by Eugène Sue
“Nay, sir, — but, indeed, I cannot allow you to be turned out of your apartment! Now that we are so happily freed from our misery, and that I have no longer the dread of being dragged to prison, our poor garret will seem to me like a palace, — more especially if my Louise remains to watch over the family as she used to do.”
“Your daughter shall never again quit you. You said, awhile ago, that the first desire of your heart was to have Louise always with you. Well then, as a reward for your past sufferings, I promise you she shall never leave you more.”
“Oh, sir, this is too much; it cannot be reality! It seems as though I were dreaming some happy dream. I fear I have never been as religious as I ought. I have, in fact, known no other religion than that of honour. But such a reverse, such a change from wretchedness to joy, would make even an atheist believe, if not in priests, at least in a gracious, interposing, and preserving Providence.”
“And if,” said Rodolph, sadly, “a father’s sorrow for the loss of his child can be assuaged by promises of rewards or recompense, I would say that the heavenly hand which takes one child from you gives you back the other.”
“True, — most true! And henceforward our dear Louise will be with us to help us to forget our poor Adèle.”
“Then you will accept the offer of my chamber, will you not? Or else how shall we be able to arrange for the mournful duties to the poor infant? Think of your wife, whose head is already in so weak a state. It will never do to allow her to remain with so afflicting a spectacle constantly before her eyes.”
“What goodness,” exclaimed the lapidary, “thus to remember all, — to think of all! Oh, you are indeed a friend! May Heaven bless and recompense you!”
“Come, you must reserve your thanks for the excellent lady you term your protecting angel. ’Tis her goodness inspires me with a desire to imitate her benevolence and charity. I feel assured I am but speaking as she would speak, were she here, and that all I do she will fully approve. So now, then, it is arranged you will occupy my room. But, just tell me, this Jacques Ferrand—”
The forehead of Morel became clouded over at the mention of this name.
“I suppose,” continued Rodolph, “there is no doubt as to his being the same Jacques Ferrand who practises as a notary in the Rue du Sentier?”
“None whatever, sir,” answered Morel; “but do you know him?” Then, assailed afresh by his fears for Louise, the lapidary continued: “Since you overheard all our conversation, tell me, sir, — tell me, do you not think I have just cause to hate this man, as I do? For who knows but my daughter — my Louise—”
The unhappy artisan could not proceed; he groaned with anguish, and concealed his face with his hands.
Rodolph easily divined the nature of his apprehensions.
“The very step taken by the notary ought to reassure your mind,” said he, “as, there can be no doubt, he was instigated by revenge for your daughter’s rejection of his improper advances to proceed to the hostile measures adopted. However, I have every reason to believe he is a very bad and dangerous man; and if my suspicions respecting him are realised,” said Rodolph, after a few moments’ silence, “then rely on Providence to punish him. If the just vengeance of the Almighty seems occasionally to slumber, it awakens, sooner or later.”
“He is both rich and hypocritical!” cried the lapidary.
“At the moment of your deepest despair, a guardian angel appeared to save you from ruin; so, at the moment when least expected, will an inexorable Avenger call upon the notary to atone for his past crimes, if he be guilty.”
At this moment Rigolette came out of the miserable garret belonging to Morel; the kind-hearted girl had evidently been shedding tears, and was trying to dry her eyes before she descended the stairs. Directly Rodolph perceived her, he exclaimed:
“Tell me, my good neighbour, will it not be much better for M. Morel and his family to occupy my chamber while they are waiting till his benefactress, whose agent I am, shall have found a comfortable residence for him?”
Rigolette surveyed Rodolph with an air of unfeigned surprise.
“Really,” cried she, at length, “are you in earnest in making so kind and considerate an offer?”
“Quite so, on one condition, which depends on yourself.”
“Oh, all that is in my power!”
