u THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IP HOC .'3 10 Ufl? Bsch Blvd. H K h 2, Calif. The Works of CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK WITH A GUN-URAL INTRODUCTION BT JULES CLARETIE SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BT EDITH MARY NORRIS THE FREDERICK J. QUINBY COMPANY BOSTON LONDON PARIS Edition LimiUl to On* Tk*ts*nd Cefitt ffumbtr. COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY THE FREDERICK J. QUINBY COMFANT All r if kit rt served PXINTXD ON OLD STRATFORD PAPER MADE BY MlTTINBAGUB PAPER COMPANY Printers and Binders^ Norwood, Mats. pa C ON TENTS PAGE A RECEIPT FOR THE MAKING OF A MARRIAGE . i ON THE CANAL BANKS 24 THE MYSTERIOUS MARK 45 THE GRISETTES* TRICK 55 THE HOBGOBLIN 70 A DAY WITH AN AUTHOR 87 THE PARISIANS ON THE RAILWAY 107 THE GRISETTES' BALL 128 A PARISIAN HOUSE 144 THE ARTIFICIAL FLOWER-MAKERS' WORKSHOP. 149 THE CHRISTENING 153 REVIEWING LOVE LETTERS 156 THE ROSEBUSH 160 SHE WAS so PRETTY 163 THE FIRESIDE 165 MONSIEUR BERTRAND'S HOUSEHOLD . . . . 168 MEMORANDA OF AN ADONIS 172 THE FAITHFUL LOVERS. A CHRONICLE OF THE GOOD OLD TIMES 175 UNDERNEATH THE TABLE 179 POTLUCK . 182 2225553 CONTENTS MM A BACHELOR'S THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE . . . 188 AN UNLUCKY DAY 191 LITTLE BY LITTLE 195 THE MAN WHO WAS MASTER IN His OWN HOUSE 197 MOVING DAY 200 THE DINING-ROOM OF A RESTAURANT. . . . 204 FORTUNATE CREDULITY 211 THE Two FUNERALS 214 THE HABITUES OF THE ORCHESTRA . . . . 217 COLUMBINE AGAINST HER WILL OR A CARNIVAL ADVENTURE 220 DREAMS 224 THE PLEASURES OF FISHING 227 A FANCY-DRESS BALL 231 A HOUSEKEEPER READING TO HER MASTER . . 247 PARIS FROM MY WINDOW 253 A RECEIPT FOR THE MAKING OF A MARRIAGE A LADY of my acquaintance has a mania for matchmaking. I say mania advisedly, for if she were impelled by interest, speculation or love of feasting, I could understand the avidity with which she sets about this kind of thing ; but she gets no profit from it in any way, she does not dance, she hardly eats anything. What pleasure, then, can she obtain in going to a wedding ? Is it that later on she may hear the reproaches and com- plaints of those she has lured into the paths of matrimony, which certainly must be more frequent than the thanks of the ones she has made happy. There are some things in this world so strange as to be inexplicable and these things are exceedingly numerous. This lady has always a great number of young ladies to provide for, young, middle-aged (one never calls them old), amiable, gentle, witty, but rarely rich ; those who are so never need to take any trouble to find husbands, their only embarrass- ment is that of choice. But if the matches offered by Madame B were not well dowered on the money side of the question, they were always rich in virtues and good qualities. Unfortunately for poor young ladies, we live in an age of gold ; that is to say, in an age where gold is considered the first and greatest power on earth, the underlying active Vol. XIX i 2 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE principle which puts everything in motion ; and where it has the precedence over integrity and very often over ability also ; and, I am obliged to con- fess, I believe it has been the same in all ages. The men of former times were no better in this respect than those of today, as history itself will show us. What crimes, what impostures, what knaveries have been committed, and always for gold. Peo- ple cringed before those in power because they distributed favors to them, employed them, and those they employed gained much gold. " What is necessary to make war ? " said Frederick the Great, " money, money, and money ! " These words of the king of Prussia might be applied to other things beside war. What must be considered, deferred to in making love to or marrying off young girls ? " Money, money, and money ! " " But," you will perhaps answer me, " I have known many who had none, and for all that they married." I admit it, there is no rule without an excep- tion and what I am going to relate to you is a proof of it ; but what troubles and trials had to be overcome before attaining one's end, and is it really attained when in order to avoid dying in celibacy one allies one's self to a being with whom one has not the slightest sympathy and who as likely as not is an object of aversion. But we will leave these reflections, which are CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 3 leading us too far from our subject, and return to the lady who was so fond of matchmaking. Madame B cannot make a match for me, since I am already married ; but she never sees me without saying, " Can't you find me a suitable match for my lit- tle Celestine ? She is such a good girl ! so gentle and so amiable, such a disposition as one rarely sees ; she is never in a bad temper, even when she has the toothache ! Ah, how happy a husband would be with such a wife as that ! " " Has she a dowry ? " " No, I am sorry to say she has not. To tell you the truth, had she had one she would have been married ten years ago ! " " Ten years ago ! How old is your little Celes- tine, may I ask ? " " Between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years old, but as simple and innocent as possible, I will answer for that." " If I'm not mistaken, she is quite plain." "Why, the idea! how unkind of you! It is true that she isn't pretty, especially since she had the smallpox, which left her with an eye that weeps continually ; but it doesn't show when she is laugh- ing. I assure you she isn't ugly ; there is nothing repulsive about her and she has a pleasant smile." " Oh, yes, she has quite an extensive smile ! it shows all her gums, and her teeth, which look like wild boar's tusks." 4 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE " How you exaggerate things ! Her teeth are rather long and rather yellow, I know but none of them are decayed." " Which is rather a pity and then she is so scraggy." " I confess that she isn't at all plump, and that she is rather knock-kneed ; but all that doesn't pre- vent her from being an excellent girl, very indus- trious, very economical, very capable of keeping a house." " But I don't think she would keep a husband long ; knock-knees are very ugly. I know they do not prevent a woman from looking after her soup kettles, but I think they are foes to love ? " " Good heavens ! my dear friend, how droll you are, what next will you say ? Does one always marry for love ? " " Well, when they don't marry for that, they marry for money." " Not at all. They marry so as not to be alone for companionship, because they want to be married, in short." " Oh, yes, I understand. As Beranger said, f That I may find my slippers ready and receive some little care and attention when I come home.' ' Madame B had spoken handsomely, though I did not think it would be easy to marry Made- moiselle