Part 25 (1/2)
”Quin?”
”No; Choux.”
And Tholomyes continued:--
”Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chaeronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation!
Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the G.o.ddess prost.i.tute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus.”
Tholomyes, once started, would have found some difficulty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda's, the worn-out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, Matin (the jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the pa.s.sersby, Tholomyes' merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyes took advantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy strophe:--
”Elle etait de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses [3]
Ont le meme destin; Et, rosse, elle a vecu ce que vivant les rosses, L'es.p.a.ce d'un matin!”
”Poor horse!” sighed Fantine.
And Dahlia exclaimed:--
”There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!”
At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyes and said:--
”Come, now! the surprise?”
”Exactly. The moment has arrived,” replied Tholomyes. ”Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies.”
”It begins with a kiss,” said Blachevelle.
”On the brow,” added Tholomyes.
Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress's brow; then all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.
Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.
”It is beginning to be amusing already,” said she.
”Don't be too long,” murmured Fantine; ”we are waiting for you.”
CHAPTER IX--A MERRY END TO MIRTH
When the young girls were left alone, they leaned two by two on the window-sills, chatting, craning out their heads, and talking from one window to the other.
They saw the young men emerge from the Cafe Bombarda arm in arm. The latter turned round, made signs to them, smiled, and disappeared in that dusty Sunday throng which makes a weekly invasion into the Champs-Elysees.
”Don't be long!” cried Fantine.
”What are they going to bring us?” said Zephine.