homme à l'oreille cassée. English

by Edmond About

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE COLONEL TRIES TO RELIEVE HIMSELF OF A MILLION WHICH INCUMBERS HIM.

  Fougas had left Paris for Berlin the day after his audience. He tookthree days to make the trip, because he stopped some time at Nancy. TheMarshal had given him a letter of introduction to the Prefect ofMeurthe, who received him very politely, and promised to aid him in hisinvestigations. Unfortunately, the house where he had loved ClementinePichon was no longer standing. The authorities had demolished it in1827, in cutting a street through. It is certain that the commissionershad not demolished the family with the house, but a new difficulty allat once presented itself: the name of Pichon abounded in the city, thesuburbs, and the department. Among this multitude of Pichons, Fougas didnot know which one to hug. Tired of hunting, and eager to hasten forwardon, the road to fortune, he left this note for the commissioner ofpolice:

  "Search, on the registers of personal statistics and elsewhere, for ayoung girl named Clementine Pichon. She was eighteen years old in 1813;her parents kept an officers' boarding-house. If she is alive, get heraddress; if she is dead, look up her heirs. A father's happiness dependsupon it!"

  On reaching Berlin, the Colonel found that his reputation had precededhim. The note from the Minister of War had been sent to the PrussianGovernment through the French legation; Leon Renault, despite his grief,had found time to write a word to Doctor Hirtz; the papers had begun totalk, and the scientific societies to bestir themselves. The PrinceRegent, even, had not disdained to ask information on the subject fromhis physician. Germany is a queer country, where science interests thevery princes.

  Fougas, who had read Doctor Hirtz's letter annexed to Herr Meiser'swill, thought that he owed some acknowledgments to that excellentgentleman. He made a call upon him, and embraced him, addressing him asthe oracle of Epidaurus. The doctor at once took possession of him, hadhis baggage brought from the hotel and gave him the best chamber in hishouse. Up to the 29th day of the month, the Colonel was cared for as afriend, and exhibited as a phenomenon. Seven photographers disputed thepossession of so precious a sitter. The cities of Greece did no more forour poor old Homer. His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, wished to seehim _in propria persona_, and begged Herr Hirtz to bring him to thepalace. Fougas scratched his ear a little, and intimated that a soldierought not to associate with the enemy, seeming to think himself still in1813.

  The Prince is a distinguished soldier, having commanded in person at thefamous siege of Rastadt. He took pleasure in Fougas' conversation; theheroic simplicity of the young old-time soldier charmed him. He paid himhuge compliments and said that the Emperor of France was very fortunatein having around him officers of so much merit.

  "He has not a great many," replied the Colonel. "If there were but fouror five hundred of my stamp, your Europe would have been bagged longago!"

  This answer seemed more amusing than threatening, and no addition wasimmediately made to the available portion of the Prussian army.

  His Royal Highness directly informed Fougas that his indemnity had beenfixed at two hundred and fifty thousand francs, and that he couldreceive the amount at the treasury whenever he should find it agreeable.

  "My Lord," replied he, "it is always agreeable to pocket the money of anenemy--a foreigner. But wait! I am not a censor-bearer to Plutus:give me back the Rhine and Posen, and I'll leave you your two hundredand fifty thousand francs."

  "Are you dreaming?" said the Prince, laughing. "The Rhine and Posen!"

  "The Rhine belongs to France, and the Posen to Poland, much morelegitimately than this money to me. But so it is with great lords: theymake it a duty to pay little debts, and a point of honor to ignore bigones!"

  The Prince winced a little, and all the faces of the court gave asympathetic twitch. It was discovered that M. Fougas had evinced badtaste in letting a crumb of truth fall into a big plateful of follies.

  But a pretty little Viennese baroness, who was at the presentation, wasmuch more charmed with his appearance than scandalized at his remarks.The ladies of Vienna have made for themselves a reputation forhospitality which they always attempt to support, even when they areaway from their native land.

