Cousin Betty | Page 8

Master Hulot and I first made
acquaintance? --At our mistresses', madame."
"Oh, monsieur!"
"Yes, madame, at our mistresses'," Crevel repeated in a melodramatic
tone, and leaving his position to wave his right hand.
"Well, and what then?" said the Baroness coolly, to Crevel's great
amazement.
Such mean seducers cannot understand a great soul.
"I, a widower five years since," Crevel began, in the tone of a man who
has a story to tell, "and not wishing to marry again for the sake of the
daughter I adore, not choosing either to cultivate any such connection
in my own establishment, though I had at the time a very pretty
lady-accountant. I set up, 'on her own account,' as they say, a little
sempstress of fifteen--really a miracle of beauty, with whom I fell
desperately in love. And in fact, madame, I asked an aunt of my own,
my mother's sister, whom I sent for from the country, to live with the
sweet creature and keep an eye on her, that she might behave as well as
might be in this rather--what shall I say--shady?--no, delicate position.
"The child, whose talent for music was striking, had masters, she was
educated--I had to give her something to do. Besides, I wished to be at
once her father, her benefactor, and--well, out with it--her lover; to kill

two birds with one stone, a good action and a sweetheart. For five years
I was very happy. The girl had one of those voices that make the
fortune of a theatre; I can only describe her by saying that she is a
Duprez in petticoats. It cost me two thousand francs a year only to
cultivate her talent as a singer. She made me music-mad; I took a box
at the opera for her and for my daughter, and went there alternate
evenings with Celestine or Josepha."
"What, the famous singer?"
"Yes, madame," said Crevel with pride, "the famous Josepha owes
everything to me.--At last, in 1834, when the child was twenty,
believing that I had attached her to me for ever, and being very weak
where she was concerned, I thought I would give her a little amusement,
and I introduced her to a pretty little actress, Jenny Cadine, whose life
had been somewhat like her own. This actress also owed everything to
a protector who had brought her up in leading- strings. That protector
was Baron Hulot."
"I know that," said the Baroness, in a calm voice without the least
agitation.
"Bless me!" cried Crevel, more and more astounded. "Well! But do you
know that your monster of a husband took Jenny Cadine in hand at the
age of thirteen?"
"What then?" said the Baroness.
"As Jenny Cadine and Josepha were both aged twenty when they first
met," the ex-tradesman went on, "the Baron had been playing the part
of Louis XV. to Mademoiselle de Romans ever since 1826, and you
were twelve years younger then----"
"I had my reasons, monsieur, for leaving Monsieur Hulot his liberty."
"That falsehood, madame, will surely be enough to wipe out every sin
you have ever committed, and to open to you the gates of Paradise,"
replied Crevel, with a knowing air that brought the color to the

Baroness' cheeks. "Sublime and adored woman, tell that to those who
will believe it, but not to old Crevel, who has, I may tell you, feasted
too often as one of four with your rascally husband not to know what
your high merits are! Many a time has he blamed himself when half
tipsy as he has expatiated on your perfections. Oh, I know you well!--A
libertine might hesitate between you and a girl of twenty. I do not
hesitate----"
"Monsieur!"
"Well, I say no more. But you must know, saintly and noble woman,
that a husband under certain circumstances will tell things about his
wife to his mistress that will mightily amuse her."
Tears of shame hanging to Madame Hulot's long lashes checked the
National Guardsman. He stopped short, and forgot his attitude.
"To proceed," said he. "We became intimate, the Baron and I, through
the two hussies. The Baron, like all bad lots, is very pleasant, a
thoroughly jolly good fellow. Yes, he took my fancy, the old rascal. He
could be so funny!--Well, enough of those reminiscences. We got to be
like brothers. The scoundrel--quite Regency in his notions--tried indeed
to deprave me altogether, preached Saint-Simonism as to women, and
all sorts of lordly ideas; but, you see, I was fond enough of my girl to
have married her, only I was afraid of having children.
"Then between two old daddies, such friends as--as we were, what
more natural than that we should think of our children marrying each
other? --Three months after his son had married my Celestine,