Part 8 (1/2)
”I see. You never heard of the senseless luxury--a wise ignorance. You smelt flowers upon your mountains. You won't want this, either;” and the Cologne bottle was put under the other arm. ”Candle--you'll want that.
Soap--you want soap. Use the white cake.”
”Is that cheaper, Doctor?”
”Yes, but just as good as the other. You don't ever munch sugar, do you?
It's bad for the teeth. I'll take the sugar.” So the paper of sugar was likewise dropped into one of the capacious coat pockets.
”Oh, you better take the whole furniture, Doctor Franklin. Here, I'll help you drag out the bedstead.” ”My honest friend,” said the wise man, pausing solemnly, with the two bottles, like swimmer's bladders, under his arm-pits; ”my honest friend, the bedstead you will want; what I propose to remove you will not want.”
”Oh, I was only joking, Doctor.”
”I knew that. It's a bad habit, except at the proper time, and with the proper person. The things left on the mantel were there placed by the landlady to be used if wanted; if not, to be left untouched. To-morrow morning, upon the chambermaid's coming in to make your bed, all such articles as remained obviously untouched would have been removed, the rest would have been charged in the bill, whether you used them up completely or not.”
”Just as I thought. Then why not let the bottles stay, Doctor, and save yourself all this trouble?”
”Ah! why indeed. My honest friend, are you not my guest? It were unhandsome in me to permit a third person superfluously to entertain you under what, for the time being, is my own roof.”
These words came from the wise man in the most graciously bland and flowing tones. As he ended, he made a sort of conciliatory half bow towards Israel.
Charmed with his condescending affability, Israel, without another word, suffered him to march from the room, bottles and all. Not till the first impression of the venerable envoy's suavity had left him, did Israel begin to surmise the mild superiority of successful strategy which lurked beneath this highly ingratiating air.
”Ah,” pondered Israel, sitting gloomily before the rifled mantel, with the empty tumbler and teaspoon in his hand, ”it's sad business to have a Doctor Franklin lodging in the next room. I wonder if he sees to all the boarders this way. How the O-t-a-r-d merchants must hate him, and the pastry-cooks too. I wish I had a good pie to pa.s.s the time. I wonder if they ever make pumpkin pies in Paris? So I've got to stay in this room all the time. Somehow I'm bound to be a prisoner, one way or another.
Never mind, I'm an amba.s.sador; that's satisfaction. Hark! The Doctor again.--Come in.”
No venerable doctor, but in tripped a young French la.s.s, bloom on her cheek, pink ribbons in her cap, liveliness in all her air, grace in the very tips of her elbows. The most bewitching little chambermaid in Paris. All art, but the picture of artlessness.
”Monsieur! pardon!”
”Oh, I pardon ye freely,” said Israel. ”Come to call on the Amba.s.sador?”
”Monsieur, is de--de--” but, breaking down at the very threshold in her English, she poured out a long ribbon of sparkling French, the purpose of which was to convey a profusion of fine compliments to the stranger, with many tender inquiries as to whether he was comfortably roomed, and whether there might not be something, however trifling, wanting to his complete accommodation. But Israel understood nothing, at the time, but the exceeding grace, and trim, bewitching figure of the girl.
She stood eyeing him for a few moments more, with a look of pretty theatrical despair, and, after vaguely lingering a while, with another shower of incomprehensible compliments and apologies, tripped like a fairy from the chamber. Directly she was gone Israel pondered upon a singular glance of the girl. It seemed to him that he had, by his reception, in some way, unaccountably disappointed his beautiful visitor. It struck him very strangely that she had entered all sweetness and friendliness, but had retired as if slighted, with a sort of disdainful and sarcastic levity, all the more stinging from its apparent politeness.
Not long had she disappeared, when a noise in the pa.s.sage apprised him that, in her hurried retreat, the girl must have stumbled against something. The next moment he heard a chair sc.r.a.ping in the adjacent apartment, and there was another knock at the door.
It was the man of wisdom this time.
”My honest friend, did you not have a visitor, just now?”
”Yes, Doctor, a very pretty girl called upon me.”
”Well, I just stopped in to tell you of another strange custom of Paris.
That girl is the chambermaid, but she does not confine herself altogether to one vocation. You must beware of the chambermaids of Paris, my honest friend. Shall I tell the girl, from you, that, unwilling to give her the fatigue of going up and down so many flights of stairs, you will for the future waive her visits of ceremony?”
”Why, Doctor Franklin, she is a very sweet little girl.”
”I know it, my honest friend; the sweeter the more dangerous. a.r.s.enic is sweeter than sugar. I know you are a very sensible young man, not to be taken in by an artful Ammonite, and so I think I had better convey your message to the girl forthwith.”