Read Ebook: Papa Bouchard by Seawell Molly Elliot Glackens William J Illustrator

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Ebook has 182 lines and 9377 words, and 4 pages

Pity Papa Bouchard! He really had no intention of attending so gay a party. He had spent the whole evening anxiously watching for Madame Vernet. She had not arrived, or at least had not seen fit to reveal herself, and while he was hovering about the entrance to the terrace garden looking for her, these three merry girls had come along, had swooped down on him without the least warning, and had carried him off bodily to de Meneval's supper. Papa Bouchard had not the slightest idea of where he was when he was plumped down in Captain de Meneval's room. But one look around him--the sight of L?ontine--revealed his whole dreadful predicament to him. It was too much for poor Papa Bouchard!

His persecutors having permitted him to sit on a chair, he endeavored to recover himself, and fanning with his handkerchief in great agitation, he debated with himself what to do. L?ontine, meanwhile, was laughing at him without a sign of recognition.

Papa Bouchard, presently finding his voice, said sternly to L?ontine:

"May I ask what you are doing here in this company?"

To which L?ontine, with pert gaiety, replied:

"I," said Papa Bouchard, with dignity, "am here by accident, and by the violence of these young women."

"Oh, what a fib!" cried Olga. "The old duffer begged us to let him come. We tried to shake him off, but we couldn't. Isn't that so, Aglaia and Louise?"

And Aglaia and Louise said it was so.

Papa Bouchard, astounded at such duplicity, glared at them, but the only satisfaction he got was a fillip on the nose from Aglaia and a remark to the effect that he and the truth didn't live at the same address. Papa Bouchard indignantly turned his back on these traducers and again opened on L?ontine.

"I am amazed--amazed at your temerity. What shall I say to Captain de Meneval when I see him, as I shall to-morrow morning?"

"Anything you like," was L?ontine's laughing answer.

"No, I don't," responded L?ontine, nonchalantly. "I never saw you before."

At this, shouts of laughter came from the three young ladies, and they all urged Papa Bouchard to stop his wild career of prevarication and learn to tell the truth.

Papa Bouchard, quite beside himself, turned to Major Falli?re.

"Sir," he said, solemnly, "you wear the uniform of an officer, and I presume you are a gentleman. Believe me, this lady--" indicating L?ontine--"is the wife of a brother officer of yours, Captain de Meneval. The truest kindness you can do him or her is to persuade her to leave this scene of dissipation and return to Paris with me."

"O-o-o-o-h!" shrieked the three impish girls in chorus. "What an outrageous proposition! And she says she never saw the man before!"

Papa Bouchard, still appealing to Major Falli?re, continued, earnestly:

"Perhaps this misguided girl has not told you that she is Madame Victor de Meneval."

"She told me," quietly replied Major Falli?re, "that she was simply Satanita, a singer and dancer."

Papa Bouchard dropped limply on the sofa and groaned in anguish of heart. But now was heard a jaunty step on the stair, which all recognized as de Meneval's. The mischievous Aglaia ran forward and unlocked the door, and in stepped de Meneval, smiling and debonair.

Now, this little festivity had been his sole recreation during the ten miserable days since he had got into the complication of the necklace; and the supper, which was for only five, was at the suggestion of the Pink of Military Propriety. So it was without any compunctions that de Meneval walked into his quarters, expecting to find a small but jolly party. But he instantly recognized the two uninvited members, and stopping short on the carpet, his ruddy complexion turned a sickly green.

"Of all the impudent men I ever saw, this one excels! What do you think? As soon as he found we were coming here to supper, he hung on to us--declared there was nothing he liked so well as a gay little party, that he could drink so much champagne he was called the Champagne Tank--and actually forced himself in here, although we tried to push him out. Didn't he, Olga and Louise?"

And Olga and Louise confirmed every word that Aglaia uttered.

Papa Bouchard, thoroughly exasperated, struck an attitude like that of Socrates in his favorite picture, "Socrates and His Pupils," and addressed Captain de Meneval.

"Monsieur le Capitaine," he said, "you of course do not and cannot believe a word that these young ladies say concerning my presence here to-night."

Victor, very much alarmed, and dreading to catch L?ontine's eye, yet retained enough of his wits to see that he had Papa Bouchard at a disadvantage, and that the best thing to do was to assume the worst, and decline to listen to any explanation.

