Volume I Part 7 (2/2)
”There's nothing wrong but these infernal boots, which keep falling; they are too big.”
”It may be that your legs are too much like spindles.”
”What a pity to be obliged to wear a false nose with all this!”
”Why is it a pity?”
”Dear me! it's easy to see that. As I am the possessor of rather an attractive face, if I hadn't this false nose, I should be even more fascinating in this costume, and I am sure that I should make conquests in swarms.”
”By Jove! that's true; I entirely forgot that you were a handsome man!”
”Still, my wife used to repeat it often enough: 'Ah! how handsome he is, my Chamoureau!'”
”Yes, to the tune of the _Postilion de Longjumeau_.--But after all, you know, you're under no compulsion to keep your false nose on, if you want to take it off.”
”Oh, no! the deuce! someone might recognize me then, and I should be compromised!”
”Try to make a conquest with your nose.”
”That's quite possible--d.a.m.n these boots!”
And Chamoureau halted to raise the flaps.
”So you are inclined to make a little acquaintance, my inconsolable widower?” asked Edmond, who was walking beside Freluchon and had overheard the Spaniard's last words.
”Oh! my dear Monsieur Edmond,” he replied, after adjusting his boots, ”you will understand that my heart, my poor heart, will have no part in it! Henceforth nothing will ever touch that; it is dead to love.
Eleonore has carried with her all the sentiment it could possibly contain--dear Eleonore!”
”Are you going to shed tears, Chamoureau? they will spoil your rouge.”
”No, no, I said that just as I would have said anything else.”
At that moment a man dressed as a Swiss woman, with long locks hanging down his back and a number of little brooms in his hand, halted in front of Chamoureau, crying:
”Ah! my hearties! what do I see? A sunbeam disguised as a Spaniard! How brilliant it is! how it gleams! Are you just from Peru, my ducky? It is at the very least _Le Cidre_ or Gusman with a sheep's foot, who knows no obstacle! Isn't he fine, the _coco_! But while you had the cash, Gringalet, you should have bought some calves, for you lack 'em altogether! and your parapetted boots will fall on the floor!”
The crowd had stopped and formed a circle to listen to the Swiss woman who had attacked the Spaniard.
Chamoureau, being rather disconcerted, began by making sure that his false nose was secure, then muttered:
”If I have no calves, it's fair to presume that I don't care for them.”
”How now! is that all you've got to say for yourself, you poor thing?
Did you spend all your wit to buy your costume? What a simple air the great clown has! He must be some keeper of turkeys who's been dismissed, and is entirely out of his element when he's no longer surrounded by his flock.”
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