Celestine, and besides I never interfere in such matters ; but one day it chanced that one of my friends said to me, CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 5 " I know a young man who wishes to marry, can you recommend a wife to him ? " I began to laugh, for I remembered Mademoi- selle Celestine, and I answered, " I could mention a very nice young lady, but your young man might not like her." " Why not ? He won't be hard to suit. I'll begin by telling you that he doesn't insist on money, but he wants his wife to have a trade." "A trade? exactly! the one I told you of is a fringe-maker." " A fringe-maker ? that would suit him. He is a government clerk, he has sixteen hundred francs salary, and moreover a little business in corks which brings him in four or five hundred francs ; he wants a wife to keep his house and look after his corks while he is at his office." " How old is your young man ? " "Oh, about thirty-six or thirty-eight." " The deuce he is ! rather a mature young man." " Come, my dear fellow, let us see your young lady. Devil take it, it won't cost anything to look at her, I suppose." "I suppose not; but I can't bring you together; I will take you to a lady who is a friend of hers, who greatly desires to marry her, and you can set- tle it between you, for I warn you I'll have no hand in your matchmaking." Dupont, that was the name of my friend, begged 6 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE me to take him immediately to the lady I spoke of, and I discovered that he also was fond of match- making; but I could pardon this in him, for I knew he was led by the pleasure of going to a wedding and giving himself an indigestion. I took Dupont to Madame B , who uttered an exclamation of delight on learning the object of our visit. She and Dupont soon understood each other as well as if they had been acquainted for eight years ; their conversation was as lively and broken as that of Marivaux. "Is your friend handsome ? " "No." " So much the better." " How about your young lady?" " Her face is nothing to speak of." " I understand, that will suit us." " But she is industrious, gentle, obliging, eco- nomical, steady." " Very good ! any money ? " " A small trousseau and some expectations." " That is sufficient." " Your friend has a clerkship ? " " Sixteen hundred francs salary, and a small in- come from the sale of corks." " That will suit us perfectly." " How old is your young lady ? " " Well she has arrived at a reasonable age." " That again will suit us ; my friend does not wish to have children." CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 7 " Celestine doesn't care about them at all." " We must appoint an interview." " As soon as possible." " The day after tomorrow ? " " The day after tomorrow be it. Where ? " " At the Jardin Turc in the evening, during the concert." "I agree to that; it's only twenty-sous entrance, my friend can surely stand that." " Then the day after tomorrow at the Jardin Turc at eight o'clock." " We will be there." " I shall wear a lilac bonnet." " That is settled, then." Madame B had fixed upon me as the one who should escort her to the Jardin Turc. There was no way of getting out of it; but as I had never yet been present at an interview of this kind I did not refuse Madame B 's request, being curious to see how it would go off. II Upon the appointed day, I went to Madame B 's an hour before the time fixed for the in- terview, because I wanted to learn what Celestine had to say to her friend's projects, and I knew that our matchmaker was not sparing of details. I found everything upset at Madame B 's ; I saw numberless details of the toilet, such as fichus, collarettes, artificial flowers, and some ribbons were 8 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE spread out on the sofa ; the servant was running back and forth with a pair of curling tongs in her hand. However, Madame B herself was fully dressed. "What is going on here?" said I, looking at all the finery which was strewn around me. "What, my dear friend, can't you imagine? We are going to superintend the toilet of the young girl we are going to marry ; we'll put the last strokes to it here, for Celestine hasn't much taste, she's really not vain enough, and I wager that she will be got up like a provincial ; it is indispensable that I lend a hand to her toilet." " Then I came too soon ; I'll take myself off." " Not a bit of it ! In the first place she won't change her dress, she will have put on her very best one ; and then it is of no consequence, since you haven't the slightest intentions in regard to Celestine." " Not the slightest, I assure you." " So you see, you may remain ; it will be a good thing for Celestine to get a little used to adorning herself before a man." "And what did she say to your project? " "She was delighted with it she hasn't slept or eaten since I told her ! she doesn't know what she is saying or doing in fact, she's quite lost her head." " Poor girl ! perhaps she will be less delighted when she sees the young man." CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 9 The bell was rung violently. " Here's Celestine ! " cried Madame B , in fact the damsel in quest of a husband came into the room like one wild with fright, saying as she entered, " I rang a little loud perhaps, dearest, but it was because I couldn't find the bell. Since the morn- ing I don't know what I'm doing, I can't find anything. I beg your pardon, monsieur, I didn't see you." I looked at Celestine attentively; never had she seemed to me so ugly ; she was wearing a dress of dove-colored taffeta, a cap and a bonnet on top of that, a fichu of black lace which came up to her ears ; add to this a stiff and awkward carriage and eyes as red as a rabbit's. " Why, my dear, how badly you have put your things on!" said Madame B running to take off Celestine's bonnet. "What an idea to dress your head like that. It's very fortunate that I told you to come early." " I thought this bonnet was so becoming to me." " It makes you look horrible. Gracious, your eye is weeping more than usual this evening, that's a nuisance. Have you been peeling onions ? " " Why, the idea ! " " We'll put a cluster' of flowers in your hair, so as to shade your eye. You'll see. This black fichu makes you look thinner still, what were you think- ing of to put on anything that makes you look io SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE thin ? As if you were not sufficiently so already. I'm going to lend you a white crossover. And why didn't you stick out your hips a little, you look like a broom handle." " Because I don't want to wear anything false." "What foolishness false! false! when one hasn't the real thing one has to manufacture it, of course. Justine, bring me a good-sized bustle." " My dearest, I dreamed last night that I saw a red horse galloping in the air." " That's a very good