The Galley Slave's Ring; or, The Family of Lebrenn

"That takes too long. When a violent fancy seizes me, I find it impossible to wait."

"Indeed! 'Tis wonderful, but, darling, you interest me greatly. Let's see. First of all is the shop-girl poor? Is she in great want? Does she seem very hungry?"

"How? Whether she is hungry? What the devil do you mean?"

"Colonel, I can not deny your personal attractions – you're handsome, you're brilliant, you're charming, you're adorable, you're delicious – "

"Irony?"

"What do you think! Would I dare to? Well, as I was saying, you're delicious! But, in order for the poor girl to appreciate you duly, she must first be dying of hunger. You have no idea how hunger – helps to find people adorable."

Whereupon Pradeline sailed in to improvise a new ditty, not, this time, in merry vein, but with marked bitterness, and keeping time with such a slow measure that her favorite tune sounded melancholic:

"You're hungry and you weep,
Come, maid, and fall asleep;
Come, you'll have plenty of gold,
Thyself to me be sold.
La rifla-fla-fla-fla, la rifla – "

"The devil take that song! This one is not at all jolly," remarked the Count of Plouernel, struck by the melancholic accents of the young girl, who, however, quickly resumed her reckless bearing and wonted cheerfulness. "I understand the allusion," he added; "but my pretty shop-girl is not hungry."

"The next thing – is she coquettish? Does she love to be prinked? Does she like jewelry, or theaters? These are famous means to blast a poor girl."

"I presume she likes all those things. But she has a father and mother, and they probably keep a close watch over her. In view of all this I had a plan – "

"You? At last you have a plan of your own! And what is it?"

"It is to make frequent and large purchases in that shop, even to loan them money at a pinch, because I know those small traders must ever be hard pushed for cash to pay their bills."

"In other words, you believe they will be ready to sell you their daughter – for cash?"

"No; but I figure that they will at least shut their eyes – I would then be able to dazzle the minx with presents, and proceed rapidly to my goal. Well, how does my plan strike you?"

"I'll be blown! How can I tell?" answered Pradeline, affecting innocence. "If things are done in your upper world in that manner, if parents sell their daughters, perhaps the thing is done in the same way among the poorer folks. Still, I don't believe it. These people are too bourgeois, they are too niggardly, you see?"

"My little girl," said the Count of Plouernel haughtily, "you are emancipating yourself prodigiously."

At this reproach the young girl broke out with a peal of laughter, which she interrupted to sing in merry notes this new improvisation:

"O! See that bold signor,
So full of pride, honor?
To such a haughty flea
All bourgeois bend the knee!
La rifla-fla-fla-fla, la rifla – "

After which Pradeline rose, took from the mantlepiece a cigar that she deftly lighted, and proceeded to hum her refrain between the puffs of smoke that she blew out of her cherry lips. She then stretched herself at full length upon a lounge, and drove in silence the bluish smoke of her choice Havana towards the ceiling.

Forgetting the anger with which he was seized shortly before, the Count of Plouernel could not avoid laughing at the originality displayed by the young girl, and said:

"Come, my little pet; let us talk seriously. I am not asking for songs, but for advice."

"I must first be informed of the quarter of the town in which your love is located," observed the young girl dogmatically, turning over on the lounge. "The knowledge of the quarter is very important in such matters. What may be done in one quarter, can not be done in another. Darling, there are prudish quarters, devout quarters, and decolleté quarters."

"Profoundly reasoned, my charmer. The influence of a quarter upon the virtue of its women is considerable. Without running any risk I may tell you that my shop-girl lives on St. Denis Street."

The young girl, who, stretched out upon the lounge, had been leisurely and nonchalantly rolling the clouds of smoke from her cigar before her, started at the mention of St. Denis Street, and rose so suddenly that the Count of Plouernel looked at her in astonishment, and cried:

"What the devil has come over you?"

"What has come over me – " answered Pradeline, quickly recovering her composure and wonted nonchalance, "what has come over me is that your horrible cigar has burnt me – but that's no matter. You were saying, darling, that your love is located in St. Denis Street? Well, now I have something to go by; but not yet enough."

"And you shall not learn any more, my little beauty."

"The pest take this cigar!" exclaimed Pradeline, again shaking her head. "It will blister me! It will blister me surely!"

"Would you like some cold water?"

"No, it will soon be over. So, then, your love lives in St. Denis Street. You should also let me know – is the place at the head or the foot of the street? There is quite some difference between the head and the foot of a street, you must admit. The proof is, that the prices of the shops are dear at one end and cheap at the other. According as the rent runs high or low, a lover's generosity must keep step and be proportionately great or less so. You can not get over this positive fact."

"It is a very positive fact. Well, I shall confide to you that my love lives not far from the St. Denis Gate."

"I need put no further questions to render my opinion," said Pradeline with a voice that she was at great pains to modulate into comical tones. Nevertheless, a closer observer than the Count of Plouernel would have noticed a vague shadow of uneasiness flit over the otherwise gay girl.

"Well, what is your advice?"

"First of all – you should – " but, suddenly breaking off, the young girl said:

"Someone raps at the door, darling."

"You think so?"

"I am quite certain. Listen! Don't you hear?"

In fact the rapping was renewed.

"Walk in!" cried the Count.

A valet presented himself, looking disconcerted, and said to the Count anxiously:

"Monsieur Count, his Eminence – "

"My uncle!" exclaimed the Count of Plouernel, looking no less disconcerted than his valet, and hastily rising to his feet.

"Yes, Monsieur Count. Monsignor the Cardinal arrived last night in the city from his trip abroad, and – "

"A Cardinal!" cried Pradeline, interrupting the valet with boisterous peals of laughter, already oblivious of the matters that seemed to preoccupy her mind a minute before. "A Cardinal! That's a rare sight! That's a thing one does not find every day at Mabille's or at Valentino's! A Cardinal! I've never seen one. I must give myself a treat."

Whereupon she forthwith improvised to the tune of her favorite song: