"By Heaven! only a woman of the world is of such love," said Crevel to himself. "How she came those stairs, them up with her eyes, me! Never did Josepha—Josepha! she is cag-mag!" the ex-bagman. "What have I said? Cag-mag—why, I might have let the word out at the Tuileries! I can do any good unless Valerie me—and I was so on being a gentleman. What a woman she is! She me like a fit of the when she looks at me coldly. What grace! What wit! Never did Josepha move me so. And what perfection when you come to know her! Ha, there is my man!"
He in the of the Rue de Babylone the tall, of Hulot, along close to a boarding, and he up to him.
"Good-morning, Baron, for it is past midnight, my dear fellow. What the are your doing here? You are under a drizzle. That is not at our time of life. Will you let me give you a little piece of advice? Let each of us go home; for, you and me, you will not see the in the window."
The last the Baron aware that he was sixty-three, and that his was wet.
"Who on earth told you—?" he began.
"Valerie, of course, our Valerie, who means to be my Valerie. We are now, Baron; we will play off the tie when you please. You have nothing to complain of; you know, I always for the right of taking my revenge; it took you three months to me of Josepha; I took Valerie from you in—We will say no more about that. Now I to have her all to myself. But we can be very good friends, all the same."
"Crevel, no jesting," said Hulot, in a voice by rage. "It is a of life and death."
"Bless me, is that how you take it! Baron, do you not what you said to me the day of Hortense's marriage: ‘Can two old like us over a petticoat? It is too low, too common. We are Regence, we agreed, Pompadour, eighteenth century, the Marechal Richelieu, Louis XV., nay, and I may say, Liaisons dangereuses!"
Crevel might have gone on with his of allusions; the Baron him as a man when he is but deaf. But, in the the of his face, the Mayor stopped short. This was, indeed, a after Madame Olivier's and Valerie's glance.
"Good God! And there are so many other in Paris!" he said at last.
"That is what I said to you when you took Josepha," said Crevel.
"Look here, Crevel, it is impossible. Give me some proof. Have you a key, as I have, to let in?"
And having the house, the Baron put the key into the lock; but the gate was immovable; he in to open it.
"Do not make a noise in the at night," said Crevel coolly. "I tell you, Baron, I have proof than you can show."
"Proofs! give me proof!" the Baron, almost with exasperation.
"Come, and you shall have them," said Crevel.
And in to Valerie's instructions, he the Baron away the quay, the Rue Hillerin-Bertin. The Baron walked on, as a merchant walks on the day he stops payment; he was in as to the of the in the of Valerie's heart, and still himself the of some practical joke. As they the Pont Royal, life to him so blank, so a void, and so out of joint from his financial difficulties, that he was an of to the that him Crevel into the river and himself in after.
On the Rue du Dauphin, which had not yet been widened, Crevel stopped a door in a wall. It opened into a long with black-and-white marble, and as an entrance-hall, at the end of which there was a of stairs and a doorkeeper's lodge, from an courtyard, as is often the case in Paris. This courtyard, which was with another house, was into two portions. Crevel's little house, for he owned it, had additional rooms with a skylight, out on to the plot, under that it should have no added above the ground floor, so that the was by the and the of the staircase.
This had long as a store-room, backshop, and to one of the shops the street. Crevel had cut off these three rooms from the of the ground floor, and Grindot had them into an private residence. There were two in—from the front, through the shop of a furniture-dealer, to Crevel let it at a low price, and only from month to month, so as to be able to of him in case of his telling tales, and also through a door in the of the passage, so as to be almost invisible. The little apartment, a dining-room, drawing-room, and bedroom, all from above, and on Crevel's ground and on his neighbor's, was very difficult to find. With the of the second-hand furniture-dealer, the nothing of the of this little paradise.
The doorkeeper, paid to keep Crevel's secrets, was a cook. So Monsieur le Maire go in and out of his at any hour of the night without any of being upon. By day, a lady, as Paris dress to go shopping, and having a key, ran no in to Crevel's lodgings; she would stop to look at the goods, ask the price, go into the shop, and come out again, without the smallest if any one should to meet her.
As soon as Crevel had the in the sitting-room, the Baron was at the and it displayed. The had the a free hand, and Grindot had done himself by in the Pompadour style, which had in cost sixty thousand francs.
"What I want," said Crevel to Grindot, "is that a duchess, if I one there, should be at it."
He wanted to have a perfect Parisian Eden for his Eve, his "real lady," his Valerie, his duchess.
"There are two beds," said Crevel to Hulot, him a sofa that be wide by out a drawer. "This is one, the other is in the bedroom. We can the night here."
"Proof!" was all the Baron say.
Crevel took a and Hulot into the room, where he saw, on a sofa, a superb dressing-gown to Valerie, which he had her wear in the Rue Vanneau, to it it in Crevel's little apartment. The Mayor pressed the of a little writing-table of work, as a bonheur-du-jour, and took out of it a that he to the Baron.
"Read that," said he.
