Paul de Kock

THE ill-success of his serenade had not daunted the young Urbain; when one is really very much in love one does not lose courage for a trifle. Our lover returned to his dwelling cursing the jealous barber, for he did not doubt that jealousy was at the root of Touquet's exceedingly watchful care of the young girl; and though he was but little dismayed at the barber's threats, Urbain swore, notwithstanding them, to become known to Blanche, and to do everything in his power to make her love him. The act of swearing is in itself extremely easy of accomplishment—what oaths have been taken and broken within a half century only; but we are now speaking merely of the oaths of love, which are lighter, necessarily, than some others, and to break them is considered a pardonable offence. Urbain, who had sworn that he would see Blanche, was, however, greatly troubled to invent a way of doing so; but in love one always swears first and reflects afterwards, and in business it must be confessed there are a good many people who follow the very same course.

On the day after the night on which he had sung, Urbain was walking in the neighborhood of the barber's, but he dared not enter the house, which he ogled sighingly, nor even, for fear of being noticed by Touquet, could he pass by the shop. It was from afar that he examined the windows; nobody could be seen at them. She seemed to be condemned to an eternal seclusion. He waited until Marguerite should leave the house. At last she opened the door of the alley; she was going to get some provisions.

Urbain did not lose sight of the old servant, but he did not dare to go into the shops with her. How could he get into conversation? One is not apt at intrigue at nineteen years of age. At last, at the moment when Marguerite was passing by him, Urbain tremblingly accosted her,—

"Madame, I should very much like—"

"I'm not a dame—I'm not married."

"Mademoiselle if I dared—"

"If you dared what?"

"To ask you—"

"Well, why don't you speak?"

"Some news of Mademoiselle Blanche."

"Mademoiselle Blanche! Oh that's what you are up to, my young dandy? Go along, go your own way; you're addressing the wrong person. If you want to talk about that dear child, speak to my master; he'll answer you, I warrant, and in the best manner."

So saying, Marguerite left Urbain and went in, murmuring,—

"Monsieur is right, it is necessary to redouble our watchfulness that such a pretty girl may not be besieged by these worthless fellows."

"They're all bound to make me despair," said Urbain, disheartened by the unkind welcome accorded him by the old woman, "but, despite all their precautions, I shall see her, I shall speak to her." And the better to dream of at least seeing her Urbain departed from the house that held Blanche; he walked by chance and soon arrived on the Pont-Neuf.

The Pont-Neuf was then a meeting place for strangers, for schemers, for idlers, for pickpockets, and people who had newly disembarked. It was the most crowded thoroughfare of the capital; unceasingly encumbered with groups of curious people who stopped before the quacks, who were selling their universal panaceas and playing farces, mountebanks, thimbleriggers, pedlers of songs, of ironmongery, of books, of jujubes, it offered to the observer a diverting and extremely animated scene.

Tabarin, who became famous by the scenes which he played in public, and from whom our great MoliÈre has not disdained to borrow some buffooneries, was then established on the Pont-Neuf, towards the Place Dauphine. He had succeeded the famous Signor Hieronimo who, in the Cour du Palais, sold an ointment to cure burns, after burning himself publicly on the hands and curing the wounds with his balm, while Galinette-la-Galine attracted the passers by his parades.

In addition to Tabarin's show there were still other theatres on the Pont-Neuf. Maitre Gonin, a skilful juggler, had established himself there, and charmed all Paris by his dexterity; while a little farther off Briochee had his marionette show.

Tabarin, the simple clown of an ointment seller, played the innocent, and put a thousand ridiculous questions to his master who, dressed as a doctor, answered his facetious interrogations by calling him big ass, fat pig, etc., and this spectacle drew the crowd. One saw there not only the people but personages from the first classes of society.

