Part 33 (2/2)
”If we had come to an agreement, like the simple young men who combine to maintain a twopenny baggage, she would have cost us less.”
”That is an idea”! replied the Baron. ”But she would still be cheating us; for, my burly friend, what do you say to this Brazilian?”
”Ay, old sly fox, you are right, we are swindled like--like shareholders!” said Crevel. ”All such women are an unlimited liability, and we the sleeping partners.”
”Then it was she who told you about the candle in the window?”
”My good man,” replied Crevel, striking an att.i.tude, ”she has fooled 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 hold her hands, she would find a way to cheat you with her feet! There! she is a minx, a jade!”
”She is lower than a prost.i.tute,” said the Baron. ”Josepha and Jenny Cadine were in their rights when they were false to us; they make a trade of their charms.”
”But she, who affects the saint--the prude!” said Crevel. ”I tell you what, Hulot, do you go back to your wife; your money matters are not looking well; I have heard talk of certain notes of hand given to a low usurer whose special line of business is lending to these s.l.u.ts, a man named Vauvinet. For my part, I am cured of your 'real ladies.' And, after all, at our time of life what do we want of these swindling hussies, who, to be honest, cannot help playing us false? You have white hair and false teeth; I am of the shape of Silenus. I shall go in for saving. Money never deceives one. Though the Treasury is indeed open to all the world twice a year, it pays you interest, and this woman swallows it. With you, my worthy friend, as Gubetta, as my partner in the concern, I might have resigned myself to a shady bargain--no, a philosophical calm. But with a Brazilian who has possibly smuggled in some doubtful colonial produce----”
”Woman is an inexplicable creature!” said Hulot.
”I can explain her,” said Crevel. ”We are old; the Brazilian is young 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 pretty creatures--seeing them undress, twist up their hair, smile cunningly through their fingers as they screw up their curl-papers, put on all their airs and graces, tell all their lies, declare that we don't love them when we are worried with business; and they cheer us in spite of everything.”
”Yes, by the Power! It is the only pleasure in life!” cried Crevel.
”When a saucy little mug smiles at you and says, 'My old dear, you don't know how nice you are! I am not like other women, I suppose, who go crazy over mere boys with goats' beards, smelling of smoke, and as coa.r.s.e as serving-men! For in their youth they are so insolent!--They come in and they bid you good-morning, and out they go.--I, whom you think such a flirt, I prefer a man of fifty to these brats. A man who will stick by me, who is devoted, who knows a woman is not to be picked up every day, and appreciates us.--That is what I love you for, you old monster!'--and they fill up these avowals with little pettings and prettinesses and--Faugh! they are as false as the bills on the Hotel de Ville.”
”A lie is sometimes better than the truth,” said Hulot, remembering sundry bewitching scenes called up by Crevel, who mimicked Valerie.
”They are obliged to act upon their lies, to sew spangles on their stage frocks--”
”And they are ours, after all, the lying jades!” said Crevel coa.r.s.ely.
”Valerie is a witch,” said the Baron. ”She can turn an old man into a young one.”
”Oh, yes!” said Crevel, ”she is an eel that wriggles through your hands; but the prettiest eel, as white and sweet as sugar, as amusing as Arnal--and ingenious!”
”Yes, she is full of fun,” said Hulot, who had now quite forgotten his wife.
The colleagues went to bed the best friends in the world, reminding each other of Valerie's perfections, the tones of her voice, her kittenish way, her movements, her fun, her sallies of wit, and of affections; for she was an artist in love, and had charming impulses, as tenors may sing a scena better one day than another. And they fell asleep, cradled in tempting and diabolical visions lighted by the fires of h.e.l.l.
At nine o'clock next morning Hulot went off to the War Office, Crevel had business out of town; they left the house together, and Crevel held out his hand to the Baron, saying:
”To show 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,” replied Hulot with a sort of horror.
By half-past ten Crevel was mounting the stairs, four at a time, up to Madame Marneffe's apartment. He found the infamous wretch, the adorable enchantress, in the most becoming morning wrapper, enjoying an elegant little breakfast in the society of the Baron Montes de Montejanos and Lisbeth. Though the sight of the Brazilian gave him a shock, Crevel begged Madame Marneffe to grant him two minutes' speech with her.
Valerie led Crevel into the drawing-room.
”Valerie, my angel,” said the amorous Mayor, ”Monsieur Marneffe cannot have long to live. If you will be faithful to me, when he dies we will be married. Think it over. I have rid you of Hulot.--So just consider whether this Brazilian is to compare with a Mayor of Paris, a man who, for your sake, will make his way to the highest dignities, and who can already offer you eighty-odd thousand francs 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 forget the bond you promised to transfer to me.”
<script>