MY AUNT'S FLOWER GARDEN.
Having despatched the venerable Coligny much to her own satisfaction and apparently to the satisfaction of her hearers, Mdlle. Honoria returned to private life; Messieurs Philomène and Dorinet removed the footlights; the audience once more dispersed itself about the room; and Madame Marotte welcomed the new-comer as Monsieur Lenoir.
"Monsieur est bien aimable," she said, nodding and smiling, and, with tremulous hands, smoothing down the front of her black silk gown. "I had told these young ladies that we hoped for the honor of Monsieur's society. Will Monsieur permit me to introduce him?"
"With pleasure, Madame Marotte."
And M. Lenoir--white cravatted, white kid-gloved, hat in hand, perfectly well-dressed in full evening black, and wearing a small orange-colored rosette at his button-hole--bowed, glanced round the room, and, though his eyes undoubtedly took in both Müller and myself, looked as if he had never seen either of us in his life.
I< saw Müller start, and the color fly into his face.
"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "it is--it must be ... look at him, Arbuthnot! If that isn't the man who stole my sketch-book, I'll eat my head!"
"It is the man," I replied. "I recognised him ten minutes ago, when he first came in."
"You are certain?"
"Quite certain."
"And yet--there is something different!"
There was something different; but, at the same time, much that was identical. There was the same strange, inscrutable look, the same bronzed complexion, the same military bearing. M. Lenoir, it was true, was well, and even elegantly dressed; whereas, the stranger of the Café Procope bore all the outward stigmata of penury; but that was not all. There was yet "something different." The one looked like a man who had done, or suffered, a wrong in his time; who had an old quarrel with the world; and who only sought to hide himself, his poverty, and his bitter pride from the observation of his fellow men. The other stood before us dignified, décoré, self-possessed, a man not only of the world, but apparently no stranger to that small section of it called "the great world." In a word, the man of the Café, sunken, sullen, threadbare as he was, would have been almost less out of his proper place in Madame Marotte's society of small trades-people and minor professionals, than was M. Lenoir with his grand air and his orange-colored ribbon.
"It's the same man," said Müller; "the same, beyond a doubt. The more I look at him, the more confident I am."
"And the more I look at him," said I, "the more doubtful I get."
Madame Marotte, meanwhile, had introduced M. Lenoir to the two Conservatoire pupils and their mammas; Monsieur Dorinet had proposed some "petits jeux;" and Monsieur Philomène was helping him to re-arrange the chairs--this time in a circle.
"Take your places, Messieurs et Mesdames--take your places!" cried Monsieur Dorinet, who had by this time resumed his wig, singed as it was, and shorn of its fair proportions. "What game shall we play at?"
"Pied de Boeuf" "Colin Maillard" and other games were successively proposed and rejected.
"We have a game in Alsace called 'My Aunt's Flower Garden'" said Müller. "Does any one know it?"
"'My Aunt's Flower Garden?'" repeated Monsieur Dorinet. "I never heard of it."
"It sounds pretty," said Mdlle. Rosalie.
"Will M'sieur teach it to us, if it is not very difficult?" suggested Mdlle. Rosalie's mamma.
"With pleasure, Madame. It is not a bad game--and it is extremely easy. We will sit in a circle, if you please--the chairs as they are placed will do quite well."
We were just about to take our places when Madame Marotte seized the opportunity to introduce Müller and myself to M. Lenoir.
"We have met before, Monsieur," said Müller, pointedly.
"I am ashamed to confess, Monsieur, that I do not remember to have had that pleasure," replied M. Lenoir, somewhat stiffly.
"And yet, Monsieur, it was but the other day," persisted Müller.
"Monsieur, I can but reiterate my regret."
"At the Café Procope."
M. Lenoir stared coldly, slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said, with the air of one who repudiates a discreditable charge:--
"Monsieur, I do not frequent the Café Procope."
"If Monsieur Müller is to teach us the game, Monsieur Müller must begin it!" said Monsieur Dorinet.
"At once," replied Müller, taking his place in the circle.
As ill-luck would have it (the rest of us being already seated), there were but two chairs left; so that M. Lenoir and Müller had to sit side by side.
