CHAPTER IX

La Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos

The following day, at two o'clock, a young man entered the office,

whom Oscar recognized as Georges Marest, now head-clerk of the notary

Hannequin.

"Ha! here's the friend of Ali pacha!" he exclaimed in a flippant way.

"Hey! you here, Monsieur l'ambassadeur!" returned Georges,

recollecting Oscar.

"So you know each other?" said Godeschal, addressing Georges.

"I should think so! We got into a scrape together," replied Georges,

"about two years ago. Yes, I had to leave Crottat and go to Hannequin

in consequence of that affair."

"What was it?" asked Godeschal.

"Oh, nothing!" replied Georges, at a sign from Oscar. "We tried to

hoax a peer of France, and he bowled us over. Ah ca! so you want to

jockey my cousin, do you?"

"We jockey no one," replied Oscar, with dignity; "there's our

charter."

And he presented the famous register, pointing to a place where

sentence of banishment was passed on a refractory who was stated to

have been forced, for acts of dishonesty, to leave the office in 1788.

Georges laughed as he looked through the archives.

"Well, well," he said, "my cousin and I are rich, and we'll give you a

fete such as you never had before,--something to stimulate your

imaginations for that register. To-morrow (Sunday) you are bidden to

the Rocher de Cancale at two o'clock. Afterwards, I'll take you to

spend the evening with Madame la Marquise de las Florentinas y

Cabirolos, where we shall play cards, and you'll see the elite of the

women of fashion. Therefore, gentleman of the lower courts," he added,

with notarial assumption, "you will have to behave yourselves, and

carry your wine like the seigneurs of the Regency."

"Hurrah!" cried the office like one man. "Bravo! very well! vivat!

Long live the Marests!"

"What's all this about?" asked Desroches, coming out from his private

office. "Ah! is that you, Georges? I know what you are after; you want

to demoralize my clerks."

So saying, he withdrew into his own room, calling Oscar after him.

"Here," he said, opening his cash-box, "are five hundred francs. Go to

the Palais, and get from the registrar a copy of the decision in

Vandernesse against Vandernesse; it must be served to-night if

possible. I have promised a PROD of twenty francs to Simon. Wait for

the copy if it is not ready. Above all, don't let yourself be fooled;

for Derville is capable, in the interest of his clients, to stick a

spoke in our wheel. Count Felix de Vandernesse is more powerful than

his brother, our client, the ambassador. Therefore keep your eyes

open, and if there's the slightest hitch come back to me at once."

Oscar departed with the full intention of distinguishing himself in

this little skirmish,--the first affair entrusted to him since his

installation as second clerk.

After the departure of Georges and Oscar, Godeschal sounded the new

clerk to discover the joke which, as he thought, lay behind this

Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos. But Frederic, with the

coolness and gravity of a king's attorney, continued his cousin's

hoax, and by his way of answering, and his manner generally, he

succeeded in making the office believe that the marquise might really

be the widow of a Spanish grandee, to whom his cousin Georges was

paying his addresses. Born in Mexico, and the daughter of Creole

parents, this young and wealthy widow was noted for the easy manners

and habits of the women of those climates.

"She loves to laugh, she loves to sing, she loves to drink like me!"

he said in a low voice, quoting the well-known song of Beranger.

"Georges," he added, "is very rich; he has inherited from his father

(who was a widower) eighteen thousand francs a year, and with the

twelve thousand which an uncle has just left to each of us, he has an

income of thirty thousand. So he pays his debts, and gives up the law.

He hopes to be Marquis de las Florentinas, for the young widow is

marquise in her own right, and has the privilege of giving her titles

to her husband."

Though the clerks were still a good deal undecided in mind as to the

marquise, the double perspective of a breakfast at the Rocher de

Cancale and a fashionable festivity put them into a state of joyous

expectation. They reserved all points as to the Spanish lady,

intending to judge her without appeal after the meeting.

The Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos was neither more nor less

than Mademoiselle Agathe-Florentine Cabirolle, first danseuse at the

Gaiete, with whom uncle Cardot was in the habit of singing "Mere

Godichon." A year after the very reparable loss of Madame Cardot, the

successful merchant encountered Florentine as she was leaving Coulon's

dancing-class. Attracted by the beauty of that choregraphic flower

(Florentine was then about thirteen years of age), he followed her to

the rue Pastourel, where he found that the future star of the ballet

was the daughter of a portress. Two weeks later, the mother and

daughter, established in the rue de Crussol, were enjoying a modest

competence. It was to this protector of the arts--to use the

consecrated phrase--that the theatre owed the brilliant danseuse. The

generous Maecenas made two beings almost beside themselves with joy in

the possession of mahogany furniture, hangings, carpets, and a regular

kitchen; he allowed them a woman-of-all-work, and gave them two

hundred and fifty francs a month for their living. Pere Cardot, with

his hair in "pigeon-wings," seemed like an angel, and was treated with

the attention due to a benefactor. To him this was the age of gold.

For three years the warbler of "Mere Godichon" had the wise policy to

keep Mademoiselle Cabirolle and her mother in this little apartment,

which was only ten steps from the theatre; but he gave the girl, out

of love for the choregraphic art, the great Vestris for a master. In

1820 he had the pleasure of seeing Florentine dance her first "pas" in

the ballet of a melodrama entitled "The Ruins of Babylon." Florentine

was then about sixteen. Shortly after this debut Pere Cardot became an

"old screw" in the eyes of his protegee; but as he had the sense to

see that a danseuse at the Gaiete had a certain rank to maintain, he

raised the monthly stipend to five hundred francs, for which, although

he did not again become an angel, he was, at least, a "friend for

life," a second father. This was his silver age.

From 1820 to 1823, Florentine had the experience of every danseuse of

nineteen to twenty years of age. Her friends were the illustrious

Mariette and Tullia, leading ladies of the Opera, Florine, and also

poor Coralie, torn too early from the arts, and love, and Camusot. As

old Cardot had by this time acquired five additional years, he had

fallen into the indulgence of a semi-paternity, which is the way with

old men towards the young talents they have trained, and which owe

their success to them. Besides, where could he have found another

Florentine who knew all his habits and likings, and with whom he and

his friends could sing "Mere Godichon"? So the little old man remained

under a yoke that was semi-conjugal and also irresistibly strong. This

was the brass age for the old fellow.

During the five years of silver and gold Pere Cardot had laid by

eighty thousand francs. The old gentleman, wise from experience,

foresaw that by the time he was seventy Florentine would be of age,

probably engaged at the Opera, and, consequently, wanting all the

luxury of a theatrical star. Some days before the party mentioned by

Georges, Pere Cardot had spent the sum of forty-five thousand francs

in fitting up for his Florentine the former apartment of the late

Coralie. In Paris there are suites of rooms as well as houses and

streets that have their predestinations. Enriched with a magnificent

service of plate, the "prima danseuse" of the Gaiete began to give

dinners, spent three hundred francs a month on her dress, never went

out except in a hired carriage, and had a maid for herself, a cook,

and a little footman.

In fact, an engagement at the Opera was already in the wind. The Cocon

d'Or did homage to its first master by sending its most splendid

products for the gratification of Mademoiselle Cabirolle, now called

Florentine. The magnificence which suddenly burst upon her apartment

in the rue de Vendome would have satisfied the most ambitious

supernumerary. After being the master of the ship for seven years,

Cardot now found himself towed along by a force of unlimited caprice.

But the luckless old gentleman was fond of his tyrant. Florentine was

to close his eyes; he meant to leave her a hundred thousand francs.

The iron age had now begun.

Georges Marest, with thirty thousand francs a year, and a handsome

face, courted Florentine. Every danseuse makes a point of having some

young man who will take her to drive, and arrange the gay excursions

into the country which all such women delight in. However

disinterested she may be, the courtship of such a star is a passion

which costs some trifles to the favored mortal. There are dinners at

restaurants, boxes at the theatres, carriages to go to the environs

and return, choice wines consumed in profusion,--for an opera danseuse

eats and drinks like an athlete. Georges amused himself like other

young men who pass at a jump from paternal discipline to a rich

independence, and the death of his uncle, nearly doubling his means,

had still further enlarged his ideas. As long as he had only his

patrimony of eighteen thousand francs a year, his intention was to

become a notary, but (as his cousin remarked to the clerks of

Desroches) a man must be stupid who begins a profession with the

fortune most men hope to acquire in order to leave it. Wiser then

Georges, Frederic persisted in following the career of public office,

and of putting himself, as we have seen, in training for it.

A young man as handsome and attractive as Georges might very well

aspire to the hand of a rich creole; and the clerks in Desroches'

office, all of them the sons of poor parents, having never frequented

the great world, or, indeed, known anything about it, put themselves

into their best clothes on the following day, impatient enough to

behold, and be presented to the Mexican Marquise de las Florentinas y

Cabirolos.

