Part 9 (1/2)

Jasmin was very fond of going to see Cherubin; in the first place, the faithful retainer was already devotedly attached to his master's son; and in the second place, he always emptied several jars of wine with the foster-father, who also had become his friend. The marchioness had been dead five months, when Monsieur de Grandvilain at last got relief from his gout and was able to leave his great easy-chair. His first thought was to order the horses to be harnessed to his carriage; then he climbed in, Jasmin scrambling up behind, and they started for Gagny.

Little Cherubin continued in excellent health, because it was not he who had the delicacies that Turlurette continued to send to Nicole. One of the nurse's little boys had already died of inflammation of the bowels; the other two, who were larger and stronger, still held out against the biscuits and sweetmeats; but their complexions were sallow, while Cherubin's glowed with health and freshness.

On the day when the marquis started for Gagny, Jacquinot Frimousset had begun his visits to the wine-shop in the morning, and he was already quite drunk when one of his friends informed him that the Marquis de Grandvilain's carriage was in front of his door.

”Good!” said Jacquinot, ”it's my friend Monsieur Jasmin come to see us.

He ain't a bit proud, although he's a valet de chambre in a n.o.ble family; we'll empty a few jugs together.”

And the nurse's husband succeeded, although staggering and stumbling at every step, in reaching his own house; he entered the room where Monsieur de Grandvilain was at that moment occupied in dandling his son, who was then a year old; and who seemed much amused by his dear father's chin, which did not remain at rest for an instant.

”Who's that old codger?” cried Frimousset, trying to open his eyes and leaning against the wall.

”It's Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain himself,” cried Nicole, making signs to her husband to a.s.sume a more respectful att.i.tude; but he roared with laughter, and said:

”That, Cherubin's father? Nonsense! Impossible! It's his grandfather, his great grandfather at least! As if a shrivelled and shrunken old fellow like that could have such young children!”

Monsieur de Grandvilain turned purple with rage; for a moment he was tempted to take his son away and never again set foot inside the house of that vulgar peasant who had said such unpleasant things to him; but Nicole had already succeeded in pus.h.i.+ng her husband out of the room, and Jasmin, who was engaged in refres.h.i.+ng himself at a little distance, went to his master and said:

”Don't pay any attention to him, my dear master, the foster-father has been drinking; he's drunk, he can't see straight; but for that, he would never have said such things to you; he might have thought them, perhaps, but he wouldn't have said them.”

”My husband is a drunken sot and nothing else,” said Nicole. ”I ask your pardon for him, monsieur le marquis; the idea of thinking that you ain't your son's father! Mon Dieu! it's plain enough that his eyes are blinded by drink. Why, the dear child is the very image of you! He has your nose and your mouth and your eyes and everything!”

This language was absurdly exaggerated, and far from flattering to little Cherubin; but the Marquis de Grandvilain, who did not choose to grow old, took it all for gospel truth; he looked at his son again and murmured:

”Yes, he looks like me, he will be a very handsome boy.”

He rose and put a purse in the nurse's hand, saying to her:

”I am well pleased; my son is well; continue to take good care of him, for since the air of this neighborhood agrees with him, I think that I shall do well to leave him with you a long while, a very long while, in fact. Children always have time enough to study; health before everything! eh, Jasmin?”

”Oh yes! health indeed, monsieur! You are quite right; for what good does it do to know a lot when one is dead?”

Monsieur de Grandvilain smiled at his valet's reflection; then, after embracing Cherubin, he returned to his carriage. Jacquinot was cowering in a corner of the yard, and did not dare to stir; he contented himself with bowing to the marquis, who, as he pa.s.sed the peasant, drew himself up and did his utmost to impart to his gait the ease and firmness of youth.

Several months pa.s.sed. Monsieur de Grandvilain often said: ”I am going to Gagny.” But he did not go; the dread of meeting the foster-father again, and of being greeted with fresh compliments after the style of the former ones, restrained the marquis, and he contented himself with sending for his son, who had become large enough to take such a short journey without danger.

At such times Nicole pa.s.sed several hours at the mansion; but Cherubin did not enjoy himself there; he always wept and asked to be taken back to the village. Whereupon the marquis would embrace his son and say to his nurse:

”Go at once, we must not thwart him; perhaps it would make him ill.”

Two more years pa.s.sed in this way. Cherubin was in excellent health, but he was not stout or robust, like the children of most peasants; he was a merry little fellow, he loved to play and to run about; but as soon as he was taken to Paris, as soon as he found himself with his father at the hotel de Grandvilain, the boy lost all his merriment; to be sure, the old mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain was not a cheerful place; and the old marquis, who was almost always suffering from the gout, was rather a dismal object himself.

However, they did what they could to make his visits to his father's house pleasant to the youngster; they had filled a room with toys, and they always covered a table with sweetmeats; Cherubin was at liberty to eat everything, to break all that he saw; he was left free to do whatever he chose; but after looking at a few of the toys and eating a cake or two, the child would run to his nurse, take hold of her ap.r.o.n, gaze at her affectionately and say in an imploring voice:

”Mamma Nicole, ain't we going home soon?”

One day the marquis a.s.sumed a solemn expression, and beckoning his son to his side, said to him:

”But, Cherubin, you are at home here. When you are at the village, you are at your nurse's home; here you are in your father's house and consequently at your own home.”