sign a red horse signi- fies that one will be successful in one's undertak- ings he was galloping, and that means that your marriage will shortly take place." " And then I mounted the horse " " That's a good sign too. Sit down there and let me do your hair over." Madame B tried several flowers on Celes- tine's head, and each time she consulted me as to the effect. " How do you think it looks with that jasmine ? " " Why, the jasmine isn't ugly." " It is too pale. Let's try this red poppy. Hey, what do you say ? " " I like the poppy well enough." " No, it is too dark. Let's see these jonquils. Do you think they look better ? " " The jonquils don't look bad." " Oh good heavens ! what was I going to do ? a yellow bouquet how very stupid of me ! how CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK n horrid ! Take it off, quick ! Ah, this rose, the rose is perfect, isn't it ? " " I must say the rose doesn't please me half as well." " You are wrong. Celestine, you will wear the rose. But goodness ! how your eye weeps this evening. You must lower it, do you hear ? " " And the other, my dearest ? " " You must lower the other also, that goes with- out saying ; you would make a pretty grimace if you tried to raise one of them and lower the other. I'm going to put in two little combs and you will be charming." The poor girl allowed her friend to do what she would to her head ; but while Madame B was affixing the combs I heard her say, in a low tone, " How old did you tell them I was, my friend ? " " Twenty-eight." " I begged you to say thirty-two." " Leave me alone to do things well. When a woman says she's twenty-eight, people know very well that she is thirty-two." " But I am thirty-five." " That has nothing to do with it provided that you don't look it." At length the toilet was finished ; Madame B made Celestine get up, turn about and walk up and down before her as she commented, " Don't hold yourself so stiff there ! Don't swing your left arm as though it was the sail of a 12 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE windmill. Very well what do you say to it, monsieur ? " " Me ! I have nothing to say that is my opinion." " You are very uncompromising. But it is eight o'clock ; we must start." " Eight o'clock already ? " exclaimed Celestine turning pale. " Oh, my dear friend, I feel as though I should faint." " I should advise you not to do anything so fool- ish, above all before the gentleman in question. A man who has only sixteen hundred francs income, and who sells corks, would not marry a woman who had the blues and fainted ; a woman who wants to indulge in such nonsense must bring her husband a big dowry. Let us start." " One moment, ladies, I must go and get a car- riage first." " That isn't necessary ; it is fine and it isn't far ; we can go on foot very well." " No, I declare you shan't go on foot." " You are too gallant altogether." There was no gallantry in my action ; but I would not go out with Mademoiselle Celestine on my arm. I thought her a fearsome object ; the flow- ers and ribbons with which her head was adorned added to her ugliness and made it more noticeable ; I dreaded the terrible moment when I should have to enter the Jardin Turc with her, and I regretted having consented to escort these ladies. CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 13 The carriage was at the door and we went down. On the staircase Celestine trod on her dress five or six times, and twice she fell on my back. " You can see now," said I to Madame B , " that I did well to take a carriage ; Celestine would never have got to the Jardin Turc this evening." " It is happiness which makes her lose control of her legs." "If that woman were to be long in her present state of joy she would end by breaking her nose." Ill On arriving at our destination I saw that there was a crowd at the Jardin Turc; they were hav- ing a " concert-monstre " that evening and the con- course was considerable. I took my part bravely, drew my hat down on the nape of my neck, held up my head proudly and said to myself, " They will take us for foreigners." I don't know what they took us for, but as we went along I heard a murmur, laughter and whis- perings, which did not afford me any great amount of pleasure. I led the ladies so rapidly along that I upset several chairs, I believe I also upset an ice which a waiter was carrying ; but at length we were seated. I should have liked to bury myself in a thicket, but as an appointment had been made for the parties to meet on the terrace it was obligatory to remain there. The " concert-monstre " began, but the two ladies i 4 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE hardly listened to it ; they were looking round for Dupont and his friend, who had not yet arrived. I saw some young men who paused near us to con- template Celestine ; one of them said in a low tone as they went off, " She is like the concert. I am exactly of your opinion." They played a very charming quadrille from " Venise." I had forgotten my two ladies, I was all ears, especially when some one played a delightful solo on the cornet ; but in the very middle of a fine passage Madame B exclaimed, " There they are ! " This exclamation had been so loudly uttered that everybody turned to look at us, and each one muttered, " Here they are ! what do you mean ? are some princes or celebrities expected here this evening ? " Judge of the general surprise when the two gen- tlemen who had elicited this exclamation were seen. Dupont was an ordinary man, but his companion was worthy a description. He was a big fellow over six feet tall, who might have competed for thinness with the living skeleton exhibited on the boulevards ; his head was connected with, or rather separated from, his body by a neck which would have aroused the envy of a giraffe. His skin was the color of an olive, and his nose was so flat that at a distance one could have sworn that he hadn't one. Finally, he was lame of one foot, which made him limp in a manner that was not at all graceful. CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 15 I heard laughter on all sides. " This is a mon- ster evening," said one. " It's better than the concert," said the other. Meanwhile the two gentlemen had made their way to us. I had been careful to keep chairs for them, but even when seated the head of the would- be bridegroom overtopped all others. Everybody silently exchanged the customary bows and smiles ; only Madame B and Du- pont spoke. Celestine dared not raise her eyes, and I thought she did well. The young man was silent also and I contented myself with looking on. However, time passed ; the young people still said nothing, but the gentleman when he looked at Celestine made a grimace which caused his nose to entirely disappear, and Celestine having ven- tured to open the eye which did not weep, in order that she might examine her future