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THE DEATH OF A HORSE
"The dinners are better at Edon's than at Bombarda's,"
exclaimed Zephine.
"I prefer Bombarda to Edon," declared Blachevelle.
"There is more luxury.
It is more Asiatic.
Look at the room downstairs; there are mirrors [glaces] on
the walls."
"I prefer them [glaces, ices] on my plate," said
Favourite.
Blachevelle persisted:--
"Look at the knives.
The handles are of silver at Bombarda's and of bone at Edon's.
Now, silver is more valuable than bone."
"Except for those who have a silver chin," observed
Tholomyes.
He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visible
from Bombarda's windows.
A pause ensued.
"Tholomyes," exclaimed Fameuil, "Listolier and
I were having a discussion just now."
"A discussion is a good thing," replied Tholomyes;
"a quarrel is better."
"We were disputing about philosophy."
"Well?"
"Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?"
"Desaugiers," said Tholomyes.
This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on:--
"I consent to live.
All is not at an end on earth since we can still talk nonsense.
For that I return thanks to the immortal gods.We lie.
One lies, but one laughs.
One affirms, but one doubts.The unexpected bursts forth from
the syllogism.
That is fine.There are still human beings here below who know
how to open and close the surprise box of the paradox merrily.
This, ladies, which you are drinking with so tranquil an air
is Madeira wine, you must know, from the vineyard of Coural das
Freiras, which is three hundred and seventeen fathoms above the
level of the sea.Attention while you drink! three hundred and
seventeen fathoms! and Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house
keeper, gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for
four francs and fifty centimes."
Again Fameuil interrupted him:--
"Tholomyes, your opinions fix the law.
Who is your favorite author?"
"Ber--"
"Quin?"
"No; Choux."
And Tholomyes continued:--
"Honor to Bombarda!
He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me
an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chaeronea if he could
bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas
in Greece and in Egypt.
Apuleius tells us of them.Alas! always the same, and nothing
new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation!
Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus idem, says Virgil;
and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud,
as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos.
One last word.
Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies?Although she lived at
an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul
of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher
than the dawn.
Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met;
she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut.
Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for
Prometheus."
Tholomyes, once started, would have found some difficulty in
stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that
moment.The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead
halt.It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the
knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart.
On arriving in front of Bombarda's, the worn-out, exhausted
beast had refused to proceed any further.This incident attracted
a crowd.
Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter
with proper energy the sacramental word, Matin (the jade), backed
up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never
to rise again.
On hearing the hubbub made by the passersby, Tholomyes' merry
auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyes took advantage of the
opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy
strophe:--"Elle etait de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses[3]
Ont le meme destin;
Et, rosse, elle a vecu ce que vivant les rosses,
L'espace d'un matin!"
[3] She belonged to that circle where cuckoos and carriages
share the same fate; and a jade herself, she lived, as jades live,
for the space of a morning (or jade).
"Poor horse!" sighed Fantine.
And Dahlia exclaimed:--
"There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses.
How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!"
At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her
head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyes and said:--
"Come, now! the surprise?"
"Exactly.
The moment has arrived," replied Tholomyes."Gentlemen,
the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck.Wait for
us a moment, ladies."
"It begins with a kiss," said Blachevelle.
"On the brow," added Tholomyes.
Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress's brow; then all
four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.
Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.
"It is beginning to be amusing already," said she.
"Don't be too long," murmured Fantine; "we are
waiting for you."
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