  The baroness of Marcomarcus had still another reason for getting hold ofthe Colonel: for two or three years she had, as a matter of course, beenmaking a photographic collection of celebrated men. Her album waspeopled with generals, statesmen, philosophers, and pianists, who hadgiven their portraits to her, after writing on the back: "With respectsof----" There were to be found there several Roman prelates, and even acelebrated cardinal; but a more direct envoy from the other world wasstill wanting. She wrote Fougas, then, a note full of impatience andcuriosity, inviting him to supper. Fougas, who was going to start forDantzic next day, took a sheet of paper embossed with a great eagle, andset to work to excuse himself politely. He feared--the delicate andchivalrous soul!--that an evening of conversation and enjoyment in thesociety of the loveliest women of Germany might be a sort of moralinfidelity to the recollection of Clementine. He accordingly hunted upan eligible formula of address, and wrote:

  "Too indulgent Beauty, I----" The muse dictated nothing more. He was notin the mood for writing. He felt rather more in the mood for supper. Hisscruples scattered like clouds driven before a brisk North East wind; heput on the frogged surtout, and carried his reply himself. It was thefirst time that he had been out to supper since his resuscitation. Hegave evidence of a good appetite, and got moderately drunk, but not asmuch so as usual. The Baroness de Marcomarcus, astonished at his highspirits and inexhaustible vivacity, kept him as long as she could. Andmoreover she said to her friends, on showing them the Colonel'sportrait, "Nothing is needed but these French officers to conquer theworld!"

  The next day he packed a black leather trunk which he had bought atParis, drew his money from the treasury, and set out for Dantzic. Hewent to sleep in the cars because he had been out to supper the nightbefore. A terrible snoring awoke him. He looked around for the snorer,and, not finding him near him, opened the door into the adjoiningcompartment (for the German cars are much larger than the French), andshook a fat gentleman, who seemed to have a whole organ playing in hisperson. At one of the stations he drank a bottle of Marsala and ate acouple of dozen sandwiches, for last night's supper seemed to havehollowed out his stomach. At Dantzic, he rescued his black trunk fromthe hands of an enormous baggage-snatcher who was trying to takepossession of it.

  He went to the best hotel in the place, ordered his supper, and hastenedto Meiser's house. His friends at Berlin had given him accounts of thatcharming family. He knew that he would have to deal with the richest andmost avaricious of sharpers: that was why he assumed the cavalier tonethat may have seemed strange to more than one reader in the precedingchapter.

  Unhappily, he let himself become a little too human as soon as he hadhis million in his pocket. A curiosity to investigate the long yellowbottles all the way to the bottom, came near doing him an ugly turn. Hisreason wandered, about one o'clock in the morning, if I am to believethe account he himself gave. He said that, after saying "good night" tothe excellent people who had treated him so well, he tumbled into alarge and deep well, whose rim was hardly raised above the level of thestreet, and ought at least to have had a lamp by it. "I came to" (it isstill he speaking) "in water, very fresh and of a pleasant taste. Afterswimming around a minute or two, looking for a firm place to take holdof, I seized a big rope, and climbed without any trouble to the surfaceof the earth, which was not more than forty feet off. It requirednothing but wrists and a little gymnastic skill, and was not much of afeat, anyhow. On getting on to the pavement, I found myself in thepresence of a sort of night watchman, who was bawling the hours throughthe street, and who asked me insolently what I was doing there. Ithrashed him for his impudence, and the gentle exercise did me good, asit set my blood well in circulation again. Before getting back to theinn, I stopped under a street lamp, opened my pocket-book, and saw withpleasure that my million was not wet. The leather
was thick, and theclasp firm; moreover, I had enveloped Herr Meiser's check in ahalf-dozen hundred-franc bills, in a roll as fat as a monk. Thesesurroundings had preserved it."

