initial commit of ebook 21655HEADmain

1 files changed, 12553 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/21655.txt b/21655.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..196f4ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/21655.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12553 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The works of Guy de Maupassant, Vol. 5 (of
+8), by Guy de Maupassant 1850-1893
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The works of Guy de Maupassant, Vol. 5 (of 8)
+       Une Vie and Other Stories
+
+Author: Guy de Maupassant 1850-1893
+
+Release Date: June 1, 2007 [EBook #21655]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Susan Carr, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  The Works of Guy de Maupassant
+
+  VOLUME V
+
+  UNE VIE
+  AND OTHER STORIES
+
+  _ILLUSTRATED_
+
+  NATIONAL LIBRARY COMPANY
+  NEW YORK
+
+  Copyright, 1909, By
+  BIGELOW, SMITH & CO.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                          PAGE
+
+  A Woman's Life (Une Vie)                                   1
+
+  Hautot Senior and Hautot Junior                          268
+
+  Little Louise Roque                                      287
+
+  Mother and Daughter                                      335
+
+  A Passion                                                341
+
+  No Quarter                                               352
+
+  The Impolite Sex                                         361
+
+  Woman's Wiles                                            369
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+By Edmund Gosse
+
+
+The most robust and masculine of recent French novelists is a typical
+Norman, sprung from an ancient noble family, originally of Lorraine, but
+long settled in the Pays de Caux. The traveler from England towards
+Paris, soon after leaving Dieppe, sees on his left hand, immediately
+beyond the station of St. Aubin, a handsome sixteenth-century house, the
+Chateau de Miromesnil, on a hill above the railway. Here, surrounded by
+the relics of his warlike and courtly ancestors, Henri Rene Albert Guy
+de Maupassant was born on the 5th of August, 1850. He was early
+associated with the great Norman master of fiction, Gustave Flaubert,
+who perceived his genius and enthusiastically undertook the training of
+his intelligence. Through 1870 and 1871 the young man served in the war
+as a common soldier. He was somewhat slow in taking up the profession of
+letters, and was thirty years of age before he became in any degree
+distinguished. In 1879 the Troisieme Theatre Francais produced a short
+play of his, _Histoire du Vieux Temps_ (An Old-World Story), gracefully
+written in rhyme, but showing no very remarkable aptitude for the stage.
+
+It was in 1880 that De Maupassant was suddenly made famous by two
+published volumes. The one was a volume of Verses (_Des Vers_), twenty
+pieces, most of them of a narrative character, extremely brilliant in
+execution, and audacious in tone. One of these, slightly exceeding its
+fellows in crudity, was threatened with a prosecution in law as an
+outrage upon manners, and the fortune of the volume was secured. The
+early poems of De Maupassant like those of Paul Bourget, are not without
+sterling merit as poetry, but their main interest is that they reflect
+the characteristics of their author's mind. Such pieces as
+"Fin-d'Amour," and "Au Bord de l'Eau," in the 1880 volume, are simply
+short stories told in verse, instead of in prose. In this same year, Guy
+de Maupassant, who had thrown in his lot with the Naturalist Novelists,
+contributed a short tale to the volume called _Les Soirees de Medan_, to
+which Zola, Huysmans, Hennique, Ceard and Paul Alexis also affixed their
+names. He was less known than any of these men, yet it was his story,
+_Boule de Suif_ (Lump of Suet, or Ball of Fat), which ensured the
+success of the book. This episode of the war, treated with cynicism,
+tenderness, humor and pathos mingled in quite a new manner, revealed a
+fresh genius for the art of narrative. There was an instant demand for
+more short stories from the same pen, and it was soon discovered that
+the fecundity and resource of the new writer were as extraordinary as
+the charm of his style and the objective force of his vision.
+
+It is unnecessary to recount here the names of even the chief of De
+Maupassant's stories. If we judge them merely by their vivacity,
+richness and variety, they are the best short tales which have been
+produced anywhere during the same years. But it is impossible not to
+admit that they have grave faults, which exclude them from all possible
+recommendation to young and ingenuous readers. No bibliography of them
+can be attempted, the publishers of M. Guy de Maupassant having
+reprinted his lesser stories so frequently, and with such infinite
+varieties of arrangement, that the positive sequence of these little
+masterpieces has been hopelessly confused. Three stories in particular,
+however, may be mentioned, _La Maison Tellier_, 1881; _Les Soeurs
+Rondoli_, 1884, and _Miss Harriett_, 1885, because the collections which
+originally bore these names were pre-eminently successful in drawing the
+attention of the critics to the author's work.
+
+It was not until he had won a very great reputation as a short
+story-teller, that De Maupassant attempted a long novel. He published
+only six single volume stories, all of which are included in the present
+edition. The first was _Une Vie_ (A Life), 1883, a very careful study of
+Norman manners, highly finished in the manner of Flaubert, whom he has
+styled "that irreproachable master whom I admire above all others." In
+certain directions, I do not think that De Maupassant has surpassed _Une
+Vie_, in fidelity to nature, in a Dutch exactitude of portraiture, in a
+certain distinction of tone; it was the history of an unhappy
+gentlewoman, doomed throughout life to be deceived, impoverished,
+disdained and overwhelmed. _Bel-Ami_, 1885, which succeeded this quiet
+and Quaker-colored book, was a much more vivid novel, an extremely
+vigorous picture of the rise in social prominence of a penniless fellow
+in Paris, without a brain or a heart, who depends wholly upon his
+impudence and his good looks. After 1885 De Maupassant published four
+novels--_Mont-Oriol_, 1887; _Pierre et Jean_, 1888; _Fort comme la Mort_
+(As _Strong as Death_, or The Ruling Passion), 1889; and _Notre Coeur_
+(Our Heart), 1890.
+
+Of these six remarkable books, the _Pierre et Jean_ is certainly the
+most finished and the most agreeable. In _Mont-Oriol_, a beautiful
+landscape of Auvergne mountain and bath enshrines a singularly
+pessimistic rendering of the adage "He loved and he rode away." Few of
+the author's thoughtful admirers will admit that in _Fort comme la Mort_
+he has done justice to his powers. In _Notre Coeur_ he has taken up one
+of the psychological problems which have hitherto lain in the undisputed
+province of M. Bourget, and has shown how difficult it is in the musky
+atmosphere of fashionable Paris for two hearts to recover the Mayday
+freshness of their impulses, the spontaneous flow of their illusions; he
+displays himself here in a new light, less brutal than of old, more
+delicate and analytical. With regard to _Pierre et Jean_, it would be
+difficult to find words wherewith to describe it and its relation to the
+best English fiction more just or more felicitous than those in which
+Mr. Henry James welcomed its first appearance:--"_Pierre et Jean_ is, so
+far as my judgment goes, a faultless production.... It is the best of M.
+de Maupassant's novels, mainly because M. de Maupassant has never before
+been so clever. It is a pleasure to see a mature talent able to renew
+itself, strike another note, and appear still young.... The author's
+choice of a _milieu_, moreover, will serve to English readers as an
+example of how much more democratic contemporary French fiction is than
+that of his own country. The greater part of it--almost all the work of
+Zola and of Daudet, the list of Flaubert's novels, and the best of those
+of the brothers De Goncourt--treat of that vast, dim section of society,
+which, lying between those luxurious walks on whose behalf there are
+easy suppositions and that darkness of misery which, in addition to
+being picturesque, brings philanthropy also to the writer's aid,
+constitutes really, in extent and expressiveness, the substance of every
+nation. In England, where the fashion of fiction still sets mainly to
+the country-house and the hunting-field, and yet more novels are
+published than anywhere else in the world, that thick twilight of
+mediocrity of condition has been little explored. May it yield triumphs
+in the years to come!"
+
+The great merit of M. de Maupassant as a writer is his frank and
+masculine directness. He sees life clearly, and he undertakes to
+describe it as he sees it, in concise and vigorous language. He is a
+realist, yet without the gloominess of Zola, over whom he claims one
+great advantage, that of possessing a rich sense of humor, and a large
+share of the old Gallic wit. His pessimism, indeed, is inexorable, and
+he pushes the misfortune, or more often the degradation, of his
+characters to its extreme logical conclusion. Yet, even in his saddest
+stories, the general design is rarely sordid. For a long while he was
+almost exclusively concerned with impressions of Normandy; a little
+later he became one of the many painters of Paris. Then he traveled
+widely, in the south of Europe, in Africa; wherever he went he took with
+him a quick and sensitive eye for the aspects of nature, and his
+descriptive passages, which are never pushed to a tiresome excess of
+length, are often faultlessly vivid. He attempted, with a good deal of
+cleverness, to analyze character, but his real power seems to lie in
+describing, in a sober style and with a virile impartiality, the
+superficial aspects of action and intrigue.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+UNE VIE
+
+(A WOMAN'S LIFE)
+
+
+I
+
+Jeanne, having finished her packing, went to the window, but it had not
+stopped raining.
+
+All night long the downpour had pattered against the roofs and the
+window-panes. The low, heavy clouds seemed as though they had burst, and
+were emptying themselves on the world, to reduce it to a pulp and melt
+it as though it were a sugar-loaf. A hot wind swept by in gusts; the
+murmur of the overflowing gutters filled the empty streets, and the
+houses, like sponges, absorbed the moisture which, penetrating to the
+interior, made the walls wet from cellar to attic.
+
+Jeanne, who had left the convent the day before, free at last and ready
+for all the happiness of a life of which she had dreamed for so long,
+feared that her father would hesitate about starting if the weather did
+not clear up, and, for the hundredth time since the morning, she studied
+the horizon.
+
+Looking round, she saw that she had forgotten to put her almanac in her
+traveling bag. She took from the wall the little card which bore in the
+center of a design, the date of the current year 1819 in gilt letters,
+and crossed out with a pencil the first four columns, drawing a line
+through each saint's name till she came to the second of May, the day
+she had left the convent.
+
+A voice outside the door called: "Jeannette!"
+
+Jeanne answered: "Come in, papa." And her father appeared.
+
+The Baron Simon-Jecques Le Perthuis des Vauds was a gentleman of the old
+school, eccentric and good-hearted. An enthusiastic follower of
+Jean-Jacques Rousseau, he had a loving tenderness for all nature; for
+the fields, the woods, and for animals. An aristocrat by birth, he hated
+'93 by instinct; but of a philosophical temperament and liberal by
+education, he loathed tyranny with an inoffensive and declamatory
+hatred. The strongest, and at the same time the weakest, trait in his
+character was his generosity; a generosity which had not enough arms to
+caress, to give, to embrace; the generosity of a creator which was
+utterly devoid of system, and to which he gave way with no attempt to
+resist his impulses, as though part of his will were paralyzed; it was a
+want of energy, and almost amounted to a vice.
