Madame Guizot

Decoration

"Stop them! Stop them!" was re-echoed through the Rue St. HonorÉ. "Madame la Marquise is running down the street! This way! Madame la Vicomtesse is dragging her dress through the mud! Oh! M. le Baron has lost his wig! and M. le Chevalier?... William, where is M. le Chevalier?"

And William ran right and left, endeavouring to bring back a number of dressed-up dogs, such as are seen parading the streets, in little carriages. They had just escaped from their kennel, while their owners were occupied with their morning toilet. This toilet was a tedious and difficult affair, for whilst they were washing one, the one which had just gone through the operation, never failed to go and put his paws into the gutter. While M. le Baron was made to stand on his hind feet, in order to have his fore paws put through the sleeves of his coat, Madame la Marquise, seizing the first opportunity to make use of her legs, set off running all round the yard, in her petticoat, which being then much too long, and getting entangled between her legs, threw her down; and whilst they ran after her, all the others would make their escape, half-dressed in their finery. On the present occasion, the gate of the yard happened accidentally to be opened, while one of these scenes was enacted, and all the dogs made their escape into the street, troubling themselves very little as to the state in which they appeared before the eyes of the public.

However, William, the owner's son, had succeeded in catching almost all of them, and, saving the loss of M. le Baron's wig, and the unfortunate accident which had happened to the hat and feathers of Madame la Vicomtesse, when she rolled in a heap of rubbish, and the rent which Madame la Marquise had made in her blue petticoat, all would have been set to rights, if M. le Chevalier could have been found. M. le Chevalier was a very important personage. He was the only one who was able to waltz with Madame la PrÉsidente. Everybody was delighted to see them take each other by the neck, with their fore paws, and dance in time on their hind feet. Now, Madame la PrÉsidente could not waltz all alone; thus two talents were lost at the same time. The owner was in despair; he was to go that day to Clichi, to the fair of St. MÉdard, and he built his chief hopes of success upon the waltz. But it was in vain that William went to every house in the neighbourhood, asking whether any one had seen M. le Chevalier. "And who is M. le Chevalier?" he was everywhere asked; and William replied, "He has a yellow waistcoat, no trousers, pointed ears, a sword at his side, and his tail is bald at the end." Notwithstanding this luminous description, no one could give him any information respecting M. le Chevalier. At length, as it was growing late, the master decided on setting off with the rest of his troop, telling William to follow him with M. le Chevalier, if he succeeded in finding him.

William had a second time searched all the streets in the vicinity, and was returning home sorrowfully, when he met one of his neighbours coming from market. He asked her, as he had done every one else, whether she could give him any information about M. le Chevalier.

"Bah!" said she, "has he not returned? This morning, when your dogs ran away, I was just going to market, and I saw him enter the alley opposite, and go into M. Bucquet's, the linendraper. Has he really not come back, then? Oh, I'll wager that it is little Roussel who has kept him."

George Roussel lived with his father and mother in the house of M. Bucquet; he was a good boy, and very fond of his parents, and he also gave great satisfaction at school, where he regularly attended, as day-scholar: in other respects, however, he was the most mischief-loving urchin imaginable. As his father, who was employed at a banker's, and his mother, who gave lessons in writing, passed much of their time away from home, George was quite his own master out of school hours, and this time he employed in playing tricks on the neighbours; nor was it sufficient for him to spend in this manner the hours of daylight, the night also was often employed in similar practices. He slept at the back of the house, in a small room, the windows of which looked upon the roofs and leads. Through this window he passed to go and hunt the cats, and when he succeeded in catching two or three, he tied them together by their tails. Then when every one was asleep, he would throw them into the house, through a staircase window opening upon the same leads, and run with all speed to his own room as soon as he perceived that the neighbours were awakened by the frightful uproar which they made in their unavailing efforts to get loose. Immediately all the doors would open, every one rushing out to know what could be the matter. Then they would run after the cats, which, of course, did not suffer themselves to be easily caught, but kept crying and mewing, as if they had been burned, and scratching every one who attempted to separate them. Another time, a neighbour's dog would return to his mistress, covered with oil, from the ears to the tail, so that no one could touch him without being greased, nor could he approach anything without leaving on it a stain. On a cold winter's day, George would contrive to attach a piece of ice to the handle of a door-bell, and the first person who wanted to ring would snatch his hand away, struck with cold and surprise; or else he would cut the wire attached to the bell, so that people would pull for a quarter of an hour without producing any effect. He also hampered the locks, and hid the keys, if they happened to be left in the doors; and, in fact, every day brought fresh complaints; but they were of little use. George was an only child, born when his parents were already advanced in life, and after they had been married many years without having any children. M. and Madame Roussel loved him, therefore, with such a foolish fondness, that they overlooked all his faults. When complaints were made of him to M. Roussel, he would shrug his shoulders, and say, "Well, youth must have its day." Nevertheless, he scolded George a little, for the gratification of the neighbours, but afterwards he had the weakness to laugh at his tricks. Madame Roussel was still more unreasonable, for she became so angry when complaints were made of her son, that no one dared to speak to her on the subject. Had they not been very good tenants, and very punctual in their payments, though their rent was high, M. Bucquet would have given them notice to leave twenty times over, so disagreeable had George become to the whole house.