husband, also pouted in a way that did not declare her satisfac- tion precisely. I saw that Madame B was in an ill-humor; she nudged Celestine's elbow and whispered to her, " Don't pinch your mouth up like that, it makes you look stupid. I didn't tell you to look only at the tip of your shoes." "Why, I did look at something else and I should have done better not to raise my eyes." " And why, may I ask ? " . " Because I think this gentleman very ugly." 16 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE " My dear, one must not be too difficult to please when one is thirty-five and hasn't a sou. Besides, you are no better-looking than he is, if I must say so." "That is possible, but I haven't a lame foot." "You won't be able to see that when he's asleep." " My husband isn't likely to be always asleep ! " " Take care lest you never have one." While this conversation was taking place on my right, the following proceeded on my left. " Well, my dear fellow, you haven't said any- thing to me about this young lady." " Because I haven't found anything to say." "You should have put on two cravats this evening." " I put on three of them." " Then you should have put on four, that would have made your neck look better. What do you think of the young lady ? " " I think she is very ugly." " Well, I don't say she is positively pretty, but she has one of those faces to which one can get accustomed. And then her virtues, her good quali- ties, those are the most essential things in a house- hold." " Yes, but she is very ugly." " Why, my dear fellow, you don't think your- self a Spartacus do you ? with your lame foot, your long neck, and your flat nose ? " CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 17 " I know perfectly well what I am, but that doesn't prevent me from having an eye for beauty." " I advise you to have an eye for it at a distance then. For, when one has nothing more to offer it than your salary and the corks, beauty is likely to be rather stand-off." " Then I shall not marry." " And they'll say, ' He's not married because nobody would have him ! ' They stopped talking. Dupont was displeased, he saw the wedding feast which had loomed in the distance disappearing ; Madame B was greatly vexed because this was the ninth match that Celes- tine had missed. The young man beat time with his lame foot and pretended to be occupied en- tirely with the music ; and Celestine began to look about her, the presence of this gentleman being quite indifferent to her. Time passed ; they were playing the last piece but one of the concert. I was silently examining the two persons my friend had wished to unite in marriage, and I began to think that they were well matched. Dupont and Madame B , on the contrary, were losing all hope of uniting them. The most ridiculous idea came into my head, and when Dupont said to me in a piteous tone, " The thing has failed," and Madame B added, "There's an incompatibility of temper there," I said softly, "Perhaps!" which made them tremble with joy ; then I said aloud to the whole party, Vol. XIX i8 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE "It occurs to me we might now be doing some- thing better than listening to the music. Come, we'll go and sit in that shrubbery at a table. I propose that the company shall have some punch which I will supply ; that will enliven us a bit, I hope, for I really think we need enlivening." My proposition was accepted. I bravely offered my arm to Celestine (it must be confessed that a large part of the audience had dispersed), the others followed me, and I ordered a bowl of rum punch. The punch came and I poured it out. " I'm very fond of it," said Celestine, "but I never drink it; I'm afraid it will go to my head." " Oh, come, my dear, you needn't pretend to be so abstemious," said Madame B , " you like it, drink it. If it goes to your head you will have to be a little idle tomorrow." M. Pincelure, for that was the name of the big young man, exclaimed, "As for me, I can drink punch without ever being in the least put out. When I followed the French army to Spain I often drank it. I have a very strong head, nothing affects it." I looked after M. Pincelure, who swallowed the punch like so much skim milk, and Celestine, who seemed to be accustomed to it and made no more ceremony about drinking it. Our bowl was not finished when I ordered a second ; then, as I had foreseen, the punch began to have its effect ; we were a good deal more cheerful than we had been CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 19 before coming into the shrubbery. Madame B hummed the "Gustave " galop which the orchestra was playing. Dupont rocked back and forth in his chair, stuffed himself with macaroons, and ogled the ladies. M. Pincelure talked at random and Celestine laughed. " By Jove ! hurrah for music," said the tall gen- tleman, " it sets one a-going. I don't dance be- cause of my lame foot, but I like dancing all the same. Only once did I risk dancing a galop, then I fell on my partner and half the couples fell on top of us." "I can't dance in time," said Celestine, "I have no ear, and I mix up all the figures and put the other dancers out. But I don't often have that trouble; when I go to a ball I am always a wall- flower, no one invites me to dance." " And they always refuse me." " Ha, ha, ha ! " " The gentlemen call me well, I don't like to tell you what they call me." " The ladies call me a giraffe." " Ha, ha, ha ! " " It's going on well," whispered Madame B , while I continued to fill the glasses. " He's more amiable than I had thought at first," whispered Celestine, speaking of M. Pince- lure. " She seems like a very good sort," said the big gentleman, speaking of Celestine. 20 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE I was careful to enliven the conversation. "Monsieur," said I, addressing Pincelure, "you are modest, but you must confess that a lame foot doesn't prevent one from having love adventures." " That is possible, but as to me, mine have never had agreeable conclusions. Once some- body appointed to meet me in a narrow street ; I waited there for two hours and ended up by being watered in a very disagreeable fashion. Another time I was talking with a lady, and all at once she said to me, ' There's my husband, we must get away/ and she set off running. I tried to do the same, but I fell in the middle of the street and was beaten by the husband. Decidedly, I must re- nounce love." " And what about marriage ?" " I must do the same by that more positively still. An old fortune-teller told me that if I ever married I should be a " "A what?" "I should be, oh, hang it these ladies under- stand what I mean." The ladies laughed heartily, Celestine so much that she cried, which improved her looks because it equalized her eyes; M. Pincelure never once stopped talking, except when he put his glass to his lips, which happened