The Strand Magazine/Volume 2/Issue 10/The P.L.M. Express
The P. L. M. Express.
From the French of Jacques Normand.
HERE was a general astonishment in our little circle of friends when we heard of the approaching marriage of Valentin Sincère. What! he?—the hardened celibate! the Parisian sceptic, rebelling against all matrimonial ideas!—the joyous free-liver who had a hundred times swore that he would never have anything to do with it! Valentin, after all, was going to join the great brotherhood! And, of all women, whom was he going to marry?—a widow! We were bewildered.
So, the first time I met him, I button-holed him, and demanded explanations.
"I've hardly time to speak to you—a heap of things to do. I have just come from the Mairie, and am on my way to Stern's, the engraver in the Passage du Panoramas, to get some invitation letters. If you'll go with me"
"If I'll go with you!" I said.
"We passed down the boulevards."
We were in front of the Madeleine. We passed down the boulevards, arm in arm.
"The story's a very simple one," he said. "Commonplace to the last degree; but, since you want so much to know about it, here it is:—
"In the month of February last I was going to Nice for the Carnival fêtes. I have the greatest aversion to travelling by night, and I therefore took the 8.55 morning train, due at midnight at Marseilles, where I proposed spending the following day with my friends, the Rombauds, who expected me to breakfast. The next morning I was going on to Nice, where I was to arrive at two o'clock in the afternoon.
"At the station there was an excited crowd; but, thanks to the proverbial obligingness of M. Regnoul, the station-master, I was able to secure place in the only coupé in the train. The only other occupant was a gentleman with a red rosette in a button-hole of his overcoat—a gentleman of severe aspect, and with an administrative air, whose luggage consisted solely of a portfolio. Assuredly he was not going far with that outfit, and presently I should be alone. Alone! the only thing to make a railway journey supportable!
"All the passengers were in their places, and the train was about starting, when the sound of a dispute arose at the door.
"'No, Monsieur, no!' said the voice of a woman, fresh in tone, and with an almost imperceptible Southern accent. 'I ordered a sleeping-compartment, and a sleeping-compartment I must have.'
"'But, Madame, I have told you, we haven't one!'
"'You ought to have carried out the instructions in my letter.'
"'We have not received any letter, Madame!'
"'Have another carriage put on, then.'
"'Impossible!—we have already the regulation number. Come, come, make haste; the train is about to start.'
"'Well, I must have a place found for me.'
"'I have offered you two, Madame, in the coupé.'
"'There?'
"'Yes, Madame-there!'
"A little dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway, and instantly started back, as if in alarm.
"'There are two gentlemen in it!'
"'Good heavens, Madame! I can't give you a whole carriage to yourself!'
"'Very well, then; I will not go!'
"'As you please. The train is off—I am going to give the signal.'
"'Stay, Monsieur; stay. I must absolutely go; and since there is only this coupé—but you'll let me have a sleeping-compartment at the first station we come to?'
"'Yes, Madame.'
"'You'll telegraph for it?'
"'Yes, yes, Madame.'
"'You promise me?'
"'Yes, Madame.'
"'You are sure?'
"'Yes, yes, yes, Madame!'
"The door was thrown open wide, and the little brown-haired lady, surrounded by half a carriage-load of parcels and wraps, entered the coupé; a shrill whistle, and—we were off.
"Gallantly the administrative gentleman seated himself by my side, so as to leave the opposite seat entirely at the service of the new arrival.
"Without even turning her eyes towards us, flustered and red with anger, she arranged her parcels around her with the ordinary haste of persons who have long hours to pass in a railway-carriage.
"She had one bag, two bags, three bags, and—as to wraps—!
"She arranged her parcels."
"Out of the corner of my eyes I watched these little proceedings, and I observed with pleasure that she was a charming little personage. I say with pleasure; for, in truth, it is always more agreeable to have a pretty woman for a travelling companion than an ugly one.
"It was very cold. The country, covered with snow, and lit up by a very pale-faced sun, flew rapidly by on either side of the carriage. The little lady, muffled up to her chin in rugs and other wraps, turned her gaze obstinately out of the farther window; the administrative gentleman put his papers, yellow, green, and blue, with printed headings, in order, and read them attentively; as to myself, comfortably installed in a corner with my feet on the foot-warmer, I waded through the file of newspapers I had bought at the station to pass the time.
"11.21; Laroche. The train stopped. The administrative gentleman gathered up his papers, rose, bowed, and descended from the carriage. His feet had hardly touched the platform before he was received by the station-master, who called him 'Mr. Inspector.' The lady leaned out of the door:—
"'Mr. Station-master!"
"'Madame?'
"'They were to telegraph to you from Paris for a sleeping-carriage.'
"'They have done so, Madame, and I have sent on the message.