"What luck," said Oscar to Godeschal, as they were getting up in the

morning, "that I had just ordered a new coat and trousers and

waistcoat, and that my dear mother had made me that fine outfit! I

have six frilled shirts of fine linen in the dozen she made for me. We

shall make an appearance! Ha! ha! suppose one of us were to carry off

the Creole marchioness from that Georges Marest!"

"Fine occupation that, for a clerk in our office!" cried Godeschal.

"Will you never control your vanity, popinjay?"

"Ah! monsieur," said Madame Clapart, who entered the room at that

moment to bring her son some cravats, and overhead the last words of

the head-clerk, "would to God that my Oscar might always follow your

advice. It is what I tell him all the time: 'Imitate Monsieur

Godeschal; listen to what he tells you.'"

"He'll go all right, madame," interposed Godeschal, "but he mustn't

commit any more blunders like one he was guilty of last night, or

he'll lose the confidence of the master. Monsieur Desroches won't

stand any one not succeeding in what he tells them to do. He ordered

your son, for a first employment in his new clerkship, to get a copy

of a judgment which ought to have been served last evening, and Oscar,

instead of doing so, allowed himself to be fooled. The master was

furious. It's a chance if I have been able to repair the mischief by

going this morning, at six o'clock, to see the head-clerk at the

Palais, who has promised me to have a copy ready by seven o'clock to-

morrow morning."

"Ah, Godeschal!" cried Oscar, going up to him and pressing his hand.

"You are, indeed, a true friend."

"Ah, monsieur!" said Madame Clapart, "a mother is happy, indeed, in

knowing that her son has a friend like you; you may rely upon a

gratitude which can end only with my life. Oscar, one thing I want to

say to you now. Distrust that Georges Marest. I wish you had never met

him again, for he was the cause of your first great misfortune in

life."

"Was he? How so?" asked Godeschal.

The too devoted mother explained succinctly the adventure of her poor

Oscar in Pierrotin's coucou.

"I am certain," said Godeschal, "that that blagueur is preparing some

trick against us for this evening. As for me, I can't go to the

Marquise de las Florentinas' party, for my sister wants me to draw up

the terms of her new engagement; I shall have to leave after the

dessert. But, Oscar, be on your guard. They will ask you to play, and,

of course, the Desroches office mustn't draw back; but be careful. You

shall play for both of us; here's a hundred francs," said the good

fellow, knowing that Oscar's purse was dry from the demands of his

tailor and bootmaker. "Be prudent; remember not to play beyond that

sum; and don't let yourself get tipsy, either with play or libations.

Saperlotte! a second clerk is already a man of weight, and shouldn't

gamble on notes, or go beyond a certain limit in anything. His

business is to get himself admitted to the bar. Therefore don't drink

too much, don't play too long, and maintain a proper dignity,--that's

your rule of conduct. Above all, get home by midnight; for, remember,

you must be at the Palais to-morrow morning by seven to get that

judgment. A man is not forbidden to amuse himself, but business first,

my boy."

"Do you hear that, Oscar?" said Madame Clapart. "Monsieur Godeschal is

indulgent; see how well he knows how to combine the pleasures of youth

and the duties of his calling."

Madame Clapart, on the arrival of the tailor and the bootmaker with

Oscar's new clothes, remained alone with Godeschal, in order to return

him the hundred francs he had just given her son.

"Ah, monsieur!" she said, "the blessings of a mother will follow you

wherever you go, and in all your enterprises."

Poor woman! she now had the supreme delight of seeing her son well-

dressed, and she gave him a gold watch, the price of which she had

saved by economy, as the reward of his good conduct.

"You draw for the conscription next week," she said, "and to prepare,

in case you get a bad number, I have been to see your uncle Cardot. He

is very much pleased with you; and so delighted to know you are a

second clerk at twenty, and to hear of your successful examination at

the law-school, that he promised me the money for a substitute. Are

not you glad to think that your own good conduct has brought such

reward? Though you have some privations to bear, remember the

happiness of being able, five years from now, to buy a practice. And

think, too, my dear little kitten, how happy you make your mother."