"I begin with my left-hand neighbor," said Müller, addressing himself with a bow to Mdlle. Rosalie; "and the circle will please to repeat after me:--'I have the four corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden for sale--
'In the first of these corners grows sweet mignonette; I've seen thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget.'"
MDLLE. ROSALIE to M. PHILOMÈNE.--I have the four corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden for sale--
'In the first of these corners grows sweet mignonette; I've seen thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget.'
M. PHILOMÈNE to MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE.--I have the four corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc.
MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE to M. DORINET.--I have the four corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc.
Monsieur Dorinet repeats the formula to Madame Desjardins; Madame Desjardins passes it on to me; I proclaim it at the top of my voice to Madame Marotte; Madame Marotte transfers it to Mdlle. Honoria; Mdlle. Honoria delivers it to the fair Marie; the fair Marie tells it to M. Lenoir, and the first round is completed.
Müller resumes the lead :--
"In the second grow heartsease and wild eglantine;
Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me thine."
MDLLE. ROSALIE to M. PHILOMÈNE:--
"In the second grow heartsease and wild eglantine;
Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me thine."
M. PHILOMÈNE to MDLLE. DE MONTPARNASSE:--
"In the second grow heartsease," &c., &c.
And so on again, till the second round is done. Then Müller began again:--
"In the third of these corners pale primroses grow;
Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low."
Mdlle. Rosalie was about to repeat these lines as before; but he stopped her.
"No, Mademoiselle, not till you have told me the secret."
"The secret, M'sieur? What secret?"
"Nay, Mademoiselle, how can I tell that till you have told me? You must whisper something to me--something very secret, which you would not wish any one else to hear--before you repeat the lines. And when you repeat them, Monsieur Philomène must whisper his secret to you--and so on through the circle."
Mdlle. Rosalie hesitated, smiled, whispered something in Müller's ear, and went on with:--
"In the third of these corners pale primroses grow;
Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low."
Monsieur Philomène then whispered his secret to Mdlle. Rosalie, and so on again till it ended with M. Lenoir and Müller.
"I don't think it is a very amusing game," said Madame Marotte; who, being deaf, had been left out of the last round, and found it dull.
"It will be more entertaining presently, Madame," shouted Müller, with a malicious twinkle about his eyes. "Pray observe the next lines, Messieurs et Mesdames, and follow my lead as before:--
'Roses bloom in the fourth; and your secret, my dear,
Which you whisper'd so softly just now in my ear,
I repeat word for word, for the others to hear!'
Mademoiselle Rosalie (whose pardon I implore!) whispered to me that Monsieur Philomène dyed his moustache and whiskers."
There was a general murmur of alarm tempered with tittering. Mademoiselle Rosalie was dumb with confusion. Monsieur Philomène's face became the color of a full-blown peony. Madame de Montparnasse and Mdlle. Honoria turned absolutely green.
"Comment!" exclaimed one or two voices. "Is everything to be repeated?"
"Everything, Messieurs et Mesdames," replied Müller--"everything--without reservation. I call upon Mdlle. Rosalie to reveal the secret of Monsieur Philomène."
MDLLE. ROSALIE (with great promptitude):--Monsieur Philomène whispered to me that Honoria was the most disagreeable girl in Paris, Marie the dullest, and myself the prettiest.
M. PHILOMÈNE (in an agony of confusion):--I beseech you, Mam'selle Honoria ... I entreat you, Mam'selle Marie, not for an instant to suppose....
MDLLE. HONORIA (drawing herself up and smiling acidly):--Oh, pray do not give yourself the trouble to apologize, Monsieur Philomène. Your opinion, I assure you, is not of the least moment to either of us. Is it, Marie?
But the fair Marie only smiled good-naturedly, and said:--
"I know I am not clever. Monsieur Philomène is quite right; and I am not at all angry with him."
"But--but, indeed, Mesdemoiselles, I--I--am incapable...." stammered the luckless tenor, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I am incapable...."
