The Mysteries of Paris. Volume 3

CHAPTER I. THE TEMPLE.-1

CHAPTER I.

THE TEMPLE.To the deep snow which had fallen during the past night had succeeded a very sharp wind, so that the ordinarily muddy pavement was hard and dry, as Rigolette and Rodolph wended onwards to the immense and singular bazar called the Temple, the young girl leaning unceremoniously on the arm of her cavalier, who, on his part, appeared as much at his ease as though they had been old familiar friends.

“What a funny old woman Madame Pipelet is!” observed the grisette to her companion; “and what very odd things she says!”

“Well, I thought her remarks very striking, as well as appropriate.”

“Which of them, neighbour?”

“Why, when she said ‘Young people would be young people,’ and ‘Vive l’amour!’”

“Well?”

“Well! I only mean to say those are precisely my sentiments.”

“Your sentiments?”

“Yes, I should like nothing better than to pass my youth with you, taking ‘Vive l’amour!‘ for my motto.”

“I dare say, for certainly you are not hard to please.”

“Why, where would be the harm,—are we not near neighbours? Of course we are, or else I should not be seen walking out with you in this manner in broad day.”

“Then you allow me to hope—”

“Hope what?”

“That you will learn to love me.”

“Oh, bless you, I do love you already!”

“Really?”

“To be sure I do. Why, how can I help it? You are good and gay; though poor yourself, you have done all in your power by interesting rich people in the fate of the Morels; your appearance pleases me; and you have altogether a nice look, and a sort of air such as one is glad to find in a person we expect to go about with a great deal. So there, I think, are abundant reasons for my loving you.”

Then, suddenly breaking into loud fits of laughter, Rigolette abruptly exclaimed, “Look there, only look at that fat woman with the furred shoes! What does she remind you of? I’ll tell you,—of a great sack being drawn along by two cats without tails!” and again she laughed merrily.

“I would rather look at you, my pretty neighbour, than at all the fat old women or tailless cats in Europe. I am so delighted to find you already love me.”

“I only tell you the truth; if I disliked you, I should speak just as plainly. I cannot reproach myself with ever having deceived or flattered any one; but, if a person pleases me, I tell them so directly.”

Again interrupting the thread of her discourse, the grisette drew up suddenly before the windows of a shop, saying, “Oh, do pray only look at that pretty clock and those two handsome vases! I had already saved up three francs and a half, and had put it in my money-box, to buy such a set as that. In five or six years I might have been able to buy them.”

“Saved up, do you say? Then, I suppose, you earn—”

“At least thirty sous a day,—sometimes forty; but I never reckon upon more than thirty, which is the more prudent; and I regulate all my expenses accordingly,” said Rigolette, with an air as important as though she was settling the financial budget.

“But with thirty sous a day, how do you manage to live?”

“Oh, bless you! that is easily reckoned. Shall I tell you how I manage, neighbour? I fancy you are rather extravagant in your notions; so, perhaps, it may serve as a lesson for you.”

“Yes, pray do.”

“Well, then, thirty sous a day make five and forty francs a month, do they not?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, out of that I pay twelve francs for lodging; that leaves me twenty-three francs for food, etc.”

“Is it possible? Twenty-three francs for one month’s food!”

“Yes, really, all that! Certainly, for such a person as myself, it does seem an enormous sum; but then, you see, I deny myself nothing.”

“Oh, you little glutton!”

“Ah! but then, remember, I include the food for both my birds in that sum.”

“Certainly it seems less exorbitant, when you come to reckon, for three than for one; but just tell me how you manage day by day, that I may profit by your good example.”

“Well, then, be attentive, and I will go over the different things I spend in it. First of all, one pound of bread, that costs four sous; then two sous’ worth of milk make six; four sous’ worth of vegetables in winter, or fruit and salad in summer,—I am very found of salad, because, like vegetables, it is such a nice clean thing to prepare, and does not soil the hands; there goes tensous at once; then three sous for butter, or oil and vinegar, to season the salad with, that makes thirteen sous; a pail of nice fresh water,—oh, I must have that! it is my principal extravagance,—that brings it to fifteen sous, don’t you see? Then add two or three sous a week for chickweed and seed for my birds, who generally have part of my bread and milk; all this comes to exactly twenty-three francs a month, neither more nor less.”

“And do you never eat meat?”

“Meat, indeed! I should think not. Why, it costs from ten to twelve sous a pound! A likely thing for me to buy! Besides, there is all the nuisance and smell of cooking; instead of which, milk, vegetables, or fruit, are always ready when you wish for them. I tell you what is a favourite dish of mine, without being troublesome to prepare, and which I excel in making.”

“Oh, pray let me know what it is?”

“Why, I get some beautiful ripe, rosy apples, and put them at the top of my little stove; when they are quite tender, I bruise them with a little milk, and just a taste of sugar. It is a dish for an emperor. If you behave well, I will let you taste it some day.”

“Prepared by your hands, it can scarcely fail being excellent; but let us keep to our reckoning. Let me see, we counted twenty-three francs for living, etc., and twelve francs for lodging; that makes thirty-five francs a month.”