very often. We had passed more than an hour in this man- ner under the bushes ; the concert was ended, we were not noticed ; we were having a " monstre " CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 21 conversation which replaced the music; Celestine continued to repeat, " Why he is quite a pleasant person, is this tall gentleman ! " And M. Pincelure kept on saying, "This young lady doesn't look half so bad when one sees her in the shade." Suddenly two big drops of rain fell into our punch. " Good heavens ! here is a storm," exclaimed Madame B , "and I've got on my pretty lilac bonnet." "And I my very best dress," said Celestine, still laughing. "Come under the tents, ladies, you will be under shelter ; and perhaps it will pass off." "I don't think it will pass off," said I, " besides, it is half past eleven and it would be much the better plan to make sure of a cab." " Half-past eleven. Gracious ! how the time has flown." M. Pincelure had taken Celestine's arm to lead her to a tent, and when they got there, it might be from forgetful ness, it might be from premeditation, but Celestine left her hand within the tall gentle- man's arm. The storm increased. I ran to the gate, but I could only see one cab. I engaged it and returned to my party. Dupont and Madame B were occupied in 22 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE turning up, the one her gown, and the other his trousers, so as to protect them from the rain ; I made a sign to M. Pincelure from a distance ; he came running with Celestine, I made them come out of the garden, I pushed them towards the cab, and made them get into it. " But Madame B ," stammered Celestine. " Don't be uneasy about her ; her dwelling is in a different direction, I will take her home." "But M. Dupont?" " He's already well on his way." "But" "But" I did not listen further ; I shut the door of the cab on them. The punch, the storm, my hurry- ing them, had all made them confused ; and the cabby, to whom I had given Celestine's address, had made his horses start before they knew where they were. I returned to Madame B . " Where is Celestine ? " she demanded. " What have you done with her ? " " I've just married her." " Oh, what a good joke ! " " I'll wager now that she will espouse M. Pince- lure." " Really ! But where are they ? Come, tell me ? " " Gone off in a cab, the pair of them." " In a cab together what have you done ? Have you no regard for decency ? " CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 23 " What makes you think it will be outraged ? Besides, when a marriage is to follow one may well excuse a small thing like that. And I wager again, that a marriage will take place. For instance, it will cost you a muddy dress and a slightly damp- ened bonnet, for the cab they have taken is the last one there isn't another on the boulevard." " I regret nothing if you are successful ! but I must confess that I have never yet seen a marriage made in that fashion." IV A month later my prediction was fulfilled ; Celes- tine became Madame Pincelure. I do not know whether the horoscope of the fortune-teller was fulfilled also ; all the probabilities were against it. This is the one solitary instance of my being mixed up in the arranging of a marriage ; many people break their necks and lose much valuable time in order to arrive at this end my receipt is, however, very simple, and for it nothing is neces- sary but two bowls of punch. ON THE CANAL BANKS WE have old Paris, modern Paris, and gothic Paris ; we have also neighborhoods in Paris which aspire to be of the Renaissance, of which the denticulated houses, the crenellated walls, and the arched and pointed windows, are supposed to recall the times of Francis I. We have some new streets laid out by rule and line ; a pavement on which anybody may fall without hurt- ing himself; flagstones which break, but which are not used ; sidewalks on which the wheels of car- riages often roll, which is rather unsafe for the passers-by but is very handy for the cabbies ; we have gas which shames the ancient lanterns, but which has never shamed the moon ; we have beau- tiful shops with ugly signs ; stunning cafes, re- splendent with glass and gilding, and lights which appear and disappear like Seraphin's marionettes ; we have fashionable bakers, where one can get little cakes, cream, wine, liqueurs in fact everything except bread. We no longer have beggars, but we have an infinite number of street fakirs who sell cures for the toothache and other ills, and of poor women who sing and carry a half-dressed baby in their arms meanwhile ; in fact we have a great many things in Paris we are very rich ; the most pre- judiced person can make no mistake at all as to that. But what we have had for some years back, what CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 25 is only now beginning to assume the aspect of a promenade, of a neighborhood of Paris ; what you do not know, perhaps, if you live in the noble Fau- bourg or the rich neighborhood of the Bourse, but which you will know probably in another twenty years, if you live so long, are the banks of the canal, those new quays which begin after La Vil- lette basin and stretch as far as the old ditches of the Bastile. The canal banks were for a long time deserted, lonely, muddy, even dangerous ; there are still a great many parts of the banks where I would not advise you to walk alone at eleven o'clock in the evening with nothing but an umbrella in your hand; but in many others fine houses have been built which seem to raise themselves proudly and splen- didly beside the ramshackle hovels of the market gardeners which are still standing here and there. They have planted poplars all along the canal ; the poplars, which prefer the water to gas pipes, are much better grown and more flourishing than those on the boulevards in the interior of the city, where, in some years, one would have been hard put to it to find a tree that was doing well, owing to the pipes which surrounded their roots. The canal banks afford a very curious scene, lively and cheerful when the sun shines ; it is the country part of Paris. You may see there im- mense vessels filled with coal, little amateur barks, the vigilant washerwomen who, with bodies half 26 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE bent over the water, work and chatter, making fun of the passers-by, and pointing out to each other the good bourgeois who is giving his dog a swim. Here is a thrifty housewife who comes to see the coal she is buying measured before her; lower down, a poor woman, on her knees near the edge of the water, is washing, often without soap, her children's garments ; a little farther off is a gentle- man who is walking back and forth, coming and going, always towards the same neighborhood, who pauses, looks at his watch, makes an impatient movement and begins to walk again ; from the