_ CHAPTER XVIII. MADEMOISELLE OLIVA
During this time, the man who had pointed out the fictitious queen to the people touched on the shoulder another man who stood near him, in a shabby dress, and said. "For you, who are a journalist, here is a fine subject for an article."
"How so?" replied the man.
"Shall I tell you?"
"Certainly."
"The danger of being governed by a king who is governed by a queen who indulges in such paroxysms as these."
The journalist laughed. "But the Bastile?" he said.
"Pooh, nonsense! I do not mean you to write it out plainly. Who can interfere with you if you relate the history of Prince Silou and the Princess Etteniotna, Queen of Narfec? What do you say to that?"
"It is an admirable idea!" said the journalist.
"And I do not doubt that a pamphlet called 'The Paroxysms of the Princess Etteniotna at the house of the Fakeer Remsem' would have a great success."
"I believe it also."
"Then go and do it."
The journalist pressed the hand of the unknown. "Shall I send you some copies, sir? I will with pleasure if you will give me your name."
"Certainly; the idea pleases me. What is the usual circulation of your journal?"
"Two thousand."
"Then do me a favor: take these fifty louis, and publish six thousand."
"Oh, sir, you overwhelm me. May I not know the name of such a generous patron of literature?"
"You shall know, when I call for one thousand copies--at two francs each, are they not? Will they be ready in a week?"
"I will work night and day, monsieur."
"Let it be amusing."
"It shall make all Paris die with laughing, except one person."
"Who will weep over it. Apropos, date the publication from London."
"Sir, I am your humble servant." And the journalist took his leave, with his fifty louis in his pocket, highly delighted.
The unknown again turned to look at the young woman, who had now subsided into a state of exhaustion, and looked beautiful as she lay there. "Really," he said to himself, "the resemblance is frightful. God had his motives in creating it, and has no doubt condemned her to whom the resemblance is so strong."
While he made these reflections, she rose slowly from the midst of the cushions, assisting herself with the arm of an attendant, and began to arrange her somewhat disordered toilet, and then traversed the rooms, confronting boldly the looks of the people. She was somewhat astonished, however, when she found herself saluted with deep and respectful bows by a group which had already been assembled by the indefatigable stranger, who kept whispering, "Never mind, gentlemen, never mind, she is still the Queen of France; let us salute her." She next entered the courtyard, and looked about for a coach or chair, but, seeing none, was about to set off on foot, when a footman approached and said, "Shall I call madame's carriage?"
"I have none," she replied.
"Madame came in a coach?"
"Yes."
"From the Rue Dauphine?"
"Yes."
"I will take madame home."
"Do so, then," said she, although somewhat surprised at the offer.
The man made a sign, and a carriage drove up. He opened the door for her, and then said to the coachman, "To the Rue Dauphine." They set off, and the young woman, who much approved of this mode of transit, regretted she had not further to go. They soon stopped, however; the footman handed her out, and immediately drove off again.
"Really," said she to herself, "this is an agreeable adventure; it is very gallant of M. Mesmer. Oh, I am very tired, and he must have foreseen that. He is a great doctor."
Saying these words, she mounted to the second story, and knocked at a door, which was quickly opened by an old woman.
"Is supper ready, mother?"
"Yes, and growing cold."
"Has he come?"
"No, not yet, but the gentleman has."
"What gentleman?"
"He who was to speak to you this evening."
"To me?"
"Yes."
This colloquy took place in a kind of ante-chamber opening into her room, which was furnished with old curtains of yellow silk, chairs of green Utrecht velvet, not very new, and an old yellow sofa.
She opened the door, and, going in, saw a man seated on the sofa whom she did not know in the least, although we do, for it was the same man whom we have seen taking so much interest in her at Mesmer's.
She had not time to question him, for he began immediately: "I know all that you are going to ask, and will tell you without asking. You are Mademoiselle Oliva, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"A charming person, highly nervous, and much taken by the system of M. Mesmer."
"I have just left there."
"All this, however, your beautiful eyes are saying plainly, does not explain what brings me here."
"You are right, sir."
"Will you not do me the favor to sit down, or I shall be obliged to get up also, and that is an uncomfortable way of talking."
"Really, sir, you have very extraordinary manners."
"Mademoiselle, I saw you just now at M. Mesmer's, and found you to be all I could wish."
"Sir!"
"Do not alarm yourself, mademoiselle. I do not tell you that I found you charming--that would seem like a declaration of love, and I have no such intention. I know that you are accustomed to have yourself called beautiful, but I, who also think so, have other things to talk to you about."
"Really, sir, the manner in which you speak to me----"
"Do not get angry before you have heard me. Is there any one that can overhear us?"
"No, sir, no one. But still----"
"Then, if no one can hear, we can converse at our ease. What do you say to a little partnership between us?"
"Really, sir----"
"Do not misunderstand; I do not say 'liaison'--I say partnership; I am not talking of love, but of business."
"What kind of business?" said Oliva, with growing curiosity.
"What do you do all day?"
"Why, I do nothing, or, at least, as little as possible."
"You have no occupation--so much the better. Do you like walking?"
"Very much."
"To see sights, and go to balls?"
"Excessively."
"To live well?"
"Above all things."
"If I gave you twenty-five louis a month, would you refuse me?"
"Sir!"
"My dear Mademoiselle Oliva, now you are beginning to doubt me again, and it was agreed that you were to listen quietly. I will say fifty louis if you like."
"I like fifty louis better than twenty-five, but what I like better than either is to be able to choose my own lover."
"Morbleu! but I have already told you that I do not desire to be your lover. Set your mind at ease about that."
"Then what am I to do to earn my fifty louis?"
"You must receive me at your house, and always be glad to see me. Walk out with me whenever I desire it, and come to me whenever I send for you."
"But I have a lover, sir."
"Well, dismiss him."
"Oh, Beausire cannot be sent away like that!"
"I will help you."
"No; I love him."
"Oh!"
"A little."
"That is just a little too much."
"I cannot help it."
"Then he may stop."
"You are very obliging."
"Well--but do my conditions suit you?"
"Yes, if you have told me all."
"I believe I have said all I wish to say now."
"On your honor?"
"On my honor."
"Very well."
"Then that is settled; and here is the first month in advance."
He held out the money, and, as she still seemed to hesitate a little, slipped it himself into her pocket.
Scarcely had he done so, when a knock at the door made Oliva run to the window. "Good God!" she cried; "escape quickly; here he is!"
"Who?"
"Beausire, my lover. Be quick, sir!"
"Nonsense!"
"He will half murder you."
"Bah!"
"Do you hear how he knocks?"
"Well, open the door." And he sat down again on the sofa, saying to himself, "I must see this fellow, and judge what he is like."
The knocks became louder, and mingled with oaths.
"Go, mother, and open the door," cried Oliva. "As for you, sir, if any harm happens to you, it is your own fault." _