m. cachelin lived in a small apartment on the fifth floor of a house at the upper end of the rue rochechouart. there was a balcony from which one could see all paris, and three rooms, one for his sister, one for his daughter, and one for himself. the dining-room served also for a parlour.
he occupied himself during the whole week in preparing for this dinner. the menu was discussed at great length, in order that they might have a repast which should be at the same time home-like and elegant. the following was finally decided upon: a consommé with eggs, shrimps and sausage for hors d'?uvre, a lobster, a fine chicken, preserved peas, a paté de joie gras, a salad, an ice, and dessert.
the foie gras was ordered from a neighbouring pork butcher with the injunction to furnish the best quality. the pot alone cost three francs and a half.
for the wine, cachelin applied to the wine merchant at the corner who supplied him with the red beverage with which he ordinarily quenched his thirst. he did not want to go to a big dealer reasoning thus: "the small dealers find few occasions to sell their best brands. on this account they keep them a long time in their cellars, and they are therefore better."
he came home at the earliest possible hour on saturday to assure himself that all was ready. the maid who opened the door for him was red as a tomato, for she had lighted her fire at midday through fear of not being ready in time, and had roasted her face at it all day. emotion also excited her. he entered the dining-room to inspect everything. in the middle of the little room the round table made a great white spot under the bright light of a lamp covered with a green shade.
the four plates were almost concealed by napkins folded in the form of an archbishop's miter by mlle cachelin, the aunt, and were flanked by knives and forks of white metal. in front of each stood two glasses, one large and one small. césar found this insufficient at a glance, and he called: "charlotte!"
the door at the left opened and a little old woman appeared. older than her brother by ten years, she had a narrow face framed with white ringlets. she did these up in papers every night.
her thin voice seemed too weak for her little bent body, and she moved with a slightly dragging step and tired gestures.
they had said of her when she was young: "what a dear little creature!"
she was now a shrivelled up old woman, very clean because of her early training, headstrong, spoiled, narrow-minded, fastidious, and easily irritated. having become very devout, she seemed to have totally forgotten the adventures of her past.
she asked: "what do you want?"
he replied: "i find that two glasses do not make much of a show. if we could have champagne—it would not cost me more than three or four francs; we have the glasses already, and it would entirely change the aspect of the table."
mlle charlotte replied: "i do not see the use of going to that expense. but you are paying; it does not concern me."
he hesitated, seeking to convince himself:
"i assure you it would be much better. and then, with the cake it would make things more lively." this decided him. he took his hat and went downstairs, returning in five minutes with a bottle under his arm which bore on a large white label, ornamented with an enormous coat of arms, the words: "grand vin mousseux de champagne du comte de chatel-rénovau."
cachelin declared: "it cost only three francs, and the man says it is delicious."
he took the champagne glasses from the cupboard and placed them before each place.
the door at the right opened. his daughter entered. she was a tall girl with firm, rosy flesh—a handsome daughter of a strong race. she had chestnut hair and blue eyes. a simple gown outlined her round and supple figure; her voice was strong, almost the voice of a man, with those deep notes which make the nerves vibrate. she cried: "heavens! champagne! what luck!" clapping her hands like a child.
her father said to her: "i wish you to be particularly nice to this gentleman; he has done such a lot for me."
she began to laugh—a sonorous laugh, which said: "i know."
the bell in the vestibule rang. the doors opened and closed and lesable appeared.
he wore a black coat, a white cravat, and white gloves. he created a stir. cachelin sprang forward, embarrassed and delighted: "but, my dear fellow, this is among ourselves. see me—i am in ordinary dress."
the young man replied: "i know, you told me so; but i never go out in the evening without my dress-coat." he saluted, his opera-hat under his arm, a flower in his buttonhole. césar presented him: "my sister, mlle charlotte; my daughter coralie, whom at home we call cora."
everybody bowed. cachelin continued: "we have no salon. it is rather troublesome, but one gets used to it."
lesable replied: "it is charming."
then he was relieved of his hat, which he wished to hang up, and he began immediately to draw off his gloves.
they sat down and looked at one another across the table, and no one said anything more until cachelin asked: "did the chief remain late to-night? i left very early to help the ladies."
lesable replied in a careless tone: "no, we went away together, because we were obliged to discuss the matter of the payment for the canvasses at brest. it is a very complicated affair, which will give us a great deal of trouble."
cachelin believed he ought to bring his sister into the conversation, and turning to her said: "it is m. lesable who decides all the difficult questions at the office. one might say that he was the deputy chief." the old spinster bowed politely, saying: "oh, i know that monsieur has great capabilities."
the maid entered, pushing open the door with her knee, and holding aloft with both hands a great soup tureen. then the master of the house cried: "come—dinner! sit there, m. lesable, between my sister and my daughter. i hope you are not afraid of the ladies," and the dinner began.
