Books: Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, v1

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This etext was produced by David Widger

[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
entire meal of them. D.W.]

MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE

By GUSTAVE DROZ

Antoine-Gustave Droz was born in Paris, June 9, 1832. He was the son of
Jules-Antoine Droz, a celebrated French sculptor, and grand son of Jean
Pierre Droz, master of the mint and medalist under the Directoire. The
family is of Swiss origin. Gustave entered L'Ecole des Beaux Arts and
became quite a noted artist, coming out in the Salon of 1857 with the
painting 'L'Obole de Cesar'. He also exhibited a little later various
'tableaux de genre': 'Buffet de chemin de fer' (1863), 'A la Sacristie'
and 'Un Succes de Salon' (1864), 'Monsieur le Cure, vous avez Raison' and
'Un Froid Sec' (1865).

Toward this period, however, he abandoned the art of painting and
launched on the career of an author, contributing under the name of
Gustave Z.... to 'La Vie Parisienne'. His articles found great favor,
he showed himself an exquisite raconteur, a sharp observer of intimate
family life, and a most penetrating analyst. The very gallant sketches,
later reunited in 'Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe' (1866), and crowned by the
Academy, have gone through many editions. 'Entre nous' (1867) and 'Une
Femme genante', are written in the same humorous strain, and procured him
many admirers by the vivacious and sparkling representations of bachelor
and connubial life. However, Droz knows very well where to draw the
line, and has formally disavowed a lascivious novel published in Belgium
--'Un Ete a la campagne', often, but erroneously, attributed to him.

It seems that Gustave Droz later joined the pessimistic camp. His works,
at least, indicate other qualities than those which gained for him the
favor of the reading public. He becomes a more ingenious romancer, a
more delicate psychologist. If some of his sketches are realistic, we
must consider that realism is not intended 'pour les jeunes filles du
pensiannat'.

Beside the works mentioned in the above text, Gustave Droz wrote: 'Le
Cahier bleu de Mademoiselle Cibot (1868), 'Auteur d'une Source (1869),
'Un Paquet de Lettres' (1870), 'Babolain' (1872), 'Les Etangs' (1875),
'Tristesses et Sourires (1883), and L'Enfant (1884).

He died in Paris, October 22, 1895.

CAMILLE DOUCET
de l'Academie Francaise.

CHAPTER I

MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY

The devil take me if I can remember her name, notwithstanding I dearly
loved her, the charming girl!

It is strange how rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers;
how many forgotten sighs, how many pretty little trinkets, broken, old-
fashioned, and dusty, we come across. But no matter. I was now
eighteen, and, upon my honor, very unsuspecting. It was in the arms of
that dear--I have her name at the tip of my tongue, it ended in "ine"--
it was in her arms, the dear child, that I murmured my first words of
love, while I was close to her rounded shoulder, which had a pretty
little mole, where I imprinted my first kiss. I adored her, and she
returned my affection.

I really think I should have married her, and that cheerfully, I can
assure you, if it had not been that on certain details of moral weakness
her past life inspired me with doubts, and her present with uneasiness.
No man is perfect; I was a trifle jealous.

Well, one evening--it was Christmas eve--I called to take her to supper
with a friend of mine whom I esteemed much, and who became an examining
magistrate, I do not know where, but he is now dead.

I went upstairs to the room of the sweet girl, and was quite surprised to
find her ready to start. She had on, I remember, a square-cut bodice,
a little too low to my taste, but it became her so well that when she
embraced me I was tempted to say: "I say, pet, suppose we remain here";
but she took my arm, humming a favorite air of hers, and we soon found
ourselves in the street.

You have experienced, have you not, this first joy of the youth who at
once becomes a man when he has his sweetheart on his arm? He trembles at
his boldness, and scents on the morrow the paternal rod; yet all these
fears are dissipated in the presence of the ineffable happiness of the
moment. He is free, he is a man, he loves, he is loved, he is conscious
that he is taking a forward step in life. He would like all Paris to see
him thus, yet he is afraid of being recognized; he would give his little
finger to grow three hairs on his upper lip, and to have a wrinkle on his
brow, to be able to smoke a cigar without being sick, and to polish off a
glass of punch without coughing.

