21 September 1875 — continued

Lament of Girofla
Up there, up there upon the hill, Look well upon that handsome château — It is not some ancient ruin, But a château both new and fine. I had superb terraces With those immense chestnut trees, I had a great mirrored wardrobe And a cupboard full of shoes, A kitchen, and cooks galore, I had horses and carriages, A coachman in livery, I had amorous adventures, I had titled mistresses, I had a father, a stepmother, Three sisters, and a dog — But one day Papa in his anger Fired! And nothing of it remained. I had a grey frock coat, I had polished shoes, I had the most beautiful shirt, My fingers were laden with rings, I had a white cravat, Another green one, a top hat,
I was so handsome every Sunday — I am more wretched than Hecuba. I had a numerous retinue, I had Saëtone, Galula, I had an earthenware pot — Pity poor Girofla! I had a cane in the latest fashion That I wielded like a rifle, I had in my room a chest of drawers — Good heavens, how fine I was! I gave dinners at my own expense, Yes, my arrows were cruel — Ah! I was the great d’Audiffret! In the theatres, at restaurants, In the cafés I was the master, I had those piercing glances — One can no longer recognise me! I was astonishing, magnificent, I was everywhere the most dashing, Near the garden, on concert days, Everyone found me very seductive. I had a millionaire relative who bequeathed me
But his fortune is forgotten. I had a good-natured aunt Who wanted to give me the crippled one, I had an uncle in the old town Who also left me his estate — But I am nothing but an imbecile And once again I have nothing. I ate through all these fortunes, I wagered, gambled, squandered — I suffer many misfortunes — I am completely stripped bare. After a meal so copious I made a mouthful of the château — I am a most capricious being, And that was my last cake. The grand Café de la Victoire, Since my fortune has fled, Has lost its star, its glory —
I was its main support.
The London House closes its door,
And the Maison Dorée trembles,
And the wind carries off my song,
And the clock of the Tower moans.
Up there, up there on the mountain, You can see that fine castle there! Mine now are only castles in Spain... I am on the third floor of the hotel.
“Add sometimes and often delete.” I always add and rarely delete.
I take my revenge through this sorry tale of Girofla.
We encountered him twice — in his tall hat he is so handsome that it irritates me.
We were at the Sapogenikoffs’ but they no longer go out — one cannot draw them from home, and the lodging on the Promenade has gone to their heads, I believe.
It bores me, seeing no one.
The Sapogenikoffs take a wild interest in Girofla — their coachman is the source from which they draw their intelligence.
— Another fortune to eat through for Monsieur Émile, the coachman tells them as they come up to a draper’s shop, Audiffret frères; they say it is his uncle.
What a lucky rascal. He and his father between them have eaten through two immense fortunes, and each time he is broke, an inheritance falls on him as from heaven.
The father had a house built — it displeased him, he had it razed. Then a stable — the same. Then a well — the same again.
It recalls Caesar having his magnificent villa razed. The father is a man after my own heart, and the son copies his charming extravagances in every particular. I love it — it pleases me.

Notes

“L’estropiée” — a disabled relative offered as a prospective bride. ↩