Frédérique, vol. 2

by Paul de Kock

In the first place, we do not understand why such people frown upon something that tends to amuse and rejoice the common people. It may not make you laugh, monsieur, who seem always to be in a bad humor, and whose nerves are unstrung when you see other people enjoying themselves. I am very sorry for you! But I assure you that, in the old days, when, during the pre-Lenten season, a triple row of carriages filled with masks formed an immense Longchamp in the centre of Paris, the promenaders and idlers did not complain because they were furnished with that spectacle gratis.

Everybody could not afford to go to the Opéra ball, or even to the Salle Barthélemy; and the modest annuitant, as he strolled about the streets with his wife during the carnival days, returned home in high glee when he had rubbed elbows with Harlequins or Punchinellos; and if a Bear said to his wife: "I know you!" the delighted couple could not contain themselves; and madame would say proudly to her concierge: "A Bear said to me: 'I know you!'"

You must see, you pessimists, who want to abolish the carnival, that by abolishing it you would grieve a great many people. I know that that is a matter of indifference to you; but, despite your efforts, so long as the world exists, there will be masks. Some people would tell you that there are masks all the year round; that you need not wait for carnival time to see them. But, as you hear that very often, I will not say it.

The carnival is the season of intrigues and of mad pranks. Again, we might say that there are intrigues all the year round; but that has been said before, and we will not repeat it. We will take the liberty, in passing, of calling your attention to the fact that we say only novel things; that is very considerate on our part, and we are persuaded that we shall receive due credit therefor.

Monsieur Dupont was, as we have said, a man of forty years; that is the age of passions, when one is destined to have any; but thus far the gentleman in question had not manifested the slightest symptom of anything of the sort. He smoked, took snuff, gambled, and drank, but without enthusiasm, and, we might say, without enjoyment. As for the women, you have seen that he slept most of the time beside his wife. Nevertheless, Monsieur Dupont was not insensible to the charms of beauty; what attracted him more than anything else in a woman was figure, shape, carriage; in short, he preferred a well-proportioned body to a pretty face; and unluckily for Madame Dupont, she was rather pretty than well made. Perhaps that was what had made her husband such a heavy sleeper.

As for Dupont himself, he was neither handsome nor ugly, neither short nor tall, neither clever nor stupid; he was one of those men of whom nothing is said. He had rather a good figure, however, with a shapely foot and a small white hand. He was very proud of these advantages, considered himself a little Apollo, and was absolutely determined not to take on flesh; the fear of that catastrophe was mainly responsible for his decision to go to Paris; and since the doctor had recommended that he should go without his wife, it was evident that he wished him to lead the life of a bachelor there. Now, what is the life of a bachelor, if not to be constantly on the look-out for intrigues, amourettes, bonnes fortunes; in a word, to pass one's time running after women—society women when opportunity offers, and grisettes when one can do no better?

Speaking of grisettes, there are some writers who try to make us believe that there are none now; that they have gone out of fashion, like pug dogs; that the mould is broken. With due deference to those gentlemen, we maintain that the grisette still exists and always will exist in Paris. For, if you please, what are all the flowermakers, seamstresses, burnishers, illuminators, laundresses, waistcoatmakers, shirtmakers, trousermakers, etc., etc.?—They are neither coquettes, nor those exceedingly free and easy beauties who are always in evidence in the proscenium boxes of the smaller theatres, and are called, I do not just know why, lorettes; nor are they kept women, for it very often happens that their lovers can give them nothing but love; lastly, they are not virtuous bourgeois women, who never go out except on the arm of a father or brother. They are grisettes, genuine grisettes! Pray let us not demonetize them, they are such pretty coins! Why insist that they shall cease to be current?

I wish that you gentlemen, who will have it that there are none left in Paris, would go now and then, during the summer, to the Closerie des Lilas, the favorite ball of the students who love dancing and love; you will see there grisettes of all categories, you will see them laughing, capering, fooling, dancing a cancan as graceful and much less indecent than the Spanish dances which are allowed at the theatres; you will hear them talk, making fun of one another, envying this one her lover, ridiculing that one's lover; and amid the brief sentences and bursts of laughter that fill the air on all sides, you will catch some piquant, clever remarks, original expressions, which you hear nowhere else, and which make it impossible for you to keep a serious face—unless, that is to say, you belong to that school which insists that no one shall laugh, and which dares to say that "laughter is a grimace"! What a pitiful school, good Lord! Take my advice and never send your children to it! You must surely see that the results are not desirable.

Dupont, arriving in Paris during the carnival, began his bachelor life by betaking himself to the Opéra ball.

"The doctor ordered me to enjoy myself, and I can't fail of it in the midst of that crowd, largely composed of pretty women who are not absolute Lucretias, who ask nothing better than to make acquaintances, who, in fact, go to the ball for that sole purpose. I will take my choice, I will try to find a woman shaped like a Venus—yes, a Bacchante even, for all the Bacchantes I ever saw in pictures were of perfect shape; I will play the agreeable, the gallant; I have wit enough when I am started; to be sure, I have some difficulty in getting started, but with perseverance and punch I shall succeed; and I won't go to bed at ten o'clock, for I won't go to the ball till midnight."