+
+A man of theories, he had thought out a whole plan of education for his
+daughter, wishing to make her happy and good, straightforward and
+affectionate. Till she was twelve years old she had stayed at home;
+then, in spite of her mother's tears, she was sent to the Sacred Heart
+Convent. He had kept her strictly immured there, totally ignorant of
+worldly things, for he wished her to return to him, at the age of
+seventeen, innocent, that he might himself immerse her in a sort of bath
+of rational poetry; and, in the fields, surrounded by the fertile earth,
+he meant to instruct her, and enlighten her by the sight of the serene
+laws of life, the innocent loves and the simple tenderness of the
+animals.
+
+And now she was leaving the convent, radiant and brimful of happiness,
+ready for every joy and for all the charming adventures that, in the
+idle moments of her days and during the long nights, she had already
+pictured to herself.
+
+She looked like a portrait by Veronese, with her shining, fair hair,
+which looked as though it had given part of its color to her skin, the
+creamy skin of a high-born girl, hardly tinted with pink and shaded by a
+soft velvety down, which could just be seen when she was kissed by a
+sun-ray. Her eyes were blue, an opaque blue, like the eyes of a Dutch
+china figure. On her left nostril was a little mole, another on the
+right side of her chin, where curled a few hairs so much like the color
+of the skin that they could hardly be seen. She was tall, with a
+well-developed chest and supple waist. Her clear voice sometimes sounded
+too shrill, but her merry laugh made everyone around her feel happy. She
+had a way of frequently putting both hands to her forehead, as though to
+smooth her hair.
+
+She ran to her father, put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
+
+"Well, are we going to start?" she asked.
+
+He smiled, shook back his white hair, which he wore rather long, and
+pointing towards the window:
+
+"How can you think of traveling in such weather?" he said.
+
+Then she pleaded coaxingly and affectionately, "Oh, papa, please do let
+us start. It will be fine in the afternoon."
+
+"But your mother will never consent to it."
+
+"Oh, yes, I promise you she shall; I will answer for her."
+
+"Well, if you can persuade your mother, I am quite willing to start."
+
+She hastened towards the baroness's room, for she had looked forward to
+this day with great impatience. Since she had entered the convent she
+had not left Rouen, as her father would allow no distracting pleasures
+before the age he had fixed. Only twice had she been taken to Paris for
+a fortnight, but that was another town, and she longed for the country.
+Now she was going to spend the summer on their estate, Les Peuples, in
+an old family chateau built on the cliff near Yport; and she was looking
+forward to the boundless happiness of a free life beside the waves. And
+then it was understood that the manor was to be given to her, and that
+she was to live there always when she was married; and the rain which
+had been falling incessantly since the night before was the first real
+grief of her life.
+
+In three minutes she came running out of her mother's room, crying:
+
+"Papa! papa! Mamma is quite willing. Tell them to harness the horses."
+
+The rain had not given over in the least, in fact, it was coming down
+still faster when the landau came round to the door. Jeanne was ready to
+jump in when the baroness came down the stairs, supported on one side by
+her husband, and on the other by a tall maid, whose frame was as strong
+and as well-knit as a boy's. She was a Normandy girl from Caux, and
+looked at least twenty years old, though she really was scarcely
+eighteen. In the baron's family she was treated somewhat like a second
+daughter, for she was Jeanne's foster-sister. She was named Rosalie, and
+her principal duty consisted in aiding her mistress to walk, for, within
+the last few years, the baroness had attained an enormous size, owing
+to an hypertrophy of the heart, of which she was always complaining.
+
+Breathing very hard, the baroness reached the steps of the old hotel;
+there she stopped to look at the court-yard where the water was
+streaming down, and murmured:
+
+"Really, it is not prudent."
+
+Her husband answered with a smile:
+
+"It was you who wished it, Madame Adelaide."
+
+She bore the pompous name of Adelaide, and he always prefaced it by
+"Madame" with a certain little look of mock-respect.
+
+She began to move forward again, and with difficulty got into the
+carriage, all the springs of which bent under her weight. The baron sat
+by her side, and Jeanne and Rosalie took their places with their backs
+to the horses. Ludivine, the cook, brought a bundle of rugs, which were
+thrown over their knees, and two baskets, which were pushed under their
+legs; then she climbed up beside old Simon and enveloped herself in a
+great rug, which covered her entirely. The concierge and his wife came
+to shut the gate and wish them good-bye, and after some parting
+instructions about the baggage, which was to follow in a cart, the
+carriage started.
+
+Old Simon, the coachman, with his head held down and his back bent under
+the rain, could hardly be seen in his three-caped coat; and the moaning
+wind rattled against the windows and swept the rain along the road.
+
+The horses trotted briskly down to the quay, passed the row of big
+ships, whose masts and yards and ropes stood out against the gray sky
+like bare trees, and entered the long Boulevard du Mont Riboudet. Soon
+they reached the country, and from time to time the outline of a
+weeping-willow, with its branches hanging in a corpse-like inertness,
+could be vaguely seen through the watery mist. The horses' shoes
+clattered on the road; and the four wheels made regular rings of mud.
+
+Inside the carriage they were silent; their spirits seemed damped, like
+the earth. The baroness leaned back, rested her head against the
+cushions, and closed her eyes. The baron looked out mournfully at the
+monotonous, wet fields, and Rosalie, with a parcel on her knees, sat
+musing in the animal-like way in which the lower classes indulge. But
+Jeanne felt herself revive under this warm rain like a plant which is
+put into the open air after being shut up in a dark closet; and the
+greatness of her joy seemed to prevent any sadness reaching her heart.
+Although she did not speak, she wanted to sing and to put her hand
+outside and drink the water with which it would be filled; and the
+desolate look of the country only added to the enjoyment she felt at
+being carried along so swiftly, and at feeling herself sheltered in the
+midst of this deluge.
+
+Under the ceaseless rain a cloud of steam rose from the backs of the two
+horses.
+
+The baroness gradually fell asleep; her face, surrounded by six stiff
+curls, sank lower and lower, though it was partly sustained by the three
+big waves of her neck, the last curves of which lost themselves in the
+amplitude of her chest. Her head, raised by each respiration, as
+regularly sank again; her cheeks puffed out, and from her half-opened
+lips issued a deep snore. Her husband leaned over towards her and softly
+placed in her hands, crossed on her ample lap, a leather pocket-book.
+The touch awoke her, and she looked at the object in her lap with the
+stupefied look of one suddenly aroused from sleep. The pocket-book fell
+and opened, and the gold and bank-notes it contained were scattered all
+over the carriage. That woke her up altogether, and the
+light-heartedness of her daughter found vent in a burst of laughter.
+
+The baron picked up the money and placed it on her knees.
+
+"There, my dear," he said. "That is all that is left of the farm at
+Eletot. I have sold it to pay for the doing up of Les Peuples as we
+shall live there so much now."
+
+She counted the six thousand, four hundred francs, and put them quietly
+into her pocket.
+
+It was the ninth farm that they had sold out of the thirty-one left them
+by their parents; but they still had about twenty thousand livres a year
+coming in from property which, well-managed, would have easily brought
+in thirty thousand francs. As they lived quietly, this income would have
+been amply sufficient for them, if their lavish generosity had not
+constantly exhausted their supplies. It drained their money from them as
+the sun draws water from a swamp. The gold melted, vanished,
+disappeared. How? No one knew. One of them was always saying: "I don't
+know how it is, but I have spent a hundred francs to-day, and I haven't
+anything to show for it."
+
+To give was one of the great joys of their existence, and they perfectly
+understood each other on this point in a way that was at once grand and
+touching.
+
+Jeanne asked: "Is my chateau looking beautiful now?"
+
+"You will see, my child," answered the baron, gaily.
+
+Little by little the violence of the storm diminished; soon there was
+nothing more than a sort of mist, a very fine drizzling rain. The arch
+of the clouds seemed to get higher and lighter; and suddenly a long
+oblique sunbeam fell on the fields. Through the break in the clouds a
+streak of blue sky could be seen, and then the rift got bigger as though
+a veil were being drawn back, and a beautiful sky of a pure deep blue
+spread itself out over the world. There was a fresh mild breeze like a
+happy sigh from the earth, and from the gardens and woods came now and
+again the merry song of a bird drying his wings.
+
+The evening was drawing in; everyone inside the carriage, except Jeanne,
+was asleep. Twice they had stopped at an inn, to rest the horses and
+give them water and corn. The sun had set, and in the distance the bells
+were ringing; in a little village the lamps were being lighted, and the
+sky was studded with stars. Sometimes the lights of a homestead could be
+seen, their rays piercing the darkness; and, all at once among the
+fir-trees, behind a hill, the large, red, sleepy moon arose.
+
+It was so mild that the windows were left down, and Jeanne, tired of
+dreaming, and her stock of happy visions exhausted, was now sleeping.
+Sometimes the numbness caused by resting too long in one position
+aroused her, and she looked outside and saw the trees fly past her in
+the clear night, or some cows, lying in a field, raise their heads at
+the noise of the carriage. Then she settled herself in a fresh position,
+and tried to continue an interrupted dream, but the continual rumbling
+of the carriage sounded in her ears, confusing her thoughts, and she
+shut her eyes again, her mind feeling as tired as her body.
+
+At last the carriage stopped, and men and women came to the doors with
+lanterns in their hands. They had arrived, and Jeanne, suddenly
+awakened, sprang out, while her father and Rosalie, lighted by a farmer,
+almost carried in the baroness; she was quite worn out, and, catching
+her breath, she kept saying in a weak little voice: "Ah, my children!
+what shall I do?" She would have nothing to eat or drink, but went to
+bed and fell asleep at once.
+
+Jeanne and the baron had supper alone. They smiled when their glances
+met, and, at every moment, took each other's hands across the table;
+then, both of them filled with a childish delight, they went over the
+manor which had just been put in thorough repair.
+
+It was one of those big, high, Normandy houses generally built of white
+stone which turns gray, and which, large enough to accommodate a
+regiment, have something of the farm about them as well as the chateau.
+
+An immense hall, going from end to end, divided the house into two
+parts, its large doors opening opposite each other. A double staircase
+bestrode this entrance hall leaving the center empty, and, meeting at
+the height of the first floor, formed a sort of bridge. On the
+ground-floor, to the right, was the huge drawing-room hung with tapestry
+with a design of birds and flowers. All the furniture was in tapestry,
+the subjects of the designs being taken from La Fontaine's fables.
+Jeanne was delighted at recognizing a chair she had liked when she was
+quite a child, and which represented the history of the Fox and the
+Stork. The library, full of old books, and two other rooms, which were
+not used, came next to the drawing-room. On the left were the
+dining-room, which had been newly wainscoted, the linen-press, the
+pantry, the kitchen, and a little room with a bath in it.