Urbain, who was walking along, dreaming of his love, that is to say without noticing anything before him, elbowing everybody who approached him, was pushed by the crowd before the theatre of the fashionable buffoon. The young bachelor heard shouts of laughter from all sides; he saw noblemen, young girls, workmen, and workwomen who, with their noses in the air, listened with delight to a man who was dressed in a clown's cap, smock frock, and large pantaloons, and whose face was covered by a mask; this man was Tabarin. His master, in a doctor's habit, his head covered with a basque cap, his chin adorned with a long beard, held some bottles of ointment or balm in his hands. Urbain mechanically looked and listened with the others; in order to judge of that which gave so much pleasure to the idlers of that century, let us, also, listen for a moment.

Tabarin.—What people have you found to be the most courteous in the world?

The Master.—I've been in Italy, I have visited Spain, and traversed a great part of Germany, but nowhere have I remarked so much courtesy as one sees in France. You observe that the French, kiss, caress, wish each other well, and take off the hat.

Tabarin.—Do you call taking off the hat an act of courtesy? I shouldn't care much about such caresses.

The Master.—The custom of taking off the hat as a mark of friendship is ancient, Tabarin, and bears witness to the honor, the respect, and the friendliness which one should feel for those whom he salutes.

Tabarin.—So you judge all courtesy to consist in taking off the hat? Would you like to know who are the most courteous people in the world?

The Master.—Who Tabarin?

Tabarin.—They are the tireurs de laine of Paris; for they are not content with taking off the hat only, but more often take off the cloak also.[1]

[1] General collection of the Œuvres et FacÉties de Tabarin, Paris, 1725.

This sally was received with the applause and laughter of the assembled crowd, among whom might undoubtedly be found some tireurs de laine, who plied their trade while laughing still louder than their neighbors.

Urbain did not share the general hilarity; however, he lent his ear to a new scene which the buffoon was playing. Tabarin, seeking to introduce himself to the presence of his Isabelle, whom Cascandre kept from sight as an old duenna, found no better expedient than to disguise himself as a woman, and under this costume to seek a tÊte-À-tÊte with his mistress. The harlequin mask which Tabarin wore under his feminine costume lent a thousand absurdities which evoked anew the gayety of the crowd and in which decency was not always scrupulously observed; but the public of the Pont-Neuf was not easily abashed, and the women of good standing who viewed this spectacle contented themselves with spreading their fans before their eyes and crying,—

"What unbecoming, scandalous actions; they should at least forbid these gestures."

Urbain, watching the grotesque disguise of the buffoon, conceived a plan. Why should he not use the same means to introduce himself into the barber's house? Was it not Love himself who taught him this strategy by making him a witness of this scene of Tabarin's at the moment when he was racking his brain to find out a way of approaching Blanche.

Whether it were Love, Destiny, or a chance which had led our lover, he was none the less delighted with his idea, and, giving a thousand thanks to Tabarin, he thought of nothing but putting it into execution. Immediately, pushing from right to left, he retired from the crowd. Urbain elbowed a grisette, twisted an old woman's cloak, crushed the foot of a little woman who, supported on the arm of a young student, had slipped among the crowd; but, insensible to the injuries which he inflicted, he continued to make his way and, finding himself free at last, ran to his dwelling without stopping to take breath.

Arrived there the young bachelor opened the drawer of a little walnut-wood secretary and counted his money, for in every affair it is necessary to have recourse to this cursed money in order to abolish obstacles and arrive more quickly at the end which one has in view. His treasury held only sixteen livres tournois, which is very little and would not, in our day, introduce one into the boudoir of a Lais; but when beauty is accompanied by innocence access is much easier.

Besides Urbain would not take the costume of a grand lady. On the contrary he wished to disguise himself as a peasant; his awkwardness in that costume would be less noticeable. He looked at himself in his little glass. No beard, no whiskers, not the smallest hair on his chin. Urbain jumped for joy; although some days previously he had sighed to have mustaches, today he wished to change into a girl. He was delighted also at not being very tall, and exclaimed to himself, while looking at his feet and hands which were small,—

"How fortunate it is that I'm not a strong, robust, fine man!"

He had only to bestir himself to get the necessary clothing. Urbain took his crown and went to a second-hand clothier, where he asked for a dress for a servant from the country, who, he said, was about his height. They showed him all that constituted the feminine costume, petticoat, corset, apron, cap, neckerchief, shoes; they made him pay three times their value, but our young man was delighted.