“You see, I had some rather difficult accounts to arrange for my employer, which are wanted as early as possible, — indeed, I expect they will be sent for almost directly; my papers are in my room. Now would you be neighbourly enough to let me bring my work into your apartment, and just spare a little corner of your table? I should not disturb your work the least in the world, and then the whole of the Morel family, by the assistance of Madame Pipelet and her husband, may be at once established in my apartment.”
“Certainly I will, and with great pleasure; neighbours should always be ready to help and oblige each other. I am sure, after all you have done for poor M. Morel, you have set a good example; so I shall be very glad to give you all the assistance in my power, monsieur.”
“No, no, — don’t call me monsieur! say ‘my dear friend,’ or ‘neighbour,’ whichever you prefer; unless you lay aside all ceremony, I shall not have courage to intrude myself and papers into your room,” said Rodolph, smiling.
“Well, pray don’t let that be any hindrance; then, if you like, I’ll call you ‘neighbour,’ because, you know, you are so.”
“Father! father!” said one of Morel’s little boys, coming out of the garret, “mother is calling for you! Make haste, father, — pray do!”
The lapidary hastily followed the child back to his chamber.
“Now, then, neighbour,” said Rodolph to Rigolette, “you must do me one more service.”
“With all my heart, if it lies in my power to do so.”
“I feel quite sure you are a clever manager and housekeeper; now we must go to work at once to provide the Morels with comfortable clothing, and such matters as may be essential for their accommodation in my apartment, which at present merely contains my slender stock of bachelor’s furniture, sent in yesterday. Beds, bedding, and a great quantity of requisites will be needed for so many persons; and I want you to assist me in procuring them all the comforts I wish them to have with as little delay as possible.”
Rigolette reflected a moment, and then replied:
“You shall have all this before two hours have passed: good clothes, nicely made, warm and comfortable, good white linen for all the family, two small beds for the children, one for the grandmother, and, in fact, all that is required; but, I can tell you, all this will cost a great, great deal of money.”
“Diable! and how much?”
“Oh, at least — the very least, five or six hundred francs.”
“For everything?”
“Yes; you see it is a great sum of money,” said Rigolette, opening her eyes very wide and shaking her head.
“But we could procure all this?”
“Within two hours.”
“My little neighbour, you must be a fairy!”
“Oh, no! it is easy enough. The Temple is but two steps from here, and you will get there everything you require.”
“The Temple?”
“Yes, the Temple.”
“What place is that?”
“What, neighbour, don’t you know the Temple?”
“No, neighbour.”
“Yet it is the place where such persons as you and I fit themselves out in furniture and clothes, when they are economical. It is much cheaper than any other place, and the things are also good.”
“Really!”
“I think so. Well, now, I suppose — how much did you pay for your greatcoat?”
“I cannot say precisely.”
“What, neighbour! not know how much you gave for your greatcoat?”
“I will tell you, in confidence, neighbour,” said Rodolph, smiling, “that I owe for it; so, you see, I cannot exactly say.”
> “Oh, neighbour, neighbour, you do not appear to me to be very orderly in your habits!”
“Alas, neighbour, I fear not!”
“I must cure you of that, if you desire that we should continue friends; and I see already that we shall be, for you seem so kind! You will not be sorry to have me for a neighbour, I can see. You will assist me and I shall assist you, — we are neighbours, and that’s why. I shall look after your linen; you will give me your help in cleaning my room. I am up very early in the morning, and will call you, that you may not be late in going to your work; I will knock against the wainscot until you say to me, ‘Good morning, neighbour!’”
“That’s agreed; you shall awaken me, you shall take charge of my linen, and I will clean out your room.”
“Certainly. And, when you have anything to buy, you must go to the Temple; for see now, for example, your greatcoat must have cost you eighty francs, I have no doubt; well, you might have bought one just as good at the Temple for thirty francs.”
“Really, that is marvellous! And so you think that for four or five hundred francs these poor Morels—”
“Will be completely set up, and very comfortable for a long while.”
“Neighbour, an idea comes across me.”
