Frédérique, vol. 2

by Paul de Kock

In a very handsome apartment on Rue de la Chaussée-d'Antin, a young man attired in a superb robe de chambre was strolling listlessly from one room to another, smoking a cigarette.

This young man was the Vicomte de Sommerston. The descendant of a very wealthy Irish family, Edward de Sommerston was born in France and had never chosen to visit the home of his ancestors. He had come into possession of an income of eighty thousand francs at the age of twenty-one, and had immediately plunged into the life of pleasure, dissipation, and debauchery which ages men so rapidly.

He was tall, well built, handsome, and rich—this was twice more than enough to kill in ten years a man who was unable to resist his passions. The viscount was now twenty-nine; he was not dead yet, but he was not much better than that; he had not only used, but abused everything. The list of his mistresses was enormously long, especially as there were many of them whom he had known no more than a week, as he was an essentially fickle and capricious youth. The woman he adored to-day was an object of indifference to him to-morrow. Unluckily for him, he had never fallen in with any cruel charmers, his reputation as a rake and mauvais sujet being, on the contrary, a powerful recommendation with the ladies to whom he addressed his homage.

Edward had run through the half of his fortune; he had enough remaining to enable him to live comfortably, if he had known how to make a wise use of it; but he did not know how to do anything, even to amuse himself: everything was a burden and a bore to him. He was no longer capable of loving; he had ruined his stomach by flooding it with champagne and malvoisie; he still gambled from time to time, but without enjoyment unless luck was exceedingly unfavorable to him; when he lost heavily, he experienced a sort of excitement which brought a little life to his pallid, wasted face.

A single passion retained its power over him: he still smoked. It was impossible to meet him without a cigarette in his mouth; and that was followed by another and another and another; wherever he might be, at home or elsewhere, he smoked continually; he could not do without it, he said. He owed that lamentable habit to the foolish good nature of those ladies who allowed him to smoke in their rooms, and sometimes smoked with him. What do you think about the fair sex smoking?

To no purpose had the doctors told the viscount:

"You make a mistake to smoke so much; it's injuring your health; you cough constantly, your lungs are weak, and you'll dry them up completely by smoking as you do; you'll go into a consumption."

These warnings, instead of being acted upon, had produced the opposite effect on the young man, who insisted that he knew better than the doctors.

"Bah!" he said to himself; "they tell me not to smoke. Well! I'll smoke more than ever, to let them see how much I think of their advice."

In fact, the number of cigarettes he smoked in a day reached such a fabulous figure, that his valet's sole occupation was to make them for his master.