When we reached my friend's, the aforesaid examining magistrate, we found
a numerous company; from the anteroom we could hear bursts of laughter,
noisy conversation, accompanied by the clatter of plate and crockery,
which was being placed upon the table. I was a little excited; I knew
that I was the youngest of the party, and I was afraid of appearing
awkward on that night of revelry. I said to myself: "Old boy, you must
face the music, do the grand, and take your liquor like a little man;
your sweetheart is here, and her eyes are fixed on you." The idea,
however, that I might be ill next morning did indeed trouble me; in my
mind's eye, I saw my poor mother bringing me a cup of tea, and weeping
over my excesses, but I chased away all such thoughts and really all went
well up till suppertime. My sweetheart had been pulled about a little,
no doubt; one or two men had even kissed her under my very nose, but I at
once set down these details to the profit and loss column, and in all
sincerity I was proud and happy.

"My young friends," suddenly exclaimed our host, "it is time to use your
forks vigorously. Let us adjourn to the diningroom."

Joyful shouts greeted these words, and, amid great disorder, the guests
arranged themselves round the table, at each end of which I noticed two
plates filled up with those big cigars of which I could not smoke a
quarter without having a fit of cold shivers.

"Those cigars will lead to a catastrophe, if I don't use prudence and
dissemble," said I to myself.

I do not know how it was, but my sweetheart found herself seated on the
left of the host. I did not like that, but what could I say? And then,
the said host, with his twenty-five summers, his moustache curled up at
the ends, and his self-assurance, seemed to me the most ideal, the most
astounding of young devils, and I felt for him a shade of respect.

"Well," he said, with captivating volubility, "you are feeling yourself
at home, are you not? You know any guest who feels uncomfortable in his
coat may take it off . . . and the ladies, too. Ha! ha! ha!
That's the way to make one's self happy, is it not, my little dears?"
And before he had finished laughing he printed a kiss right and left on
the necks of his two neighbors, one of whom, as I have already said, was
my beloved.

The ill-bred dog! I felt my hair rise on end and my face glow like red-
hot iron. For the rest, everybody burst out laughing, and from that
moment the supper went on with increased animation.

"My young friends," was the remark of that infernal examining magistrate,
"let us attack the cold meat, the sausages, the turkey, the salad; let us
at the cakes, the cheese, the oysters, and the grapes; let us attack the
whole show. Waiter, draw the corks and we will eat up everything at
once, eh, my cherubs? No ceremony, no false delicacy. This is fine fun;
it is Oriental, it is splendid. In the centre of Africa everybody acts
in this manner. We must introduce poetry into our pleasures. Pass me
some cheese with my turkey. Ha! ha! ha! I feel queer, I am wild, I am
crazy, am I not, pets?" And he bestowed two more kisses, as before. If
I had not been already drunk, upon my honor, I should have made a scene.

I was stupid. Around me they were laughing, shouting, singing, and
rattling their plates. A racket of popping corks and breaking glasses
buzzed in my ears, but it seemed to me that a cloud had risen between me
and the outer world; a veil separated me from the other guests, and,
in spite of the evidence of my senses, I thought I was dreaming. I could
distinguish, however, though in a confused manner, the animated glances
and heightened color of the guests, and, above all, a disorder quite new
to me in the toilettes of the ladies. Even my sweetheart appeared to
have changed. Suddenly--it was as a flash of lightning--my beloved, my
angel, my ideal, she whom that very morning I was ready to marry, leaned
toward the examining magistrate and--I still feel the cold shudder--
devoured three truffles which were on his plate.

I experienced keen anguish; it seemed to me as if my heart were breaking
just then.

Here my recollections cease. What then took place I do not know. All I
remember is that some one took me home in a cab. I kept asking: "Where
is she? Where? Oh, where?"

I was told that she had left two hours before. The next morning I
experienced a keen sense of despair when the truffles of the examining
magistrate came back to mind. For a moment I had a vague idea of
entering upon holy orders, but time--you know what it is--calmed my
troubled breast. But what the devil was her name? It ended in "ine."
Indeed, no, I believe it ended in "a."

CHAPTER II

THE SOUL IN AGONY.

TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L--------

Seminary of P------sur-C-------

(Haute-Saone).

It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear
Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of
that life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits'
College. How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the
pious pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior's Calvary, our
charming readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal
source of all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little
chapel which you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers we
made for it, which we lighted one day during the cosmography class.

Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of a
calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time in
separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in
recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but,
in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more
the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you have
remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine
mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step
over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought
to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark during
a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared to that of
the passions is mere child's play. Happy friend, who art ignorant of
what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet measured the
abyss into which mine are already sunk.

But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the
tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I say,
to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to the
will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to
defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and
quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again.