elegant appearance of this gentleman you infer at once that he is not in his proper neighborhood ; that he is an exotic being is recognized at the first glance ; if he has come to the banks of the canal it is only in the hope of meeting there no one whom he knows except the lady he is expecting, but with whom he would not like to be seen else- where. The banks of the canal are very convenient trysting places ; one can discern one's friends when they are still far off. Near the Faubourg du Temple the banks of the canal are very crowded and almost brilliant ; there are at that point famous Vendanges de Bour- gogne, where one may gather grapes all the year round. There is also a relay of omnibuses, a watch box with one sentinel, some venders of gingerbread, some stray dogs. It looks like an imitation Pont- Neuf. A little farther on you see the huge bonded CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 27 warehouses so well placed on the banks of the canal, and which receive the merchandise from the ship which carries it, as in Venice the custom-house officers receive the travellers who are still in the lagoons. But what is going on down there ? Quite a crowd of people has assembled. Is it a man who has shot himself ? Is it a street arab who is bathing in spite of the ordinance ? Is it an amateur fish- ing ? Is it a dog swimming ? Is it some mysteri- ous object which they see floating in the water and in regard to which they are making their conjec- tures ? Why, no, it is simply the bridge turning to let a big vessel through. You will see the crowd thicken on each bank and the vehicles form a line. Then you will be obliged to hear such conversations as these which take place on both sides of the water, often between people who do not know each other; but one soon makes acquaintance on the canal banks. " My dear lady, just imagine my vexation," says an old woman muffled in a shapeless cap, her body wrapped in an old scarf which looks exactly like bed-ticking ; her feet clad in old furred slippers, over which she has put a big pair of shoes and to which she has attached pattens, so that as she walks the dame makes nearly as much noise as a horse. The lady also has on her arm an enormous market-basket, in which there is the material for a pot-au-feu, some butter, a three-volume novel, 28 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE some trout, a large package of cloves, some cat's meat, two skeins of thread, a loaf of coffee bread, some onions, a bottle of blacking and a toothbrush. The person whom she addresses is a stout, moth- erly woman sixty years old or thereabouts, who is so stout that one might compare her in size to the columns they have built on the boulevards, and whose figure is exactly like a feather-bed tied in the middle ; there is in her dress and in the arrange- ment of her hair something of pretension, of van- ity even, as though she thought to make an im- pression even now. Her dress, which is rather short, discloses two posts covered with black wool- len hose and a foot which looks horribly squeezed in a very well-blacked shoe ; her head is covered with a cap with barbes floating in the breeze and trimmed with immense bows of ribbon which were once pink ; this structure is perched very far back on her head, perhaps intentionally, perhaps blown there by the high wind, and shows a red, pimpled face, with two enormous tufts of black hair as glis- tening as her shoes, in curls made to resist rain and wind. "This is very unfortunate for me," says the lit- tle old woman who carries the basket, addressing the stout lady who has stopped beside her, " and on this of all mornings, when I am a little late owing to the play being so long last night, that in Belleville no one can recall such a prolonged rep- resentation." CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 29 " Madame is an actress at the Belleville the- atre ? " asks the stout motherly woman, looking with more interest at the person who spoke to her. " No, not I, my dear, but my daughter a pretty brunette whose appearances have made so much noise that they talk of nothing else in the whole neighborhood ; you must have seen her, she made her first appearance in * Cidre,' and she takes the part of Chimene. I am Chimene's mother and I dare say she will make me famous ; everybody looks at me as I go by just as they do at my daughter and I hear them whispering, 'That's Chimene's mother, her real mother.' How fortu- nate it is to have children who are the pride of our declining years ; my daughter will go from Belle- ville to the Franais or at least to Franconi's, especially as she has a liking for tumbling, and she rides a donkey very well. But to come back to what I was saying, we woke very late this morn- ing, and this is positively the day for pot-au-feu. We are as regular as clockwork twice a week we have beef the broth is necessary for my daugh- ter, it is a necessary part of her diet. I dressed hurriedly to get to market. I got some trout too, Chimene likes them very much. I say Chimene by force of habit she has been so applauded in that part and everybody made her a complimen- tary call after ' Cidre ' ; there was no one except the author that I did not see, and he had not even the politeness to send her a letter of congratulation. 30 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE I thought that rather disobliging on his part. I hope my daughter will remember it when he writes another play, if he offers her a part." " Did you have to pay much for your fish ? " " Don't ask me, it's enough to make one cry ; that is to say, my dear, that if the price of it keeps up we shan't be able to eat it any longer." "Are they never going to get this ship through ? " " What an immense one ; it must have come from the sea. What is it loaded with ? " " Marble, they say." " What nonsense ! they can't carry marble on the water, it is too heavy, it would sink ; they needn't tell the mother of an actress such things as that ! To come back to what I was telling you, I went to get my provisions and then I thought I would go to my bookseller's to get something to read this evening I should never go to sleep if I didn't have a book in my hand. I don't know what he has given me. Have you read this ? " " * Victor, or the Child of the Forest ? ' No, is it new ? " " He told me it had just come out, and the min- ute I saw the title a child and a forest I was satisfied ; I said to myself, f It is impossible that it shouldn't be interesting emotional.' ' " The ship isn't moving." " Why do they make the bridges so narrow. They might leave enough room for passers-by and the ships too." CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 31 " Ah, there's a man jumping on the vessel that he may get across quicker that's very impru- dent and he's an old man too. Now he's going to climb up on to the other side. Ah, he's done it that's a