Paula Monti; or, The Hôtel Lambert

In 1837 the Opera-ball in Paris was not as yet entirely invaded by that mob of wild and crazed dancers, _chicards_[1] and chicandards (as they style themselves), who, in the present day, have almost entirely driven from these assemblies the old traditions for mystification, and that tone of good society which did not detract from the piquancy of adventure.

Then, as now, the fashionables of the day congregated around a large chest, placed in the corridor of the first circle of boxes, between the two doors of the Opera "crush-room."

The privileged made a seat of this chest, and frequently shared it with certain sprightly dominoes, who were not always of the haut ton, but who knew it well enough by hearsay to be able to chatter scandal as fluently as the most scandalous.

At the last ball in the month of January 1837, about two o'clock in the morning, a tolerably large party of men were collected round a female in a domino, seated on the chest to which we have alluded.

Loud bursts of laughter hailed the sallies of this lady. She was not deficient in wit, but certain vulgar expressions, and the manner of tutoiement which she employed, proved that she did not appertain to the leading circles; although she appeared perfectly well informed as to all that passed in the highest and most exclusive society.

They were still laughing at one of the last smart comments of this domino, when, looking towards a young man who was passing through the corridor with great haste to enter the "crush-room," this female said,--

"Good evening, Fierval! whither so fast? you appear in great haste. Are you seeking the lovely Princess de Hansfeld, to whom you pay such constant attention? You will lose your time, I can assure you. She is not the woman to come to an Opera-ball--her virtue is of the old-fashioned sort; and you will all but singe your wings in the flame, like delicate butterflies."

M. de Fierval paused, and replied, with a smile,--

"Lovely mask, I will own that I do greatly admire the Princess de Hansfeld; but I am too humble an individual to have the slightest pretension to be noticed by her."

"Ah, indeed, what a formal and respectful tone! why one would say that you were in hopes that the princess would hear you!"

"I never speak of Madame de Hansfeld but with that respect with which she inspires all the world!" was M. de Fierval's reply.

"Perhaps you think I am the princess?"

"To make that possible, charming mask, you require her figure, which you certainly have not yet attained."

"Madame de Hansfeld at an Opera-ball!" said one of the loungers of the group that surrounded the domino; "that would, indeed, be something singular!"

"Why so?" inquired the domino.

"She lives too far off--at the Hôtel Lambert, fronting the Ile Louviers--almost as far off as London."

"That jest on the forsaken quarters is worn threadbare," replied the domino. "The truth is, that Madame de Hansfeld is too great a prude to be guilty of such a folly; she whom one sees every day at church--"

"But the Opera-ball was only invented in order that once a-year, at least, it should conceal the folly of prudes," said a new comer who had mingled with the circle unnoticed.

This personage was accosted with loud exclamations of surprise.

"What you, Brévannes! why, where did you spring from?"

"Oh, no doubt, just arrived from Lorraine."

"Here you are again, eh, you sad fellow?"

"His first visit is to the Opera! but that is quite de règle."

"He comes to see his ancient rollicking acquaintances."

"Or to learn news of them."

"He has been out to grass on his country estates."

"And no doubt has greatly profited by the 'run!'"

"They will not know him again in the green-room."

"I'll bet a wager that he has left his wife in the country, in order that he may more easily lead a bachelor's life here."

"This is the usual termination to your love-matches."

"Brévannes, we have made all arrangements for a little supper this evening."

"You'll come, of course! for then we can tell you all that has been, and has not been, done in Paris during your exile."

M. de Brévannes was a man about five-and-thirty, of dark complexion, almost olive-coloured; his features, which were regular, had a singular expression of energy: his hair, his eyebrows, and his beard, were of jet-black, and gave his face an air of sternness; his manners were easy and gentlemanly; and he was dressed simply, but in the best possible taste.

After having listened to the numberless salutations with which his friends accosted him, M. de Brévannes said, laughingly,--

"Now I will try and reply, since you give me an opportunity at last, and my reply shall not be, by any means, a tedious one. I am just come from Lorraine, and I am a better husband than you give me credit for--I have brought my wife back to Paris with me."

"Perhaps Madame de Brévannes might have thought you a better husband still if you had left her in Lorraine," said the domino; "but you are too jealous to do that."

"Indeed!" replied M. de Brévannes, looking at the mask with curiosity; "I am jealous, am I?"

"As jealous as obstinate! and that's the fact."

"The fact is," said M. de Fierval, "that when this fellow, Brévannes, takes any thing in his head----"

"Why, it stays there!" said M. de Brévannes, laughing: "I deserve to be a Breton. And since, charming mask, you know me so well, you must know my motto, 'vouloir c'est pouvoir' (to will is to be able to do).