"Silence in the circle!" cried Müller, authoritatively. "Private civilities are forbidden by the rules of the game. I call Monsieur Philomène to order, and I demand from him the secret of Madame de Montparnasse."
M. Philomène looked even more miserable than before.
"I--I ... but it is an odious position! To betray the confidence of a lady ... Heavens! I cannot."
"The secret!--the secret!" shouted the others, impatiently.
Madame de Montparnasse pursed up her parchment lips, glared upon us defiantly, and said:--
"Pray don't hesitate about repeating my words, M'sieur Philomène. I am not ashamed of them."
M. PHILOMENE (reluctantly):--Madame de Montparnasse observed to me that what she particularly disliked was a mixed society like--like the present; and that she hoped our friend Madame Marotte would in future be less indiscriminate in the choice of her acquaintances.
MULLER (with elaborate courtesy):--We are all infinitely obliged to Madame de Montparnasse for her opinion of us--(I speak for the society, as leader of the circle)--and beg to assure her that we entirely coincide in her views. It rests with Madame to carry on the game, and to betray the confidence of Monsieur Dorinet.
MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE (with obvious satisfaction):--Monsieur Dorinet told me that Rosalie Desjardin's legs were ill-made, and that she would never make a dancer, though she practised from now till doomsday.
M. DORINET (springing to his feet as if he had been shot):--Heavens and earth! Madame de Montparnasse, what have I done that you should so pervert my words? Mam'selle Rosalie--ma chère elève, believe me, I never....
"Silence in the circle!" shouted Müller again.
M. DORINET:--But, M'sieur, in simple self-defence....
MULLER:--Self-defence, Monsieur Dorinet, is contrary to the rules of the game. Revenge only is permitted. Revenge yourself on Madame Desjardins, whose secret it is your turn to tell.
M. DORINET:--Madame Desjardins drew my attention to the toilette of Madame de Montparnasse. She said: "Mon Dieu! Monsieur Dorinet, are you not tired of seeing La Montparnasse in that everlasting old black gown? My Rosalie says she is in mourning for her ugliness."
MADAME DESJARDINS (laughing heartily):--Eh bien--oui! I don't deny it; and Rosalie's mot was not bad. And now, M'sieur the Englishman (turning to me), it is your turn to be betrayed. Monsieur, whose name I cannot pronounce, said to me:--"Madame, the French, selon moi, are the best dressed and most spirituel people of Europe. Their very silence is witty; and if mankind were, by universal consent, to go without clothes to-morrow, they would wear the primitive costume of Adam and Eve more elegantly than the rest of the world, and still lead the fashion,"
(A murmur of approval on the part of the company, who take the compliment entirely aux serieux.)
MYSELF (agreeably conscious of having achieved popularity):--Our hostess's deafness having unfortunately excluded her from this part of the game, I was honored with the confidence of Mdlle. Honoria, who informed me that she is to make her début before long at the Theatre Français, and hoped that I would take tickets for the occasion.
MDLLE. ROSALIE (satirically):--Brava, Honoria! What a woman of business you are!
MDLLE. HONORIA (affecting not to hear this observation)--
"Roses bloom in the fourth, and your secret, my dear,
Which you whispered so softly just now in my ear,
I repeat word for word for the others to hear."
Marie said to me.... Tiens! Marie, don't pull my dress in that way. You shouldn't have said it, you know, if it won't bear repeating! Marie said to me that she could have either Monsieur Müller or Monsieur Lenoir, by only holding up her finger--but she couldn't make up her mind which she liked best.
MDLLE. MARIE (half crying):--Nay, Honoria--how can you be so--so unkind ... so spiteful? I--I did not say I could have either M'sieur Müller or... or...
M. LENOIR (with great spirit and good breeding):--Whether Mademoiselle used those words or not is of very little importance. The fact remains the same; and is as old as the world. Beauty has but to will and to conquer.
MULLER:--Order in the circle! The game waits for Mademoiselle Marie.
MARIE (hesitatingly):--
"Roses bloom in the fourth, and your secret"
M'sieur Lenoir said that--that he admired the color of my dress, and that blue became me more than lilac.