Besides, everything that happened was laid to his charge; if any one slipped on the stairs by treading on a cherrystone, it was always George who had scattered them through malice: not a pane of glass was broken in the hall or passages, but it was always George who had done it; in fact, his reputation was spread throughout the entire neighbourhood. William had heard him spoken of, and could not doubt that the conjecture of his acquaintance was well founded, and the more so as another neighbour asserted that he had heard George a few days before saying to little Bucquet, "Wouldn't it be nice, Joseph, to have a dog like that? We should get a famous price for it!"

In consequence of this information, William went to M. Bucquet's, and asked him in what part of the house M. Roussel lived, as he wanted to inquire for his dog, which had been taken by little Roussel.

"He would be likely enough to do so," said M. Bucquet; "but I think he went out with his father before your dogs took the liberty of walking off. Is it not so, Joseph?"

Joseph, who was occupied in arranging a box of gloves over the counter, answered "Yes," without raising his head, and William did not perceive that he blushed very much. As it was known that M. le Chevalier had really entered the house, William begged permission to go and inquire of all the lodgers. No one had seen him; but on passing by a door that was locked, and which he supposed to be that belonging to M. Roussel, he knocked very loudly, and then listened attentively. At the second knock, he thought he heard a bark, and fancied he recognised the voice of M. le Chevalier. Transported with joy, he hastened down again, and was astonished at seeing Joseph, who had softly followed him at some distance, endeavouring to make his escape the moment he was observed. William returned to the shop, exclaiming, "He is there; M. le Chevalier is there. I have heard him bark;" and seeing Joseph re-enter the shop, he added, "Yes, and I'll wager that M. Joseph knows very well that he is in M. Roussel's apartments."

"Indeed!" said M. Bucquet, "I should like to see him interfering with the tricks of that little rascal George. You may rest assured that he has not meddled with your dog. If he had, I should very soon settle him."

William inquired whether M. Roussel would be long away, and was informed that he was gone to Clichi for the fÊte, to pass the day with his brother, who was steward of the chÂteau, and that he would not return till the evening. William wanted to have the door forced; but M. Bucquet would not consent to such a thing. William therefore determined to carry the intelligence he had received to his father, purposing to return immediately, and place himself as sentinel at M. Roussel's door, in order to prevent anything being removed without his permission. Meanwhile he begged the neighbours to watch, in case M. Roussel returned during his absence; and they promised to do so.

His departure relieved Joseph from a heavy burden, for it was he who had taken the dog. He had long shared in George's mischievous tricks without any one being aware of it. As he stood in great awe of his father, who sometimes treated him very severely, he had been for a long time extremely quiet and orderly, but at length the example and the solicitations of George, who was dying to have a companion in his sports, had led him away, without rendering him any the more courageous. Younger and weaker than George, he preferred such tricks as were of a secret and underhand character, while George delighted in more daring exploits. If a falsehood was to be told, it was Joseph always who undertook to tell it, and George, who had never spoken anything but the truth to his own parents, did not consider how wrong it was to be continually leading Joseph to deceive his. He had shown him the way by the leads, in order that he might enter the room in which he slept without passing by the apartments occupied by M. and Madame Roussel. The morning that M. le Chevalier had entered the alley, Joseph met him at the foot of the stairs, and thinking it a capital opportunity, he took him up, and carried him by way of the leads into George's room, never doubting that the latter, like himself, would be enchanted at the prospect of having him to sell. He had felt very much alarmed while William was knocking; but George's room being separated from the outside door by three other rooms, all the doors of which were closed, William had heard but faintly the barking of M. le Chevalier. It had been his first intention to watch for George on his return from Clichi, and tell him what he had done, in order that he might prevent any one from entering his room until the dog had been disposed of; for he generally left George to extricate himself, as well as he could, out of the scrapes in which he not unfrequently placed him. However, after William's departure, thinking that the dog would most certainly be reclaimed, and that it would be impossible to conceal him, he determined to repass the leads, fetch him, and turn him out of the house. As soon, therefore, as he saw his father occupied, he ran up the stairs, and passing through the window, he reached M. Roussel's rooms, and thinking that perhaps he might only have taken the key without locking the door outside, he hoped to be able to open it from within and turn out the dog, without being suspected. But he found the door locked, so that it was necessary to return by the usual way. At this moment, he heard his father's voice, calling him at the foot of the stairs. M. le Chevalier had concealed himself under a bed, from which it was impossible for Joseph to make him move. Besides, how was he to return through the staircase window with the dog? His father might be coming up, and see him; it was quite hazardous enough to get back alone. Joseph decided, therefore, on taking this latter course, leaving M. le Chevalier in quiet possession of the post to which he had retreated. He found his father and mother waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and told them that he had been to listen at M. Roussel's door in order to ascertain whether the dog was there. As it was Sunday, they closed the shop, and went out to dine. Joseph accompanied them, somewhat uneasy as to what might be the result of this affair, but still hoping to return sufficiently early to tell George, and determined, at all events, to deny having the least share in the theft.

