“Cartouche! Cartouche! You will not be any such lover as this creature!”
Meanwhile, Madame Bourcet had returned from her conference with her brother. Angéline had met her on the stairs with a gruesome tale of the blue satin bed, and the two monkeys, who had been invited to call the next day. It was too much for Madame Bourcet. She dropped on a chair as soon as she reached the drawing-room. There Louis Bourcet burst forth with his account, of the blue satin bed and the monkeys, adding many harrowing details omitted by Angéline.
“And what does my uncle say?” he asked, gloomily.
“He says,” replied Madame Bourcet, more gloomily, “that Mademoiselle Chiaramonti’s conduct is such as to drive any prudent man to distraction; and that if you marry her with even more than a hundred thousand francs’ fortune, you will be doing a most imprudent thing.”
Madame Bourcet paused for Louis to digest this. Then, she continued, after an impressive pause:
“And my brother also says, and desired me particularly to impress this upon you—that a dot of a hundred thousand francs is something enormous in our station of life; that he does not know of a single acquaintance of his own who has been so fortunate as to marry so much; and his own good fortune in marrying two hundred thousand francs is absolutely unprecedented. Moreover, through Mademoiselle Chiaramonti’s connection with the Holy Father, your prospects, no doubt, would be splendidly advanced; and to throw away such a chance would be—a most imprudent thing.”
So all the comfort poor Louis got was, that, whatever he did, he would be doing a most imprudent thing. The knowledge of this made him a truly miserable man.
CHAPTER VIII
AN OLD LADY AND A LIMP
Nearly a week passed, with the utmost constraint, upon the little family in the Rue de l’Echelle, except Fifi. Nothing could equal the airy insouciance of that young woman. She was no more the dumb, docile creature whose soul and spirit seemed frozen, whose will was benumbed, but Mademoiselle Fifi of the Imperial Theater. Fifi delighted in acting—and she was now acting in her own drama, and with the most exquisite enjoyment of the situation.
At intervals, during the week, Italians with monkeys appeared; but Angéline adopted with these gentry a simple, but effective, method of her own, which was secretly approved by Fifi. This was to appear suddenly on the scene with a kettle of boiling water, which she threatened to distribute impartially upon the monkeys and their owners. This never failed to stampede the enemy. Fifi scolded and complained bitterly of this, but Angéline took a firm stand against monkeys and Italians—much to Fifi’s relief.