  This examination being made, he went home, went to bed, and slept withhis fists clenched. The next morning he received, on getting up, thefollowing memoranda, which came from the Nancy police:

  "Clementine Pichon, aged eighteen, minor daughter of Auguste Pichon,hotel-keeper, and Leonie Francelot, was married, in this town, January11, 1814, to Louis Antoine Langevin; profession not stated.

  "The name of Langevin is as rare in this department, as the name ofPichon is common. With the exception of the Hon. M. Victor Langevin,Counsellor to the Prefecture at Nancy, there is only known Langevin(Pierre), usually called Pierrot, miller in the commune of Vergaville,canton of Dieuze."

  Fougas jumped nearly to the ceiling, crying,

  "I have a son!"

  He called the hotel-keeper, and said to him:

  "Make out my bill, and send my baggage to the depot. Take my ticket forNancy; I shall not stop on the way. Here are two hundred francs, withwhich I want you to drink to the health of my son! He is called Victor,after me! He is counsellor of the Prefecture! I'd rather he were asoldier; but never mind! Ah! first get somebody to show me the way tothe bank! I must go and get a million for him!"

  As there is no direct connection between Dantzic and Nancy, he wasobliged to stop at Berlin. M. Hirtz, whom he met accidentally, told himthat the scientific societies of the city were preparing an immensebanquet in his honor; but he declined positively.

  "It's not," said he, "that I despise an opportunity to drink in goodcompany, but Nature has spoken: her voice draws me on! The sweetestintoxication to all rightly constituted hearts is that of paternallove!"

  To prepare, his dear child for the joy of a return so little expected,he enclosed his million in an envelope addressed to M. Victor Langevin,with a long letter which closed thus:

  "A father's blessing is more precious than all the gold in the world!

  "VICTOR FOUGAS."

  The infidelity of Clementine Pichon touched his _amour-propre_ a little,but he soon consoled himself for it.

  "At least," thought he, "I'll not have to marry an old woman, whenthere's a young one waiting for me at Fontainebleau. And, moreover, myson has a name, and a very presentable name. Fougas would be a greatdeal better, but Langevin is not bad."

  He arrived, on the 2d of September, at six o'clock in the evening, atthat large and beautiful but somewhat stupid city which constitutes theVersailles of Lorraine. His heart was beating fit to burst. Torecuperate his energies, he took a good dinner. The landlord, whencatechized at dessert, gave him the very best accounts of M. VictorLangevin: a man still young, married for the past six years, father of aboy and a girl, respected in the neighborhood, and prosperous in hisaffairs.

  "I was sure of it!" said Fougas.

  He poured down a bumper of a certain kirsch-wasser from the BlackForest, which he fancied delicious with his maccaroni.

  The same evening, M. Langevin related to his wife how, on returning fromthe club at ten o'clock, he had been brutally accosted by a drunken man.He at first took him for a robber, and prepared to defend himself; butthe man contented himself with embracing him, and then ran away with allhis might. This singular accident threw the two spouses into a series ofconjectures, each less probable than the preceding. But as they wereboth young, and had been married barely seven years, they soon changedthe subject.

  The next morning, Fougas, laden down like a miller's ass with bon-bons,presented himself at M. Langevin's. In order to make himself welcome tohis two grandchildren, he had skimmed the shop of the celebratedLebegue--the Boissier of Nancy. The servant who opened the door for himasked if he were the gentleman her master expected.

  "Good!" said he; "my letter has come?"

  "Yes, sir; yesterday morning. And your baggage?"

  "I left it at the hotel."

  "Monsieur will not be satisfied at that. Your room is ready, up stairs."

  "Thanks! thanks! thanks! Take this hundred franc note for the goodnews."

  "Oh, monsieur! it was not worth so much."

  "But where is he? I want to see him--to embrace him--to tell him----"

  "He's dressing, monsieur; and so is madame."

  "And the children--my dear grandchildren?"

  "If you want to see them, they're right here, in the dining room."

  "If I want to! Open the door right away!"

