“You are,” said he, “following a diplomatic career, but in private concerns; for what is the difference between an ambassador and an attorney? Merely that which divides a nation from an individual. Ambassadors are the attorneys of a people.—If I can ever be of any use to you, depend on me.”
“My word! I may tell you now,” said Oscar, “you were the cause of a terrible catastrophe for me.”
“Pooh!” said Georges, after listening to the history of the lad’s tribulations. “It was Monsieur de Sérizy who behaved badly. His wife?—I would not have her at a gift. And although the Count is Minister of State and Peer of France, I would not be in his red skin! He is a small-minded man, and I can afford to despise him now.”
Oscar listened with pleasure to Georges’ ironies on the Comte de Sérizy, for they seemed to diminish the gravity of his own fault, and he threw himself into the young man’s spirit as he predicted that overthrow of the nobility of which the citizen class then had visions, to be realized in 1830.
They sat down at half-past three; dessert was not on the table before eight. Each course of dishes lasted two hours. None but law-clerks can eat so steadily! Digestions of eighteen and twenty are inexplicable to the medical faculty. The wine was worthy of Borrel, who had at that time succeeded the illustrious Balaine, the creator of the very best restaurant in Paris—and that is to say in the world—for refined and perfect cookery.
A full report of this Belshazzar’s feast was drawn up at dessert, beginning with—Inter pocula aurea restauranti, qui vulgo dicitur Rupes Cancali: and from this introduction the rapturous record may be imagined which was added to this Golden Book of the High Festivals of the Law.
Godeschal disappeared after signing his name, leaving the eleven feasters, prompted by the old captain of the Imperial Dragoons, to devote themselves to the wine, the liqueurs, and the toasts, over a dessert of pyramids of sweets and fruits like the pyramids of Thebes. By half-past ten the “boy” of the office was in a state which necessitated his removal; Georges packed him into a cab, gave the driver his mother’s address, and paid his fare. Then the ten remaining guests, as drunk as Pitt and Dundas, talked of going on foot by the Boulevards, the night being very fine, as far as the residence of the Marquise, where, at a little before midnight, they would find a brilliant company. The whole party longed to fill their lungs with fresh air; but excepting Georges, Giroudeau, Finot, and du Bruel, all accustomed to Parisian orgies, no one could walk. So Georges sent for three open carriages from a job-master’s stables, and took the whole party for an airing on the outer Boulevards for an hour, from Montmartre to the Barrière du Trône, and back by Bercy, the quays, and the Boulevards to the Rue de Vendôme.
The youngsters were still floating in the paradise of fancy to which intoxication transports boys, when their entertainer led them into Florentine’s rooms. Here sat a dazzling assembly of the queens of the stage, who, at a hint, no doubt, from Frédéric, amused themselves by aping the manners of fine ladies. Ices were handed round, the chandeliers blazed with wax lights. Tullia’s footman, with those of Madame du Val-Noble and Florine, all in gaudy livery, carried round sweetmeats on silver trays. The hangings, choice products of the looms of Lyons, and looped with gold cord, dazzled the eye. The flowers on the carpet suggested a garden-bed. Costly toys and curiosities glittered on all sides. At first, and in the obfuscated state to which Georges had brought them, the clerks, and Oscar in particular, believed in the genuineness of the Marquesa de las Florentinas y Cabirolos.
On four tables set out for play, gold pieces lay in glittering heaps. In the drawing-room the women were playing at Vingt-et-un, Nathan, the famous author, holding the deal. Thus, after being carried tipsy and half-asleep along the dimly-lighted Boulevards, the clerks woke to find themselves in Armida’s Palace. Oscar, on being introduced by Georges to the sham Marquise, stood dumbfounded, not recognizing the ballet-dancer from the Gaîté in an elegant dress cut aristocratically low at the neck and richly trimmed with lace—a woman looking like a vignette in a keepsake, who received them with an air and manners that had no parallel in the experience or the imagination of a youth so strictly bred as he had been. After he had admired all the splendor of the rooms, the beautiful women who displayed themselves and who had vied with each other in dress for this occasion—the inauguration of all this magnificence—Florentine took Oscar by the hand and led him to the table where Vingt-et-un was going on.
“Come, let me introduce you to the handsome Marquise d’Anglade, one of my friends—”
And she took the hapless Oscar up to pretty Fanny Beaupré, who, for the last two years, had filled poor Coralie’s place in Camusot’s affections. The young actress had just achieved a reputation in the part of a Marquise in a melodrama at the Porte-Saint-Martin, called la Famille d’Anglade, one of the successes of the day.
“Here, my dear,” said Florentine, “allow me to introduce to you a charming youth who can be your partner in the game.”
“Oh! that will be very nice!” replied the actress, with a fascinating smile, as she looked Oscar down from head to foot. “I am losing. We will go shares, if you like.”
“I am at your orders, Madame la Marquise,” said Oscar, taking a seat by her side.
“You shall stake,” said she, “and I will play. You will bring me luck. There, that is my last hundred francs—” And the sham Marquise took out a purse of which the rings were studded with diamonds, and produced five gold pieces. Oscar brought out his hundred francs in five-franc pieces, already shamefaced at mingling