“Well, then, out of the forty-five or fifty francs I earn, there remains from ten to fifteen francs a month for my wood and oil during the winter, as well as for my clothes and washing; that is to say, for soap and other requisites; because, excepting my sheets, I wash my own things; that is another of my extravagances,—a good laundress would pretty well ruin me; while, as I am a very quick and good ironer, the expense is principally that of my own time. During the five winter months I burn a load and a half of wood, while I consume about four or fivesous’ worth of oil for my lamp daily; that makes it cost me about eighty francs a year for fire and lights.”

“So that you have, in fact, scarcely one hundred francs to clothe yourself, and find you in pocket money.”

“No more; yet out of that sum I managed to save my three francs and a half.”

“But your gowns, your shoes,—this smart little cap?”

“As for caps, I never wear one but when I go out, so that is not ruinous; and, at home, I go bareheaded. As for my gowns and boots, have I not got the Temple to go to for them?”

“Ah, yes, this convenient, handy Temple! So you buy there?”

“All sorts of pretty and excellent dresses. Why, only imagine, great ladies are accustomed to give their old, cast-off gowns, etc., to their maids. When I say old, I mean that, perhaps, they have worn them for a month or two, just to ride out in the carriage. Well, and then the ladies’ maids sell them to the persons who have shops at the Temple for almost nothing. Just look at the nice dark merino dress I have on; well, I only gave fourteen francs for it, when, I make no doubt, it cost at least sixty, and had scarcely been put on. I altered it to fit myself; and I flatter myself it does me credit.”

“Indeed, it does, and very great credit, too. Yes, I begin to see now, thanks to the Temple, you really may contrive to make a hundred francs a year suffice for your dress.”

“To be sure; why, I can buy in the summer sweet pretty gowns for five or six francs; boots, like these I have on, and almost new, for two or three francs a pair; just look at my boots. Now, would not any one say they had been made for me?” said Rigolette, suddenly stopping, and holding up one of her pretty little feet, really very nicely set off by the well-fitting boot she wore.

“It is, indeed, a charming foot; but you must have some difficulty in getting fitted. However, I suppose, at the Temple, they keep shoes and boots of all sizes, from a woman’s to a child’s.”

“Ah, neighbour, I begin to find out what a terrible flatterer you are. However, after what I have told you, you must see now that a young girl, who is careful, and has only herself to keep, may manage to live respectably on thirty sous a day; to be sure, the four hundred and fifty francs I brought out of prison with me helped me on famously, for when people saw that I had my own furniture in my apartments, they felt more confidence in entrusting me with work to take home. I was some time, though, before I met with employment. Fortunately for me, I had kept by me as much money as enabled me to live three months without earning anything.”

“Shall I own to you that, under so gay and giddy a manner, I scarcely expected to hear so much sound sense as that uttered by your pretty mouth, my good neighbour?”

“Ah! but let me tell you that, when one is all alone in the world, and has no wish to be under any obligation, it is quite necessary, as the proverb says, to mind how we build our nest, to take care of it when it is built.”

“And certainly yours is as charming a nest as the most fastidious bird could desire.”

“Yes, isn’t it? for, as I say, I never refuse myself anything. Now, I consider my chamber as above my means; in fact, too handsome for one like me; then I have two birds; always, at least, two pots of flowers on my mantelpiece, without reckoning those on the window-ledges; and yet, as I told you, I had actually got three francs and a half in my money-box, towardsthe ornaments I hoped some day to be able to buy for my mantelpiece.”

“And what became of this store?”

“Oh, why, lately, when I saw the poor Morels so very, very wretched, I said to myself, ‘What is the use of hoarding up these stupid pieces of money, and letting them lie idle in a money-box, when good and honest people are actually starving for want of them?’ So I took out the three francs, and lent them to Morel. When I say lent, I mean I told him I only lent them, to spare his feelings; but, of course, I never meant to have them back again.”

“Yes, but my dear neighbour, you cannot refuse to let them repay you, now they are so differently situated.”

“Why, no; I think if Morel were to offer them to me now, I should not refuse them; it will, at any rate, enable me to begin my store for buying the chimney ornaments I do so long to possess. You would scarcely believe how silly I am; but I almost dream of a beautiful clock, such a one as I showed you just now, and two lovely vases, one on each side.”

“But, then, you should think a little of the future.”

“What future?”

“Suppose you were to be ill, for instance.”

“Me ill? Oh, the idea!” And the fresh, hearty laugh of Rigolette resounded through the street.

“Well, why should you not be?”

“Do I look like a person likely to be sick?”

“Certainly I never saw a more bright or blooming countenance.”

“Well, then, what could possibly have put it into your head to talk such nonsense as to suppose I could ever be ill?”

“Nay, but—”

“Why, I am only eighteen years of age, and, considering the sort of life I lead, there is no chance of such a thing. I rise at five o’clock, winter or summer; I amnever up after ten, or, at latest, eleven; I eat sufficient to satisfy my appetite, which certainly is not a very great one; I do not suffer from exposure to cold; I work all day, singing as merrily as a lark; and at night I sleep like a dormouse. My heart is free, light, and happy. My employers are so well satisfied with what I do for them, that I am quite sure not to want for work; so what is there for me to be ill about? It really is too amusing to hear you try to talk sense, and only utter nonsense! Me ill!” And, at the very absurdity of the idea, Rigolette again burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, so loud and prolonged that a stout gentleman who was walking before her, carrying a dog under his arm, turned around quite angrily, believing all this mirth was excited by his presence.