“I didn’t do it, uncle,” replied the clerk; “somebody knocked my candle out of my hand on purpose.”
“I not untershtand vy tay do amuse temselfs py making us near fall town and may pe hurt ourselfs,” muttered the Baron de Witcheritche, whom I believed to be very jealous of his wife, and who was made uneasy by the darkness.
“Holt tidt to te rail, my tear,” said the baroness, in a flutelike little voice, “and tague care ov my Shtradifarius.”
“Your Shtradifarius is chust te ting tat makes me frighted.”
We went down carefully and very softly. I held Madame de Marsan’s hand, and I did not complain of the darkness; but the little clerk, who had relighted his candle at the porter’s lodge, returned with his light just as we reached the lowest stair. I noticed then some changes in the order of departure; some mantles awry, some faces very much excited, and many eyes fastened on the ground, doubtless because the light made them smart; but I do not mean to suggest any implications unfavorable to the virtue of the ladies in question, married or single.
The moment to say farewell had arrived. I saw diverse poor fellows who lived near the Palais-Royal doomed to act as escort to feminine families from the heart of the Marais. I saw young ladies manœuvre to take the arms of their chosen friends; I saw many a wife sigh as she took her husband’s arm. I should have seen much else, no doubt, if it had not been dark. But Madame de Marsan and her husband were in their carriage; and he, learning that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, obligingly offered me a seat. I accepted without hesitation. Decidedly Monsieur de Marsan was a most agreeable man.
“There’s no one else!” Friquet shouted to the concierge, as he closed the porte cochère.
“That’s very lucky,” replied the concierge, closing his door. “Past one o’clock. Your uncle will have notice to quit, I promise you. He makes a great show, gives evening parties, and keeps people up all night, and all for nothing! When a man wants to cut such capers, he should have a house to himself.”
XIV
THE BOUQUET
In the carriage we talked of Monsieur Vauvert’s soirée musicale. Madame de Marsan laughed about it a good deal; Monsieur de Marsan shrugged his shoulders, and said that the mania for making a show was pervading all classes of society; that it seemed to be no longer possible for people to enjoy themselves en famille; that everybody was struggling to leave the sphere in which destiny had placed him; that men were becoming more eager for dissipation every day; that, to satisfy this imperious craving, the mechanic sacrificed his week’s wages, the workingman his savings, the tradesman his stock in trade, the clerk three-fourths of his salary; hence embarrassment, borrowing, debts, failures. His conclusion was that a man should reckon up his income before giving dinners, receptions, and balls.