+
+A corridor ran the whole length of the first story, the ten doors of as
+many rooms opening on to it, and Jeanne's room was quite at the end, on
+the right. The baron had just had it freshly furnished by simply using
+some hangings and furniture that had been stored away in a garret. Very
+old Flemish tapestry peopled the room with strange characters, and when
+she saw the bed Jeanne gave a cry of delight. At the four corners four
+birds of carved oak, quite black and polished till they shone, supported
+the bed, looking as though they were its guardians. The sides were
+decorated with two large garlands of carved flowers and fruit; and the
+four bed-posts, finely fluted and crowned with Corinthian capitals,
+supported a cornice of entwined roses and cupids. It was a monumental
+couch, and yet was very graceful, despite the somber appearance of the
+wood darkened by age. The counterpane and canopy, made of old dark blue
+silk, starred here and there with great _fleurs de lis_ embroidered in
+gold, sparkled like two firmaments.
+
+When she had finished admiring the bed, Jeanne, raising her light,
+examined the tapestry, trying to discover the subject of the design.
+
+A young nobleman and a young lady, dressed in the strangest way in
+green, red, and yellow, were talking under a blue tree on which white
+fruit was ripening. A big rabbit of the same color as the fruit was
+nibbling a little gray grass. Just above the figures, in a conventional
+distance, five little round houses with pointed roofs could be seen, and
+up at the top, nearly in the sky, was a red wind-mill. Great branches
+of flowers twined in and out over the whole.
+
+The next two panels were very like the first, except that out of the
+houses came four little men, dressed in Flemish costume, who raised
+their heads to heaven as if to denote their extreme surprise and anger.
+But the last set of hangings depicted a drama. Near the rabbit, which
+was still nibbling, the young man was stretched out, apparently dead.
+The young lady, with her eyes fixed on him, was thrusting a sword into
+her breast, and the fruit on the tree had become black.
+
+Jeanne was just giving up trying to understand it when she discovered in
+a corner a microscopic animal, which the rabbit could have eaten as
+easily as a blade of grass, and which was meant for a lion. Then she
+recognized the misfortunes of Pyramis and Thisbe; and, although she
+smiled at the simplicity of the designs, she felt happy at being
+surrounded by these pictures which would always accord with her dearest
+hopes; and at the thought that every night this antique and legendary
+love would watch over her dreams.
+
+The rest of the furniture was of the most different styles, and bore the
+traces of many generations. A superb Louis XVI chest of drawers, bound
+with polished brass, stood between two Louis XV armchairs which were
+still covered with their original brocaded silk. A rosewood escritoire
+was opposite the mantelpiece, on which, under a glass shade, was a clock
+made in the time of the Empire. It was in the form of a bronze bee-hive
+hanging on four marble columns over a garden of gilded flowers. On a
+small pendulum, coming out of the hive through a long slit, swung a
+little bee, with enamel wings, backwards and forwards over the flowers;
+the dial was of painted china and was let into the side of the hive. It
+struck eleven, and the baron kissed his daughter and went to his own
+room.
+
+Then Jeanne regretfully went to bed, giving a last look round her room
+before she put out her candle. Only the head of the bed was against the
+wall, and on the left was a window through which a stream of moonlight
+entered, making a pool of light on the floor, and casting pale
+reflections on the walls over the motionless loves of Pyramis and
+Thisbe. Through the other window, opposite the foot of the bed, Jeanne
+could see a big tree bathed in a soft light. She turned over and closed
+her eyes, but after a little while opened them again, for she still
+seemed to feel the jolting of the carriage, and its rumbling was yet in
+her ears.
+
+For some time she lay quite still, hoping thus to soon fall asleep, but
+the restlessness of her mind communicated itself to her body, and at
+last she got out of bed. With her arms and feet bare, in her long
+chemise, which made her look like a phantom, she crossed the flood of
+light on the boards, opened her window and looked out.
+
+The night was so clear that everything could be seen as plainly as in
+broad daylight; and the young girl recognized all the country she had so
+loved as a child.
+
+First of all, just opposite her, was a big lawn looking as yellow as
+gold under the light of the night. There were two enormous trees before
+the chateau, a plane-tree to the north, a linden to the south, and quite
+at the end of the grass, a little thicket ended the estate which was
+protected from the hurricanes by five rows of old elms twisted, torn,
+and sloped like a roof, by the sea wind which was constantly blowing.
+
+This kind of park was bounded on the right and left by two long avenues
+of immense poplar-trees (called _peuples_ in Normandy) which separated
+the squire's residence from the two farms adjoining, one of which was
+occupied by the Couillards, the other by the Martins. These _peuples_
+had given the names to the chateau.
+
+Beyond this enclosure lay a large piece of uncultivated ground covered
+with gorse, over which the wind rustled and blew day and night. Then the
+coast suddenly fell a hundred yards, forming a high, white cliff, the
+foot of which was washed by the sea; and Jeanne gazed at the vast,
+watery expanse whose waves seemed to be sleeping under the stars.
+
+In this repose of nature, when the sun was absent, the earth gave out
+all her perfumes. A jasmine, which had climbed round the lower windows,
+exhaled its penetrating fragrance which united with the subtler odor of
+the budding leaves, and the soft breeze brought with it the damp, salt
+smell of the seaweeds and the beach.
+
+At first the young girl gave herself up to the pleasure of simply
+breathing, and the peace of the country calmed her as would a cool bath.
+All the animals which wake at evening-time, and hide their obscure
+existence in the peacefulness of the night, filled the clear darkness
+with a silent restlessness. Great birds fled silently through the air
+like shadows; the humming of invisible insects could be heard, and
+noiseless races took place across the dewy grass or along the quiet
+sandy roads. The short monotonous croak of the frogs was the only sound
+that could be distinguished.
+
+It seemed to Jeanne that her heart was getting bigger, becoming full of
+whisperings like this clear evening, and of a thousand wandering desires
+like these nocturnal insects whose quivering life surrounded her. An
+unconscious sympathy drew her towards this living poetry and she felt
+that joy and happiness were floating towards her through the soft white
+night, and she began to dream of love.
+
+Love! For two years she had been anxiously awaiting the time when it
+would come to her, and now she was free to love, she had only to
+meet--him! What should he be like? She did not know, and did not trouble
+herself even to think about it. _He_ would be _himself_, that was
+enough. She only knew that she should adore him with her whole heart,
+and that he would love her with all his strength, and she pictured
+herself walking with him on evenings such as this, under the luminous
+glow of the stars. They would walk hand in hand, pressing close to one
+another, listening to the beating of their hearts, mingling their love
+with the sweet clearness of the summer nights, and so united that by the
+simple power of their love, they would easily divine each other's inmost
+thoughts. And that would endure indefinitely, in the serenity of an
+indestructible affection.
+
+Suddenly she fancied he was there--close to her; and a vague feeling of
+sensuality swept over her from head to foot. She unconsciously pressed
+her arms against her breast, as if to clasp her dream to her; and
+something passed over her mouth, held out towards the unknown, which
+almost made her faint, as if the springtide wind had given her a kiss of
+love.
+
+All at once, on the road behind the chateau, she heard someone walking
+in the night, and in the rapture of her love-filled soul, in a transport
+of faith in the impossible, in providential hazards, in divine
+presentiment, in the romantic combinations of Fate, she thought: "If it
+should be he!" She anxiously listened to the steps of the traveler, sure
+that he would stop at the gate to demand hospitality. But he had passed
+by and she felt sad, as though she had experienced a deception; then
+after a moment she understood the feverish excitement of her hopes, and
+smiled at her own folly.
+
+A little calmer, she let her thoughts float down the stream of a more
+reasonable reverie, trying to pierce the shadows of the future and
+planning out her life.
+
+She would live here with him, in their quiet chateau overlooking the
+sea. She would have two children, a son for him, and a daughter for
+herself, and she pictured them running on the grass between the
+plane-tree and the linden, while their father and mother followed their
+movements with proud eyes, sometimes exchanging looks full of love above
+their heads.
+
+She stayed dreaming until the moon had finished her journey across the
+sky, and began to descend into the sea. The air became cooler. Towards
+the east the horizon was getting lighter. A cock crowed in the farm on
+the right, others answered from the farm on the left, their hoarse
+notes, coming through the walls of the poultry-houses, seeming to be a
+long way off, and the stars were disappearing from the immense dome of
+the sky which had gradually whitened. The little chirp of a bird
+sounded; warblings, timid at first, came from among the leaves; then,
+getting bolder, they became vibrating, joyous, and spread from branch to
+branch, from tree to tree. Jeanne suddenly felt a bright light; and
+raising her head, which she had buried in her hands, she shut her eyes,
+dazzled by the splendor of the dawn.
+
+A mountain of crimson clouds, partly hidden by the avenue of poplars,
+cast a red glow over the awakened earth, and, breaking through the
+bright clouds, bathing the trees, the plain, the ocean, the whole
+horizon, in a fiery light, the blazing orb appeared.
+
+Jeanne felt mad with happiness. A delirious joy, an infinite tenderness
+before the splendor of nature filled her heart. It was her sunrise! her
+dawn! the beginning of her life! the rising of her hopes! She stretched
+out her arms towards the radiant space, with a longing to embrace the
+sun; she wanted to speak, to cry aloud something divine like this
+day-break; but she remained dumb in a state of impotent ecstasy. Then,
+laying her forehead on her hands, her eyes filled with tears, and she
+cried for joy.
+
+When she again raised her head the glorious colors of the dawning day
+had already disappeared. She felt calmer and a little tired and chilled.
+Leaving the window open, she threw herself on the bed, mused for a few
+minutes longer, then fell into such a sound sleep that she did not hear
+her father calling her at eight o'clock, and only awoke when he came
+into her room.
+
+He wanted to show her the improvements that had been made in the
+chateau; in _her_ chateau.
+
+The back of the house was separated from the village road, which
+half-a-mile further on joined the high road from Havre to Fecamp, by a
+large sort of court planted with apple-trees. A straight path went
+across it leading from the steps of the house to the wooden fence, and
+the low, thatched out-houses, built of flints from the beach, ran the
+whole length of two sides of the court, which was separated from the
+adjoining farms by two long ditches.
+
+The roof of the chateau had been repaired, the woodwork restored, and
+the walls mended; all the inside of the house had been painted and the
+rooms had fresh hangings, and on the old decaying gray walls the snowy
+shutters and the new plaster stood out like white stains. One of
+Jeanne's windows was in the front of the house, which looked out over
+the little wood and the wall of wind-torn elms, on to the sea.
+
+Arm in arm Jeanne and the baron went all over the chateau without
+missing a single corner, and then they walked slowly along the long
+poplar avenues which enclosed the park, as it was called. The grass had
+grown under the trees, making a green carpet, and the grove at the
+bottom was delightfully pretty with its little winding paths, separated
+by leafy walls, running in and out.
+
+Jeanne was startled by a hare springing suddenly across their path; it
+ran down the slope and made off towards the cliff, among the rushes.
+
+After breakfast, Madame Adelaide went to lie down as she had not yet
+recovered from the fatigue of the journey, and the baron proposed that
+he and Jeanne should walk to Yport. They set off, going through the
+hamlet of Etouvent in which was situated Les Peuples, and three peasants
+saluted them as if they had known them all their lives.