I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which our
pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously,
but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young,
I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my
pious instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which
enables me to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly
established and so deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me
without danger. I do not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked
when I think of the future of our modern society, and I pray the Lord
fervently, from a heart untainted by sin, not to turn away His
countenance in wrath from our unhappy country. Even here, at the seat of
my cousin, the Marchioness K------de C------, where I am at the present
moment, I can discover nothing but frivolity among the men, and dangerous
coquetry among the women. The pernicious atmosphere of the period seems
to pervade even the highest rank of the French aristocracy. Sometimes
discussions occur on matters pertaining to science and morals, which aim
a kind of indirect blow at religion itself, of which our Holy Father the
Pope should alone be called on to decide. In this way God permits,
at the present day, certain petty savants, flat-headed men of science,
to explain in a novel fashion the origin of humanity, and, despite the
excommunication which will certainly overtake them, to throw down a wild
and impious challenge at the most venerable traditions.

I have not myself desired to be enlightened in regard to such base
depravity, but I have heard with poignant grief men with great minds and
illustrious names attach some importance to it.

As to manners and customs, they are, without being immoral, which would
be out of the question in our society, distinguished by a frivolity and a
faculty for being carried away with allurements which are shocking in the
extreme. I will only give you a single example of this, although it is
one that has struck me most forcibly.

Ten minutes' walk from the house there is a charming little stream
overshadowed by spreading willows; the current is slight, the water
pellucid, and the bed covered with sand so fine that one's feet sink into
it like a carpet. Now, would you believe it, dear friend, that, in this
hot weather, all those staying at the house go at the same time,
together, and, without distinction of sex, bathe in it? A simple garment
of thin stuff, and very tight, somewhat imperfectly screens the strangely
daring modesty of the ladies. Forgive me, my pious friend, for entering
into all these details, and for troubling the peacefulness of your soul
by this picture of worldly scenes, but I promised to share with you my
impressions, as well as my most secret thoughts. It is a sacred contract
which I am fulfilling.

I will, therefore, acknowledge that these bathing scenes shocked me
greatly, the first time I heard them spoken of. I resented it with a
species of disgust easy to understand, while I positively refused to take
part in them. To speak the truth, I was chafed a little; still, these
worldly railleries could not touch me, and had no effect on my
determination.

Yesterday, however, about five in the afternoon, the Marchioness sent for
me, and managed the affair so neatly, that it was impossible for me not
to act as her escort.

We started. The maid carried the bathing costumes both of the
Marchioness and of my sister, who was to join us later.

"I know," said my cousin, "that you swim well; the fame of your abilities
has reached us here from your college. You are going to teach me to
float, eh, Robert?"

"I do not set much store by such paltry physical acquirements, cousin,"
I replied; "I swim fairly, nothing more."

And I turned my head to avoid an extremely penetrating aroma with which
her hair was impregnated. You know very well that I am subject to
nervous attacks.

"But, my dear child, physical advantages are not so much to be despised."

This "dear child" displeased me much. My cousin is twenty-six, it is
true, but I am no longer, properly speaking, a "dear child," and besides,
it denoted a familiarity which I did not care for. It was, on the part
of the Marchioness, one of the consequences of that frivolity of mind,
that carelessness of speech which I mentioned above, and nothing more;
still, I was shocked at it. She went on:

"Exaggerated modesty is not good form in society," she said, turning
toward me with a smile. "You will, in time, make a very handsome
cavalier, my dear Robert, and that which you now lack is easy to acquire.
For instance, you should have your hair dressed by the Marquis's valet.
He will do it admirably, and then you will be charming."

You must understand, my dear Claude, that I met these advances with a
frigidity of manner that left no doubt as to my intentions.

"I repeat, my cousin," said I to her, "I attach to all this very little
importance," and I emphasized my words by a firm and icy look. Then
only, for I had not before cast my eyes on her, did I notice the peculiar
elegance of her toilette, an elegance for which, unhappily, the
perishable beauty of her person served as a pretext and an encouragement.

Her arms were bare, and her wrists covered with bracelets; the upper part
of her neck was insufficiently veiled by the too slight fabric of a
transparent gauze; in short, the desire to please was displayed in her by
all the details of her appearance. I was stirred at the aspect of so
much frivolity, and I felt myself blush for pity, almost for shame.

We reached, at length, the verge of the stream. She loosed my arm and
unceremoniously slid down, I can not say seated herself, upon the grass,
throwing back the long curls depending from her chignon. The word
chignon, in the language of society, denotes that prominence of the
cranium which is to be seen at the back of ladies' heads. It is produced
by making coils or plaits of their long hair. I have cause to believe,
from certain allusions I have heard, that many of these chignons are not
natural. There are women, most worthy daughters of Eve, who purchase for
gold the hair--horyesco referens--of the wretched or the dead. It
sickens one.

