1.F.3.8. THE DEATH OF A HORSE
"THE dinners are better at Edon's than at Bombarda's,"
exclaimed Zephine.
"I prefer Bombarda to Edon," declared Blachevelle.
"There is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the
room downstairs; there are mirrors [glaces] on the walls."
"I prefer them [glaces, ices] on my plate," said
Favourite.
Blachevelle persisted: —
"Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bombarda's
and of bone at Edon's. Now, silver is more valuable
than bone."
"Except for those who have a silver chin," observed
Tholomyes.
He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was
visible from Bombarda's windows.
A pause ensued.
"Tholomyes," exclaimed Fameuil, "Listolier and I were
having a discussion just now."
"A discussion is a good thing," replied Tholomyes; "a
quarrel is better."
"We were disputing about philosophy."
"Well?"
"Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?"
"Desaugiers," said Tholomyes.
This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on: —
"I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since we
can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the
immortal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One
affirms, but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from
the syllogism. That is fine. There are still human beings
here below who know how to open and close the surprise box
of the paradox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking
with so tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from
the vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred
and seventeen fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention
while you drink! three hundred and seventeen fathoms! and
Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper,
gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for four
francs and fifty centimes."
Again Fameuil interrupted him: —
"Tholomyes, your opinions fix the law. Who is your favorite
author?"
"Ber — "
"Quin?"
"No; Choux."
And Tholomyes continued: —
"Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta
if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and
Thygelion of Chaeronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan;
for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in
Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and
nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in
creation!
Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon;
amor omnibus
idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the
bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon
the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what
Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when
women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy
and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the
dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of
womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates
plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress
should be needed for Prometheus."
Tholomyes, once started, would have found some difficulty
in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just
at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to
come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin,
and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy
cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda's, the worn-out,
exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This
incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and
indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the
sacramental word, Matin (the jade), backed up with a pitiless
cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On
hearing the hubbub made by the passersby, Tholomyes' merry
auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyes took advantage
of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this
melancholy strophe: —
"Elle etait de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses
Ont le meme destin;
Et, rosse, elle a vecu ce que vivant les rosses,
L'espace d'un matin!"
"Poor horse!" sighed Fantine.
And Dahlia exclaimed: —
"There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How
can one be such a pitiful fool as that!"
At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing
her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyes and said: —
"Come, now! the surprise?"
"Exactly. The moment has arrived," replied Tholomyes.
"Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has
struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies."
"It begins with a kiss," said Blachevelle.
"On the brow," added Tholomyes.
Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress's brow;. then
all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their
lips.
Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.
"It is beginning to be amusing already," said she.
"Don't be too long," murmured Fantine; "we are waiting
for you."