THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
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a victory due to the charms of his person. For a week his conceit was unbearable. He went about casting a look of mocking pity on the people he met in the street. When Armande was leaning on his arm the pavement seemed too small for him. The gentle swaying to and fro in the lady’s gait, the frou-frou of her skirts threw him into a delicious reverie. He was very fond of crinolines which take up a great deal of room and interfere with pedestrian traffic.
He related his good fortune to everyone. Cadet was one of his first confidents.
“Ah! If you only knew!” he said to him, “the charming person, and how she adores me! She has everything imaginable at her place, carpets, curtains, glasses. You would think yourself in high society, ‘pon my word! And with all that, not in the least proud, a goodnatured girl with her hand always open. Yesterday I lunched in her small drawingroom, and we then took an open carriage and drove to the Prado. Everyone was staring at us. It is enough to make you die of joy to be in such a woman’s society.”
Cadet smiled. His dream was to be loved by a robust girl, and in his eyes Armande had all the appearance of a mechanical doll, of a brittle toy, which he would have broken between his fingers. But he did not wish to annoy his employer, and so he went into ecstasies with him over the lorette’s charms. In the evening he gave Fine an account of Sauvaire’s follies.
The flower-girl had resumed her place in her little kiosk on the Cours St. Louis. While selling her flowers, she kept her eyes on the alert, in search of opportunities to come to Marius’ assistance. She had not lost sight of the loan of fifteen thousand francs and each day she built up a new plan dreaming of taxing those whom chance brought near her.
“Do you think,” she inquired one morning of her brother, “that M. Sauvaire is a man to lend money?”
“That’s according to circumstances,” answered Cadet. “He would willingly give a thousand francs to a poor devil on a public square, before a crowd of people, to make an exhibition of kind heartedness.”
The flower-girl laughed.
“Oh! It’s not charity that is wanted,” she answered. “The lender’s left hand must ignore what is done by his right.”
“The deuce!” said Cadet. “That is too disinterested. However, one can see.”
On the basis of these few words of conversation Fine elaborated quite a scheme. She believed Sauvaire was very wealthy, and she did not take him for an ill-natured man at heart. It would, perhaps, be possible to get something out of him by making use of Armande’s influence.
The flower-girl understood that she must first of all persuade Marius to call on the lorette. That was the difficult part of the business. The young man would firmly refuse, would say that there could be nothing in common between him and this woman.
One day she let Armande’s name escape her as if by accident, and was very much surprised to see Marius smile and appear to know all about her.
“Are you acquainted with the lady?” she inquired.
“I went to see her once,” he answered. “It was Philippe who took me there. This lady, as you term her, threw open her reception-rooms to her friends once a week, and my brother was one of the frequenters of the place. Faith, I was very well received and found a charming hostess there, who was exceedingly ladylike and very elegant.”
Fine seemed quite sad to hear Marius sing Armande’s praises.
“It appears,” he continued, “that things have somewhat changed at her place during the past year. They tell me her affairs are very much involved. However, they say she is extremely clever, and has a talent for intrigue; if she should happen to come across a simpleton she will easily get out of her difficulties.”
The young girl had recovered from the strange emotion that had got the better of her. She adroitly continued to put her plan into execution without undue haste.
“The simpleton is found,” she said, laughing. “Don’t you know M. Sauvaire, Cadet’s principal?”
“Slightly,” answered Marius, “I have sometimes met him walking about the old port in slippers.”
“Well, he has been Armande’s lover for the last few months, and they pretend he has already spent some money with her.”
Then Fine added in an indifferent tone of voice:
“Why don’t you go and see Armande again? You would meet wealthy people there who might assist you in the affair in question. M. Sauvaire would perhaps be disposed to help you.”
Marius became serious and for a moment was silent. He was thinking.
“Pooh!” he exclaimed at last, “I must not flinch at anything. I shall have to call and see that person tomorrow. I will explain my visit by speaking of my brother.”
The flower-girl looked the young man in the face with quivering eyelids.
“And above all,” she continued, with a forced laugh, “don’t go and remain at the feet of the enchantress. I have often heard tell of her costly and clever style of dress, of her wit, and the strange power she exercises over men.”
Marius, who was astonished at his friend’s unsteady voice, took her hand and examined her with his penetrating eyes.
“What is the matter with you?” he inquired. “Anyone would think I was going to see the devil, and that I am a sinner. Ah! my dear Fine, I am far from thinking of such nonsense. I have a solemn task to perform. Besides, look at me well. What woman would care for such a baboon?”
The young girl gazed at him, and was quite surprised to find him no longer ugly. Formerly he had seemed frightful; now she perceived something like light burst from his countenance and transform his features. The young man pressed her hand amicably and she remained quite troubled.
The following evening Marius called on Armande in accordance with his determination.
CHAPTER II
A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE
ARMANDE’S origin was shrouded in mystery. She pretended she was born in India of a native woman and an English officer. She started from that point and related a novel of which she was the heroine, to anyone who would listen to it.
She made a wealthy protector who had taken care of her at her father’s death, responsible for her first fault. He had brought her up in the greatest refinement on the same principle as that of fattening a fowl in order that it may make a more toothsome dish. She delighted in relating this brutally romantic tale.
Thanks to her falsehoods her real history was never known. She had one day swooped down on Marseille, just like those birds that scent a district rich in all kinds of prey, from afar. In settling in a commercial centre, she displayed extraordinary intelligence.
From the moment of her arrival she directed her batteries against business men, young merchants who shovel money about. She understood that these young sparks, confined all day in their offices, were thirsting for amusement at night, and anxious to squander some of the cash they have earned.
She set her snares with art. She began by starting her establishment on an important footing, and giving it a sort of aristocratic appearance. It was easy for her to vanquish the rivals whom she found already settled in the city. Those poor fallen daughters of Eve were grossly ignorant; they dressed badly, hardly knew how to speak, made a wretched, mean show of luxury, and gave themselves stupidly away. Armande crushed them with her elegance and the wit she had picked up here and there in her intercourse with persons in good station of life. In a few months she became a sort of mundane celebrity.
At home, as Sauvaire had naïvely said, she gave herself the airs of a duchess. She had displayed admirable taste in furnishing her apartment.
She threw open her drawingroom, and while she attracted the golden youth of the city by her noisy mode of life, she retained them by her good graces and air of distinction.