lesable made himself agreeable, with a little air of self-sufficiency, almost of condescension, and he glanced now and then at the young girl, astonished at her freshness, at her beautiful, appetising health. mlle charlotte showed her best side, knowing the intentions of her brother, and she took part in the conversation so long as it was confined to commonplace topics. cachelin was radiant; he talked and joked in a loud voice while he poured out the wine bought an hour previous at the store on the corner: "a glass of this little burgundy, m. lesable. i do not say that it is anything remarkable, but it is good; it is from the cellar and it is pure—i can say that much. we get it from some friends down there."
the young girl said nothing; a little red, a little shy, she was awed by the presence of this man, whose thoughts she suspected.
when the lobster appeared, césar declared: "here comes a personage whose acquaintance i shall be glad to make."
lesable, smiling, told a story of a writer who had called the lobster "the cardinal of the seas," not knowing that before being cooked the animal was a dark greenish black. cachelin laughed with all his might, repeating: "ha, ha, ha! that is first rate!" but mlle charlotte, becoming serious, said sharply:
"i do not see anything amusing in that. that gentleman was an improper person. i understand all kinds of pleasantries, but i am opposed to anything which casts ridicule on the clergy in my presence."
the young man, who wished to please the old maid, profited by this occasion to make a profession of the catholic faith. he spoke of the bad taste of those who treated great truths with lightness. and in conclusion he said: "for myself i respect and venerate the religion of my fathers; i have been brought up in it, and i will remain in it till my death."
cachelin laughed no longer. he rolled little crumbs of bread between his finger and thumb while he murmured: "that's right, that's right." then he changed the conversation, and, with an impulse natural to those who follow the same routine every day, he said: "our handsome maze—must have been furious at not having been promoted?"
lesable smiled. "well, why not? to everyone according to his deserts." and they continued talking about the ministry, which interested everybody, for the two women knew the employees almost as well as cachelin himself, through hearing them spoken of every day.
mlle charlotte was particularly pleased to hear about boissel, on account of his romantic spirit, and the adventures he was always telling about, while cora was secretly interested in the handsome maze. they had never seen either of the men, however.
lesable talked about them with a superior air, as a minister might have done in speaking of his staff.
"maze is not lacking in a certain kind of merit, but when one wishes to accomplish anything it is necessary to work harder than he does. he is fond of society and of pleasure. all that distracts the mind; he will never advance much on this account. he will be an assistant secretary, perhaps, thanks to the influence he commands, but nothing more. as for pitolet, he is a good clerk, i must say. he has a superficial elegance which cannot be gainsaid, but nothing deep. there is a young man whom one could never put at the head of an important bureau, but who can always be utilised by an intelligent chief who would lay out his work for him."
"and m. boissel?" asked mlle charlotte.
lesable shrugged his shoulders: "a poor chap, a poor chap. he can see nothing in its proper proportions, and is continually imagining wonderful stories while half asleep. to us he is of no earthly use."
cachelin began to laugh. "but the best of all," he declared, "is old father savon."
then everybody laughed.
after that they talked of the theatres and the different plays of the year. lesable judged the dramatic literature of the day with the same authority, concisely classifying the authors, determining the strength and weakness of each, with the assurance of a man who believes himself to be infallible and universal.
they had finished the roast. césar now uncovered the pot of foie gras with the most delicate precautions, which made one imagine the contents to be something wonderful. he said: "i do not know if this one will be a success, but generally they are perfect. we get them from a cousin who lives in strasburg."
with respectful deliberation each one ate the butcher's paté in its little yellow pot.
but disaster came with the ice. it was a sauce, a soup, a clear liquid which floated in the dish. the little maid had begged the pastry cook's boy, who brought the ice at seven o'clock, to take it out of the mold himself, fearing that she would not know how.
cachelin, in despair, wished to make her carry it back again; then he calmed himself at the thought of the twelfth night cake, which he divided with great mystery as though it contained a prime secret. all fixed their gaze on the symbolic cake, then mlle charlotte directed that each one close his eyes while taking a piece.
who would be the king? a childish, expectant smile was on the lips of everyone. m. lesable uttered a little "ah" of astonishment, and showed between his thumb and forefinger a great white bean still covered with pastry. cachelin began to applaud, then cried: "choose the queen! choose the queen!"
the king hesitated an instant only. would it not be a politic act to choose mlle charlotte? she would be flattered, brought over, his friend ever after! then he reflected that it was really mlle cora for whom he had been invited, and that he would seem like a ninny in choosing the aunt. he turned toward his youthful neighbor, and handing her the royal bean said: "mademoiselle, will you permit me to offer it to you?" and they looked one another in the face for the first time.
she replied: "thank you. monsieur," and received the gage of sovereignty.
he thought: "she is enormously pretty, this girl. her eyes are superb. she is gay, too, if i am not mistaken!"
