雙語(yǔ)·邦斯舅舅 五十、生意興隆的戲院

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The sometime commercial traveler, now the head of a popular theatre, regarded his sleeping partners in the light of a legitimate wife; they were not informed of all his doings. The flourishing state of his finances had reacted upon his person. Grown big and stout and high-colored with good cheer and prosperity, Gaudissart made no disguise of his transformation into a Mondor.

We are turning into a city-father, he once said, trying to be the first to laugh.

You are only in the Turcaret stage yet, though, retorted Bixiou, who often replaced Gaudissart in the company of the leading lady of the ballet, the celebrated Heloise Brisetout.

The former Illustrious Gaudissart, in fact, was exploiting the theatre simply and solely for his own particular benefit, and with brutal disregard of other interests. He first insinuated himself as a collaborator in various ballets, plays, and vaudevilles; then he waited till the author wanted money and bought up the other half of the copyright. These after-pieces and vaudevilles, always added to successful plays, brought him in a daily harvest of gold coins. He trafficked by proxy in tickets, allotting a certain number to himself, as the manager's share, till he took in this way a tithe of the receipts. And Gaudissart had other methods of making money besides these official contributions. He sold boxes, he took presents from indifferent actresses burning to go upon the stage to fill small speaking parts, or simply to appear as queens, or pages, and the like; he swelled his nominal third share of the profits to such purpose that the sleeping partners scarcely received one-tenth instead of the remaining two-thirds of the net receipts. Even so, however, the tenth paid them a dividend of fifteen per cent on their capital. On the strength of that fifteen per cent Gaudissart talked of his intelligence, honesty, and zeal, and the good fortune of his partners.

When Count Popinot, showing an interest in the concern, asked Matifat, or General Gouraud (Matifat's son-in-law), or Crevel, whether they were satisfied with Gaudissart, Gouraud, now a peer of France, answered, "They say he robs us; but he is such a clever, good-natured fellow, that we are quite satisfied."

This is like La Fontaine's fable, smiled the ex-cabinet minister.

Gaudissart found investments for his capital in other ventures. He thought well of Schwab, Brunner, and the Graffs; that firm was promoting railways, he became a shareholder in the lines. His shrewdness was carefully hidden beneath the frank carelessness of a man of pleasure; he seemed to be interested in nothing but amusements and dress, yet he thought everything over, and his wide experience of business gained as a commercial traveler stood him in good stead. A self-made man, he did not take himself seriously. He gave suppers and banquets to celebrities in rooms sumptuously furnished by the house decorator. Showy by nature, with a taste for doing things handsomely, he affected an easy-going air, and seemed so much the less formidable because he had kept the slang of "the road" (to use his own expression), with a few green-room phrases superadded. Now, artists in the theatrical profession are wont to express themselves with some vigor; Gaudissart borrowed sufficient racy green-room talk to blend with his commercial traveler's lively jocularity, and passed for a wit. He was thinking at that moment of selling his license and "going into another line," as he said. He thought of being chairman of a railway company, of becoming a responsible person and an administrator, and finally of marrying Mlle. Minard, daughter of the richest mayor in Paris. He might hope to get into the Chamber through "his line," and, with Popinot's influence, to take office under the Government.

Whom have I the honor of addressing? inquired Gaudissart, looking magisterially at La Cibot.

I am M. Pons' confidential servant, sir.

Well, and how is the dear fellow?

Ill, sir—very ill.

The devil he is! I am sorry to hear it—I must come and see him; he is such a man as you don't often find.

Ah yes! sir, he is a cherub, he is. I have always wondered how he came to be in a theatre.

Why, madame, the theatre is a house of correction for morals, said Gaudissart. "Poor Pons!—Upon my word, one ought to cultivate the species to keep up the stock. 'Tis a pattern man, and has talent too. When will he be able to take his orchestra again, do you think? A theatre, unfortunately, is like a stage coach: empty or full, it starts at the same time. Here at six o'clock every evening, up goes the curtain; and if we are never sorry for ourselves, it won't make good music. Let us see now—how is he?"

La Cibot pulled out her pocket-handkerchief and held it to her eyes. "It is a terrible thing to say, my dear sir," said she; "but I am afraid we shall lose him, though we are as careful of him as of the apple of our eyes. And, at the same time, I came to say that you must not count on M. Schmucke, worthy man, for he is going to sit up with him at night. One cannot help doing as if there was hope still left, and trying one's best to snatch the dear, good soul from death. But the doctor has given him up——"

What is the matter with him?

He is dying of grief, jaundice, and liver complaint, with a lot of family affairs to complicate matters.

And a doctor as well, said Gaudissart. "He ought to have had Lebrun, our doctor; it would have cost him nothing."

M. Pons' doctor is a Providence on earth. But what can a doctor do, no matter how clever he is, with such complications?

I wanted the good pair of nutcrackers badly for the accompaniment of my new fairy piece.

