"Ought I to make a scene and leave Coralie?"he pondered."Is it worth while to make a fuss about a trifle?There is a pair of boots wherever you go.These would be more in place in a shop window or taking a walk on the boulevard on somebody's feet;here,however,without a pair of feet in them,they tell a pretty plain tale.I am fifty years old,and that is the truth;I ought to be as blind as Cupid himself."There was no excuse for this mean-spirited monologue.The boots were not the high-lows at present in vogue,which an unobservant man may be allowed to disregard up to a certain point.They were the unmistakable,uncompromising hessians then prescribed by fashion,a pair of extremely elegant betasseled boots,which shone in glistening contrast against tight-fitting trousers invariably of some light color,and reflected their surroundings like a mirror.The boots stared the honest silk-mercer out of countenance,and,it must be added,they pained his heart.
"What is it?"asked Coralie.
"Nothing."
"Ring the bell,"said Coralie,smiling to herself at Camusot's want of spirit.--"Berenice,"she said,when the Norman handmaid appeared,"just bring me a button-hook,for I must put on these confounded boots again.Don't forget to bring them to my dressing-room to-night.""What?...YOUR boots?"...faltered out Camusot,breathing more freely.
"And whose should they be?"she demanded haughtily."Were you beginning to believe?--great stupid!Oh!and he would believe it too,"she went on,addressing Berenice.--"I have a man's part in What's-his-name's piece,and I have never worn a man's clothes in my life before.
The bootmaker for the theatre brought me these things to try if Icould walk in them,until a pair can be made to measure.He put them on,but they hurt me so much that I have taken them off,and after all I must wear them.""Don't put them on again if they are uncomfortable,"said Camusot.
(The boots had made him feel so very uncomfortable himself.)"Mademoiselle would do better to have a pair made of very thin morocco,sir,instead of torturing herself as she did just now;but the management is so stingy.She was crying,sir;if I was a man and loved a woman,I wouldn't let her shed a tear,I know.You ought to order a pair for her----""Yes,yes,"said Camusot."Are you just getting up,Coralie?""Just this moment;I only came in at six o'clock after looking for you everywhere.I was obliged to keep the cab for seven hours.So much for your care of me;you forget me for a wine-bottle.I ought to take care of myself now when I am to play every night so long as the Alcalde draws.I don't want to fall off after that young man's notice of me.""That is a handsome boy,"said Camusot.
"Do you think so?I don't admire men of that sort;they are too much like women;and they do not understand how to love like you stupid old business men.You are so bored with your own society.""Is monsieur dining with madame?"inquired Berenice.
"No,my mouth is clammy."
"You were nicely screwed yesterday.Ah!Papa Camusot,I don't like men who drink,I tell you at once----""You will give that young man a present,I suppose?"interrupted Camusot.
"Oh!yes.I would rather do that than pay as Florine does.There,go away with you,good-for-nothing that one loves;or give me a carriage to save time in future.""You shall go in your own carriage to-morrow to your manager's dinner at the Rocher de Cancale.The new piece will not be given next Sunday.""Come,I am just going to dine,"said Coralie,hurrying Camusot out of the room.
An hour later Berenice came to release Lucien.Berenice,Coralie's companion since her childhood,had a keen and subtle brain in her unwieldy frame.
"Stay here,"she said."Coralie is coming back alone;she even talked of getting rid of Camusot if he is in your way;but you are too much of an angel to ruin her,her heart's darling as you are.She wants to clear out of this,she says;to leave this paradise and go and live in your garret.Oh!there are those that are jealous and envious of you,and they have told her that you haven't a brass farthing,and live in the Latin Quarter;and I should go,too,you see,to do the house-work.--But I have just been comforting her,poor child!I have been telling her that you were too clever to do anything so silly.I was right,wasn't I,sir?Oh!you will see that you are her darling,her love,the god to whom she gives her soul;yonder old fool has nothing but the body.--If you only knew how nice she is when I hear her say her part over!My Coralie,my little pet,she is!She deserved that God in heaven should send her one of His angels.She was sick of the life.--She was so unhappy with her mother that used to beat her,and sold her.Yes,sir,sold her own child!If I had a daughter,I would wait on her hand and foot as I wait on Coralie;she is like my own child to me.--These are the first good times she has seen since I have been with her;the first time that she has been really applauded.You have written something,it seems,and they have got up a famous claque for the second performance.Braulard has been going through the play with her while you were asleep.""Who?Braulard?"asked Lucien;it seemed to him that he had heard the name before.
"He is the head of the claqueurs,and she was arranging with him the places where she wished him to look after her.Florine might try to play her some shabby trick,and take all for herself,for all she calls herself her friend.There is such a talk about your article on the Boulevards.--Isn't it a bed fit for a prince,"she said,smoothing the lace bed-spread.