  He discovered that the little boy resembled him, and was overjoyed tosee him in the dress of an artillerist playing with a sabre. His pocketswere soon emptied on the floor; and the two children, at the sight of somany good things, hung about his neck.

  "O philosophers!" cried the Colonel, "do you dare to deny the existenceof the voice of Nature?"

  A pretty little lady (all the young women are pretty in Nancy) ran in atthe joyous cries of the little brood.

  "My daughter-in-law!" cried Fougas, opening his arms.

  The lady of the house modestly recoiled, and said, with a slight smile:

  "You are mistaken, sir; I am not your daughter-in-law;[9] I am MadameLangevin."

  "What a fool I am!" thought the Colonel. "Here I was going to tell ourfamily secrets before these children. Mind your manners, Fougas! You arein fine society, where the ardor of the sweetest sentiments is hiddenunder the icy mask of indifference."

  "Be seated," said Mme. Langevin. "I hope that you have had a pleasantjourney?"

  "Yes, madame. Only steam seemed too slow for me!"

  "I did not know that you were in such a hurry to get here."

  "You did not, then, appreciate that I was fairly burning to be withyou?"

  "I am glad to hear it; it is a proof that Reason and Family Affectionhave made themselves heard at last."

  "Was it my fault that family ties did not speak effectually sooner?"

  "Well, after all, the main thing is that you have listened to them. Wewill exert ourselves to prevent your finding Nancy uninteresting."

  "How could I, since I am to live with you?"

  "Thank you! Our house will be yours. Try to imagine yourself entirely athome."

  "In imagination, and affection too, madame."

  "And you'll not think of Paris again?"

  "Paris!---- I don't care any more for it than I do for doomsday!"

  "I forewarn you that people are not in the habit of fighting duelshere."

  "What? You know already----"

  "We know all about it, even to the history of that famous supper withthose rather volatile ladies."

  "How the devil did you hear of that? But that time, believe me, I wasvery excusable."

  M. Langevin here made his appearance, freshly shaven and rubicund--afine specimen of the sub-prefect in embryo.

  "It's wonderful," thought Fougas, "how well all our family bear theiryears! One wouldn't call that chap over thirty-five, and he's forty-sixif he's a day. He doesn't look a bit like me, by the way; he takes afterhis mother!"

  "My dear!" said Mme. Langevin, "here's a tough subject, who promises tobe wiser in future."

  "You are welcome, young man!" said the Counsellor, offering his hand toFougas.

  This reception appeared cold to our poor hero. He had been dreaming of ashower of kisses and tears, and here his children contented themselveswith offering their hands.

  "My chi---- monsieur," said he to Langevin, "there is one person stillneeded to complete our reunion. A few mutual wrongs, and those smoothedover by time, ought not to build an insurmountable barrier between us.May I venture to request the favor of being presented to your mother?"

  M. Langevin and his wife opened their eyes in astonishment.

  "How, monsieur?" said the husband. "Paris life must have affected yourmemory. My poor mother is no more. It is now three years since we losther!"

  The good Fougas burst into tears.

  "Forgive me!" said he; "I didn't know it. Poor woman!"
r />   "I don't understand you! You knew my mother?"

  "Ingrate!"

  "Why, you're an amusing fellow! But your parents were invited to thefuneral, were they not?"

  "Whose parents?"

  "Your father and mother!"

  "Eh! What's this you're cackling to me about? My mother was dead beforeyours was born!"

  "Your mother dead?"

  "Yes, certainly; in '89!"

  "What! Wasn't it your mother who sent you here?"

  "Monster! It was my fatherly heart that brought me!"

  "Fatherly heart?---- Why, then you're not young Jamin, who has beencutting up didoes in the capital, and has been sent to Nancy to gothrough the Agricultural School?"

  The Colonel answered with the voice of Jupiter tonans:

  "I am Fougas!"

  "Very well!"

  "If Nature says nothing to you in my behalf, ungrateful son, questionthe spirit of your mother!"