"It is excessively hot, my dear cousin," said she, fanning herself.
"I tremble every moment in such weather lest Monsieur de Beaurenard's
nose should explode or catch fire. Ha, ha, ha. Upon my word of honor I
do."

She exploded with laughter at this joke, an unbecoming one, and without
much point. Monsieur de Beaurenard is a friend of the Marquis, who
happens to have a high color. Out of politeness, I forced a smile, which
she, no doubt, took for approbation, for she then launched out into
conversation--an indescribable flow of chatter, blending the most profane
sentiments with the strangest religious ideas, the quiet of the country
with the whirl of society, and all this with a freedom of gesture, a
charm of expression, a subtlety of glance, and a species of earthly
poesy, by which any other soul than mine would have been seduced.

"This is a pretty spot, this charming little nook, is it not?"

"Certainly, my dear cousin."

"And these old willows with their large tops overhanging the stream; see
how the field-flowers cluster gayly about their battered trunks! How
strange, too, that young foliage, so elegant, so silvery, those branches
so slender and so supple! So much elegance, freshness and youth shooting
up from that old trunk which seems as if accursed!"

"God does not curse a vegetable, my cousin."

"That is possible; but I can not help finding in willows something which
is suggestive of humanity. Perpetual old age resembles punishment.
That old reprobate of the bank there is expiating and suffering, that old
Quasimodo of the fields. What would you that I should do about it, my
cousin, for that is the impression that it gives me? What is there to
tell me that the willow is not the final incarnation of an impenitent
angler?" And she burst out laughing.

"Those are pagan ideas, and as such are so opposed to the dogmas of
faith, that I am obliged, in order to explain their coming from your
mouth, to suppose that you are trying to make a fool of me."

"Not the least in the world; I am not making fun of you, my dear Robert.
You are not a baby, you know! Come, go and get ready for a swim; I will
go into my dressing-tent and do the same."

She saluted me with her hand, as she lifted one of the sides of the tent,
with unmistakable coquetry. What a strange mystery is the heart of
woman!

I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things; but
it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought of
you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists of this
conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me to execute
this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I entered the
water and was about to strike out when the sound of the marchioness's
voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid inside the tent.
I stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity, I can assure you,
but out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted with that soul.

"No, no, Julie," the marchioness was saying. "No, no; I won't hear you
say any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside
and does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is
required."

"Your ladyship's hair will get wet."

"Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And
so, I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will go
with it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to
shorten my bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what
it looks like!"

"I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming."

"Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See
how it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don't you see it, my girl, don't
you see it?"

The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was
somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the
better to point out its defects to her maid.

"I don't want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want to
be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head, Julie,
that this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a little-
Ah! you see it at last, that's well."

Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who
can be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be
so frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient of
them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence and
put a stop to a conversation which shocked me.

"I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived
yet?" said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her
maid, she added: "Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support."

One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not
why I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two
or three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so,
the gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed them
to Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it is
impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the
slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet.

She had only taken three paces, but it sufficed to enable me to remark
the singularity of her gait. She walked with short, timid steps, her
bare arms close to her sides.

She had divested herself of all the outward tokens of a woman, save the
tresses of her hair, which were rolled up in a net. As for the rest, she
was a comical-looking young man, at once slender yet afflicted by an
unnatural plumpness, one of those beings who appear to us in dreams, and
in the delirium of fever, one of those creatures toward whom an unknown
power attracts us, and who resemble angels too nearly not to be demons.

"Well, Robert, of what are you thinking? Give me your hand and help me
to get into the water."

She dipped the toes of her arched foot into the pellucid stream.

"This always gives one a little shock, but the water ought to be
delightful to-day," said she. "But what is the matter with you?--your
hand shakes. You are a chilly mortal, cousin."

The fact is, I was not trembling either through fear or cold; but on
approaching the Marchioness, the sharp perfume which emanated from her
hair went to my head, and with my delicate nerves you will readily
understand that I was about to faint. I mastered this sensation,
however. She took a firm grip of my hand, as one would clasp the knob of
a cane or the banister of a stair, and we advanced into the stream side
by side.

As we advanced the stream became deeper. The Marchioness, as the water
rose higher, gave vent to low cries of fear resembling the hiss of a
serpent; then she broke out into ringing bursts of laughter, and drew
closer and closer to me. Finally, she stopped, and turning she looked
straight into my eyes. I felt then that moment was a solemn one. I
thought a hidden precipice was concealed at my feet, my heart throbbed as
if it would burst, and my head seemed to be on fire.

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