Is there anything that I can do for them? asked La Cibot, and her expression would have done credit to a Jocrisse.

Gaudissart burst out laughing.

I am their housekeeper, sir, and do many things for my gentle-men—

She did not finish her speech, for in the middle of Gaudissart's roar of laughter a woman's voice exclaimed, "If you are laughing, old man,one may come in," and the leading lady of the ballet rushed into the room and flung herself upon the only sofa. The newcomer was Heloise Brisetout, with a splendid algerienne, such as scarves used to be called, about her shoulders.

Who is amusing you? Is it this lady? What post does she want? asked this nymph, giving the manager such a glance as artist gives artist, a glance that would make a subject for a picture.

Heloise, a young woman of exceedingly literary tastes, was on intimate terms with great and famous artists in Bohemia. Elegant, accomplished, and graceful, she was more intelligent than dancers usually are. As she put her question, she sniffed at a scent-bottle full of some aromatic perfume.

One fine woman is as good as another, madame; and if I don't sniff the pestilence out of a scent-bottle, nor daub brickdust on my cheeks—

That would be a sinful waste, child, when Nature put it on for you to begin with, said Heloise, with a side glance at her manager.

I am an honest woman—

So much the worse for you. It is not every one by a long chalk that can find some one to keep them, and kept I am, and in slap-up style, madame.

So much the worse! What do you mean? Oh, you may toss your head and go about in scarves, you will never have as many declarations as I have had, missus. You will never match the Belle Ecaillere of the Cadran Bleu.

Heloise Brisetout rose at once to her feet, stood at attention, and made a military salute, like a soldier who meets his general.

What? asked Gaudissart, "are you really La Belle Ecaillere of whom my father used to talk?"

In that case the cachucha and the polka were after your time; and madame has passed her fiftieth year, remarked Heloise, and striking an attitude, she declaimed, "'Cinna, let us be friends.'"

Come, Heloise, the lady is not up to this; let her alone.

Madame is perhaps the New Heloise, suggested La Cibot, with sly innocence.

Not bad, old lady! cried Gaudissart.

It is a venerable joke, said the dancer, "a grizzled pun; find us another old lady—or take a cigarette."

I beg your pardon, madame, I feel too unhappy to answer you; my two gentlemen are very ill; and to buy nourishment for them and to spare them trouble, I have pawned everything down to my husband's clothes that I pledged this morning. Here is the ticket!

Oh! here, the affair is becoming tragic, cried the fair Heloise. "What is it all about?"

Madame drops down upon us like—

Like a dancer, said Heloise; "let me prompt you,—missus!"

Come, I am busy, said Gaudissart. "The joke has gone far enough. Heloise, this is M. Pons' confidential servant; she had come to tell me that I must not count upon him; our poor conductor is not expected to live. I don't know what to do."

Oh! poor man; why, he must have a benefit.

It would ruin him, said Gaudissart. "He might find next day that he owed five hundred francs to charitable institutions, and they refuse to admit that there are any sufferers in Paris except their own. No, look here, my good woman, since you are going in for the Montyon prize——"

He broke off, rang the bell, and the youth before mentioned suddenly appeared.

Tell the cashier to send me up a thousand-franc note.—Sit down, madame.

Ah! poor woman, look, she is crying! exclaimed Heloise. "How stupid! There, there, mother, we will go to see him; don't cry.—I say, now," she continued, taking the manager into a corner, "you want to make me take the leading part in the ballet in Ariane, you Turk. You are going to be married, and you know how I can make you miserable—"

Heloise, my heart is copper-bottomed like a man-of-war.

I shall bring your children on the scene! I will borrow some some-where.

I have owned up about the attachment.

Do be nice, and give Pons' post to Garangeot; he has talent, poor fellow, and he has not a penny; and I promise peace.

But wait till Pons is dead, in case the good man may come back again.

Oh, as to that, no, sir, said La Cibot. "He began to wander in his mind last night, and now he is delirious. It will soon be over, unfortunately."

At any rate, take Garangeot as a stop-gap! pleaded Heloise. "He has the whole press on his side—"

Just at that moment the cashier came in with a note for a thousand francs in his hand.

Give it to madame here, said Gaudissart. "Good-day, my good woman; take good care of the dear man, and tell him that I am coming to see him to-morrow, or sometime—as soon as I can, in short."

A drowning man, said Heloise.

Ah, sir, hearts like yours are only found in a theatre. May God bless you!

To what account shall I post this item? asked the cashier.

I will countersign the order. Post it to the bonus account.

Before La Cibot went out, she made Mlle. Brisetout a fine courtesy, and heard Gaudissart remark to his mistress:

Can Garangeot do the dance-music for the Mohicans in twelve days? If he helps me out of my predicament, he shall have Pons' place.