"Monsieur Bouchard," he said, coldly, "you are asking a little too much of me when you wish me to believe your testimony against that of three ladies. I don't know how you came, but I am very glad to see you now that you are here, and hope you will remain to supper."

And Aglaia and Louise and Olga again uttered a chorus of shrieks, and pretended to faint.

But de Meneval had troubles of his own to attend to then. He walked over to where L?ontine sat, and assuming an air of forced jollity, such as a man puts on when he anticipates a wigging from the wife of his bosom, said:

"Delighted you happened to arrive, my love--and what do you think of the Pouters?"

"I think they are very jolly girls," promptly replied L?ontine; "but as I am another uninvited guest, I thought it best to tell Major Falli?re and the others that I, too, am a singer and dancer--Satanita, I called myself, on the spur of the moment."

De Meneval turned from green to blue. "And you did not immediately inform them that you are my wife?" he hissed, in a savage whisper.

"No," coolly replied L?ontine, "and when Papa Bouchard recognized me, I declared I had never seen him before. I am little Satanita--good name, isn't it?--for this evening."

De Meneval, enraged and disconcerted beyond words, felt helpless. Suppose he were to proclaim the truth? L?ontine, as if answering the thought in his mind, whispered, with cruel glee:

"And if you say I am your wife I shall simply deny it. Satanita I am and Satanita I shall be, and I shall live up to the part--of that you may be sure."

De Meneval was in doubt whether to shoot himself. And then there was a move toward the table. The girls were dragging Papa Bouchard forward, who, still very angry, was yet not insensible to their pretty and mischievous wiles. L?ontine, running up to Major Falli?re, demanded that he sit next her at table, while de Meneval found himself sitting opposite L?ontine, and with indescribable feelings saw her drink champagne, as he supposed, by the tumblerful. Falli?re had cleverly got hold of the two bottles of apollinaris, and filled L?ontine's glass with the greatest assiduity.

There was much noise and excitement, and as the supper progressed de Meneval grew almost frantic over the spectacle his dear little L?ontine was making of herself. For she not only managed to drink innumerable glasses of apollinaris, but she sang, she even danced. She paraded up and down the room, singing, in her sweet, saucy voice, verses made up at the moment.

"Oh, I am the Widow Clicquot, Clicquot, I live at the Ch?teau Margaux, Margaux, My coachman's name is Pommery Sec, My footman is Piper Heidsieck, Mo?t-et-Chandon are my span."

She paused for reflection and added:

"And when Mo?t and Chandon go lame, I drive Mumm and Roederer!"

Here her invention gave out, and rubbing the top of de Meneval's head with one of the champagne bottles, she added, laughing:

"Houp-l?!"

That "Houp-l?" almost drove de Meneval to distraction, but a roar of applause, in which all joined except her husband and Papa Bouchard, encouraged L?ontine to continue. After a few moments' reflection she began singing again:

And she concluded with another "Houp-l?!"

At this Papa Bouchard, who had been as much horrified as de Meneval, leaned over and whispered in agony to him:

"She has certainly lost her mind and appears quite crazy!"

This was too much for poor de Meneval. He had spent an hour of torture while L?ontine, vastly to her own amusement, to Major Falli?re's, and to that of the Pouters, had exhibited all the saucy graces of a Satanita, and Queen of the Harem-Scarem, but de Meneval could stand no more. Therefore, rising from the table, he cried, with tears in his eyes:

"My friends, I beg of you to leave me. This lady who calls herself Satanita is my wife. I have never seen her act in this manner before--I am sure she never so acted before. It is my duty as well as my privilege to shield her, and I wish to say that if any person, man or woman, ever mentions what her unfortunate conduct to-night has been, a life will be forfeited, for I swear to shoot any man who dares to breathe one word against her, and any woman who does it may reckon on my vengeance." And with big tears rolling down his cheeks, he held his arms out to his wife.

This was too much for L?ontine. Just as Major Falli?re had predicted, at the first sign of repentance on de Meneval's part she forgot all her resolutions to punish him, and falling into his arms, she exclaimed, in her own, natural voice:

"You dear, chivalrous angel, I haven't touched champagne--it is nothing but apollinaris water, and I am your own true, devoted L?ontine!"

De Meneval was so overcome that he could do nothing but pat her head and cry:

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