+
+They entered the sloping woods which go right down to the sea, and soon
+the village of Yport came in sight. The women, sitting at their doors
+mending clothes, looked up as they passed. There was a strong smell of
+brine in the steep street with the gutter in the middle and the heaps of
+rubbish lying before the doors. The brown nets to which a few shining
+shells, looking like fragments of silver, had clung, were drying before
+the doors of huts whence came the odors of several families living in
+the same room, and a few pigeons were looking for food at the side of
+the gutter. To Jeanne it was all as new and curious as a scene at a
+theater.
+
+Turning a sharp corner, they suddenly came upon the smooth opaque blue
+sea, and opposite the beach they stopped to look around.
+
+Boats, with sails looking like the wings of white birds, were in the
+offing; to the right and left rose the high cliffs; a sort of cape
+interrupted the view on one side, while on the other the coast-line
+stretched out till it could no longer be distinguished, and a harbor and
+some houses could be seen in a bay a little way off. Tiny waves fringing
+the sea with foam, broke on the beach with a faint noise, and some
+Normandy boats, hauled up on the shingle, lay on their sides with the
+sun shining on their tarred planks; a few fishermen were getting them
+ready to go out with the evening tide.
+
+A sailor came up with some fish to sell, and Jeanne bought a brill that
+she insisted on carrying home herself. Then the man offered his services
+if ever they wanted to go sailing, telling them his name, "Lastique,
+Josephin Lastique," over and over again so that they should not forget
+it. The baron promised to remember him, and then they started to go back
+to the chateau.
+
+As the large fish was too heavy for Jeanne, she passed her father's
+stick through its gills, and carrying it between them, they went gaily
+up the hill, with the wind in their faces, chattering like two children;
+and as the brill made their arms ache, they let it drop lower and lower
+till its big tail swept along the grass.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II
+
+A delightful life of freedom began for Jeanne. She read, dreamed, and
+wandered about all alone, walking slowly along the road, building
+castles in the air, or dancing down the little winding valleys whose
+sloping sides were covered with golden gorse. Its strong, sweet odor,
+increased by the heat, intoxicated her like a perfumed wine, while she
+was lulled by the distant sound of the waves breaking on the beach. When
+she was in an idle mood she would throw herself down on the thick grass
+of the hill-side, and sometimes when at the turn of a road she suddenly
+caught a glimpse of the blue sea, sparkling in the light of the sun,
+with a white sail at the horizon, she felt an inordinate joy, a
+mysterious presentiment of future happiness.
+
+She loved to be alone with the calm beauty of nature, and would sit
+motionless for so long on the top of a hill, that the wild rabbits would
+bound fearlessly up to her; or she would run swiftly along the cliff,
+exhilarated by the pure air of the hills, and finding an exquisite
+pleasure in being able to move without fatigue, like the swallows in the
+air and the fish in the water.
+
+Very fond of bathing, and strong, fearless, and unconscious of danger,
+she would swim out to sea till she could no longer be perceived from the
+shore, feeling refreshed by the cool water, and enjoying the rocking of
+its clear blue waves. When she was a long way out, she floated, and,
+with her arms crossed on her breast, gazed at the deep, blue sky,
+against which a swallow or the white outline of a sea-gull could
+sometimes be seen. No noise could be heard except the far away murmur of
+the waves breaking on the beach, and the vague, confused, almost
+imperceptible sound of the pebbles being drawn down by the receding
+waves. When she went out too far, a boat put off to bring her in and she
+would return to the chateau pale with hunger, but not at all tired, with
+a smile on her lips, and her eyes dancing with joy.
+
+The baron was planning great agricultural improvements; he wanted to
+make experiments, to try new machines, to acclimatize foreign plants,
+and he passed part of his time talking to the peasants, who shook their
+heads and refused to believe in his ideas.
+
+He often went on the sea with the sailors of Yport, and when he had seen
+the caves, the springs, and the rocks that were of any interest in the
+neighborhood, he fished like a common seaman. On windy days, when the
+breeze filled the sails and forced the boat over till its edge touched
+the water, and the mackerel-nets trailed over the sides, he would hold a
+slender fishing-line, waiting with anxiety for the bite of a fish. Then
+he went out in the moonlight to take up the nets set the night before
+(for he loved to hear the creaking of the masts, and to breathe the
+fresh night air), and, after a long time spent in tacking about to find
+the buoys, guided by a ridge of rocks, the spire of a church, or the
+light-house at Fecamp, he liked to lie still under the first rays of the
+rising sun, which turned into a glittering mass the slimy rays and the
+white-bellied turbot which lay on the deck of the boat.
+
+At every meal, he gave a glowing account of his excursions, and the
+baroness, in her turn, would tell him how many times she had walked up
+and down the long poplar-avenues on the right next to the Couillards's
+farm, the other one not having enough sun on it.
+
+She had been advised to "take exercise," and she walked for hours
+together. As soon as the sun was high enough for its warmth to be felt
+she went out, leaning on Rosalie's arm, and enveloped in a cloak and two
+shawls, with a red scarf on her head and a black hood over that.
+
+Then she began a long, uninteresting walk from the corner of the chateau
+to the first shrubs of the wood and back again. Her left foot, which
+dragged a little, had traced two furrows where the grass had died. At
+each end of the path she had had a bench placed, and every five minutes
+she stopped, saying to the poor, patient maid who supported her: "Let us
+sit down, my girl; I am a little tired."
+
+And at each rest she left on one or other of the benches first the scarf
+which covered her head, then one shawl, then the other, then the hood,
+and then the cloak; and all these things made two big bundles of wraps,
+which Rosalie carried on her free arm, when they went in to lunch.
+
+In the afternoon the baroness recommenced her walk in a feebler way,
+taking longer rests, and sometimes dozing for an hour at a time on a
+couch that was wheeled out of doors for her. She called it taking "her
+exercise," in the same way as she spoke of "my hypertrophy."
+
+A doctor she had consulted ten years before because she suffered from
+palpitations, had hinted at hypertrophy. Since then she had constantly
+used this word, though she did not in the least understand what it
+meant, and she was always making the baron, and Jeanne, and Rosalie put
+their hands on her heart, though its beatings could not be felt, so
+buried was it under her bosom. She obstinately refused to be examined by
+any other doctor in case he should say she had another malady, and she
+spoke of "her hypertrophy" so often that it seemed as though this
+affection of the heart were peculiar to her, and belonged to her, like
+something unique, to which no one else had any right. The baron and
+Jeanne said "my wife's" or "mamma's hypertrophy" in the same way as they
+would have spoken of her dress or her umbrella.
+
+She had been very pretty when she was young, and as slender as a reed.
+After flirting with the officers of all the regiments of the Empire, she
+had read _Corinne_, which had made her cry, and, in a certain measure,
+altered her character.
+
+As her waist got bigger her mind became more and more poetical, and
+when, through her size, she had to remain nearly all day in her
+armchair, she dreamed of love adventures, of which she was always the
+heroine; always thinking of the sort she liked best, like a hand-organ
+continually repeating the same air. The languishing romances, where they
+talk about captives and swallows, always made her cry; and she even
+liked some of Beranger's coarse verses, because of the grief they
+expressed. She would sit motionless for hours, lost in thought, and she
+was very fond of Les Peuples, because it served as a scene for her
+dreams, the surrounding woods, the sea, and the waste land reminding her
+of Sir Walter Scott's books, which she had lately been reading.
+
+On rainy days she stayed in her room looking over what she called her
+"relics." They were all her old letters; those from her father and
+mother, the baron's when she was engaged to him, and some others
+besides. She kept them in a mahogany escritoire with copper sphinxes at
+the corners, and she always used a particular tone when she said:
+"Rosalie, bring me my souvenir-drawer."
+
+The maid would open the escritoire, take out the drawer, and place it on
+a chair beside her mistress, who slowly read the letters one by one,
+occasionally letting fall a tear.
+
+Jeanne sometimes took Rosalie's place and accompanied her mother's
+walks, and listened to her reminiscences of childhood. The young girl
+recognized herself in these tales, and was astonished to find that her
+mother's thoughts and hopes had been the same as hers; for every one
+imagines that he is the first to experience those feelings which made
+the hearts of our first parents beat quicker, and which will continue to
+exist in human hearts till the end of time.
+
+These tales, often interrupted for several seconds by the baroness's
+want of breath, were told as slowly as she walked, and Jeanne let her
+thoughts run on to the happy future, without waiting to hear the end of
+her mother's anecdotes.
+
+One afternoon, as they were resting on the seat at the bottom of the
+walk, they saw a fat priest coming towards them from the other end of
+the avenue. He bowed, put on a smiling look, bowed again when he was
+about three feet off, and cried:
+
+"Well, Madame la baronne, and how are we to-day?"
+
+He was the cure of the parish.
+
+The baroness, born in a philosophical century and brought up in
+revolutionary times by a father who did not believe very much in
+anything, did not often go to church, although she liked priests with
+the sort of religious instinct that most women have. She had forgotten
+all about the Abbe Picot, her cure, and her face colored when she saw
+him. She began to make excuses for not having gone to see him, but the
+good-natured priest did not seem at all put out. He looked at Jeanne,
+complimented her on her good looks, sat down, put his hat on his knees,
+and wiped his forehead.
+
+He was a very fat, red-faced man, who perspired very freely. Every
+minute he drew an enormous, checked handkerchief from his pocket and
+wiped his face and neck; but he had hardly put it back again when fresh
+drops appeared on his skin and, falling on his cassock, made the dust on
+it into little, round spots. He was a true country-priest, lively and
+tolerant, talkative and honest. He told anecdotes, talked about the
+peasants, and did not seem to have noticed that his two parishioners had
+not been to mass; for the baroness always tried to reconcile her vague
+ideas of religion to her indolence, and Jeanne was too happy at having
+left the convent, where she had been sickened of holy ceremonies, to
+think about going to church.
+
+The baron joined them. His pantheistic religion made him indifferent to
+doctrine, and he asked the abbe, whom he knew by sight, to stay to
+dinner. The priest had the art of pleasing every one, and thanks to the
+unconscious tact that is acquired by the most ordinary men called by
+fate to exercise any moral power over their fellow creatures, and the
+baroness, attracted perhaps by one of these affinities which draw
+similar natures together, paid every attention to him, the fat man's
+sanguine face and short breath agreeing with her gasping obesity. By the
+time dessert was placed on the table he had begun telling funny stories,
+with the _laisser_-_aller_ of a man who had had a good dinner in
+congenial society.
+
+All at once, as though a good idea had just occurred to him, he
+exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, I have a new parishioner I must introduce to you, M. le Vicomte de
+Lamare."
+
+The baroness, who had all the heraldy of the province at her finger
+ends, asked:
+
+"Does he belong to the family of Lamare de l'Eure?"
+
+The priest bowed:
+
+"Yes, madame; he is the son of the Vicomte Jean de Lamare, who died last
+year."
+
+Then Madame Adelaide, who loved the aristocracy above everything, asked
+a great many questions, and learnt that the young man had sold the
+family chateau to pay his father's debts, and had come to live on one of
+the three farms that he owned at Etouvent.