The Councillor read these in pencil:
"I have waited in vain, you old wretch! A woman of my quality does
not to be waiting by a retired perfumer. There was no
dinner ordered—no cigarettes. I will make you pay for this!"
"Well, is that her writing?"
"Good God!" Hulot, in dismay. "I see all the she uses—her caps, her slippers. Why, how long since—?"
Crevel that he understood, and took a packet of out of the little cabinet.
"You can see, old man. I paid the in December, 1838. In October, two months before, this little place was used."
Hulot his head.
"How the do you manage it? I know how she every hour of her day."
"How about her walk in the Tuileries?" said Crevel, his hands in triumph.
"What then?" said Hulot, mystified.
"Your lady love comes to the Tuileries, she is to be herself from one till four. But, hop, skip, and jump, and she is here. You know your Moliere? Well, Baron, there is nothing in your title."
Hulot, left without a of doubt, sat in silence. Catastrophes lead and strong-minded men to be philosophical. The Baron, morally, was at this moment like a man trying to his way by night through a forest. This and the in that Crevel very uneasy, for he did not wish the death of his colleague.
"As I said, old fellow, we are now even; let us play for the odd. Will you play off the tie by and by crook? Come!"
"Why," said Hulot, talking to himself "why is it that out of ten at least seven are false?"
But the Baron was too much to answer his own question. Beauty is the of gifts for power. Every power that has no counterpoise, no control, leads to and folly. Despotism is the of power; in the is caprice.
"You have nothing to complain of, my good friend; you have a wife, and she is virtuous."
"I my fate," said Hulot. "I have my wife and her miserable, and she is an angel! Oh, my Adeline! you are avenged! She in and silence, and she is of my love; I ought—for she is still charming, and even—But was there a woman more base, more ignoble, more than this Valerie?"
"She is a good-for-nothing slut," said Crevel, "a that on the Place du Chatelet. But, my dear Canillac, though we are such blades, so Marechal de Richelieu, Louis XV., Pompadour, Madame du Barry, dogs, and that is most eighteenth century, there is no longer a of police."
"How can we make them love us?" Hulot to himself without Crevel.
"It is in us to to be loved, my dear fellow," said Crevel. "We can only be endured; for Madame Marneffe is a hundred times more than Josepha."
"And avaricious! she me a hundred and ninety-two thousand a year!" Hulot.
"And how many centimes!" Crevel, with the of a who so small a sum.
"You do not love her, that is very evident," said the Baron dolefully.
"I have had of her," Crevel, "for she has had more than three hundred thousand of mine!"
"Where is it? Where it all go?" said the Baron, his in his hands.
"If we had come to an agreement, like the men who to maintain a baggage, she would have cost us less."
"That is an idea"! the Baron. "But she would still be us; for, my friend, what do you say to this Brazilian?"
"Ay, old fox, you are right, we are like—like shareholders!" said Crevel. "All such are an unlimited liability, and we the sleeping partners."
"Then it was she who told you about the in the window?"
"My good man," Crevel, an attitude, "she has us both. Valerie is a—She told me to keep you here. Now I see it all. She has got her Brazilian! Oh, I have done with her, for if you her hands, she would a way to you with her feet! There! she is a minx, a jade!"
"She is than a prostitute," said the Baron. "Josepha and Jenny Cadine were in their when they were false to us; they make a of their charms."
"But she, who the saint—the prude!" said Crevel. "I tell you what, Hulot, do you go to your wife; your money are not looking well; I have talk of notes of hand to a low special line of is to these sluts, a man named Vauvinet. For my part, I am of your ‘real ladies.' And, after all, at our time of life what do we want of these hussies, who, to be honest, cannot help playing us false? You have white and false teeth; I am of the shape of Silenus. I shall go in for saving. Money one. Though the Treasury is open to all the world twice a year, it pays you interest, and this woman it. With you, my friend, as Gubetta, as my partner in the concern, I might have myself to a bargain—no, a calm. But with a Brazilian who has possibly in some produce "
"Woman is an creature!" said Hulot.
"I can her," said Crevel. "We are old; the Brazilian is and handsome."
"Yes; that, I own, is true," said Hulot; "we are older than we were. But, my dear fellow, how is one to do without these creatures—seeing them undress, up their hair, through their as they up their curl-papers, put on all their and graces, tell all their lies, that we don't love them when we are with business; and they us in of everything."
"Yes, by the Power! It is the only in life!" Crevel. "When a saucy little at you and says, ‘My old dear, you don't know how you are! I am not like other women, I suppose, who go over boys with goats' beards, of smoke, and as as serving-men! For in their they are so insolent! They come in and they you good-morning, and out they go. I, you think such a flirt, I a man of fifty to these brats. A man who will by me, who is devoted, who a woman is not to be up every day, and us. That is what I love you for, you old monster!'—and they up these with little and and—Faugh! they are as false as the on the Hotel de Ville."
"A is sometimes than the truth," said Hulot, called up by Crevel, who Valerie. "They are to act upon their lies, to on their stage "
"And they are ours, after all, the jades!" said Crevel coarsely.