Oscar's face, somewhat thinned by study, had acquired, through habits

of business, a serious expression. He had reached his full growth, his

beard was thriving; adolescence had given place to virility. The

mother could not refrain from admiring her son and kissing him, as she

said:--

"Amuse yourself, my dear boy, but remember the advice of our good

Monsieur Godeschal. Ah! by the bye, I was nearly forgetting! Here's a

present our friend Moreau sends you. See! what a pretty pocket-book."

"And I want it, too; for the master gave me five hundred francs to get

that cursed judgment of Vandernesse versus Vandernesse, and I don't

want to leave that sum of money in my room."

"But, surely, you are not going to carry it with you!" exclaimed his

mother, in alarm. "Suppose you should lose a sum like that! Hadn't you

better give it to Monsieur Godeschal for safe keeping?"

"Godeschal!" cried Oscar, who thought his mother's suggestion

excellent.

But Godeschal, who, like all clerks, has his time to himself on

Sundays, from ten to two o'clock, had already departed.

When his mother left him, Oscar went to lounge upon the boulevards

until it was time to go to Georges Marest's breakfast. Why not display

those beautiful clothes which he wore with a pride and joy which all

young fellows who have been pinched for means in their youth will

remember. A pretty waistcoat with a blue ground and a palm-leaf

pattern, a pair of black cashmere trousers pleated, a black coat very

well fitting, and a cane with a gilt top, the cost of which he had

saved himself, caused a natural joy to the poor lad, who thought of

his manner of dress on the day of that journey to Presles, as the

effect that Georges had then produced upon him came back to his mind.

Oscar had before him the perspective of a day of happiness; he was to

see the gay world at last! Let us admit that a clerk deprived of

enjoyments, though longing for dissipation, was likely to let his

unchained senses drive the wise counsels of his mother and Godeschal

completely out of his mind. To the shame of youth let it be added that

good advice is never lacking to it. In the matter of Georges, Oscar

himself had a feeling of aversion for him; he felt humiliated before a

witness of that scene in the salon at Presles when Moreau had flung

him at the count's feet. The moral senses have their laws, which are

implacable, and we are always punished for disregarding them. There is

one in particular, which the animals themselves obey without

discussion, and invariably; it is that which tells us to avoid those

who have once injured us, with or without intention, voluntarily or

involuntarily. The creature from whom we receive either damage or

annoyance will always be displeasing to us. Whatever may be his rank

or the degree of affection in which he stands to us, it is best to

break away from him; for our evil genius has sent him to us. Though

the Christian sentiment is opposed to it, obedience to this terrible

law is essentially social and conservative. The daughter of James II.,

who seated herself upon her father's throne, must have caused him many

a wound before that usurpation. Judas had certainly given some

murderous blow to Jesus before he betrayed him. We have within us an

inward power of sight, an eye of the soul which foresees catastrophes;

and the repugnance that comes over us against the fateful being is the

result of that foresight. Though religion orders us to conquer it,

distrust remains, and its voice is forever heard. Would Oscar, at

twenty years of age, have the wisdom to listen to it?

Alas! when, at half-past two o'clock, Oscar entered the salon of the

Rocher de Cancale,--where were three invited persons besides the

clerks, to wit: an old captain of dragoons, named Giroudeau; Finot, a

journalist who might procure an engagement for Florentine at the

Opera, and du Bruel, an author, the friend of Tullia, one of

Mariette's rivals,--the second clerk felt his secret hostility vanish

at the first handshaking, the first dashes of conversation as they sat

around a table luxuriously served. Georges, moreover, made himself

charming to Oscar.

"You've taken to private diplomacy," he said; "for what difference is

there between a lawyer and an ambassador? only that between a nation

and an individual. Ambassadors are the attorneys of Peoples. If I can

ever be useful to you, let me know."

"Well," said Oscar, "I'll admit to you now that you once did me a very

great harm."

"Pooh!" said Georges, after listening to the explanation for which he

asked; "it was Monsieur de Serizy who behaved badly. His wife! I

wouldn't have her at any price; neither would I like to be in the

count's red skin, minister of State and peer of France as he is. He

has a small mind, and I don't care a fig for him now."

Oscar listened with true pleasure to these slurs on the count, for

they diminished, in a way, the importance of his fault; and he echoed

the spiteful language of the ex-notary, who amused himself by

predicting the blows to the nobility of which the bourgeoisie were

already dreaming,--blows which were destined to become a reality in

1830.