+
+This property only brought in about five or six thousand livres a year,
+but the vicomte was of a foreseeing, economical disposition and meant to
+live quietly for two or three years, so that he might save enough to go
+into society and marry well, without having to get into debt or mortgage
+his farms.
+
+"He is a charming young fellow," added the cure; "and so steady, so
+quiet. But he can't find many amusements in the country."
+
+"Bring him to see us, M. l'Abbe," said the baron; "he might like to come
+here sometimes." And then the conversation turned to other subjects.
+
+When they went into the drawing-room the priest asked if he might go out
+into the garden, as he was used to a little exercise after meals. The
+baron went out with him, and they walked backwards and forwards the
+whole length of the chateau, while their two shadows, the one thin, and
+the other quite round and looking as though it had a mushroom on its
+head, fell sometimes before and sometimes behind them, according as they
+walked towards the moon or turned their backs on it. The cure chewed a
+sort of cigarette that he had taken from his pocket; he told the baron
+why he used it in the plain speech of a countryman:
+
+"It is to help the digestion; my liver is rather sluggish."
+
+Looking at the sky where the bright moon was sailing along, he suddenly
+said:
+
+"That is a sight one never gets tired of."
+
+Then he went in to say good-bye to the ladies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+III
+
+The next Sunday the baroness and Jeanne went to mass out of deference to
+their cure, and after it was over they waited to ask him to luncheon for
+the following Thursday. He came out of the vestry with a tall,
+good-looking, young man who had familiarly taken his arm.
+
+As soon as he saw the two ladies he gave a look of pleased surprise, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"What a lucky thing! Madame la baronne and Mlle. Jeanne, permit me to
+present to you your neighbor, M. le Vicomte de Lamare."
+
+The vicomte bowed, expressed the desire he had long felt to make their
+acquaintance, and began to talk with the ease of a man accustomed to
+good society. His face was one that women raved about and that all men
+disliked. His black, curly hair fell over a smooth, bronzed forehead,
+and long, regular eyebrows gave a depth and tenderness to his dark eyes.
+Long, thick lashes lent to his glance the passionate eloquence which
+thrills the heart of the high-born lady in her boudoir, and makes the
+poor girl, with her basket on her arm, turn round in the street, and the
+languorous charm of his eyes, with their whites faintly tinged with
+blue, gave importance to his least word and made people believe in the
+profoundness of his thought. A thick, silky beard hid a jaw which was a
+little heavy.
+
+After mutual compliments he said good-bye to the ladies; and two days
+afterwards made his first call at the chateau.
+
+He arrived just as they were looking at a rustic-seat, placed only that
+morning under the big plane-tree opposite the drawing-room windows. The
+baron wanted to have another one under the linden to make a pair, but
+the baroness, who disliked things to be exactly symmetrical, said no.
+The vicomte, on being asked his opinion, sided with the baroness.
+
+Then he talked about the surrounding country, which he thought very
+"picturesque," and about the charming "bits" he had come across in his
+solitary walks. From time to time his eyes met Jeanne's, as though by
+chance; and she felt a strange sensation at these sudden looks which
+were quickly turned away and which expressed a lively admiration and
+sympathy.
+
+M. de Lamare's father, who had died the year before, had known an
+intimate friend of M. des Cultaux, the baroness's father, and the
+discovery of this mutual acquaintance gave rise to endless conversation
+about marriages, births, and relationships. The baroness, with
+prodigious feats of memory, talked about the ancestors and descendants
+of numerous families, and traversed the complicated labyrinths of
+different genealogies without ever losing herself.
+
+"Tell me, vicomte, have you ever heard of the Saunoys de Varfleur?
+Gontran, the elder son, married Mademoiselle de Coursil, one of the
+Coursil-Courvilles; and the younger married a cousin of mine,
+Mademoiselle de la Roche-Aubert, who was related to the Crisanges. Now,
+M. de Crisange was an intimate friend of my father, and no doubt knew
+yours also."
+
+"Yes, madame; was it not the M. de Crisange who emigrated, and whose son
+ruined himself?"
+
+"That is the very man. He had proposed for my aunt after the death of
+her husband, the Comte d'Eretry, but she would not accept him because he
+took snuff. By the way, do you know what has become of the Viloises?
+They left Touraine about 1813, after a reverse of fortune, to go and
+live in Auvergne; and I have never heard anything of them since."
+
+"I believe, madame, that the old marquis was killed by a fall from a
+horse, leaving one daughter married to an Englishman, and the other to a
+rich merchant who had seduced her."
+
+Names they had heard their parents mention when they were children
+returned to their minds, and the marriages of these people seemed as
+important to them as great public events. They talked about men and
+women they had never seen as if they knew them well, and these people,
+living so far away, talked about them in the same manner, and they felt
+as though they were acquainted with each other, almost as if they were
+friends, or relations, simply because they belonged to the same class
+and were of equal rank.
+
+The baron was rather unsociable, his philosophic views disagreeing with
+the beliefs and prejudices of the people of his own rank, did not know
+any of the families living near, and asked the vicomte about them.
+
+"Oh, there are very good families around here," answered M. de Lamare,
+in the same tone as he would have said that there were not many rabbits
+on the hills, and he entered into details about them.
+
+There were only three families of rank in the neighborhood; the Marquis
+de Coutelier, the head of the Normandy aristocracy; the Vicomte and
+Vicomtesse de Briseville, people who were very well-born but held
+themselves rather aloof; and lastly, the Comte de Fourville, a sort of
+fire-eater who was said to be worrying his wife to death, and who lived
+in the Chateau de la Vrillette, which was built on a lake, passing his
+time in hunting and shooting. A few parvenus had bought property in the
+neighborhood, but the vicomte did not know them.
+
+He rose to go, and his last look was for Jeanne as though he would have
+made his adieu to her specially friendly and tender.
+
+The baroness thought him charming and very _comme il faut_, and the
+baron remarked that he was a very well-educated man. He was asked to
+dinner the following week, and after that he visited the chateau
+regularly.
+
+Generally he came about four o'clock, joined the baroness in "her
+avenue," and insisted on her leaning on his arm to take "her exercise."
+When Jeanne was at home she supported her mother on the other side and
+all three walked slowly up and down the long path. He did not talk to
+the young girl but often his dark, velvety eyes met Jeanne's, which were
+like blue agate.
+
+Sometimes they walked down to Yport with the baron, and one evening, as
+they were standing on the beach, old Lastique came up to them, and,
+without taking his pipe from his mouth, for it would have been stranger
+to see him without his pipe than without his nose, said:
+
+"With this wind, M'sieu l'baron, you'd be able to go to Etretat and back
+to-morrow quite easily."
+
+Jeanne clasped her hands together; "Oh, papa! If only you would!"
+
+The baron turned to M. de Lamare.
+
+"Will you go, vicomte? We could have lunch over there." And the
+excursion was planned for the following day.
+
+The next morning Jeanne was up at daybreak. She waited for her father,
+who took longer to dress, and then they walked over the dewy plain and
+through the wood filled with the sweet song of the birds, down to Yport,
+where they found the vicomte and old Lastique sitting on the capstan of
+their little vessel.
+
+Two sailors helped to start the boat, by putting their shoulders to the
+sides and pushing with all their might. It was hard to move over the
+level part of the beach, and Lastique slipped rollers of greased wood
+under the keel, then went back to his place and drawled out his long
+"Heave oh!" which was the signal for them all to push together, and when
+they came to the slant of the beach, the boat set off all at once,
+sliding over the round pebbles, and making a grating noise like the
+tearing of linen. It stopped short at the edge of the waves and they all
+got in, except the two sailors, who pushed the boat off.
+
+A light, steady breeze blowing towards the land just ruffled the surface
+of the water. The sail was hoisted, filled out a little, and the boat
+moved gently along hardly rocked by the waves.
+
+At first they sailed straight out to sea. At the horizon the sky could
+not be distinguished from the ocean; on land the high steep cliff had a
+deep shadow at its foot. Behind could be seen the brown sails of the
+boats leaving the white pier of Fecamp, and before lay a rounded rock
+with a hole right through it, looking like an elephant thrusting its
+trunk into the water.
+
+Jeanne, feeling a little dizzied by the rocking of the boat, sat holding
+one side with her hand, and looking out to sea; light, space and the
+ocean seemed to her to be the only really beautiful things in creation.
+No one spoke. From time to time old Lastique, who was steering, drank
+something out of a bottle placed within his reach under the seat. He
+smoked his stump of a pipe which seemed unextinguishable, and a small
+cloud of blue smoke went up from it while another issued from the corner
+of his mouth; he was never seen to relight the clay bowl, which was
+colored blacker than ebony, or to refill it with tobacco, and he only
+removed the pipe from his mouth to eject the brown saliva.
+
+The baron sat in the bows and managed the sail, performing the duties of
+a sailor, and Jeanne and the vicomte were side by side, both feeling a
+little agitated. Their glances were continually meeting, a hidden
+sympathy making them raise their eyes at the same moment, for there was
+already that vague, subtle fondness between them which springs up so
+quickly between two young people when the youth is good-looking and the
+girl is pretty. They felt happy at being close together, perhaps because
+each was thinking of the other.
+
+The sun rose higher in the sky as if to consider from a better vantage
+point the vast sea stretched out beneath him, while the latter, like a
+coquette, enveloped herself in a light mist which veiled her from his
+rays. It was a transparent golden haze which hid nothing but softened
+everything. It gradually melted away before the sun's flaming darts, and
+when the full heat of the day began it disappeared entirely, and the
+sea, smooth as glass, lay glittering in the sun.
+
+Jeanne murmured enthusiastically, "How lovely it is!"
+
+The vicomte answered "Yes, it is indeed beautiful." And their hearts
+felt as bright as the clear morning itself.
+
+Suddenly, looking as if the cliff bestrode part of the sea, appeared the
+great arcades of Etretat, high enough for a ship to pass underneath him
+without the point of a sharp white rock rising out of the water before
+the first one.
+
+When they reached the shore, the vicomte lifted Jeanne out that she
+should not wet her feet in landing, while the baron held the boat close
+to the beach with a rope; then they went up the steep, shingly beach
+side by side, both agitated by this short embrace, and they heard old
+Lastique say to the baron:
+
+"In my opinion they'd make a very handsome couple."
+
+They had lunch in a little inn near the beach. On the sea they had been
+quiet, but at the table they had as much to say as children let out of
+school.
+
+The most simple things gave rise to endless laughter. Old Lastique
+carefully put his pipe, which was still alight, into his cap before he
+sat down to table; and everyone laughed. A fly, attracted, no doubt, by
+the sailor's red nose, persisted on settling on it, and when moving too
+slowly to catch it he knocked it away, it went over to a very
+fly-spotted curtain whence it seemed to eagerly watch the sailor's
+highly-colored nasal organ, for it soon flew back and settled on it
+again.