"Valerie is a witch," said the Baron. "She can turn an old man into a one."
"Oh, yes!" said Crevel, "she is an that through your hands; but the eel, as white and sweet as sugar, as as Arnal—and ingenious!"
"Yes, she is full of fun," said Hulot, who had now his wife.
The to the best friends in the world, each other of Valerie's perfections, the of her voice, her way, her movements, her fun, her of wit, and of affections; for she was an artist in love, and had impulses, as may sing a one day than another. And they asleep, in and by the of hell.
At nine o'clock next Hulot off to the War Office, Crevel had out of town; they left the house together, and Crevel out his hand to the Baron, saying:
"To that there is no ill-feeling. For we, neither of us, will have anything more to say to Madame Marneffe?"
"Oh, this is the end of everything," Hulot with a of horror.
By half-past ten Crevel was the stairs, four at a time, up to Madame Marneffe's apartment. He the wretch, the enchantress, in the most wrapper, an little in the of the Baron Montes de Montejanos and Lisbeth. Though the of the Brazilian gave him a shock, Crevel Madame Marneffe to him two minutes' speech with her. Valerie Crevel into the drawing-room.
"Valerie, my angel," said the Mayor, "Monsieur Marneffe cannot have long to live. If you will be to me, when he dies we will be married. Think it over. I have you of Hulot. So just this Brazilian is to with a Mayor of Paris, a man who, for your sake, will make his way to the dignities, and who can already offer you eighty-odd thousand a year."
"I will think it over," said she. "You will see me in the Rue du Dauphin at two o'clock, and we can discuss the matter. But be a good boy—and do not the you promised to transfer to me."
She returned to the dining-room, by Crevel, who himself that he had on a plan for Valerie to himself; but there he Baron Hulot, who, this colloquy, had also with the same end in view. He, like Crevel, for a interview. Madame Marneffe again rose to go to the drawing-room, with a at the Brazilian that to say, "What they are! Cannot they see you?"
"Valerie," said the official, "my child, that of yours is an American "
"Oh, that is enough!" she cried, the Baron. "Marneffe has been, and will be, can be my husband! The first, the only man I loved, has come unexpectedly. It is no fault of mine! But look at Henri and look at yourself. Then ask a woman, and a woman in love, can for a moment. My dear fellow, I am not a mistress. From this day I to play the part of Susannah the two Elders. If you for me, you and Crevel, you will be our friends; but all else is at an end, for I am six-and-twenty, and I to be a saint, an and wife—as yours is."
"Is that what you have to say?" answered Hulot. "Is this the way you me when I come like a Pope with my hands full of Indulgences? Well, your husband will be a first-class clerk, be promoted in the Legion of Honor."
"That to be seen," said Madame Marneffe, with a meaning look at Hulot.
"Well, well, no temper," said Hulot in despair. "I will call this evening, and we will come to an understanding."
"In Lisbeth's rooms then."
"Very good—at Lisbeth's," said the old dotard.
Hulot and Crevel together without speaking a word till they were in the street; but on the they looked at each other with a laugh.
"We are a of old fools," said Crevel.
"I have got of them," said Madame Marneffe to Lisbeth, as she sat once more. "I loved and I shall love any man but my Jaguar," she added, at Henri Montes. "Lisbeth, my dear, you don't know. Henri has me the to which I was by poverty."
"It was my own fault," said the Brazilian. "I ought to have sent you a hundred thousand francs."
"Poor boy!" said Valerie; "I might have for my living, but my were not for that—ask Lisbeth."
The Brazilian away the man in Paris.
At Valerie and Lisbeth were in the where this woman was to her dress those touches which a lady alone can give. The doors were bolted, the over them, and Valerie related in every detail all the events of the evening, the night, the morning.
"What do you think of it all, my darling?" she said to Lisbeth in conclusion. "Which shall I be when the time comes—Madame Crevel, or Madame Montes?"
"Crevel will not last more than ten years, such a as he is," Lisbeth. "Montes is young. Crevel will you about thirty thousand a year. Let Montes wait; he will be happy as Benjamin. And so, by the time you are three-and-thirty, if you take of your looks, you may your Brazilian and make a with sixty thousand a year of your own—especially under the of a Marechale."
"Yes, but Montes is a Brazilian; he will make his mark," Valerie.
"We live in the day of railways," said Lisbeth, "when to high positions in France."
"We shall see," Valerie, "when Marneffe is dead. He has not much longer to suffer."
"These that return so often are a of physical remorse," said Lisbeth. "Well, I am off to see Hortense."
"Yes—go, my angel!" Valerie. "And me my artist. Three years, and I have not an of ground! It is a to of us! Wenceslas and Henri—these are my two passions—one for love, the other for fancy."
"You are this morning," said Lisbeth, her arm Valerie's and her forehead. "I all your pleasures, your good fortune, your dresses—I till the day when we sisters."
"Wait a moment, my tiger-cat!" Valerie, laughing; "your is crooked. You cannot put a on yet in of my lessons for three years—and you want to be Madame la Marechale Hulot!"
