A Start in Life [76]
sleep, and so turned his face into the yellow velvet cushions
on which he had passed the night.
"Really, my little Florentine," said the old gentleman, "this is
neither right nor sensible; you danced last evening in 'Les Ruines,'
and you have spent the night in an orgy. That's deliberately going to
work to lose your freshness. Besides which, it was ungrateful to
inaugurate this beautiful apartment without even letting me know. Who
knows what has been going on here?"
"Old monster!" cried Florentine, "haven't you a key that lets you in
at all hours? My ball lasted till five in the morning, and you have
the cruelty to come and wake me up at eleven!"
"Half-past eleven, Titine," observed Cardot, humbly. "I came out early
to order a dinner fit for an archbishop at Chevet's. Just see how the
carpets are stained! What sort of people did you have here?"
"You needn't complain, for Fanny Beaupre told me you were coming to
dinner with Camusot, and to please you I've invited Tullia, du Bruel,
Mariette, the Duc de Maufrigneuse, Florine, and Nathan. So you'll have
the four loveliest creatures ever seen behind the foot-lights; we'll
dance you a 'pas de Zephire.'"
"It is enough to kill you to lead such a life!" cried old Cardot; "and
look at the broken glasses! What pillage! The antechamber actually
makes me shudder--"
At this instant the wrathful old gentleman stopped short as if
magnetized, like a bird which a snake is charming. He saw the outline
of a form in a black coat through the door of the boudoir.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Cabirolle!" he said at last.
"Well, what?" she asked.
The eyes of the danseuse followed those of the little old man; and
when she recognized the presence of the clerk she went off into such
fits of laughter that not only was the old gentleman nonplussed, but
Oscar was compelled to appear; for Florentine took him by the arm,
still pealing with laughter at the conscience-stricken faces of the
uncle and nephew.
"You here, nephew?"
"Nephew! so he's your nephew?" cried Florentine, with another burst of
laughter. "You never told me about him. Why didn't Mariette carry you
off?" she said to Oscar, who stood there petrified. "What can he do
now, poor boy?"
"Whatever he pleases!" said Cardot, sharply, marching to the door as
if to go away.
"One moment, papa Cardot. You will be so good as to get your nephew
out of a scrape into which I led him; for he played the money of his
master and lost it, and I lend him a thousand francs to win it back,
and he lost that too."
"Miserable boy! you lost fifteen hundred francs at play at your age?"
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried poor Oscar, plunged by these words into all
the horrors of his position, and falling on his knees before his
uncle, with clasped hands, "It is twelve o'clock! I am lost,
dishonored! Monsieur Desroches will have no pity! He gave me the money
for an important affair, in which his pride was concerned. I was to
get a paper at the Palais in the case of Vandernesse versus
Vandernesse! What will become of me? Oh, save me for the sake of my
father and aunt! Come with me to Monsieur Desroches, and explain it to
him; make some excuse,--anything!"
These sentences were jerked out through sobs and tears that might have
moved the sphinx of Luxor.
"Old skinflint!" said the danseuse, who was crying, "will you let your
own nephew be dishonored,--the son of the man to whom you owe your
fortune?--for his name is Oscar Husson. Save him, or Titine will deny
you forever!"
"But how did he come here?" asked Cardot.
"Don't you see that the reason he forgot to go for those papers was
because he was drunk and overslept himself. Georges and his cousin
Frederic took all the clerks in his office to a feast at the Rocher de
Cancale."
Pere Cardot looked at Florentine and hesitated.
"Come, come," she said, "you old monkey, shouldn't
on which he had passed the night.
"Really, my little Florentine," said the old gentleman, "this is
neither right nor sensible; you danced last evening in 'Les Ruines,'
and you have spent the night in an orgy. That's deliberately going to
work to lose your freshness. Besides which, it was ungrateful to
inaugurate this beautiful apartment without even letting me know. Who
knows what has been going on here?"
"Old monster!" cried Florentine, "haven't you a key that lets you in
at all hours? My ball lasted till five in the morning, and you have
the cruelty to come and wake me up at eleven!"
"Half-past eleven, Titine," observed Cardot, humbly. "I came out early
to order a dinner fit for an archbishop at Chevet's. Just see how the
carpets are stained! What sort of people did you have here?"
"You needn't complain, for Fanny Beaupre told me you were coming to
dinner with Camusot, and to please you I've invited Tullia, du Bruel,
Mariette, the Duc de Maufrigneuse, Florine, and Nathan. So you'll have
the four loveliest creatures ever seen behind the foot-lights; we'll
dance you a 'pas de Zephire.'"
"It is enough to kill you to lead such a life!" cried old Cardot; "and
look at the broken glasses! What pillage! The antechamber actually
makes me shudder--"
At this instant the wrathful old gentleman stopped short as if
magnetized, like a bird which a snake is charming. He saw the outline
of a form in a black coat through the door of the boudoir.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Cabirolle!" he said at last.
"Well, what?" she asked.
The eyes of the danseuse followed those of the little old man; and
when she recognized the presence of the clerk she went off into such
fits of laughter that not only was the old gentleman nonplussed, but
Oscar was compelled to appear; for Florentine took him by the arm,
still pealing with laughter at the conscience-stricken faces of the
uncle and nephew.
"You here, nephew?"
"Nephew! so he's your nephew?" cried Florentine, with another burst of
laughter. "You never told me about him. Why didn't Mariette carry you
off?" she said to Oscar, who stood there petrified. "What can he do
now, poor boy?"
"Whatever he pleases!" said Cardot, sharply, marching to the door as
if to go away.
"One moment, papa Cardot. You will be so good as to get your nephew
out of a scrape into which I led him; for he played the money of his
master and lost it, and I lend him a thousand francs to win it back,
and he lost that too."
"Miserable boy! you lost fifteen hundred francs at play at your age?"
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried poor Oscar, plunged by these words into all
the horrors of his position, and falling on his knees before his
uncle, with clasped hands, "It is twelve o'clock! I am lost,
dishonored! Monsieur Desroches will have no pity! He gave me the money
for an important affair, in which his pride was concerned. I was to
get a paper at the Palais in the case of Vandernesse versus
Vandernesse! What will become of me? Oh, save me for the sake of my
father and aunt! Come with me to Monsieur Desroches, and explain it to
him; make some excuse,--anything!"
These sentences were jerked out through sobs and tears that might have
moved the sphinx of Luxor.
"Old skinflint!" said the danseuse, who was crying, "will you let your
own nephew be dishonored,--the son of the man to whom you owe your
fortune?--for his name is Oscar Husson. Save him, or Titine will deny
you forever!"
"But how did he come here?" asked Cardot.
"Don't you see that the reason he forgot to go for those papers was
because he was drunk and overslept himself. Georges and his cousin
Frederic took all the clerks in his office to a feast at the Rocher de
Cancale."
Pere Cardot looked at Florentine and hesitated.
"Come, come," she said, "you old monkey, shouldn't