man who's got his sea legs on. To come back to what I was telling you, what makes me most uneasy is that I left my milk on the fire and it's had plenty of time to foam over and be all dried up." " Isn't your daughter there to watch it? " "Why, do you suppose I would want to see Chimene bother herself about the details of the household? In the first place she has to study her parts, that's a good deal more in her sphere. I shall have to buy some milk, besides, for I in- tended to make her some potato cakes presently, my Chimene is passionately fond of them. Ah, there's the bridge turning now, that's a good thing, but who's pushing like that ? Do they think there won't be any room left for them in the Faubourg du Temple? Why, that is my neighbor, M. Gros- mignon, one of our steady theatregoers, who always brings Chimene oranges with verses in the season. Where are you running to like that, neighbor ? He doesn't pay any attention to me he must be in a great hurry. Perhaps he left some milk on the fire. Oh, when I pass over one of these movable bridges it always has such a funny effect upon me to feel the ground swaying beneath me, it always gives me the shivers. I don't think 32 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE I could ever be well in a country where there were earthquakes. Do they affect you like that, my dear ? " The stout, motherly woman to whom this ques- tion is addressed, and who walks upon the bridge with as much unconcern as the townswoman, an- swers smiling, " I never even totter ; I have never once fallen in my life." "That's lucky for her," remarks a workman who is passing by ; " for who would want to pick her up?" Chimene's mother has crossed the bridge, as has also the fat lady ; the latter turns to the right while the first goes up the Faubourg, shouting to her new acquaintance, " You live in the Rue Folie-Mericourt, where they have a hospital for sick dogs ; my cousin has just put her spaniel there. You must come to Belleville when Chimene plays." Let us leave these ladies to return to their homes ; let us leave a crowd of government em- ployees who live in Belleville, to hasten to cross the bridge so as not to be late in returning to their offices ; this walk must be quite fatiguing to those who live near the Pare Saint- Fargeau, and work at the Treasury or the offices of the Minister of War; but at Belleville one can live very cheaply and one has a " little garden." This little garden is particularly affected by CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 33 clerks and people who are obliged during the day to busy themselves with figures and writing ; they say to themselves, " A garden is very restful after the fatigue of the day's work, the rush of business; one can there breathe the perfume of the flowers and roll on the grass as well as if one were in the country." It is these little gardens which take to Belleville or Batignoles a great many people who, but for them, would be living in Paris. And in truth is there anything more delightful than a garden, for a person who has only a few hours after dinner to recreate himself. You leave your office at half-past five, if you are fortunate enough to leave so early. If you live " extra muros " you reach home very tired ; you dine, that is the first thing essential, and without giving yourself time to drink your coffee, you go into your "little garden" to see how a shrub that you planted the evening before is getting on. You find the plant in very bad shape, the branches are drooping, the leaves are fading ; you think it lacks water, you hasten to your soft-water conduit if you have one, to your rain-water butt if you have no conduit, you fill your watering-pots, and you restore life and ver- dure to your shrub ; then, while you are at it, you find you must also water your dahlias, your rose- bushes, your strawberries, and your grass, in short, water is needed everywhere, and you flourish your watering-pot with a zeal worthy of a Cincinnatus, you empty your conduit or your butts. When you Vol. XIX 34 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE have finished this, you take your pruning shears every individual who has a garden, however small it may be, has a pair of pruning shears you ex- amine all your trees and cut the dead or objection- able branches and if you wish you can always find something to cut. Besides, you have bought pruning shears and you must use them. When you have cut, pruned and trimmed to your heart's content, you amuse yourself by scrap- ing off the moss that has gathered on your fruit trees, and if you set yourself to it conscientiously and wish to clean a tree thoroughly you can spend a couple of hours over a very small peach tree; you certainly cannot scrape all your trees in one even- ing. You see that the fertilizer that you bought to enrich your soil and make your plants grow is not well mixed with the earth ; you go to look for your spade and you set yourself to turning over the soil ; you spade, and from time to time you take out the stones that you find ; you put them in a heap and when the perspiration is pouring down your forehead (one easily gets overheated when digging) you go and look for your wheelbarrow to take away your stones; if you have no wheelbarrow, you take your little boy's or your little girl's ; for in a small garden one can get along with a small wheelbarrow, but one must make four journeys instead of one. Hardly have you disposed of your wheelbarrow, when down you go on your knees to pull out the CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 35 weeds and wire-grass that are choking your plants; after a time you find you are no longer able to distinguish good plants from bad ; it is because the dusk has surprised you while still gardening. You rise, you make a horrible grimace; your wife asks you what is the matter with you one who owns a small garden, necessarily has a wife and children and you tell her that your back is very bad. She scolds you because you tire yourself too much gardening; as your only answer you demand the rake, and you continue to rake your paths until it is quite dark. And I once knew a gentleman who attached a lantern to his rake, and exercised himself in this way while his family slept. Finally you put aside the rake. Your wife says to you in a tender voice nearly all women have tender voices when their husbands are tired " Come in and rest, my dear ; come and sit down under the arbor, you have worked long enough." You yield to your wife's insistence and you go and sit down under the arbor; for however small the garden, there must be an arbor there. Some- times it is true the vine or the honeysuckle which one has planted around it obstinately refuses to climb on the trellis, to ornament the top with its leaves ; which is often the reason there is no shade under your arbor ; but all the same, you go and take refuge in it during the very hot weather, and while sweltering in the sun you are content if you can but say, " I am under my arbor." 