  "Upon my soul, sir," cried the Counsellor, "we can play at crosspurposes a good while! Sit down there, if you please, and tell me yourbusiness--Marie, take away the children."

  Fougas did not require any urging. He detailed the romance of his life,without omitting anything, but with many delicate touches for the filialears of M. Langevin. The Counsellor heard him patiently, with anappearance of perfect disinterestedness.

  "Monsieur," said he, at last, "at first I took you for a madman; but nowI remember that the newspapers have contained some scraps of yourhistory, and I see that you are the victim of a mistake. I am notforty-six years old, but thirty-four. My mother's name was notClementine Pichon, but Marie Herval. She was not born at Nancy, but atVannes, and she was but seven years old in 1813. Nevertheless, I amhappy to make your acquaintance."

  "Ah! you're not my son!" replied Fougas, angrily. "Very well! So muchthe worse for you! No one seems to want a father of the name of Fougas!As for sons by the name of Langevin, one only has to stoop to pick themup. I know where to find one who is not a Counsellor of the Prefecture,it is true, and who does not put on a laced coat to go to mass, but whohas an honest and simple heart, and is named Pierre, just like me! But,I beg your pardon, when one shows gentlemen the door, one ought at leastto return what belongs to them."

  "I don't prevent your collecting the bon-bons which my children havescattered over the floor."

  "Yes, I'm talking about bon-bons with a vengeance! My million, sir!"

  "What million?"

  "Your brother's million!---- No! The million that belongs to him who isnot your brother--to Clementine's son, my dear and only child, the onlyscion of my race, Pierre Langevin, called Pierrot, a miller atVergaville!"

  "But I assure you, monsieur, that I haven't your million, or anybody'selse."

  "You dare to deny it, scoundrel, when I sent it to you by mail, myself!"

  "Possibly you sent it, but I certainly have not received it!"

  "Aha! Defend yourself!"

  He made at his throat, and perhaps France would have lost a Counsellorof Prefecture that day, if the servant had not come in with two lettersin her hand. Fougas recognized his own handwriting and the Berlinpostmark, tore open the envelope, and displayed the check.

  "Here," said he, "is the million I intended for you, if you had seen fitto be my son! Now it's too late for you to retract. The voice of Naturecalls me to Vergaville. Your servant, sir!"

  On the 4th of September, Pierre Langevin, miller at Vergaville,celebrated the marriage of Cadet Langevin, his second son. The miller'sfamily was numerous, respectable, and in comfortable circumstances.First, there was the grandfather, a fine, hale old man, who took hisfour meals a day, and doctored his little ailings with the wine of Baror Thiaucourt. The grandmother, Catharine, had been pretty in her day,and a little frivolous; but she expiated by absolute deafness the crimeof having listened too tenderly to gallants. M. Pierre Langevin, aliasPierrot, alias Big Peter, after having sought his fortune in America (acustom becoming quite general in the rural districts), had returned tothe village in pretty much the condition of the infant Saint John, andGod only knows how many jokes were perpetrated over his ill luck. Thepeople of Lorraine are terrible wags, and if you are not fond ofpersonal jokes, I advise you not to travel in their neighborhood. BigPeter, stung to the quick, and half crazed at having run through hisinheritance, borrowed money at ten per cent., bought the mill atVergaville, worked like a plough-horse in heavy land, and repaid hiscapital and the interest. Fortune, who owed him some compensations,gave him _gratis pro Deo_, a half dozen superb workers--six big boys,whom his wife presented him with, one annually, as regularly asclock-work. Every year, nine months, to a day, after the _fete_ ofVergaville, Claudine (otherwise known as Glaudine) presented one forbaptism. At last she died after the sixth, from eating four huge piecesof _quiche_ before her churching. Big Peter did not marry again, havingconcluded that he had workers enough, and he continued to add to hisfortune nicely. But, as standing jokes last a long time in villages, themiller's comrades still spoke to him about those famous millions whichhe did not bring back from America, and Big Peter grew very red underhis flour, just as he used to in his earlier days.

