leaving M. Chebe, who had recovered his spirits, to do the honors.

A WEDDING-PARTY AT Vfi FOURS.

Through the deserted streets the bridal carriage rolled heavily toward the new home. Madame Chebe talked much, enumerating all the splendors of this memorable day, dwelling especially on the dinner, the commonplace carte of which had been to her the epitome of luxury. Sidonie was half asleep in the corner of the carriage ; and if Risler, opposite, did not say, “ I am happy,” it was because his heart was too full to speak. Once he attempted to take in his the little white hand that rested on the window, but it was quickly withdrawn, and he sat lost in silent adoration. Once the carriage stopped to drop Madame Chebe at her own door, too narrow for the voluminous flounces of her magnificent dress. A few minutes later the coach drew up before the massive gates of an old hotel in La Rue des Yielles Haudriettes, bearing, above the half -effaced coat of arms, a huge sign, on which, in letters of gold and blue, were to be read the words,

“ Wall-Papeus, at Wholesale only.”

The bride leaned forward. Had not all the lights been extinguished in the enormous buildings surrounding the court, Risler would have seen the smile of triumph that irradiated the pretty, enigmatical, contradictory face.

The noise of the wheels was deadened by the fine gravel of an avenue which led to the small hotel of two stories. It was there, on the lower floor, that George Fromont lived, and the Rislers were to occupy the second. The house, simple as

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it was, had yet an air of luxury that night, lent by the magnificent flowers and shrubs that lined the hall and staircase.

While Eisler surveyed his new home in supreme content, Sidonie retreated to her boudoir. By the light of the rose-colored chandelier she first carefully surveyed herself in the long mirror, and then calmly turned to examine in a leisurely fashion each detail of this, to her, unwonted luxury. This examination over, she threw open a window and stepped out on a balcony. The night was clear and mild. By the waning light of the moon she saw the whole of the manufactory, with its thousand windows and numerous chimneys.

At her feet lay the small hut exquisitely-kept garden. All around were black and narrow streets. Suddenly she started. Below, off toward the left, in one of the most wretched of all the crowded attics, she saw a window in the fifth story thrown widely open. She knew it instantly — it was the staircase window of the floor which her parents inhabited. How well she knew it! How many things the sight of it recalled ! How many hours — how many days indeed — had she passed there, leaning from this window without a railing or a balcony, looking toward the manufactory! She fancied she could at that distance detect “ little Chebe’s” small head, set in the frame of the window ; and all her past life seemed to unfold before her — her childhood, and, worse than all, the sad youth of a poor girl in the city of Paris.

Chapter II. Story Of U Little Chebe ” Three Families On A

FLOOR.

In the crowded homes of the poor, the corridor and staircase are regarded by them as another apartment. The children play there, while the women gossip and the men smoke. When “ little Chebe” made too much noise, her mother would say : “ You drive me crazy ; go out on the corridor and play ! ” The child obeyed her gladly.

This same corridor was on the upper floor of an ancient dwelling. Economy of space had formed no part of the original plan — it was broad, with a high ceiling, and protected on the side nearest the stairs by a heavy iron railing ; at one end it was lighted by a large window that overlooked all the other roofs and chimneys, and a little way off the green turf in the garden of the Fromont establishment lay cool and fresh among the dusty old walls and superannuated buildings.

There was little, to be sure, that was very gay in the prospect ; still, the child liked it infinitely better than the outlook from the windows of her parents’ rooms, which were always gloomy and sunless, and wellnigh intolerable when it rained, and her father could not go out.

Ferdinand Chebe was indolent, and always forming plans to make a magnificent fortune. At first he had imposed on his wife, but after repeated dis* appointments she learned to estimate him at his real value, and refused to attach any importance to his wild dreams. Of the comfortable little dowry, brought by her and wasted by him in foolish speculations, there remained but a mere pittance: a camel’ s-hair shawl, sacred to great occasions; the laces she wore on her marriage-day ; and two diamond buttons, small enough, certainly, but still so brilliant that Sidonie often implored her mother to open the white-velvet case in which they had lain for thirty years or more.

M. Chebe had been years seeking some active employment — his health, as he affirmed, not allowing him to lead a sedentary life. It must be acknowledged that in the early days of his married life, when his business was prosperous and money was plentiful, when he kept his horse and his groom, he was thrown from a carriage and severely injured. This accident had served ever ffiice as an excuse for all his indolence. One was never five minutes with M. Chebe that he did not say in a confidential tone, “ You remember the accident that happened to the Due d’Orleans? ” and he added, invariably tapping his own bald head, “ Precisely the same thing happened to me, my friend — precisely the same thing!”

Situation after situation had been abandoned as not lucrative or dignified enough, so that at the time of which we speak he was a burden to himself and to others. Every one can speak of the eccentricities of artists and literary men, but who can adequately describe the preposterous follies of a half-educated, unemployed shopkeeper? If a new street was being laid out, he felt called upon daily to inspect the progress of the workmen. No one knew better than he the specialties of the different shops, and sometimes Madame Chebe, out of all patience at seeing the vacant face of her husband pressed against the window-panes, would say, as she ironed the house-linen: “You know the baker’s shop, in such a street, where they sell such excellent cakes ? Go and get a couple for dessert.” So the husband sallied forth, slowly walked up the boulevard, went to the shop, and passed half the day in the street, returning in triumph, wiping his forehead, as he entered the house with the two cakes under his arm, for which he had spent a few pennies and the whole morning.