At half-past three the solid eating of the feast began; the dessert

did not appear till eight o'clock,--each course having taken two hours

to serve. None but clerks can eat like that! The stomachs of eighteen

and twenty are inexplicable to the medical art. The wines were worthy

of Borrel, who in those days had superseded the illustrious Balaine,

the creator of the first restaurant for delicate and perfectly

prepared food in Paris,--that is to say, the whole world.

The report of this Belshazzar's feast for the architriclino-basochien

register was duly drawn up, beginning, "Inter pocula aurea

restauranti, qui vulgo dicitur Rupes Cancali." Every one can imagine

the fine page now added to the Golden Book of jurisprudential

festivals.

Godeschal disappeared after signing the report, leaving the eleven

guests, stimulated by the old captain of the Imperial Guard, to the

wines, toasts, and liqueurs of a dessert composed of choice and early

fruits, in pyramids that rivalled the obelisk of Thebes. By half-past

ten the little sub-clerk was in such a state that Georges packed him

into a coach, paid his fare, and gave the address of his mother to the

driver. The remaining ten, all as drunk as Pitt and Dundas, talked of

going on foot along the boulevards, considering the fine evening, to

the house of the Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos, where, about

midnight, they might expect to find the most brilliant society of

Paris. They felt the need of breathing the pure air into their lungs;

but, with the exception of Georges, Giroudeau, du Bruel, and Finot,

all four accustomed to Parisian orgies, not one of the party could

walk. Consequently, Georges sent to a livery-stable for three open

carriages, in which he drove his company for an hour round the

exterior boulevards from Monmartre to the Barriere du Trone. They

returned by Bercy, the quays, and the boulevards to the rue de

Vendome.

The clerks were fluttering still in the skies of fancy to which youth

is lifted by intoxication, when their amphitryon introduced them into

Florentine's salon. There sparkled a bevy of stage princesses, who,

having been informed, no doubt, of Frederic's joke, were amusing

themselves by imitating the women of good society. They were then

engaged in eating ices. The wax-candles flamed in the candelabra.

Tullia's footmen and those of Madame du Val-Noble and Florine, all in

full livery, where serving the dainties on silver salvers. The

hangings, a marvel of Lyonnaise workmanship, fastened by gold cords,

dazzled all eyes. The flowers of the carpet were like a garden. The

richest "bibelots" and curiosities danced before the eyes of the new-

comers.

At first, and in the state to which Georges had brought them, the

clerks, and more particularly Oscar, believed in the Marquise de las

Florentinas y Cabirolos. Gold glittered on four card-tables in the

bed-chamber. In the salon, the women were playing at vingt-et-un, kept

by Nathan, the celebrated author.

After wandering, tipsy and half asleep, through the dark exterior

boulevards, the clerks now felt that they had wakened in the palace of

Armida. Oscar, presented to the marquise by Georges, was quite

stupefied, and did not recognize the danseuse he had seen at the

Gaiete, in this lady, aristocratically decolletee and swathed in

laces, till she looked like the vignette of a keepsake, who received

him with manners and graces the like of which was neither in the

memory nor the imagination of a young clerk rigidly brought up. After

admiring the splendors of the apartment and the beautiful women there

displayed, who had all outdone each other in their dress for this

occasion, Oscar was taken by the hand and led by Florentine to a

vingt-et-un table.

"Let me present you," she said, "to the beautiful Marquise d'Anglade,

one of my nearest friends."

And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just made

herself a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodrama

entitled "La Famille d'Anglade."

"My dear," said Florentine, "allow me to present to you a charming

youth, whom you can take as a partner in the game."

"Ah! that will be delightful," replied the actress, smiling, as she

looked at Oscar. "I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?"

"Madame la marquise, I am at your orders," said Oscar, sitting down

beside her.

"Put down the money; I'll play; you shall being me luck! See, here are

my last hundred francs."

And the "marquise" took out from her purse, the rings of which were

adorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundred

in silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle such

ignoble coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the two

hundred francs.

"Oh! how stupid!" she cried. "I'm banker now. But we'll play together

still, won't we?"

Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, finding

himself observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the ground

that he had no money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to the

roof of his mouth.

"Lend me five hundred francs," said the actress to the danseuse.

Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who had

just passed eight times at ecarte.

"Nathan has won twelve hundred francs," said the actress to Oscar.

"Bankers always win; we won't let them fool us, will we?" she

whispered in his ear.

Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it was

that poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of five

hundred francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, the

distinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavy

game against the bank.

