“Then we’ll buy a grocer’s shop!
Oh! what luck! we’ll buy a grocer’s shop.
Not on a big scale, of course; with five thousand francs
one does not go far.”
He was shocked at the suggestion.
“No, I can’t be a grocer. I am—I
am—too well known: I only know Latin,
that is all I know.”
But she poured a glass of champagne down his throat.
He drank it and was silent.
We got back into the boat. The night was dark,
very dark. I saw clearly, however, that he had
caught her by the waist, and that they were hugging
each other again and again.
It was a frightful catastrophe. Our escapade
was discovered, with the result that Pere Piquedent
was dismissed. And my father, in a fit of anger,
sent me to finish my course of philosophy at Ribaudet’s
school.
Six months later I took my degree of Bachelor of Arts.
Then I went to study law in Paris, and did not return
to my native town till two years later.
At the corner of the Rue de Serpent a shop caught
my eye. Over the door were the words: “Colonial
Products—Piquedent”; then underneath,
so as to enlighten the most ignorant: “Grocery.”
I exclaimed:
“‘Quantum mutatus ab illo!’”
Piquedent raised his head, left his female customer,
and rushed toward me with outstretched hands.
“Ah! my young friend, my young friend, here
you are! What luck! what luck!”
A beautiful woman, very plump, abruptly left the cashier’s
desk and flung herself on my breast. I had some
difficulty in recognizing her, she had grown so stout.
I asked:
“So then you’re doing well?”
Piquedent had gone back to weigh the groceries.
“Oh! very well, very well, very well. I
have made three thousand francs clear this year!”
“And what about Latin, Monsieur Piquedent?”
“Oh, good heavens! Latin, Latin, Latin—you
see it does not keep the pot boiling!”
It was nothing but an accident, an accident pure and
simple. On that particular evening the princess’
rooms were open, and as they appeared dark after the
brilliantly lighted parlors, Baron d’Etraille,
who was tired of standing, inadvertently wandered
into an empty bedroom.
He looked round for a chair in which to have a doze,
as he was sure his wife would not leave before daylight.
As soon as he became accustomed to the light of the
room he distinguished the big bed with its azure-and-gold
hangings, in the middle of the great room, looking
like a catafalque in which love was buried, for the
princess was no longer young. Behind it, a large
bright surface looked like a lake seen at a distance.
It was a large mirror, discreetly covered with dark
drapery, that was very rarely let down, and seemed
to look at the bed, which was its accomplice.
One might almost fancy that it had reminiscences, and
that one might see in it charming female forms and
the gentle movement of loving arms.
