The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6. Эжен Сю
steries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6
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 ten sous 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 five sous' 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