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Updated: June 15, 2025
Gradually under the flute's tuition Schmucke's childlike imagination acquired a certain amount of knowledge of the world; he could believe in the existence of that fabulous creature the lorette, the possibility of "marriages at the Thirteenth Arrondissement," the vagaries of the leading lady, and the contraband traffic carried on by box-openers.
La Cibot, sitting at the foot of her husband's bed, gave not so much as a thought to Schmucke's breakfast for that matter had been forbidden to return; but the morning's events, the sight of Pons' heroic resignation in the death agony, so oppressed Schmucke's heart that he was not conscious of hunger.
He sits up with you at night, and I take the nursing in the day. If I were to sit up at night with you, as I tried to do at first when I thought you were so poor, I should have to sleep all day. And who would see to the house and look out for squalls! Illness is illness, it cannot be helped, and here are you " "This was not Schmucke's idea, it is quite impossible "
A more practised eye than that of the countess would have seen certain other revelations of Schmucke's mode of life, chestnut-peels, apple-parings, egg-shells dyed red in broken dishes smeared with sauer-kraut.
Gif I see dem at all, it is at die Jambs Elusees, und dey do not see me . . . yet dey are ver' fond of me, und I might go to dine mit dem, und dey vould be ver' bleased to see me; und I might go to deir country-houses, but I vould much rader be mit mine friend Bons, because I kann see him venefer I like, und efery tay." Pons took Schmucke's hand and grasped it between his own.
Their mother was at work on a theatrical costume. "Be quiet! or I shall slap you!" shouted Topinard in a formidable voice; then in an aside for Schmucke's benefit "Always have to say that! Here, little one," he continued, addressing his Lolotte, "this is M. Schmucke, poor M. Pons' friend. He does not know where to go, and he would like to live with us.
Pons, who always wore a diamond ring on the little finger of his right hand, an ornament permitted in the time of the Empire, but ridiculous to-day Pons, who belonged to the "troubadour time," the sentimental periods of the first Empire, was too much a child of his age, too much of a Frenchman to wear the expression of divine serenity which softened Schmucke's hideous ugliness.
Never did the countess suspect or imagine such an existence as that which suddenly revealed itself to her eyes, though she had long known Schmucke's contempt for dress, and the little interest he held in the affairs of this world. But who could have believed in such complete indifference, in the utter laisser-aller of such a life?
So the enemy was to be brought into the citadel, and a stab dealt to Pons' very heart. For ten years Pons had carried his keys about with him; he had forbidden La Cibot to allow any one, no matter whom, to cross his threshold; and La Cibot had so far shared Schmucke's opinions of bric-a-brac, that she had obeyed him.
"Now for this room," said Fraisier, pointing to Schmucke's bedroom, which opened into the dining-room. "But that is M. Schmucke's own room," remonstrated La Sauvage, springing in front of the door. "We found the lease among the papers," Fraisier said ruthlessly; "there was no mention of M. Schmucke in it; it is taken out in M. Pons' name only.
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