+
+Each time the insect returned a loud laugh burst out, and when the old
+man, annoyed by its tickling, murmured: "What a confoundly obstinate
+fly!" Jeanne and the vicomte laughed till they cried, holding their
+serviettes to their mouths to prevent themselves shrieking out loud.
+
+When the coffee had been served Jeanne said:
+
+"Suppose we go for a walk?"
+
+The vicomte got up to go with her, but the baron preferred going out on
+the beach to take his nap.
+
+"You two go," he said. "You will find me here in an hour's time."
+
+They walked straight along the road, passed a few cottages and a little
+chateau which looked more like a big farm, and then found themselves in
+an open valley. Jeanne had a singing in her ears, and was thrilled by a
+strange sensation which she had never before experienced. Overhead was a
+blazing sun, and on each side of the road lay fields of ripe corn
+drooping under the heat. The feeble, continuous chirp of the swarms of
+grasshoppers in the corn and hedges was the only sound to be heard, and
+the sky of dazzling blue, slightly tinged with yellow, looked as though
+it would suddenly turn red, like brass when it is put into a furnace.
+
+They entered a little wood where the trees were so thick that no
+sunbeams could penetrate their foliage; the grass had died from want of
+light and fresh air, but the ground was covered with moss, and all
+around was a cool dampness which chilled them after the heat of the sun.
+
+"See, we could sit down over there," said Jeanne, looking around her as
+they walked on.
+
+Two trees had died, and through the break in the foliage fell a flood of
+light, warming the earth, calling to life the grass and dandelion seeds,
+and expanding the delicate flowers of the anemone and digitalis. A
+thousand winged insects--butterflies, bees, hornets, big gnats looking
+like skeleton-flies, ladybirds with red spots on them, beetles with
+greenish reflections on their wings, others which were black and
+horned--peopled this one warm and luminous spot in the midst of the cool
+shadow of the trees.
+
+Jeanne and the vicomte sat down with their heads in the shadow and their
+feet in the light. They watched these tiny moving insects that a sunbeam
+had called forth, and Jeanne said softly:
+
+"How lovely the country is! Sometimes I wish I were a bee or a butterfly
+that I might bury myself in the flowers."
+
+They began talking about their own habits and tastes in a low,
+confidential tone. He declared himself tired of his useless life,
+disgusted with society; it was always the same, one never found any
+truth, any sincerity. She would have liked to know what town-life was
+like but she was convinced beforehand that society would never be so
+pleasant as a country-life.
+
+The nearer their hearts drew to one another the more studiously did they
+address each other as "monsieur" and "mademoiselle"; but they could not
+help their eyes smiling and their glances meeting, and it seemed to them
+that new and better feelings were entering their hearts, making them
+ready to love and take an interest in things they had before cared
+nothing about.
+
+When they returned from their walk they found that the baron had gone to
+a cave formed in the cliff, called the Chambre aux Desmoiselles, so they
+waited for him at the inn, where he did not appear till five o'clock,
+and then they started to go home. The boat glided along so smoothly that
+it hardly seemed to be moving; the wind came in gentle puffs filling the
+sail one second only to let it flap loosely against the mast the next,
+and the tired sun was slowly approaching the sea. The stillness around
+made them all silent for a long while, but at last Jeanne said:
+
+"How I should like to travel!"
+
+"Yes, but it would be rather dull traveling alone," said the vicomte.
+"You want a companion to whom you could confide your impressions."
+
+"That is true," she answered thoughtfully; "still, I like to go for long
+walks alone. When there is no one with me I build such castles in the
+air."
+
+"But two people can better still plan out a happy future," he said,
+looking her full in the face.
+
+Her eyes fell; did he mean anything? She gazed at the horizon as though
+she would look beyond it; then she said slowly:
+
+"I should like to go to Italy--and to Greece--and to Corsica, it must
+be so wild and so beautiful there."
+
+He preferred the chalets and lakes of Switzerland.
+
+She said: "No, I should like to go either to a country with little or no
+history like Corsica, or else to one with very old associations like
+Greece. It must be so interesting to find the traces of those nations
+whose history one has known from childhood, and to see the places where
+such great and noble deeds were done."
+
+"Well, for my part, I should like to go to England; it is such an
+instructive country," said the vicomte, who was more practical than
+Jeanne.
+
+Then they discussed the beauties of every country from the poles to the
+equator, and went into raptures over the unconventional customs of such
+nations as the Chinese or the Laplanders; but they came to the
+conclusion that the most beautiful land in the world is France, with her
+temperate climate--cool in summer and warm in winter--her fertile
+fields, her green forests, her great, calm rivers, and her culture in
+the fine arts which has existed nowhere else since the palmy days of
+Athens.
+
+Silence again fell over the little party. The blood-red sun was sinking,
+and a broad pathway of light lay in the wake of the boat leading right
+up to the dazzling globe. The wind died out, there was not a ripple on
+the water, and the motionless sail was reddened by the rays of the
+setting sun. The air seemed to possess some soothing influence which
+silenced everything around this meeting of the elements. The sea, like
+some huge bird, awaited the fiery lover who was approaching her shining,
+liquid bosom, and the sun hastened his descent, empurpled by the desire
+of their embrace. At length he joined her, and gradually disappeared.
+Then a freshness came from the horizon, and a breath of air rippled the
+surface of the water as if the vanished sun had given a sigh of
+satisfaction.
+
+The twilight was very short, and the sky soon became came dark and
+studded with stars. Lastique got out the oars, and Jeanne and the
+vicomte sat side by side watching the trembling, phosphorescent glimmer
+behind the boat and feeling a keen enjoyment even in breathing the cool
+night air. The vicomte's fingers were resting against Jeanne's hand
+which was lying on the seat, and she did not draw it away, the slight
+contact making her feel happy and yet confused.
+
+When she went to her room that evening Jeanne felt so moved that the
+least thing would have made her cry. She looked at the clock and fancied
+that the little bee throbbed like a friendly heart; she thought of how
+it would be the silent witness of her whole life, how it would accompany
+all her joys and sorrows with its quick, regular beat, and she stopped
+the gilded insect to drop a kiss upon its wings. She could have kissed
+anything, no matter what, and suddenly remembering an old doll she had
+hidden away in the bottom of a drawer, she got it out and found as much
+joy in seeing it again as if it had been an old well-loved friend.
+Pressing it to her bosom she covered its painted cheeks and flaxen hair
+with warm kisses, then, still holding it in her arms, she began to
+think.
+
+Was HE the husband referred to by so many inward voices, and was it by a
+supremely-kind Providence that he was thus sent into her life? Was he
+really the being created for her, to whom her whole existence would be
+devoted? Were he and she really predestined to unite their hearts and so
+beget Love? She did not yet experience those tumultuous feelings, those
+wild raptures, that profound stirring of her whole soul, which she
+believed to be love; still she thought she was beginning to love him,
+for sometimes she felt her senses fail her when she thought of him and
+she always was thinking of him. Her heart throbbed in his presence, her
+color came and went when she met his glance, and the sound of his voice
+sent a thrill through her. That night she hardly slept at all.
+
+Each day her longing for love became greater. She was always consulting
+the marguerites, or the clouds, or tossing a coin in the air to see
+whether she was loved or not.
+
+One evening her father said to her:
+
+"Make yourself look very pretty to-morrow morning, Jeanne."
+
+"Why, papa?" she asked.
+
+"That's a secret," replied the baron.
+
+When she came down the next morning, looking fresh and bright in a light
+summer dress, she found the drawing-room table covered with bon-bon
+boxes, and an enormous bouquet on a chair.
+
+A cart turned in at the gateway with "Lerat, Confectioner, Contractor
+for Wedding-breakfasts" on it, and Ludivine, with the aid of a
+scullery-maid, took from it a great many flat baskets from which issued
+an appetizing odor.
+
+The vicomte came in soon after; his trousers were fastened tightly under
+the varnished boots which showed off his small feet to perfection. His
+tightly-fitting coat was closely fastened, except on the chest, where it
+opened to show the lace shirt-frill; and a fine cravat, twisted several
+times round his neck, forced him to hold up his handsome dark head. His
+careful toilet made him look different from usual, and Jeanne stared at
+him as though she had never seen him before; she thought he looked a
+perfect gentleman from head to foot.
+
+He bowed, and asked with a smile:
+
+"Well, godmother, are you ready?"
+
+"What do you mean?" stammered out Jeanne. "What is it all about?"
+
+"Oh, you shall know just now," answered the baron.
+
+The carriage drew up before the door and Madame Adelaide, in a handsome
+dress, came downstairs leaning on Rosalie, who was struck with such
+admiration at the sight of M. de Lamare's elegant appearance, that the
+baron murmured:
+
+"I say, vicomte, I think our maid likes the look of you."
+
+The vicomte blushed up to the roots of his hair, pretended not to hear
+what the baron said, and, taking up the big bouquet, presented it to
+Jeanne. She took it, feeling still more astonished, and all four got
+into the carriage.
+
+"Really, madame, it looks like a wedding!" exclaimed the cook, Ludivine,
+who had brought some cold broth for the baroness to have before she
+started.
+
+When they reached Yport they got out, and, as they walked through the
+village, the sailors in new clothes which still showed where the cloth
+had been folded, came out of the houses, touched their hats, shook the
+baron by the hand, and followed behind them, forming a procession, at
+the head of which walked the vicomte with Jeanne on his arm.
+
+On arriving at the church a halt was made. A choir-boy came out carrying
+a great silver cross, followed by another pink and white urchin
+carrying the holy water with the brush in it; behind them came three old
+choristers, one of whom limped, then the serpent-player, then the cure
+in a stole with a gold cross embroidered on it. He saluted the baron's
+party with a smile and a nod, then, with half-closed eyes, his lips
+moving in prayer, his miter pushed down over his eyes, he followed his
+surpliced subordinates down to the sea.
+
+On the beach a crowd was waiting round a new boat decorated all over
+with garlands; its mast, sail, and ropes were covered with long ribbons
+which fluttered in the breeze, and its name, "Jeanne," was on the stern
+in gilt letters. Old Lastique was the master of this boat that the baron
+had had built, and he advanced to meet the procession.
+
+At the sight of the cross all the men took off their caps, and a line of
+nuns, enveloped in their long, straight, black mantles, knelt down. The
+cure went to one end of the boat with the two choir-boys, while at the
+other the three old choristers, with their dirty faces and hairy chins
+shown up by their white surplices, sang at the top of their voices. Each
+time they paused to take breath, the serpent-player continued his music
+alone, and he blew out his cheeks till his little gray eyes could not be
+seen and the very skin of his forehead and neck looked as if it was
+separated from the flesh.
+
+The calm, transparent sea, its ripples breaking on the shore with a
+faint, grating noise, seemed to be watching the christening of the tiny
+boat. Great, white sea-gulls flew by with outstretched wings, and then
+returned over the heads of the kneeling crowd with a sweeping flight as
+though they wanted to see what was going on.