  On the 4th of September, then, he married his second son to a good bigwoman of Altroff, who had fat and blazing cheeks: this being a kind ofbeauty much affected in the country. The wedding took place at the mill,because the bride was orphaned of father and mother, and had previouslylived with the nuns of Molsheim.

  A messenger came and told Pierre Langevin that a gentleman wearingdecorations had something to say to him, and Fougas appeared in all hisglory. "My good sir," said the miller, "I am far from being in a mood totalk business, as we just took a good pull at white wine before mass;but we are going to drink some red wine that's by no means bad, atdinner, and if your heart prompts you, don't be backward! The table isa long one. We can talk afterwards. You don't say no? Then that's yes."

  "For once," thought Fougas, "I am not mistaken. This is surely the voiceof Nature! I would have liked a soldier better, but this genial rustic,so comfortably rounded, satisfies my heart. I cannot be indebted to himfor many gratifications of my pride; but never mind! I am sure of _his_good-will."

  Dinner was served, and the table more heavily laden with viands than thestomach of Gargantua. Big Peter, as proud of his big family as of hislittle fortune, made the Colonel stand by as he enumerated his children.And Fougas was joyful at learning that he had six welcome grandchildren.

  He was seated at the right of a little stunted old woman who waspresented to him as the grandmother of the youngsters. Heavens! howchanged Clementine appeared to him. Save the eyes which were stilllively and sparkling, there was no longer anything about her that couldbe recognized. "See," thought Fougas, "what I would have been liketo-day, if the worthy John Meiser had not desiccated me!" He smiled tohimself on regarding Grandfather Langevin, the reputed progenitor ofthis numerous family. "Poor old fellow," murmured Fougas, "you littlethink what you owe to me!"

  They dine boisterously at village weddings. This is an abuse which, Isincerely hope, Civilization will never reform. Under cover of thenoise, Fougas entered into conversation, or thought he did, with hisleft-hand neighbor. "Clementine!" he said to her. She raised her eyes,and her nose too, and responded:

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "My heart has not deceived me, then?--you are indeed my Clementine!"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "And you have recognized me, noble and excellent woman!"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "But how did you conceal your emotion so well?---- How strong womenare!---- I fall from the skies into the midst of your peacefulexistence, and you see me without moving a muscle!"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "Have you forgiven me for a seeming injury for which Destiny alone isresponsible?"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "Thanks! A thousand thanks!---- What a charming family you have aboutyou! This good Pierre, who almost opened his arms on seeing me approach,is my son, is he not?"

 
"Yes, monsieur."

  "Rejoice! He shall be rich! He already has happiness; I bring himfortune. His portion shall be a million. Oh, Clementine! what acommotion there will be in this simple assembly, when I raise my voiceand say to my son: 'Here! this million is for you!' Is it a good timenow? Shall I speak? Shall I tell all?"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  Fougas immediately arose, and requested silence. The people thought hewas going to sing a song, and all kept quiet.

  "Pierre Langevin," said he with emphasis, "I have come back from theother world, and brought you a million."

  If Big Peter did not want to get angry, he at least got red, and thejoke seemed to him in bad taste. But when Fougas announced that he hadloved the grandmother in her youth, grandfather Langevin no longerhesitated to fling a bottle at his head. The Colonel's son, his splendidgrandchildren, and even the bride all jumped up in high dudgeon andthere was a very pretty scrimmage indeed.

  For the first time in his life, Fougas did not get the upper hand. Hewas afraid that he might injure some of his family. Paternal affectionrobbed him of three quarters of his power.

  But having learned during the clamor that Clementine was calledCatharine, and that Pierre Langevin was born in 1810, he resumed theoffensive, blacked three eyes, broke an arm, mashed two noses, knockedin four dozen teeth, and regained his carriage with all the honors ofwar.

  "Devil take the children!" said he, while riding in a post-chaise towardthe Avricourt station. "If I have a son, I wish he may find me!"