The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6. Эжен Сю

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СКАЧАТЬ an honest man that I said to him, 'Take the things with you, – never mind, I shall be passing your way, and will call for the money.' 'Very good,' says he; 'but I am never at home, so call to-morrow in the Rue du Sentier, at M. Jacques Ferrand's, the notary, where I am employed, and I will pay you.' I went next day, and he paid me; only, what was very odd to me was that he sold his things, and then, a fortnight afterwards, he buys others."

      Rodolph thought that he was able to account for this singular fact. Germain was desirous of destroying every trace from the wretches who were pursuing him: fearing, no doubt, that his removal might put them on the scent of his fresh abode, he had preferred, in order to avoid this danger, selling his goods, and afterwards buying others.

      The prince was overjoyed to think of the happiness in store for Madame Georges, who would thus, at length, see again that son so long and vainly sought.

      Rigolette now returned, with a joyful eye and smiling lips.

      "Well, did not I tell you so?" she exclaimed. "I am not deceived: we shall have spent six hundred and forty francs all together, and the Morels will be set up like princes. Here come the shopkeepers; are they not loaded? Nothing will now be wanting for the family; they will have everything requisite, even to a gridiron, two newly tinned saucepans, and a coffee-pot. I said to myself, since they are to have things done so grandly, let them be grand; and, with all that, I shall not have lost more than three hours. But come, neighbour, pay as quickly as you can, and let us be gone. It will soon be noon, and my needle must go at a famous rate to make up for this morning."

      Rodolph paid, and quitted the Temple with Rigolette.

      At the moment when the grisette and her companion were entering the passage, they were almost knocked over by Madame Pipelet, who was running out, frightened, troubled, and aghast.

      "Mercy on us!" said Rigolette, "what ails you, Madame Pipelet? Where are you running to in that manner?"

      "Is it you, Mlle. Rigolette?" exclaimed Anastasie; "it is Providence that sends you; help me to save the life of Alfred."

      "What do you mean?"

      "The darling old duck has fainted. Have mercy on us! Run for me, and get me two sous' worth of absinthe at the dram-shop, – the strongest, mind; it is his remedy when he is indisposed in the pylorus, – that generally sets him up again. Be kind, and do not refuse me, I can then return to Alfred; I am all over in such a fluster."

      Rigolette let go Rodolph's arm, and ran quickly to the dram-shop.

      "But what has happened, Madame Pipelet?" inquired Rodolph, following the porteress into the lodge.

      "How can I tell, my worthy sir? I had gone out to the mayor's, to church, and the cook-shop, to save Alfred so much trotting about; I returned, and what should I see but the dear old cosset with his legs and arms all in the air! There, M. Rodolph," said Anastasie, opening the door of her dog-hole, "say if that is not enough to break one's heart!"

      Lamentable spectacle! With his bell-crowned hat still on his head, even further on than usual, for the ambiguous castor, pushed down, no doubt, by violence, to judge by a transverse gap, covered M. Pipelet's eyes, who was on his back on the ground at the foot of his bed. The fainting was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight gesticulations with his hands, as if he sought to repulse somebody or something, and then he tried to push off this troublesome visor, with which he had been bonneted.

      "He kicks, – that's a beautiful symptom! He comes to!" exclaimed the porteress, who, stooping down, bawled in his ears, "What's the matter with my Alfred? It's his 'Stasie who is with him. How goes it now? There's some absinthe coming, that will set you up." Then, assuming a falsetto voice of much endearment, she added: "What, did they abuse and assassinate him, – the dear old darling, the delight of his 'Stasie, eh?"

      Alfred heaved an immense sigh, and, with a mighty groan, uttered the fatal word:

      "Cabrion!"

      And his tremulous hands again seemed desirous of repulsing the fearful vision.

      "Cabrion! What, that cussed painter again?" exclaimed Madame Pipelet. "Alfred dreamed of him all night long, so that he kicked me almost to death. This monster is his nightmare; not only does he poison his days, but he poisons his nights also, – he pursues him in his very sleep; yes, sir, as though Alfred was a malefactor, and this Cabrion, whom may Heaven confound! was his unceasing remorse."

      Rodolph smiled, discreetly detecting some new freak of Rigolette's former neighbour.

      "Alfred! answer me; don't remain mute, you frighten me," said Madame Pipelet; "let's try and get you up. Why, lovey, do you keep thinking of that vagabond fellow? You know that, when you think of that fellow, it has the same effect on you that cabbage has, – it fills up your pylorus and stifles you."

      "Cabrion!" repeated M. Pipelet, pushing up, with an effort, the hat which had fallen so low over his eyes, which he rolled around him with an affrighted air.

      Rigolette entered, carrying a small bottle of absinthe.

      "Thankee, ma'amselle, you are so kind!" said the old body; and then she added, "Come, deary, suck this down, that will make you all right."

      And Anastasie, presenting the phial quickly to M. Pipelet's lips, contrived to make him swallow the absinthe. In vain did Alfred struggle vigorously. His wife, taking advantage of the victim's weakness, held up his head firmly with one hand, whilst with the other she introduced the neck of the little bottle between his teeth, and compelled him to swallow the absinthe, after which she exclaimed, triumphantly:

      "Ther-r-r-r-e, now-w-w! you're on your pins again, my ducky!"

      And Alfred, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opened his eyes, rose, and inquired, in accents of alarm:

      "Have you seen him?"

      "Who?"

      "Is he gone?"

      "Who, Alfred?"

      "Cabrion!"

      "Has he dared – " asked the porteress.

      M. Pipelet, as mute as the statue of the commandant, like that redoubtable spectre, bowed his head twice with an affirmative air.

      "What! has M. Cabrion been here?" inquired Rigolette, repressing a violent desire to laugh.

      "What! has the monster been unchained on Alfred?" said Madame Pipelet. "Oh, if I had been there with my broom, he should have swallowed it, handle and all! But tell us, Alfred, all about this horrid affair."

      M. Pipelet made signs with his hand that he was about to speak, and they listened to the man with the bell-crowned hat in religious silence, whilst he expressed himself in these terms, and in a voice of deep emotion:

      "My wife had left me, to save me the trouble of going out, according to the request of monsieur," bowing to Rodolph, "to the mayor's, to church, and the cook-shop."

      "The dear old darling had had the nightmare all night, and I wished to save him the journey," said Anastasie.

      "This nightmare was sent me as a warning from on high," responded the porter, religiously. "I had dreamed of Cabrion, and I was to suffer from Cabrion. Here was I sitting quietly in front of my table, reflecting on an alteration which I wished to make in the upper leather of this boot confided to my hands, when I heard a noise, a rustling, at the window of my lodge, – was it a presentiment, a warning СКАЧАТЬ