These little arrangements having taken some time, Urbain went to dinner. Then, at the close of day, he returned home with his little parcel under his arm, as pleased as Jason carrying the Golden Fleece, as Pluto ravishing Proserpine, as Apollo tearing off the skin of the Python, as Hercules bearing off the Golden Apples from the garden of the Hesperides, or as Paris abducting the wife of Menelas,—and certainly all of those men should have been very well pleased.

Arrived in his chamber our lover rubbed his flint, for at that time nothing was known of sulphur matches. Having procured a light he immediately proceeded to change his state, keeping of his masculine costume only the garment which he judged to be very necessary in order not to freeze under his feminine skirt. Urbain put on the skirt, then the corset, which he endeavored to lace, but he did it very badly; he drew one string instead of another, he ripped and pulled, he pricked himself. The poor boy was in despair, he looked at himself in his little glass and saw well that all was not right; he never should come to the end. What could he do? Only a woman knows all the mysteries of the feminine toilet. It was necessary, then, to beg some woman to come to his aid, and he recalled that on the story below him lodged an old bachelor whose servant, polite and intelligent, always made him a graceful curtsey. Immediately Urbain, holding as well as he could the skirt and the corset, ran down stairs as quickly as possible and rang his neighbor's bell. The servant opened the door, and burst into a shout of laughter on seeing this person, half man, half woman; but no matter how he's dressed a pretty boy of nineteen is always interesting, and Urbain's voice was very touching as he said to the maid,—

"Ah, mademoiselle, I'm very much in doubt. I wish to dress myself as a woman, and I shall never come to the end. Would you be so amiable as to help me for a moment?"

"Very willingly," answered the big girl and, without allowing him to beg further, she followed Urbain to his room, where she laughed still more on seeing how he had put on the costume.

"Are you going to a ball?" said she to him.

"Yes, and I wish to be so well disguised that nobody could recognize me."

"All right; wait, I'll dress you, and I promise you you'll look well."

Immediately she commenced undoing all that Urbain had done. Then she examined the garments.

"They're not very elegant," she said.

"They are all I desire, I wish to be very simply dressed."

"But it's necessary to put another skirt on underneath, that one there isn't enough; you haven't hips like us. We must make some for you. And that cap is horrid! I wouldn't go out in it. I'll go and get you one of mine, and everything else that you need. Oh, I'll make you genteel."

And the young servant, without listening to Urbain's thanks, ran to her room, whence she soon returned carrying all that was necessary to turn a young man into a passable looking girl. The new cap was tried, it suited perfectly. Urbain was delighted; he did not know how to testify his gratitude to the young girl. The latter had not finished his headdress, there were some bows to be made and some hair which must be pushed back. She pinned his kerchief closely about his neck, stopped, looked at him, and exclaimed,—

"Truly that does very well! Such a white skin, such a sweet air; anyone would be deceived in him, that's sure. Wait a moment, till I make a false bust."

"Is it really necessary?"

"Is it necessary—why, what a question!"

"But I'm stifling in this corset."

"Well, so do we stifle in them, but that's nothing; it's necessary to suffer a little if one wants to be genteel. Wait, now, I'll pull your waist in, then I'll make you some hips, and then, ah, yes, that's all that's necessary. It's by those things that one distinguishes the sex."

The young servant kept finding something more to do for Urbain, and the latter, in order to be well disguised, allowed her to do as she pleased with the best grace in the world, repeating every moment,—

"How good you are, mademoiselle, how can I ever prove my gratitude?"

Urbain's toilet had lasted more than two hours, at the end of which time the young girl left him, saying,—

"There, that's done, you don't look a bit like a man now; there's not the least thing to make them doubt that you're a girl. At this hour you can go out. Hold your eyes down, look from the side, take small steps, balance yourself straight from the hips, pinch your mouth, throw your nose up a little high, and you won't go to the end of the street without making a conquest. Good-by, monsieur, when you have need don't hesitate to call me if you please."

The young servant departed, and Urbain, after having studied his walk for a little while, decided at last to venture into the streets of Paris in his new costume.