“Well, what is this idea?”
“Do you understand all about household affairs?”
“Yes; I should think so,” said Rigolette, with a slight affectation of manner.
“Take my arm, then, and let us go to the Temple and buy all these things for the Morels; won’t that be a good way?”
“Oh, how capital! Poor souls! But, then, the money?”
“I have it.”
“What, five hundred francs?”
“The benefactor of the Morels has given me carte blanche; and she will spare nothing to see these poor people restored to comfort. Is there any place where we can buy better supplies than at the Temple?”
“Certainly not; you will not find better things anywhere; and then there is everything, and all ready, there; little frocks for children, and gowns for the mother.”
“Well, then, neighbour, let us go at once to the Temple:”
“Ah, mon Dieu! but—”
“What?”
“Nothing; only, you see, my time is everything to me, and I am already a little behindhand, through coming here to watch over poor Madame Morel; and you must know that an hour in one way, and an hour in another, that by little and little makes whole days; well, a day is thirty sous, and, whether we gain something or nothing, we must live; but bah! never mind. I will make up for that at night, and then, d’ye see, parties of pleasure are very rare, and I call this one. It will seem to me that I am rich, rich, rich, and that it is with my own money that I shall buy all these things for the Morels. So come along, neighbour, I will throw on my shawl and cap, and then I am ready.”
“Suppose, whilst you are doing this, I bring my papers to your apartment?”
“Willingly; and then you will see my room,” said Rigolette, with pride, “for it is all tidy, which will convince you how early I am in the morning; and that, if you are idle and a sluggard, so much the worse for you, for I shall be a troublesome neighbour.”
So saying, light as a bird, Rigolette descended the staircase, followed by Rodolph, who went into his own room to brush off the dust which had settled on him in M. Pipelet’s garret. We will hereafter disclose how it was that Rodolph was not informed of the carrying off of Fleur-de-Marie from the farm at Bouqueval, and why he had not visited the Morels the day after his conversation with Madame d’Harville.
Rodolph, furnished, by way of saving appearances, with a thick roll of papers, entered Rigolette’s chamber.
Rigolette was nearly the same age as Goualeuse, her old prison acquaintance. There was between these two young girls the same difference that there is between laughter and tears; between joyous light-heartedness and melancholy dejection; between the wildest thoughtlessness and a dark and constant reflection on the future; between a delicate, refined, elevated, poetic nature, exquisitely sensitive, and incurably wounded by remorse, and a gay, lively, happy, good, and compassionate nature. Rigolette had no sorrows but those derived from the woes of others, and with these she sympathised with all her might, devoting herself, body and soul, to any suffering fellow creature; but, her back turned on them, to use a common expression, she thought no more about them. She often checked her bursts of laughter by a flood of tears, and then checked her tears by renewing her laughter. Like a real Parisian, Rigolette preferred excitement to calm, and motion to repose; the loud and echoing harmony of the orchestra at the fête of the Chartreuse or the Colysée to the soft murmurs of the breeze, waters, and leaves; the bustling disturbance of the thoroughfares of Paris to the silent solitude of the fields; the brilliancy of fireworks, the flaring of the grand finale, the uproar of the maroons and Roman candles, to the serenity of a lovely night, — starlight, clear, and still. Alas, yes! the dear, good little girl actually preferred the pavement of the streets of the capital to the fresh moss of the shaded paths, perfumed with violets; the dust of the Boulevards to the waving of the ears of corn, mingled with the scarlet of the wild poppies and the azure of the bluebells.
Rigolette only left her chamber on Sundays, and each morning to provide her prescribed allowance of chickweed, bread, milk, and millet, for herself and her two birds, as Madame Pipelet observed; but she lived in Paris for Paris, and would have been wretched to have resided anywhere but in the capital.
A few words as to the personal appearance of the grisette, and we will then introduce Rodolph into the chamber of his neighbour.