a sharp detonation made the two women jump. cachelin had just opened the champagne, which escaped from the bottle and ran over the table-cloth. then the glasses were filled with the frothy stuff and the host declared: "it is of good quality, one can see that." but as lesable was about to drink to prevent his glass from running over, césar cried: "the king drinks! the king drinks! the king drinks!" and mlle charlotte, also excited, squeaked in her thin voice: "the king drinks! the king drinks!"
lesable emptied his glass with composure, and replacing it on the table said: "you see i am not lacking in assurance." then turning toward mlle cora he said: "it is yours, mademoiselle!"
she wished to drink, but everybody having cried: "the queen drinks! the queen drinks!" she blushed, began to laugh, and put the glass down again.
the end of the dinner was full of gaiety; the king showed himself most attentive and gallant toward the queen. then when they had finished the liqueurs, cachelin announced:
"we will have the table cleared away now to give us more room. if it is not raining, we can go to the balcony for a few minutes." he wanted lesable to see the view, although it was night.
the glass door was thrown open. a moist, warm breeze entered. it was mild outdoors as in the month of april. they all mounted the step which separated the dining-room from the large balcony. they could see nothing but a vague glimmer hovering over the great city, like the gilt halos which they put on the heads of the saints. in some spots this light seemed more brilliant, and cachelin began to explain:
"see, that is the eden blazing down there. look at the line of the boulevards. isn't it wonderful, how you can distinguish them! in the daytime it is splendid, this view. you would have to travel a long way before you saw anything finer!"
lesable was leaning on the iron balustrade, by the side of cora, who gazed into the void, silent, distraught, seized of a sudden with one of those melancholy languors which sometimes oppress the soul. mlle charlotte returned to the room, fearing the damp. cachelin continued to speak, his outstretched hand indicating the places where they would find the invalides, the trocadéro, the arc de triomphe.
lesable in a low voice asked: "and you, mlle cora, do you like to look at paris from this height?"
she gave a little shiver, as though she had been dreaming and answered: "i? yes, especially at night. i think of all the things which are happening there in front of us. how many happy people and how many who are unhappy in all these houses! if one could see everything, how many things one might learn!"
he came a little nearer, until their elbows and their shoulders touched:
"by moonlight this should be like fairyland."
she murmured: "ah, yes, indeed. one would say it was an engraving by gustave doré. what a pleasure it would be to take a long walk on these roofs."
then he questioned her regarding her tastes, her dreams, her pleasures. and she replied without embarrassment, after the manner of an intelligent, sensible girl—one who was not more imaginative than was necessary.
he found her full of good sense, and he said to himself that it would be wonderfully sweet to put his arm about that firm, round figure, and to press a score of little slow kisses, as one drinks in little sips of excellent brandy, on that fresh cheek, near the ear, just where a ray from the lamp fell upon it. he felt himself attracted, moved by the sensation of the proximity of a beautiful woman, by the thirst for her ripe and virginal flesh and by that delicate seductive influence a young girl possesses. it seemed to him he could remain there for hours, nights, weeks, forever, leaning towards her, feeling her near to him, thrilled by the charm of that contact. and something like a poetic sentiment stirred his heart in the face of that great paris, spread out before him, brilliant in her nocturnal life, her life of pleasure and debauchery. it seemed to him that he dominated the enormous city, that he hovered over it; and he thought how delicious it would be to recline every evening on such a balcony beside a woman, to love her and be loved by her, to press her to his breast, far above the vast city, and all the earthly loves it contained, above all the vulgar satisfactions and common desires, near to the stars.
there are nights when even the least exalted souls begin to dream, and lesable felt as though he were spreading his wings for the first time. perhaps he was a little tipsy.
cachelin went inside to get his pipe, and came back lighting it. "i know," he said, "that you do not smoke or i would offer you a cigarette. there is nothing more delightful than to smoke here. if i had to live on the ground floor i should die. we could do it if we wanted to, for the house belongs to my sister, as well as the two neighbouring ones—the one on the right and the one on the left. she has a nice little revenue from these alone. they did not cost a great deal, either, when she bought them." and turning toward the window he cried: "how much did you pay for the ground here, charlotte?"
then the thin voice of the old spinster was heard speaking. lesable could only hear broken fragments of the sentences: "in eighteen hundred and sixty-three—thirty-five francs—built afterward—the three houses—a banker—sold for at least five hundred thousand francs—"
she talked of her fortune with the complacency of an old soldier who reels off stories of his campaigns. she enumerated her purchases, the high offers she had since had, the rise in values, etc.
lesable, immediately interested, turned about, resting now his back against the balustrade of the balcony. but as he still caught only tantalizing scraps of what the old woman said, he brusquely left his young companion and went within where he might hear everything; and seating himself beside mademoiselle charlotte conversed with her for a long time on the probable increase in rents and what income should accrue from money well placed in stocks and bonds. he left toward midnight, promising to return.
a month later there was nothing talked about in the whole office but the marriage of jacques léopold lesable with mademoiselle céleste coralie, cachelin.
