Especially the shorter one, who wore plaid trousers of very bright colors, each plaid being so large that a single one extended from the thigh to the calf; his light sack coat hardly came below his waist, and when he bent forward a little, disclosed the whole seat of his trousers. He wore on his head a broad-brimmed gray hat with a long nap; and he had stuck in one eye a small bit of glass, set in tortoise shell, which, when not in use, hung down over his waistcoat of buff piqué, at the end of a black ribbon. He was, for all this dandified equipment, a very good-looking youth, with black eyes, a shapely aquiline nose, a small mouth with red lips, fine teeth, a pretty pink and white complexion, a little dimple in his chin, very light whiskers, a pointed beard, and with all that, a stupid expression which was not in the least misleading.
This young man had been a clerk in a business house with a salary of eight hundred francs, and a slight bonus at the end of the year; at that time, as may be imagined, his dress was much less elegant, and it was difficult for him to follow the fashions. But a distant relative died, and unexpectedly left him sixty thousand francs in cash. This unhoped-for fortune, which enabled him to gratify his dearest wishes, his fondest hopes, had almost turned his brain.
First of all, he began by correcting his certificates of baptism; his name was Benoît Canard, a name which struck the ear unpleasantly, and had nothing romantic or refined about it; he adopted the name of Alfred de Saint-Arthur, which was certain to attract the attention of the ladies. When a man’s name is Alfred de Saint-Arthur, he must inevitably belong to the haute, as the lorettes of the Bréda quarter say.
Next, Alfred soon resigned his place, hired a dainty apartment, purchased a cabriolet and a horse, and patronized one of the first tailors in Paris; he affected the society of actresses, choosing those who were most talked about, and who had led their lovers into the most follies; for, although Monsieur Alfred de Saint-Arthur had some inclination for that life of dissipation, of parade and extravagances which some favorites of fortune lead, and which is excusable only in those who really have the means to support it, the thing that especially delighted the young man was to show himself, to put himself in evidence with a fashionable woman, to display himself in the proscenium box of a theatre, or in a calèche in the Bois du Boulogne; to make a great noise when he entered a restaurant, to declare all the private rooms inconvenient, to shout at the waiters, to find fault with everything, always to talk very loud, so that everybody might hear him, to smoke only eight sou cigars, and to see everybody turn to look at him when he was out driving.
In a word, what Alfred desired was to create a sensation; the same pleasures, enjoyed in private, without show, without witnesses, or in curtained boxes at the theatre, would have seemed to him tasteless, insipid and of no account; but to attract attention, to cause a sensation, to be noticed on entering a theatre or a concert hall, was to him supreme happiness. He did not suspect that many people said when they saw him:
“They say that he has already run through thirty thousand francs with her!”
“I believe him to be quite enough of a fool for that! Indeed, he looks it!”
“What an utterly absurd costume!”
And it was to procure this reputation that young Alfred had run through more than thirty thousand francs in one year; that was more than half of the fortune he had inherited. If he continued to live in the same way, he had not enough for another year; but once started on the path of folly, some people keep on, not knowing how to stop. The crash which awaits them, and in which they will involve some too confiding friends, is there before them, inevitable, if they persist in following the same road; they know it, and still they go on. Are they fools or knaves? they necessarily deserve both titles.
The other individual was not so good-looking as Monsieur Alfred de Saint-Arthur, but he had not his stupid look; indeed, there was in his eyes a shrewd expression which sometimes turned to mockery. Neither his trousers nor his coat were so exaggerated as his friend’s, but all the world did not turn to look at him; he had no fashionable mistress upon whom he squandered money, but he strove to be on the best terms with the mistresses of his friends; he did not waste his fortune, because he had none, and he had not left his place, because he had never had any.