"'Sent it on! Am I not to have a sleeping-carriage at once, then?'
"'Impossible, Madame; we have no carriages here. They can only furnish you with one at Lyons.'
"'At Lyons! At what o'clock?'
"'At 5.45, Madame.'
"'At the end of the journey! But, Monsieur, I can't remain in this coupe until that time! Impossible! I won't!"
"'Take care, Madame, the train is starting!'
"It started.
"She threw herself into her corner again, in a furious pet, without casting a glance at me. I plunged once more into the contents of my newspapers—into the contents of the tenth, that is to say.
"Shall I confess it! That paper took me longer to read than its nine predecessors. Twenty times I began the same line; I believe that at least for some time the paper was upside down. Hang it, one can't be shut up for a long journey with a pretty woman without feeling some sort of emotion!
"I greatly wanted to enter into conversation with her, but what pretext for doing it could I find? The classic resources of putting up or down the windows, in such a state of the temperature, were non-available. What was there to do?—launch a commonplace remark of some kind? Better a hundred times keep silent than do that. My companion, I had seen at a glance with my Parisian eyes, was a woman of the best society. To speak to her brusquely, without being known to her, would have made me appear in her eyes no better than a vulgar commercial traveller. The only way of drawing her into conversation would be to find something strikingly original to say to her; but what?—what? I sought laboriously, but did not find.
"I was still continuing that search, when the train stopped suddenly, thanks to the powers of the new break—so good against accidents, but so bad for passengers.
"'Tonnerre!—twenty-five minutes' stoppage!' cried porter, opening the carriage-door.
"My companion rose, threw off her rugs which, with her three bags, she left in the carriage, and descended on to the platform. It was noon. Hunger had begun to make itself felt. She moved towards the buffet on the left, across the line.
"She took some soup at a separate table."
"I followed her. I was then enabled to admire at my ease the elegance of her figure, well set off by a long fur mantle. I remarked also that she had a pretty neck, a grey felt hat, and very tiny feet.
"At the entrance to the buffet stood the manager. Wearing a velvet cap and bearing a striking resemblance to Napoleon III., he pointed out with his hand and with a napkin a long table to be taken by assault.
I entered with a crowd of travellers—ruffled, hurried; in short, that stream of persons essentially grotesque and derogatory to human beauty, of an express train, bent all on devouring food of some sort.
"I seated myself and hastily swallowed the succession of dishes set before me: my lady traveller took some soup at a separate table.
"I was amongst the first to rise, and went out upon the platform to smoke a cigarette. The twenty-five minutes—reduced to twenty according to rule—were quickly spent. The passengers came in groups from the refectory and returned to their places in the carriages. I reinstalled myself in mine. My fellow traveller did not appear.
"I perceived her at the little bookstall on the opposite side of the line, looking over the volumes displayed. Although I could see nothing of her but her back, I easily recognised her by her pretty figure, her otter-skin mantle, and her grey hat. Her hair seemed to be a little less dark than I had imagined it to be; but that was the effect of distance, no doubt.
"All the passengers had resumed their seats, and the porters were banging-to the doors.
"'She'll be left behind! I thought. 'She's mad!' 'Madame! Madame!' I called to her out of the window.
"She was too far off, and did not hear me.
"The whistle sounded; the train was going to start. What was to be done? Prompt as a flash of lightning, an idea shot through my brain. She would be left there in the horrible cold without her luggage! Let her, poor woman, at least have her smaller belongings.
"I gathered up, in an armful, her three bags and her rugs, and threw the whole to a man in the uniform of the railway, who was on the line near the carriage.
"I threw the whole to a man."
"'For that lady over there,' I cried.
"The man in the uniform carried the articles in the direction of the lady at the bookstall. At the same moment the carriage door on the opposite side—the side next the platform—was opened, and my travelling companion, grumbled at by a station porter, hurried into the carriage, and the train started. Horror! I had mistaken the traveller. The lady at the bookstall was not the right one; the same mantle, same hat, same figure—but not she! It is perfectly absurd, how much women resemble one another—the back view of them. I had made a pretty mess of it!
"She had hardly entered the carriage before she uttered a shriek.
"'My parcels! Somebody has stolen my parcels!'
"And, for the first time, she turned her eyes on me, with a look—good heavens!—with a look never to be forgotten.
"'No, Madame,' I stammered, 'your parcels have not been stolen; they—they have been left behind at Tonnerre."
"'At Tonnerre! How?'
"I explained all to her. By Jove! my dear fellow, I can't describe the second look she darted at me; but, I assure you, I firmly believe I shall remember it even longer than the first.