Meanwhile, George, who knew nothing of the matter, was amusing himself at Clichi to his heart's content. In the morning, he had rowed upon the Seine, in a boat belonging to the chÂteau. Afterwards, he had witnessed the target-shooting, had run at the ring, and balanced himself in the swing. After dinner, he returned to see the various exhibitions in the square. In one corner were the puppets; in another, William's dogs, notwithstanding the absence of M. le Chevalier, attracted round them a large concourse of spectators. George saw them from a distance and recognised them; he hastened immediately to the spot, called his father, mother, uncle, and all the company, to whom he was delighted to introduce his friends the dogs. He mingled with the spectators, explained everything, in fact did the honours. "I know them," he said, "they live opposite to us." He enumerated their various talents and expatiated upon their acquirements, calling each by his own name, as people do in speaking of persons with whom they are very anxious to appear particularly connected. "This is M. le Baron," said he, "do you see Madame la Vicomtesse? it is she who executes the lady's-chain with Madame la PrÉsidente; and M. le Chevalier? Oh! where is M. le Chevalier?"

At this exclamation, which reawakened all William's regrets, he turned his head, recognised George, and pointed him out to his father. The latter approached George in a very rough manner. "Ah! ah!" said he, "it is you then who have stolen my dog?" "Ladies and gentlemen," he continued, "you would have been still more gratified if this thief had not stolen from me a new dog which I hoped to have had the honour of presenting to you. A most admirable dog! Ladies and gentlemen, had you beheld him, you would have said his equal was nowhere to be found."

At this epithet of thief, George, though he could not understand how it was applicable to himself, became red with anger. M. Roussel and the uncle looked at each other, and with great warmth commanded the owner of the dogs to explain himself. He recommenced his grievances and invectives, and swore that they should pay the value of what he had lost by M. le Chevalier, who assuredly would have tripled the receipts. George, his father, and his uncle replied, became warm, and at length got into a rage, whilst poor Madame Roussel, greatly agitated, wanted to get away. The master of the dogs, on his side, vociferated louder and louder, and began to gesticulate. In the heat of the dispute, William, who had finished his collection, came to his father's aid. "It is he," he exclaimed, pointing to George; "he stole him in order to sell him; I heard M. le Chevalier bark in his room."

"That's false," said George, accompanying his reply with a blow, which upset all the money that William had collected in his hat. The latter wanted both to pick up the money and return the blow at the same time, but George did not give him the opportunity, for he fell upon him with redoubled violence. William then seriously thought of defending himself.

George gave most blows, but William was more skilful in parrying, and while his hands were employed against George, he endeavoured with his feet to keep off the little boys, who had rushed to pick up the money. One of these, in order to escape a kick which he perceived was likely to fall to his share, took hold of William by the leg, and thus threw him on the ground, while George, who was holding him by the hair, fell with him. They were picked up, and separated. The owner of the dogs now swore that they should not only pay for the loss of M. le Chevalier's day's work, but the amount of the collection also. M. Roussel insisted on knowing positively what it was they complained of. Madame Roussel, more dead than alive, wished to have the man paid, in order to get away; and her husband consented, provided the dog was found in their apartments, of which he showed the key, and which he also promised should not be opened, except in the presence of the owner of the dogs, whom he invited to return with him to Paris. "And we shall see," said George, doubling his fist at William, whom he promised himself to pay off in a very different manner.