His wife made no complaint, though she honestly wished that he would make some money. The poor woman made no more than he, but she so thoroughly understood the art of saving it that absolute poverty had never yet entered their doors. Their rooms were always delicately clean, and the old furniture shone brightly under her care.

Opposite the Chebe door were too smaller ones. On the first, a card, fastened by four small nails,

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bore the name of “ Pisler, Designer of Patterns for Manufacturers,” and on the other was a small sign, with this inscription in gilt letters :

“MADAME DELLOBELLE.

BEETLES AND HUMMING-BIRDS.”

The Dellobelles’ door was always wide open, and showed a large square room, where two women — ■ mother and daughter, the latter almost a child — labored assiduously at one of the thousand small industries by which Paris supplies the civilized world with articles of taste.

At that time it was the fashion to ornajnent hats and ball-dresses with those brilliant beetles from South America, and with those dainty birds whose breasts glitter as if set closely with rubies and emeralds. This was Madame Dellobelle’s specialty.

A wholesale house, to whom the goods were consigned from the Antilles, sent them at once on their arrival to Madame Dellobelle. When the cover was lifted, a dull, dead odor, and a fine arsenical dust, filled the room. The beetles were piled one upon another ; the birds were closely packed, each with its wings stretched on a bit of stiff paper. All these were to be mounted — each beetle must tremble on a bit of wire ; the ruffled plumage of the humming-birds was to be smoothed, and two pearl beads inserted instead of the eyes that were no longer there ; and each tiny creature must be made to assume a life-like position. The mother did her work undei lier daughter’s direction ; for Desiree, though so young, had such exquisite taste, such originality of invention, that no one could arrange the birds as she could.

Lame from her infancy, in consequence of an accident that had in no way lessened the beauty of her refined face, Desiree had acquired, in consequence of her enforced immobility, a certain high-bred pallor, and her industry was of such a nature that the natural beauty of her white hands was uninjured. Her beautiful hair was always carefully arranged, and she passed her days buried in a large arm-chair, before a table that was covered with fashion-plates and birds of all tints, finding some compensation in the elegance of her employment for the poverty and anxiety of her life.

She knew that all these little wings would glitter at Parisian fetes , and, by the fashion in which she would arrange her birds and her beetles, it was easy to divine her thoughts. On her sad and weary days the wings were widely spread, as if eager for a flight, fast and furious enough to bear the little creature far away from this poor abode, and petty cares and trials. At other times, when she was happy, the tiny things themselves looked radiant, like a very caprice of fashion.

Happy or unhappy, Desiree toiled on with unflagging energy ; from sunrise until far into the night the table was piled with work. When daylight was gone, and the bell of the factory sounded its dismissal, Madame Dellobelle lighted her lamp,

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and, after a liglit repast, the two resumed their labors.

The indefatigable women had hut one aim — one fixed idea in life — and this was the dramatic success of Dellobelle.

From the unfortunate day that he had left a provincial theatre, to play comedy in Paris, Dellobelle had expected some manager, cleverer and less ignorant than others, to discover his genius and offer him a position worthy of his talents. Perhaps, in the beginning, Dellobelle might have found some employment in a third-rate theatre, but to such an idea he would not condescend to listen. He preferred, he said, “ to wait, and to struggle ! ” . And shall we show our readers how he struggled ?

He passed his mornings in his chamber — often in his bed — rehearsing his former roles , and his wife and daughter shuddered with terror, as they heard some tragic speech loudly declaimed. After a late breakfast the actor sallied forth, well brushed and perfumed, and wandered up and down the boulevards until night, his hat a little on one* side, and a toothpick between his lips.

The matter of costume he regarded as of the highest importance. What manager, he asked, would engage him were he shabbily dressed and unshaven \

So his womenkind watched carefully that he lacked nothing, and you may imagine how many beetles and humming-birds they mounted daily to keep him in this resplendent condition.

But the comedian thought it all right. In his opinion the privations and toil of his wife and daughter were so many sacrifices, not made for him, but laid on the altar of the unknown divinity, the coining manager.

Between the Dellobelle household and the Chebe there was a certain similarity of position, but it was brighter and gayer with the Dellobelles, for their hopes and faith opened to them a possible future, while the Chebes knew that for them there could be no amelioration of their lot ; then, Madame Chebe no longer believed in her husband, while her neighbor had never doubted hers.

And yet for years and years Dellobelle had interviewed all the dramatists of the great city, had waited on one manager after another, but had never succeeded in obtaining an engagement. A friend had succeeded in procuring his appointment as steward of a fashionable club, where good manners were an essential — and Heaven knows the actor had those — but all such propositions Dellobelle received with an heroic denial.

“ I have no right to bid farewell to the theatre,” said the great man.

From the lips of this poor fellow, whose feet had not trod the boards for many a long year, such words were irresistibly comic ; but, after a glance at the pale wife and -paler daughter, one lost all desire to smile ; and to hear one or the other say, as they twisted the steel wire of their ' birds, a Ho, no, M. Dellobelle has no right to relinquish the theatre,” was enough to bring tears to one’s eyes.