+
+The chanting stopped after an "Amen" which was repeated and sustained
+for five minutes, and the priest gabbled some Latin words of which only
+the sonorous terminations could be made out. Then he walked all round
+the boat sprinkling it with holy water, and commenced to murmur the
+oremus, stopping opposite the two sponsors, who were standing hand in
+hand.
+
+The young man's handsome face was quite calm, but the young girl, almost
+suffocated by the palpitation of her heart, felt as though she should
+faint, and she trembled so violently that her teeth chattered. The dream
+that had haunted her for so long seemed all at once to have become a
+reality. She had heard this ceremony compared to a wedding, the priest
+was there uttering blessings, and surpliced men were chanting prayers;
+surely she was being married!
+
+Did the vicomte feel the nervous trembling of her fingers? Did his heart
+sympathize with hers? Did he understand? did he guess? was he also under
+the influence of an all-absorbing love-dream? Or was it only the
+knowledge that women found him irresistible that made him press her
+hand, gently at first, then harder and harder till he hurt her? Then,
+without changing the expression of his face, that no one might notice
+him, he said very distinctly: "Oh, Jeanne, if you liked, this might be
+our betrothal!"
+
+She slowly bent her head with a movement which perhaps meant "yes"; and
+some drops of holy water fell on their hands.
+
+The ceremony was over; the women rose from their knees, and everyone
+began to hurry back. The choir-boy let the cross swing from side to
+side, or tilt forward till it nearly fell; the cure, no longer praying,
+hurried behind him; the choristers and the serpent-player disappeared
+down a narrow turning to get back and undress quickly, the sailors
+hastened past in twos and threes; a good lunch was waiting for them at
+Les Peuples and the very thought of it quickened their pace and made
+their mouths water.
+
+Sixty sailors and peasants sat down to the long table laid in the
+courtyard under the apple trees. The baroness sat at the middle of the
+table with the cure from Yport on one side of her and the Abbe Picot on
+the other; opposite her was the baron between the mayor and his wife.
+The mayoress was a thin, elderly country woman with a nod for everyone;
+her big Normandy cap fitted close round her thin face, making her head,
+with its round, astonished-looking eyes, look like a white-tufted
+fowl's, and she ate in little jerks as if she were pecking at her plate.
+
+Jeanne was silent, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, her head turned with
+joy. At last she asked the vicomte, who was sitting beside her:
+
+"What is your Christian name?"
+
+"Julien," he replied; "did you not know?"
+
+She did not answer him, for she was thinking: "How often I shall repeat
+that name to myself."
+
+When lunch was over, the courtyard was left to the sailors. The baroness
+began to take her exercise, leaning on the baron and accompanied by the
+two priests, and Jeanne and Julien walked down to the wood, and wandered
+along its little winding paths. All at once he took her hands in his.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "will you be my wife?"
+
+She hung her head, and he pleaded:
+
+"Do not keep me in suspense, I implore you."
+
+Then she slowly raised her eyes to his, and in that look he read her
+answer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IV
+
+The baron went into Jeanne's room before she was up one morning soon
+after the christening of the boat, and sat down at the foot of the bed.
+
+"M. le Vicomte de Lamare has proposed for you," he said.
+
+Jeanne would have liked to hide her head under the bed-clothes.
+
+"We told him we must think over his proposal before we could give him an
+answer," continued the baron, who was smiling. "We did not wish to
+arrange anything without first consulting you; your mother and I made no
+objection to the marriage, but at the same time we did not make any
+promise. You are a great deal richer than he is, but when the happiness
+of a life is at stake the question of money ought not to be considered.
+He has no relations, so if you married him we should gain a son, whereas
+if you married anyone else you would have to go among strangers, and we
+should lose our daughter. We like the young fellow, but the question is,
+do you like him?"
+
+"I am quite willing to marry him, papa," she stammered out, blushing to
+the roots of her hair.
+
+The baron looked into her eyes, and said with a smile: "I thought as
+much, mademoiselle."
+
+Until that evening Jeanne hardly knew what she was doing. She went
+through everything mechanically, feeling thoroughly worn out with
+fatigue, although she had done nothing to tire her. The vicomte came
+about six o'clock and found her sitting with her mother under the
+plane-tree, and Jeanne's heart beat wildly as the young man came calmly
+towards them. He kissed the baroness's fingers, then, raising the young
+girl's trembling hand to his lips, he imprinted on it a long, tender
+kiss of gratitude.
+
+The happy betrothal time began. The young couple spent their days
+sitting on the slope leading to the waste land beyond the wood, or
+walking up and down the baroness's avenue, she with her eyes fixed on
+the dusty track her mother's foot had made, he talking of the future.
+Once the marriage agreed to, they wanted it to take place as soon as
+possible, so it was decided that they should be married in six weeks'
+time, on the 15th of August, and that they should start on their wedding
+tour almost immediately afterwards. When Jeanne was asked to what
+country she should like to go, she chose Corsica, where they would be
+more alone than in Italy.
+
+They awaited the time of their union without very much impatience,
+vaguely desiring more passionate embraces, and yet satisfied with a
+slight caress, a pressure of the hand, a gaze so long that each seemed
+to read the other's heart through their eyes.
+
+No one was to be asked to the wedding besides Aunt Lison, the baroness's
+sister, who was a lady-boarder in a convent at Versailles.
+
+After their father's death the baroness wanted her sister to live with
+her, but the old maid was convinced that she was a nuisance to
+everybody, and always in the way, and she took apartments in one of the
+convents which open their doors to the solitary and unhappy, though she
+occasionally spent a month or two with her relations. She was a small
+woman with very little to say, and always kept in the background; when
+she stayed with the baroness she was only seen at meal times, the rest
+of the day she spent shut up in her room. She had a kind, rather
+old-looking face, although she was only forty-two, with sad, meek eyes.
+Her wishes had always been sacrificed to those of everyone else. As a
+child she had always sat quietly in some corner, never kissed because
+she was neither pretty nor noisy, and as a young girl no one had ever
+troubled about her. Her sister, following the example of her parents,
+always thought of her as of someone of no importance, almost like some
+object of furniture which she was accustomed to see every day but which
+never occupied her thoughts.
+
+She seemed ashamed of her name, Lise, because it was so girlish and
+pretty, and when there seemed no likelihood of her marrying, "Lise" had
+gradually changed to "Lison." Since the birth of Jeanne she had become
+"Aunt Lison," a sort of poor relation whom everyone treated with a
+careless familiarity which hid a good-natured contempt. She was prim and
+very timid even with her sister and brother-in-law, who liked her as
+they liked everyone, but whose affection was formed of an indifferent
+kindness, and an unconscious compassion.
+
+Sometimes when the baroness was speaking of the far-away time of her
+childhood she would say to fix a date: "It was about the time of Lison's
+mad attempt." She never said anything more, and there was a certain
+mystery about this "mad attempt."
+
+One evening, when she was about nineteen years old, Lise had tried to
+drown herself. No one could understand the reason of this act of folly;
+there was nothing in her life or habits to at all account for it. She
+had been rescued half-dead, and her parents, shocked at the deed, had
+not attempted to discover its cause, but had only talked about her "mad
+attempt," in the same way as they had spoken of the accident to the
+horse Coco, when he had broken his leg in a ditch and had to be killed.
+Since then Lise had been thought very weak-minded, and everyone around
+her gradually came to look upon her with the mild contempt with which
+her relations regarded her; even little Jeanne, perceiving with the
+quickness of a child how her parents treated her aunt, never ran to kiss
+her or thought of performing any little services for her. No one ever
+went to her room, and Rosalie, the maid, alone seemed to know where it
+was situated. If anyone wanted to speak to her a servant was sent to
+find her, and if she could not be found no one troubled about her, no
+one thought of her, no one would ever have dreamt of saying:
+
+"Dear me! I have not seen Lison this morning."
+
+When she came down to breakfast of a morning, little Jeanne went and
+held up her face for a kiss, and that was the only greeting she
+received. She had no position in the house and seemed destined never to
+be understood even by her relations, never able to gain their love or
+confidence, and when she died she would leave no empty chair, no sense
+of loss behind her.
+
+When anyone said "Aunt Lison" the words caused no more feeling of
+affection in anyone's heart than if the coffee pot or sugar basin had
+been mentioned. She always walked with little, quick, noiseless steps,
+never making any noise, never stumbling against anything, and her hands
+seemed to be made of velvet, so light and delicate was their handling
+of anything she touched.
+
+Lison arrived at the chateau about the middle of July, quite upset by
+the idea of the marriage; she brought a great many presents which did
+not receive much attention as she was the giver, and the day after her
+arrival no one noticed she was there. She could not take her eyes off
+the sweethearts, and busied herself about the trousseau with a strange
+energy, a feverish excitement, working in her room, where no one came to
+see her, like a common seamstress. She was always showing the baroness
+some handkerchiefs she had hemmed, or some towels on which she had
+embroidered the monogram, and asking:
+
+"Do you like that, Adelaide?"
+
+The baroness would carelessly look at the work and answer:
+
+"Don't take so much trouble over it, my dear Lison."
+
+About the end of the month, after a day of sultry heat, the moon rose in
+one of those warm, clear nights which seem to draw forth all the hidden
+poetry of the soul. The soft breeze fluttered the hangings of the quiet
+drawing-room, and the shaded lamp cast a ring of soft light on the table
+where the baroness and her husband were playing cards. Aunt Lison was
+sitting by them knitting, and the young people were leaning against the
+open window, looking out at the garden as it lay bathed in light.
+
+The shadows of the linden and the plane tree fell on the moonlit grass
+which stretched away to the shadows of the wood.
+
+Irresistibly attracted by the beauty of the sight, Jeanne turned and
+said:
+
+"Papa, we are going for a walk on the grass."
+
+"Very well, my dear," answered the baron, without looking up from his game.
+
+Jeanne and the vicomte went out and walked slowly down the grass till
+they reached the little wood at the bottom. They stayed out so long that
+at last the baroness, feeling tired and wanting to go to her room, said:
+
+"We must call in the lovers."
+
+The baron glanced at the moonlit garden, where the two figures could be
+seen walking slowly about.
+
+"Leave them alone," he answered, "it is so pleasant out of doors; Lison
+will wait up for them; won't you, Lison?"
+
+The old maid looked up, and answered in her timid voice: "Oh, yes,
+certainly."
+
+The baron helped his wife to rise, and, tired himself by the heat of the
+day,
+
+"I will go to bed, too," he said. And he went upstairs with the
+baroness.
+
+Then Aunt Lison got up, and, leaving her work on the arm of the easy
+chair, leant out of the window and looked at the glorious night. The two
+sweethearts were walking backwards and forwards across the grass,
+silently pressing each other's hands, as they felt the sweet influence
+of the visible poetry that surrounded them.
+
+Jeanne saw the old maid's profile in the window, with the lighted lamp
+behind.
+
+"Look," she said, "Aunt Lison is watching us."
+
+"Yes, so she is," answered the vicomte in the tone of one who speaks
+without thinking of what he is saying; and they continued their slow
+walk and their dreams of love. But the dew was falling, and they began
+to feel chilled.