MULLER: (coldly)--Pardon, Mademoiselle, but I happened to overhear what Monsieur Lenoir whispered just now, and those were not his words. Monsieur Lenoir said, "Look in"... but perhaps Mademoiselle would prefer me not to repeat more?
MARIE--(in great confusion):--As--as you please, M'sieur.
MULLER:--Then, Mademoiselle, I will be discreet, and I will not even impose a forfeit upon you, as I might do, by the laws of the game. It is for Monsieur Lenoir to continue.
M. LENOIR:--I do not remember what Monsieur Müller whispered to me at the close of the last round.
MULLER (pointedly):--Pardon, Monsieur, I should have thought that scarcely possible.
M. LENOIR:--It was perfectly unintelligible, and therefore left no impression on my memory.
MULLER:--Permit me, then, to have the honor of assisting your memory. I said to you--"Monsieur, if I believed that any modest young woman of my acquaintance was in danger of being courted by a man of doubtful character, do you know what I would do? I would hunt that man down with as little remorse as a ferret hunts down a rat in a drain."
M. LENOIR:--The sentiment does you honor, Monsieur; but I do not see the application,
MULLER:--Vous ne le trouvez pas, Monsieur?
M. LENOIR--(with a cold stare, and a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulders):--Non, Monsieur.
Here Mdlle. Rosalie broke in with:--"What are we to do next, M'sieur Müller? Are we to begin another round, or shall we start a fresh game?"
To which Müller replied that it must be "selon le plaisir de ces dames;" and put the question to the vote.
But too many plain, unvarnished truths had cropped up in the course of the last round of my Aunt's Flower Garden; and the ladies were out of humor. Madame de Montparnasse, frigid, Cyclopian, black as Erebus, found that it was time to go home; and took her leave, bristling with gentility. The tragic Honoria stalked majestically after her. Madame Desjardins, mortally offended with M. Dorinet on the score of Rosalie's legs, also prepared to be gone; while M. Philomène, convicted of hair-dye and brouillé for ever with "the most disagreeable girl in Paris," hastened to make his adieux as brief as possible.
"A word in your ear, mon cher Dorinet," whispered he, catching the little dancing-master by the button-hole. "Isn't it the most unpleasant party you were ever at in your life?"
The ex-god Scamander held up his hands and eyes.
"Eh, mon Dieu!" he replied. "What an evening of disasters! I have lost my best pupil and my second-best wig!"
In the meanwhile, we went up like the others, and said good-night to our hostess.
She, good soul! in her deafness, knew nothing about the horrors of the evening, and was profuse of her civilities. "So amiable of these gentlemen to honor her little soirée--so kind of M'sieur Müller to have exerted himself to make things go off pleasantly--so sorry we would not stay half an hour longer," &c., &c.
To all of which Müller (with a sly grimace expressive of contrition) replied only by a profound salutation and a rapid retreat. Passing M. Lenoir without so much as a glance, he paused a moment before Mdlle. Marie who was standing near the door, and said in a tone audible only to her and myself:--
"I congratulate you, Mademoiselle, on your admirable talent for intrigue. I trust, when you look in the usual place and find the promised letter, it will prove agreeable reading. J'ai l'honneur, Mademoiselle, de vous saluer."
I saw the girl flush crimson, then turn deadly white, and draw back as if his hand had struck her a sudden blow. The next moment we were half-way down the stairs.
"What, in Heaven's name, does all this mean?" I said, when we were once more in the street.
"It means," replied Müller fiercely, "that the man's a scoundrel, and the woman, like all other women, is false."
"Then the whisper you overheard" ...
"Was only this:--'Look in the usual place, and you will find a letter.' Not many words, mon cher, but confoundedly comprehensive! And I who believed that girl to be an angel of candor! I who was within an ace of falling seriously in love with her! Sacredie! what an idiot I have been!"
"Forget her, my dear fellow," said I. "Wipe her out of your memory (which I think will not be difficult), and leave her to her fate."
He shook his head.
"No," he said, gloomily, "I won't do that. I'll get to the bottom of that man's mystery; and if, as I suspect, there's that about his past life which won't bear the light of day--I'll save her, if I can."