"Come, my little man, take 'em up," cried Fanny Beaupre, signing to

Oscar to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan and Florine had

punted.

The actress did not spare taunts or jests on those who lost. She

enlivened the game with jokes which Oscar thought singular; but

reflection was stifled by joy; for the first two throws produced a

gain of two thousand francs. Oscar then thought of feigning illness

and making his escape, leaving his partner behind him; but "honor"

kept him there. Three more turns and the gains were lost. Oscar felt a

cold sweat running down his back, and he was sobered completely.

The next two throws carried off the thousand francs of their mutual

stake. Oscar was consumed with thirst, and drank three glasses of iced

punch one after the other. The actress now led him into the bed-

chamber, where the rest of the company were playing, talking

frivolities with an easy air. But by this time the sense of his wrong-

doing overcame him; the figure of Desroches appeared to him like a

vision. He turned aside to a dark corner and sat down, putting his

handkerchief to his eyes, and wept. Florentine noticed the attitude of

true grief, which, because it is sincere, is certain to strike the eye

of one who acts. She ran to him, took the handkerchief from his hand,

and saw his tears; then she led him into a boudoir alone.

"What is it, my child?" she said.

At the tone and accent of that voice Oscar recognized a motherly

kindness which is often found in women of her kind, and he answered

openly:--

"I have lost five hundred francs which my employer gave me to obtain a

document to-morrow morning; there's nothing for me but to fling myself

into the river; I am dishonored."

"How silly you are!" she said. "Stay where you are; I'll get you a

thousand francs and you can win back what you've lost; but don't risk

more than five hundred, so that you may be sure of your master's

money. Georges plays a fine game at ecarte; bet on him."

Oscar, frightened by his position, accepted the offer of the mistress

of the house.

"Ah!" he thought, "it is only women of rank who are capable of such

kindness. Beautiful, noble, rich! how lucky Georges is!"

He received the thousand francs from Florentine and returned to bet on

his hoaxer. Georges had just passed for the fourth time when Oscar sat

down beside him. The other players saw with satisfaction the arrival

of a new better; for all, with the instinct of gamblers, took the side

of Giroudeau, the old officer of the Empire.

"Messieurs," said Georges, "you'll be punished for deserting me; I

feel in the vein. Come, Oscar, we'll make an end of them!"

Georges and his partner lost five games running. After losing the

thousand francs Oscar was seized with the fury of play and insisted on

taking the cards himself. By the result of a chance not at all

uncommon with those who play for the first time, he won. But Georges

bewildered him with advice; told him when to throw the cards, and even

snatched them from his hand; so that this conflict of wills and

intuitions injured his vein. By three o'clock in the morning, after

various changes of fortune, and still drinking punch, Oscar came down

to his last hundred francs. He rose with a heavy head, completely

stupefied, took a few steps forward, and fell upon a sofa in the

boudoir, his eyes closing in a leaden sleep.

"Mariette," said Fanny Beaupre to Godeschal's sister, who had come in

about two o'clock, "do you dine here to-morrow? Camusot and Pere

Cardot are coming, and we'll have some fun."

"What!" cried Florentine, "and my old fellow never told me!"

"He said he'd tell you to-morrow morning," remarked Fanny Beaupre.

"The devil take him and his orgies!" exclaimed Florentine. "He and

Camusot are worse than magistrates or stage-managers. But we have very

good dinners here, Mariette," she continued. "Cardot always orders

them from Chevet's; bring your Duc de Maufrigneuse and we'll make them

dance like Tritons."

Hearing the names of Cardot and Camusot, Oscar made an effort to throw

off his sleep; but he could only mutter a few words which were not

understood, and then he fell back upon the silken cushions.

"You'll have to keep him here all night," said Fanny Beaupre,

laughing, to Florentine.

"Oh! poor boy! he is drunk with punch and despair both. It is the

second clerk in your brother's office," she said to Mariette. "He has

lost the money his master gave him for some legal affair. He wanted to

drown himself; so I lent him a thousand francs, but those brigands

Finot and Giroudeau won them from him. Poor innocent!"

"But we ought to wake him," said Mariette. "My brother won't make

light of it, nor his master either."

"Oh, wake him if you can, and carry him off with you!" said

Florentine, returning to the salon to receive the adieux of some

departing guests.

Presently those who remained began what was called "character

dancing," and by the time it was broad daylight, Florentine, tired

out, went to bed, oblivious to Oscar, who was still in the boudoir

sound asleep.