the
species Duke. He recognizes none but the women who have been
presented at court. Pray excuse him, he was one of Napoleon's
creations.
"Madame Firmiani? surely she used to sing at the Opera-house." Species
Ninny. The individuals of this
species have an answer for everything.
They will tell lies sooner than say nothing.
Two old ladies, wives of former magistrates: The First (wears a cap
with bows, her face is wrinkled, her nose sharp, voice hard, carries a
prayer-book in her hand): "What was that Madame Firmiani's maiden
name?"--The Second (small face red as a crab-apple, gentle voice):
"She was a Cadignan, my dear, niece of the old Prince de Cadignan,
consequently cousin to the present Duc de Maufrigneuse."
Madame Firmiani is a Cadignan. She might have neither
virtue, nor
wealth, nor youth, but she would still be a Cadignan; it is like a
prejudice, always alive and working.
An Original: "My dear fellow, I've seen no galoshes in her
antechamber;
consequently you can visit her without compromising
yourself, and play cards there without fear; if there ARE any
scoundrels in her salons, they are people of quality and come in their
carriages; such persons never quarrel."
Old man belonging to the genus Observer: "If you call on Madame
Firmiani, my good friend, you will find a beautiful woman sitting at
her ease by the corner of her
fireplace. She will scarcely rise to
receive you,--she only does that for women, ambassadors, dukes, and
persons of great
distinction. She is very
gracious, she possesses
charm; she converses well, and likes to talk on many topics. There are
many indications of a
passionate nature about her; but she has,
evidently, so many adorers that she cannot have a favorite. If
suspicion rested on two or three of her intimates, we might say that
one or other of them was the "cavaliere servente"; but it does not.
The lady is a
mystery. She is married, though none of us have seen her
husband. Monsieur Firmiani is
altogether mythical; he is like that
third post-horse for which we pay though we never behold it. Madame
has the finest contralto voice in Europe, so say judges; but she has
never been heard to sing more than two or three times since she came
to Paris. She receives much company, but goes nowhere."
The Observer speaks, you will notice, as an Oracle. His words,
anecdotes, and quotations must be accepted as truths, under pain of
being thought without social education or
intelligence, and of causing
him to
slander you with much zest in twenty salons where he is
considered
indispensable. The Observer is forty years of age, never
dines at home, declares himself no longer dangerous to women, wears a
maroon coat, and has a place reserved for him in several boxes at the
"Bouffons." He is sometimes confounded with the Parasite; but he has
filled too many real functions to be thought a sponger;
moreover he
possesses a small
estate in a certain department, the name of which he
has never been known to utter.
"Madame Firmiani? why, my dear fellow, she was Murat's former
mistress." This man belongs to the Contradictors,--persons who note
errata in memoirs, rectify dates, correct facts, bet a hundred to one,
and are certain about everything. You can easily
detect them in some
gross
blunder in the course of a single evening. They will tell you
they were in Paris at the time of Mallet's
conspiracy, forgetting that
half an hour earlier they had described how they had crossed the
Beresina. Nearly all Contradictors are "chevaliers" of the Legion of
honor; they talk loudly, have retreating foreheads, and play high.
"Madame Firmiani a hundred thousand francs a year?
nonsense, you are
crazy! Some people will
persist in giving millions with the liberality
of authors, to whom it doesn't cost a penny to dower their heroines.
Madame Firmiani is simply a coquette, who has
lately ruined a young
man, and now prevents him from making a fine marriage. If she were not
so handsome she wouldn't have a penny."
Ah, THAT ONE--of course you recognize him--belongs to the
speciesEnvious. There is no need to
sketch him; the
species is as well known
as that of the felis domestica. But how explain the
perennial vigor of
envy?--a vice that brings nothing in!
Persons in society,
literary men, honest folk,--in short, individuals
of all
species,--were promulgating in the month of January, 1824, so
many different opinions about Madame Firmiani that it would be tedious
to write them down. We have merely sought to show that a man seeking
to understand her, yet
unwilling or
unable to go to her house, would