Volume I Part 53 (1/2)

”Oh! there's another one of the doctor's tales. You know, they say a lot of things like that in the country,--because Madame Droguet's a little quick, and when she first came here to live she used to give her servants a slap now and then; and they never failed to say that she boxed her husband's ears too, and kicked him in the rump, saving your presence, when he undertook to oppose her wishes; but that's all fiddle-faddle!--People saw that she was the mistress in her own house, that nothing was done there except by her orders, so they said: 'She must have been a vivandiere, she leads her husband about to the beat of the drum.'--This much is certain, that she's the one that runs the house and says what's to be done and undone, built and pulled down; the husband don't meddle in anything. That's why you hear people say 'Madame Droguet,' and never 'Monsieur Droguet!' But that just suits him; he seems to be satisfied so long as he can dance.”

”Ah! so Monsieur Droguet is fond of dancing? How old is he, pray?”

”I guess he's close on to fifty-five; and his wife, too--she must be as old as he is, at least.”

”Then she gives b.a.l.l.s so that her husband may dance?”

”I don't know whether she gives b.a.l.l.s, but she gives dinner-parties and she has lots of company. It seems that they live pretty well there. But she's sure to invite you; she invites all the swell people in the neighborhood.”

”I don't know whether she will invite us,” said Honorine with a smile; ”but it would be a waste of time; for we do not dine out.”

”Oh, well! if that's your idea, it's all right. If she invited me, I'd go; but I ain't enough of a bigwig.”

”Are we almost there, Pere Ledrux?”

”It's just a little farther; Guillot's house--he's Poucette's uncle--is on the other side of the river. But this walk shows you something of Ch.e.l.les.”

”Do we pa.s.s the ruins of the Abbey?”

”No, they ain't on our road; after all, you don't see anything of the Abbey; it's been made into a farm-house, and there isn't anything very interesting about it; there's only a few old walls left. But we're going to pa.s.s Monsieur Luminot's house. That's another nice one, I tell you; not so well kept as Madame Droguet's; but heaps of land behind: vineyards, arbors, and lots of white grapes.”

”Isn't he the gentleman who went to call on the owner of the Tower, to invite him to dinner?”

”Yes; he's a high-liver, is Monsieur Luminot--used to be a wine-merchant; he always has good stuff in his cellar, and he's never stingy about a gla.s.s of wine. He's a friend of Madame Droguet and often dines there.”

”Does he dance with Monsieur Droguet?”

”I couldn't tell you. I don't believe he's a dancer, he's too fat for that; while Monsieur Droguet, who is very short and thin, keeps his feet going all the time he's talking to you, just exactly as if he had the St. Vitus's dance. He must have had it when he was small, and never got wholly rid of it. He went to Paris not long ago, on purpose to learn a new dance that's all the fas.h.i.+on, so they say--the lance--lances----”

”Lancers?”

”That's it, mamzelle, the lancers! and when he came back, he couldn't sleep for a number of nights; he used to get up and dance the lancers with his chamber-vessel, so that he woke the whole house, and Madame Droguet was obliged to get angry.--Ah! there's Monsieur Jarnouillard's house.”

”The gentleman who ate too many pears?”

”Yes, mamzelle. It isn't very large, but there's only the husband and wife; no children and no servants; Madame Jarnouillard does all the work. But people say they've got enough, that they're rich; and what makes 'em think so is that Monsieur Jarnouillard lends money to people who are hard up and are able to pay it back--who have chattels and land, as he says. If you haven't got those things, there's no danger of his accommodating you; and anyway he charges interest that makes you shudder!”

”The man's a usurer then, is he?”

”Faith! I can't say as to that. They say that he used to be a tradesman in Paris, with a shop on Quai des Lunettes. I don't know what kind of _lunettes_--spectacles--he sold, but he must have made a good thing out of it. They ain't liked hereabout, and yet people are very glad to have 'em here; because those who get into difficulty, who need money to pay their rent or to take up a note, go to see Monsieur Jarnouillard, and he lends 'em the money--provided he can make a pretty profit out of it.

Still, they're people who don't put on any airs, and the Lord only knows what they live on. The wife buys one mutton cutlet for herself and her husband. Bless me! but they're miserly! they eat crusts of bread, old roosters, and fish the husband catches in the Marne; in fact, he's been arrested twice for fis.h.i.+ng without a permit. In summer he tries to catch birds with birdlime; they eat whatever he catches; but when they dine out they near kill themselves with indigestion; and besides that, Madame Droguet's maid tells me that they stuff their pockets with things from the table. Ha! ha! that gives them a royal feast the next day. But you understand that all I'm telling you is just gossip; I don't bear those people any grudge; I don't want anything of 'em.--Tutu--tutu--turlututu.”

”Ah! my dear Agathe!” said Honorine in a low tone, ”people are no more generous in the country than in the city, and he would be bitterly disappointed who should go into the country to live, in the hope of finding purer morals, more agreeable relations, more sincere friends.h.i.+ps, and more obliging neighbors! No, men are the same everywhere; but their failings, their vices show more plainly in small places than in the large cities. The only thing one can be certain of having in the country is pure air.”

”There's Guillot's house!” said the gardener, halting in front of a wretched hovel of earth and stones, the roof of which was in such bad condition in several places that when it rained the occupants were but partially sheltered.

There was a small garden, hardly separated from the fields by a scrubby hedge of elder-bushes, at the right of the hovel, and in it a few stunted trees shading cabbages and potatoes. Everything was growing haphazard in the little enclosure, which seemed in as wretched a condition as the house.

The two women entered a large room, which was not floored either with flags or boards. It was used as a kitchen, and also as a bedroom, for there was a dilapidated cot in one corner. On the walls, innocent of paper, hung divers kitchen utensils; there were also shelves, upon which were dishes, mainly earthen bowls.