36 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE But even there you must not imagine that our amateur gardener yields to the sweetness of repose; he remembers that he needs some supports for his dahlias ; he takes his pruning knife, and begins to cut and pare some large pieces of wood which will serve to protect his flowers against the " si- moon " of the neighborhood. When at length, overwhelmed with fatigue, he decides to go to bed, he is firmly resolved to find relief from the strain of ofHce work in his little garden at break of day, before it is time for him to go to Paris. To the amateur gardeners who do not wish to go so far afield as Belleville or Batignolles to seek relaxation, I would say that there are little gardens all along the canal, and that they do not need watering often ; all one has to fear, on the con- trary, is that they will be watered too much. Let us follow the course of the water; this neighborhood is not inhabited by the aristocracy. Some rich retired people who wish to enjoy the sight of the water have, however, taken apartments in some new houses which have been built, but in general it is the working classes who people these new quays ; and those who walk there wear their morning garb, their working clothes and workshop blouses. People in conventional dress are notice- able; when they come there, it is probably not the walk alone which attracts them. With night, the banks of the canal assume a calm and peaceful aspect, which is not without CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 37 charm to those who wish to meditate or to talk unobserved. Gas does not as yet illumine it, and when the moon does not think fit to show herself one must walk cautiously on these banks, which are not yet completely paved, and which only have sidewalks here and there. You will meet drunkards ; drunkards are very fond of walking by the water, but they rarely fall in ; they stagger along, not in the middle of the road, that would be too tame for them, but quite on the edge of the bank ; they sway about con- tinually, and one would imagine he saw a tight rope dancer, walking without balancing. One trembles for them, then one remembers that there is a special providence for drunkards, lovers, and children. It is growing late and there are fewer saunterers. What young couple is this walking so slowly and often stopping to talk, never unlinking their arms, gazing so attentively at each other that they often splash themselves in the gutter because neither one nor the other of them ever thinks of looking to see where they are going to ? The young man wears a cloth jacket, canvas trousers, an otter-skin cap on his head ; he must be a workman. The woman has on a cotton print gown, a striped apron, a very simple cap, in which, however, she looks very pretty ; she must be a grisette. "Jenny," says the young man, tenderly pressing 38 SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE the arm which rests so confidingly in his, "be easy, don't grieve your brother will not go, you can reassure your mother ; her son Julien whom she loves so much will not be obliged to leave her." " But, Pierre, how can it be helped ? My brother drew an unlucky number in the conscrip- tion, he must go, he must be a soldier ; how do you think he can become exempt? We have not the wherewithal to buy a substitute; I've econo- mized as much as possible, but embroidery brings in so little and then my mother is often ill. I don't want her to sit up at night and tire herself all out with work. My poor mother, she is so fond of Julien ; she will be inconsolable when he is gone. Suppose it should kill her ? for she loves my brother much better than she does me, and I could never console her for his absence." As she says these words, the young girl covers her eyes with her hand ; but the young man ex- claims, " Once more, Jenny, don't cry ; your brother shall stay with you with your mother. I will take his place I have drawn in the conscription for two years past and did not draw a number and I haven't a relation to regret me, nor a mother to kiss me every night and care for me during the day, so you see that I can very well go." " You, Pierre ! you become a soldier ? you take Julien's place? Oh, no, you shall not go for CHARLES PAUL DE KOCK 39 you love me, Pierre, and you know very well that I love you." " It is for that reason, Jenny, that I should do all in my power to render you happy. Your mother doesn't like me much ; when I told her that I wished to be your husband, she said to me, ' You don't earn enough money, you haven't agood trade.' H o wever, it isn't so bad to be a cabinet-maker ; above all, when one is industrious. But there, no matter ; I am going to take Julien's place, I am decided as to that. It was to tell you so that I asked you to meet me here. I only wanted to pray you to love me still and not to forget me. When I come back your mother will not refuse to let you marry me, for she will remember that through me she was able to keep her son with her." " Oh, Pierre, what you are doing for us is very kind. And if I am not faithful to you I shall be the most ungrateful of women. How happy my mother will be ! how pleased ! I must go at once and tell her that my brother need not leave her." " Yes, go, Jenny, go at once and make my reso- lution known to her. Tomorrow I will come and bid her good-by, and I hope she will receive me better." " Oh, Pierre ! how good you are ! I am very pleased but very sad too." " Good-by for the present, Jenny ; go back to your mother." The two young people stop. Jenny presses 4 o SCENES OF PARISIAN LIFE Pierre's hand and turns as if to leave him, then she comes towards him again, murmuring another good-by. She seems ready to kiss the man who has made so noble a sacrifice ; but the young work- man looks at her tenderly, and goes off without kissing her. He fears to seem to ask a price for his good action. Let us go on again; a little further along, on a very gloomy part of the quay, do you not notice a gentleman dressed fashionably, with lemon-colored gloves and a carved cane, who seems to lead rather than to walk with a young woman whose very be- coming dress and stylish carriage easily show that she lives in the d'Antin neighborhood ? The lady disengages her arm and says, " Where are you taking me to, Alfred ? this is a very lonely, very unpleasant-looking place. What a singular walk for you to have chosen. You always have such queer ideas. I don't wish to go any farther, I want to go back to the boulevard where we left our carriage." The gentleman keeps hold of the lady's arm and says to her, in a voice which he tries to render solemn, " Stay, Amanda, stay ; this place is fitting for what I have to say to you and for the project I have formed."