Rigolette was scarcely eighteen years of age, of middle height, rather small than large, but so gracefully formed, so admirably proportioned, so delightfully filled out, so entirely in accordance with her step, which was light and easy, that she seemed perfect of her kind. The movement of her finely formed feet, always encased in well-made boots of black cloth, with a rather thick sole, reminded you of the quick, pretty, and cautious tread of the quail or wagtail. She did not seem to walk, but to pass over the pavement as if she were gliding over the surface. This step, so peculiar to grisettes, at once nimble, attractive, and as if somewhat alarmed, may doubtless be attributed to three causes: their desire to be thought pretty, their fear of being mistaken for what they are not, and to the desire they always have not to lose a minute in their peregrinations.
Rodolph had not seen Rigolette but by the dim light of Morel’s garret, or on the landing-place, equally obscure, and he was therefore really struck by the bright and fresh countenance of the young girl when he softly entered her apartment, which was lighted up by two large windows. He remained motionless for a moment, in admiration of the striking picture before his eyes. Standing in front of a glass placed over her mantelpiece, Rigolette was tying under her chin the ribands of a small cap of bordered tulle, ornamented with a light trimming of cherry-coloured riband. The cap, which fitted tightly, was placed at the back of her head, and thus revealed two large and thick bandeaux of glossy hair, shining like jet, and falling very low in front. Her eyebrows, fine and well defined, seemed as if traced in ink, and curved above two large black, piercing, and intelligent eyes; her firm and velvety cheeks were suffused with the rosy hue of health, fresh to the eye, fresh to the touch, like a ripe peach covered with the dew of dawn; her small, upturned, attractive, and saucy nose, would have been a fortune to any Lisette or Marton; her mouth, which was rather large, had rosy and moist lips, small, white, close, and pearly teeth, and was laughter-loving and sportive; three charming dimples, which gave a characteristic grace to her features, were placed, two in her cheeks, and the other in her chin, close to a beauty-spot, a small ebony speck, which was most killingly situated at the corner of her mouth. Between a worked collar, which fell very low, and the border of the little cap, gathered in by a cherry-coloured riband, was seen a forest of beautiful hair, so accurately twisted and turned up that their roots were seen as clearly and as
black as if they had been painted on the ivory of that lovely neck. A plum-coloured merino gown, with a plain back and close sleeves, made skilfully by Rigolette, covered a figure so small and slender that the young girl never wore a corset, — for economy’s sake. An ease and unusual freedom in the smallest action of the shoulders and body, which resembled the facile undulations of a cat’s motions, evinced this fact. Imagine a gown fitting tightly to a form rounded and polished as marble, and we must agree that Rigolette could easily dispense with this accessory to the toilet of which we have spoken. The tie of a small apron of dark green levantine formed a girdle around a waist which might have been spanned by the ten fingers.
Believing herself to be alone (for Rodolph still remained at the door, motionless and unperceived), the grisette, having smoothed down her bandeaux with her small hand, white and delicately clean, put her small foot on a chair and stooped to tie the lace of her boot. This attitude developed to Rodolph a portion of a cotton stocking, white as snow, and a well-formed ankle and leg.
After the detail we have given of this toilet, we may guess that Rigolette had selected her prettiest cap and best apron to do honour to her neighbour on their excursion to the Temple. She found the pretended tradesman’s clerk very much to her taste; his face, at once kind, bold, and animated, pleased her greatly; and then he had been so kind to the Morels, by giving up his room to them; so that, thanks to this proof of goodness, and, perhaps, also to his good looks, Rodolph had unwittingly advanced into the confidence of the grisette with giant strides. She, according to her ideas, founded on the compelled intimacy and reciprocal obligation which neighbourhood invites, thought herself very fortunate in having such a neighbour as Rodolph to succeed to the travelling clerk, Cabrion, and François Germain; for she was beginning to find that the next room had remained very long empty, and was afraid that she should never again see it occupied in an agreeable manner.