They all returned, William dragging the dogs in their carriage; M. Roussel giving his arm to his wife, who could not support herself: the master of the dogs and M. Roussel at one moment talking angrily, at another more reasonably, and William and George, who were carefully kept apart, gesticulating at a distance, and often accompanying their gestures with words, for want of better means of annoyance. With them came many persons returning to Paris after the fÊte, who were curious to see the termination of this affair, while all the little boys of the village ran after them, trotting with their bare feet in the dust.

The troop reached Paris very much diminished, but sufficiently considerable to attract the attention of the passers by, and to be followed by a crowd of idle people. M. Bucquet, who beheld all this assemblage collected at his house, asked what it was all about; and while they were giving him an explanation, Joseph found an opportunity of taking George on one side, and relating to him the whole affair. George was furious, and commanded him to go at once and take the dog away, which Joseph refused to do for fear of being seen.

"I will say that it was you," exclaimed George.

"I will say that you tell a falsehood," replied Joseph.

George took him by the ears in order to force him up stairs.

"I'll scream," said Joseph.

George, notwithstanding his anger, saw that there was but one course to be pursued. He left Joseph, ran up stairs, attained the leads, entered his room and sought for the dog, determined, if requisite, to pass the night with him upon the roof; but he sought in vain. As Joseph had left the doors open, M. le Chevalier had had all the apartments at his disposal. Where could he be hidden? It was getting dusk, and the dog was small, George could not perceive him anywhere, and he was persuading himself that Joseph had been making game of him, and was about returning by the way that he had entered, when the animal scenting his master at the door, rushed from under a bed, howling most lamentably.

"Do you hear?" exclaimed the owner.

"It is impossible," exclaimed M. Roussel, precipitately opening the door. He stood perfectly stupified when he beheld his son and the dog in the middle of the room, without being able to understand in the least by what means they had got there.

"I knew it would be so," said William triumphantly.

George, stifled with shame and anger, and rendered furious by the invectives with which he was overwhelmed from all sides, protested that it was not he, but Joseph who did it. The neighbours, delighted at finding him in fault, were indignant that he should throw the blame upon another. M. Bucquet, who knew that if Joseph were the culprit, he should have to pay the damages, flew into a violent passion with George; and Madame Bucquet, terrified lest her husband should beat Joseph, became still louder and more violent in her invectives: M. Roussel thought that, right or wrong, he ought to take his son's part; William and his father were clamouring to be paid, and M. le Chevalier howled like a dog who had had no dinner.

In the midst of this fearful uproar, a venerable clergyman who lived in the house came up. Every one respected him, and he was the only person on whom George had not dared to play his tricks. He made every effort to restore peace, but when he had stilled the tumult for a moment, some voice was raised, every one replied, and the whole thing was renewed. At length he succeeded in persuading the people to disperse, with the exception of the owner of the dogs, who wanted to take M. Roussel before the magistrate to make him pay. M. Roussel did not desire anything better, and George was anxious to accompany them, in order to justify himself, but Madame Roussel wept and entreated her husband to pay: and the clergyman reminded him that he had promised to do so if the dog was discovered on his premises: he was therefore obliged to submit; and then the master of the dogs, perfectly satisfied, went away, holding M. le Chevalier under his arm, and saying, "Monsieur, Madame, very sorry to have troubled you."

M. and Madame Roussel retired to their own rooms, together with the clergyman, whom they had invited to accompany them. George sat in a corner, tearing his hair in despair. They asked him the truth of the story, which he explained, and M. Roussel and his wife were terribly enraged against Joseph.

"But," said the clergyman, "who taught him to pass by the leads?"

George agreed that it was he.

"And who accustomed him to do these mischievous tricks?"

George was compelled again to own that he had done so.

"Behold the effect of bad example!" continued the clergyman; "evil is done without very bad intentions, but he whom we instruct in committing it, learns the evil without heeding the intentions. Joseph has seen you keep dogs in your possession, in order to set their masters hunting for them, and he thought it quite as reasonable to conceal one in order to sell it: therefore, it is you who are answerable for all that he has done."

George had nothing to say. The clergyman lectured him for some time longer, and left him completely ashamed of himself, and determined to correct his faults: but his parents were obliged to leave the house and the neighbourhood, for George could never go into the streets, without hearing himself called a dog-stealer. For a time it was the same at school also, where some of the other boys had related the story; but as he was very much liked, and besides one of the strongest, his explanation and a few blows soon re-established him in the esteem of his companions.

In the end, the truth was discovered in the neighbourhood also, but it was long before the prejudices against him were quite overcome. As for Joseph, it is asserted that he was well beaten by his father, but this only corrected him of the desire of playing tricks on his neighbours. He continued all his life a coward from disposition, and a liar from the instructions of George; therefore, whenever George heard any evil of him, he felt pained, because he knew that he had increased the number of his bad habits.