“To the Fleur-de-Pois,” said I, throwing myself back in the carriage; and away we drove along the crowded Boulevard, many an eye turned on the foppish figure that lounged so elegantly in his carriage, never suspecting the while what the tone of his thoughts at that moment was, and that he was gravely canvassing within himself the strange stories that would circulate on the morrow, should his body be taken up in the “Filets de St. Cloud.” True was it, the dark and muddy Seine, the cold, fast-flowing river, was never out of my thoughts. It swept, torrent-like, through all my reasoning, and the surging water seemed to rise and swell around me. At that moment short, fitful thoughts of the long past shot through my mind; and my mother, and Raper, and Margot too, came and went before me. Where were all the teachings of my infancy now; where the holy aspirations of my early boyhood; where the simple tastes and lowly desires, the home affections and blest humility I once loved to dream over; where that calm existence, so bounded by easy ambitions; and where, above all, that honesty of life that spurned every thought of deception? “A meet ending for such a career,” said I, bitterly, as I gazed down on the river along whose bank we were driving. “Ay,” thought I, as we passed along, “there is not one so miserable nor so poor with whom I would not change places, only that this mockery should cease, and that I should be something to my own heart besides a cheat.”
The day suddenly grew overcast, the clouds massed themselves heavily together, and the rain began to descend in torrents. When we reached the restaurant the storm had become a hurricane, and all who had been preparing to dine through the arbors of the garden were quickly driven to seek shelter within doors. As I descended from the carriage, all was tumult and confusion; for although every available spot had been given up to the guests, yet from their numbers they were crowded together most uncomfortably, and loud and angry complaints and remonstrances were heard on all sides. In vain the waiters heard patiently or answered courteously the various discontents of those who appealed to their rank and station as claims for special consideration. Distinguished generals, ministers, great leaders of fashion, were all condemned to the same indiscriminate fortune of humbler natures.
From where I sat in the little salon reserved for myself, I could overhear these complaints and remonstrances, and it was in a kind of savage irony with Fortune that I bethought me of my sumptuous lot in comparison with the discomforts of those around me. Twice or thrice was my door flung open by persons in search of an apartment, and in this confusion and shame I revelled as in a momentary triumph. At length, in an interval of comparative quiet, I thought I heard voices whispering outside my door. I listened, and could distinguish that they were female accents, and discussing, as it seemed, some project on which they were not agreed. One appeared to insist as eagerly as the other was bent upon opposing; and the words, “Mais oui,” “Mais non,” followed in quick succession. I know not how it was, but I conceived a most intense curiosity to learn the subject of the discussion. I felt as if I must have some share or concern in the matter, and eagerly bent my ear to hear further. Nor was I wrong. The question argued was, whether or not the two ladies should appeal to the gallantry of the occupant of the room to afford them shelter till such time as their carriage might arrive to fetch them for Paris. She who spoke with more authority was in favor of the appeal, while the younger voice expressed dissent to it.
Being in a measure a party to the cause, I resolved to lend what influence I might possess towards the decision; and so, flinging wide the door, I saluted the strangers courteously, and informing them that I had accidentally overheard their discussion, begged they would permit me to decide it by placing my apartment at their disposal at once. The elder of the two immediately addressed me in a tone and manner that bespoke a person of condition, accepting my hospitality, but only on the condition that I myself should remain, for I had made a gesture indicative of departure. The younger, with a veil closely drawn across her face, courtesied without speaking. I at once acceded, and placing chairs for my guests, requested them to be seated.
The waiter at length made his appearance to say dinner was ready “whenever Monsieur desired it.” This was a new difficulty, and I really felt much embarrassed by it. Resolving, however, to adopt the bold course, I hastily apologized for the great liberty I was about to take, and after briefly explaining the departure of the two friends I had expected, begged they would allow me to believe that Fortune had really been kind to me for once, in replacing them.
A sign of half-impatience by the younger was speedily corrected by the other, as she said,—
“Monsieur forgets that we are strangers to each other.”
But there was nothing like rebuke in the tone she spoke in; but rather, as I thought, a suggestive hint thrown out to provoke some effort at explanation on my part. I was right in this conjecture, as I speedily saw by the degree of attention she vouchsafed me.
Perhaps if I had had a better cause, I should not have pleaded so successfully. I mean, that if I had been really the owner of a high name and station, it is just possible I might not so ably have combated the difficulty of the situation.
“At all events,” said the elder lady, “Monsieur has one advantage: he knows who we are.”