"'I am distressed, Madame,' I further stammered, 'distressed exceedingly; but the motive was a good one: I thought that you were going to miss the train—that you would be cold—and—and I did not wish that you should be cold; in short—forgive me, and do not be uneasy in regard to your property, which is in safe hands—a man in uniform. At the next station you can telegraph—we will telegraph—and your things will be immediately sent on. Ah!—you shall have them, I vow, even though I have myself to go back to Tonnerre to fetch them.'
"'Enough, Monsieur! I know what I have to do.'
"Stormily she rearranged herself in her corner, tugging pettishly at her gloves.
"But, alas, poor little thing! she had counted without the cold—she no longer had her warm rugs and wraps about her. At the end of ten minutes she began to shiver. It was in vain that she tried to huddle herself up, to draw her otter-skin mantle closer to her form: she positively shivered with the cold.
"Madame,' I said, 'I beg of you, on my knees, to accept my rug. You will catch cold—and it will be my fault—and I should never, to the end of my days, forgive myself!'
"'I did not speak to you, Monsieur,' she said, sharply.
"I was nervous—excited. In the first place, she was charming; in the next place, I was furiously annoyed with myself for the stupid blunder I had made: in short, I found myself in one of those predicaments that call for the taking of strong resolutions.
"'Madame,' I said, 'accept this rug, or I swear to you I will throw myself out on to the line!'
"And flinging the rug between her and me, I opened the window and seized the outer handle of the door-lock.
"You are mad, Monsieur."
"Was I determined?—between ourselves, not altogether, I think; but it appeared that I had the air of being so, for she instantly cried out:
"'You are mad, Monsieur, you are mad!'
"'The rug—or I throw myself out!'
"She took the covering, and in a softened tone, said:
"'But you, Monsieur—you will catch your death of cold.'
"'Do not be uneasy on my account, Madame, I am not in the least chilly—and, even if I should feel cold, it will only be a just punishment for my unpardonable stupidity.'
"'Say your over-hastiness; for, as you have said, your motive was a good one. But how came you to mistake another lady for me?'
"'Because she appeared to me charming!'
"She smiled. The ice was broken—the ice of conversation, that is to say; for, in other respects, I was shivering with cold.
"But how quickly I forgot the cold, the journey—everything! She was delicious, exquisite, adorable! She possessed a cultivated mind, keen, gay, original! She loved travel, like myself. In literature, in music, in everything in fact, we had the same tastes! And then—only imagine!—we found we had a heap of acquaintances in common; she was intimate with the Saint-Chamas, with the Savenois, above all with the Montbazons! Only to think that I had perhaps met her twenty times in their drawing-rooms without having noticed her! Good heavens! where had my eyes been?
"She spoke simply, amiably, with the frankness I so much love. A slight, very slight, provincial accent, almost imperceptible, a chirp rather, giving to her pronunciation something of the singing of a bird. It was intoxicating!
"But though I would have given all the world not to appear cold—great heavens, how cold I was!
"At Dijon (2.20) my right foot was half frozen. We telegraphed to Tonnerre for the articles left behind.
"At Mâcon (4.30) it was the turn of my left foot. We received a message from Tonnerre, saying that the luggage would arrive in Marseilles next day.
"At Lyon-Perranche (5.48) my left hand became insensible; she forgot to demand her sleeping-carriage.
"At Valence (8.3) my right hand followed the example of the left; I learned that she was a widow and childless.
"At Avignon (9.59) my nose became violet; I fancied she had never wholly loved her first husband.
"At Marseilles (12.5 a.m.) I sneezed three times violently ; she handed me back my rug, and said graciously: 'Au revoir!'
"'Au revoir!' Oh, I was mad with delight.
"I spent the night at the Hotel de Noailles—an agitated night, filled with remembrance of her. The next morning, when I awoke, I had the most shocking cold in the head imaginable.
"Could I, in such a state, present myself to my friends, the Rombauds? There was no help for it; it was one of the accidents of travel; they must take me as I was, and to-morrow I would go and seek my cure in the sun of Nice.
"Oh, my friend, what a surprise! That good fellow Rombaud had invited a few friends in my honour, and among them was my charming fellow-traveller! my charmer!
"When I was presented to her, a smile passed over her lips I bowed, and asked in a whisper:
"'Tonnerre—your parcels?'
"'I have them,' she replied in the same tone.
"We sat down to table.
"'What a cold in the head you have got, my dear fellow!' cried Rombaud, sympathetically; 'Where the deuce did you pick it up—in the railway-carriage, perhaps?'
"'Very possibly,' I said, 'but I don't regret it!'
"Nobody comprehended the sense of this veiled reply; but I felt the tender glance of my fellow-traveller reach me through the odorous steam of a superb tureen of soup majestically posed upon the table.
"What more have I to tell you? Next day I set off for Nice; a fortnight hence I am to be married."