+
+"We had better go in now," said Jeanne.
+
+They went into the drawing-room, and found Aunt Lison bending over the
+knitting she had taken up again; her thin fingers were trembling as if
+they were very tired. Jeanne went up to her.
+
+"Aunt, we will go to bed now," she said.
+
+The old maid raised her eyes; they were red as if she had been crying,
+but neither of the lovers noticed it. Suddenly the young man saw that
+Jeanne's thin slippers were quite wet, and fearing she would catch cold:
+
+"Are not your dear little feet cold?" he asked affectionately.
+
+Aunt Lison's fingers trembled so they could no longer hold the work; her
+ball of wool rolled across the floor, and, hiding her face in her hands,
+she began to sob convulsively. For a moment Jeanne and the vicomte stood
+looking at her in mute surprise, then Jeanne, feeling frightened, knelt
+down beside her, drew away her hands from her face, and asked in dismay:
+
+"What is it, Aunt Lison? What is the matter with you?"
+
+The poor, old maid, trembling all over, stammered out in a broken voice:
+
+"When he asked you--'Are--are not your dear little feet--cold?'--I--I
+thought how no one had--had ever said anything like that to me."
+
+Jeanne felt full of pity for her aunt, but it seemed very funny to think
+of anyone making love to Lison, and the vicomte turned his head away to
+hide his laughter. Lison started up, left her wool on the ground and her
+knitting on the armchair, and abruptly leaving the room, groped her way
+up the dark staircase to her bedroom.
+
+The two young people looked at one another, feeling sorry for her, and
+yet rather amused.
+
+"Poor auntie," murmured Jeanne.
+
+"She must be a little mad this evening," replied Julien.
+
+They were holding each other's hands as if they could not make up their
+minds to say good-night, and very gently they exchanged their first kiss
+before Aunt Lison's empty chair. The next day they had forgotten all
+about the old maid's tears.
+
+The fortnight before her marriage, Jeanne passed calmly and peacefully,
+as if she were almost exhausted by the number of pleasant hours she had
+lately had. The morning of the eventful day she had no time to think;
+she was only conscious of a great sense of nothingness within her, as if
+beneath her skin, her flesh, and blood, and bones had vanished, and she
+noticed how her fingers trembled when she touched anything.
+
+She did not regain her self-possession till she was going through the
+marriage service. Married! She was married! Everything which had
+happened since dawn seemed a dream, and all around her seemed changed;
+people's gestures had a new meaning; even the hours of the day did not
+seem to be in their right places. She felt stunned at the change. The
+day before nothing had been altered in her life; her dearest hope had
+only become nearer--almost within her grasp. She had fallen asleep a
+girl, now she was a woman. She had crossed the barrier which hides the
+future with all its expected joys and fancied happiness, and she saw
+before her an open door; she was at last going to realize her dreams.
+
+After the ceremony they went into the vestry, which was nearly empty,
+for there were no wedding guests; but when they appeared at the door of
+the church a loud noise made the bride start and the baroness shriek; it
+was a salvo fired by the peasants, who had arranged to salute the bride,
+and the shots could be heard all the way to Les Peuples.
+
+Breakfast was served for the family, the cure from Yport, the Abbe
+Picot, and the witnesses. Then everyone went to walk in the garden till
+dinner was ready. The baron and the baroness, Aunt Lison, the mayor, and
+the abbe walked up and down the baroness's path, and the priest from
+Yport strode along the other avenue reading his breviary.
+
+From the other side of the chateau came the noisy laughter of the
+peasants drinking cider under the apple-trees. The whole countryside in
+its Sunday garb was in the court, and the girls and young men were
+playing games and chasing each other.
+
+Jeanne and Julien went across the wood, and at the top of the slope
+stood silently looking at the sea. It was rather chilly, although it was
+the middle of August; there was a north wind, and the sun was shining in
+the midst of a cloudless sky, so the young couple crossed the plain to
+find shelter in the wooded valley leading to Yport. In the coppice no
+wind could be felt, and they left the straight road and turned into a
+narrow path running under the trees.
+
+They could hardly walk abreast, and he gently put his arm round her
+waist; she did not say anything, but her heart throbbed, and her breath
+came quickly; the branches almost touched their heads, and they often
+had to bend low to pass under them. She broke off a leaf; underneath it
+lay two lady-birds looking like delicate, red shells.
+
+"Look, it's a husband and wife," she said, innocently, feeling a little
+more at ease.
+
+Julien's mouth brushed her ear.
+
+"To-night you will be my little wife," he said.
+
+Although she had learnt a great deal since she had been living among the
+fields, as yet only the poetical side of love had presented itself to
+her mind, and she did not understand him. Was she not already his wife?
+
+Then he began to drop little kisses on her forehead, and on her neck
+just where some soft, stray hairs curled; instinctively she drew her
+head away from him, startled and yet enraptured by these kisses to which
+she was not accustomed. Looking up they found they had reached the end
+of the wood. She stopped, a little confused at finding herself so far
+from home; what would everyone think?
+
+"Let us go back," she said.
+
+He withdrew his arm from her waist, and as they turned round they came
+face to face, so close together that she felt his breath on her cheek.
+They looked into each other's eyes, each seeking to read the other's
+soul, and trying to learn its secrets by a determined, penetrating gaze.
+What would each be like? What would be the life they were commencing
+together? What joys, what disillusions did married life reserve for
+them? Suddenly Julien placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, and
+pressed on her lips such a kiss as she had never before received, a kiss
+which thrilled her whole being, a kiss which gave her such a strange
+shock that she almost fell to the ground. She wildly pushed him from
+her.
+
+"Let us go back. Let us go back," she stammered out.
+
+He did not make any answer, but took both her hands and held them in his
+own, and they walked back to the house in silence.
+
+At dusk a simple dinner was served, but there was a restraint upon the
+conversation. The two priests, the mayor, and the four farmers, who had
+been invited as witnesses, alone indulged in a little coarse gayety
+which generally accompanies a wedding, and when the laughter died away
+the mayor would try to revive it with a jest. It was about nine o'clock
+when the coffee was served. Out of doors, under the apple-trees, the
+open-air ball had just commenced; the tapers which had been hung on the
+branches made the leaves look the color of verdigris, and through the
+open windows of the dining-room all the revelry could be seen. The
+rustics skipped round, howling a dance-tune, accompanied by two violins
+and a clarionet, the musicians being perched upon a kitchen table. The
+noisy voices of the peasants sometimes entirely drowned the sound of the
+instruments, and the thin music sounded as if it was dropping from the
+sky in little bits, a few notes being scattered every now and then.
+
+Two big barrels, surrounded by flaming torches, provided drink for the
+crowd, and two servants did nothing but rinse glasses and bowls in a
+tub, and then hold them, dripping wet, under the taps whence flowed a
+crimson stream of wine, or a golden stream of cider. The thirsty dancers
+crowded round, stretched out their hands to get hold of any drinking
+vessel, and poured the liquid down their dust-filled throats. Bread,
+butter, cheese, and sausages were laid on a table, and everyone
+swallowed a mouthful from time to time. As they watched this healthy,
+noisy fete, the melancholy guests in the dining-room felt that they too
+would have liked to join the dance, to drink from the great casks, and
+eat a slice of bread-and-butter and a raw onion.
+
+"By Jove! they are enjoying themselves!" said the mayor, beating time to
+the music with his knife. "It makes one think of the wedding feast at
+Ganache."
+
+There was a murmur of suppressed laughter.
+
+"You mean at Cana," replied the Abbe Picot, the natural enemy of every
+civil authority.
+
+But the mayor held his ground.
+
+"No, M. le cure, I know quite well what I am saying; when I say Ganache,
+I mean Ganache."
+
+After dinner they went among the peasants for a little while, and then
+the guests took their leave. The baron and his wife had a little quarrel
+in a low voice. Madame Adelaide, more out of breath than ever, seemed to
+be refusing something her husband was asking her to do; and at last she
+said almost out loud: "No, my dear, I cannot. I shouldn't know how to
+begin." The baron abruptly left her, and went up to Jeanne.
+
+"Will you come for a walk with me, my child?" he said.
+
+"If you like, papa," she answered, feeling a little uneasy.
+
+As soon as they were outside the door they felt the wind in their
+faces--a cold, dry wind which drove the clouds across the sky, and made
+the summer night feel like autumn. The baron pressed his daughter's arm
+closely to him, and affectionately pressed her hand. For some minutes
+they walked on in silence; he could not make up his mind to begin, but,
+at last, he said:
+
+"My pet, I have to perform a very difficult duty which really belongs to
+your mother; as she refuses to do what she ought, I am obliged to take
+her place. I do not know how much you already know of the laws of
+existence; there are some things which are carefully hidden from
+children, from girls especially, for girls ought to remain pure-minded
+and perfectly innocent until the hour their parents place them in the
+arms of the man who, henceforth, has the care of their happiness; it is
+his duty to raise the veil drawn over the sweet secret of life. But, if
+no suspicion of the truth has crossed their minds, girls are often
+shocked by the somewhat brutal reality which their dreams have not
+revealed to them. Wounded in mind, and even in body, they refuse to
+their husband what is accorded to him as an absolute right by both human
+and natural laws. I cannot tell you any more, my darling; but remember
+this, only this, that you belong entirely to your husband."
+
+What did she know in reality? What did she guess? She began to tremble,
+and she felt low-spirited, and overcome by a presentiment of something
+terrible. When she and her father went in again they stopped in surprise
+at the drawing-room door. Madame Adelaide was sobbing on Julien's
+shoulder. Her noisy tears seemed to be forced from her, and issued at
+the same time from her nose, mouth and eyes, and the amazed vicomte was
+awkwardly supporting the huge woman, who had thrown herself in his arms
+to ask him to be gentle with her darling, her pet, her dear child. The
+baron hurried forward.
+
+"Oh, pray do not make a scene, do not let us have any tears," he said,
+taking hold of his wife, and seating her in an armchair while she wiped
+her face. Then turning towards Jeanne:
+
+"Now then, my dear, kiss your mother and go to bed," he said.
+
+Ready to cry herself, Jeanne quickly kissed her parents and ran away.
+Aunt Lison had already gone to her room, so the baron and his wife were
+left alone with Julien. They all three felt very awkward, and could
+think of nothing to say; the two men, in their evening-dress, remained
+standing, looking into space, and Madame Adelaide leant back in her
+armchair, her breast still heaved by an occasional sob. At last the
+silence became unbearable, and the baron began to talk about the journey
+the young couple were going to take in a few days.
+
+Jeanne, in her room, was being undressed by Rosalie, whose tears fell
+like rain; her trembling hands could not find the strings and pins, and
+she certainly seemed a great deal more affected than her mistress. But
+Jeanne did not notice her maid's tears; she felt as though she had
+entered another world, and was separated from all she had known and
+loved. Everything in her life seemed turned upside down; the strange
+idea came to her: "Did she really love her husband?" He suddenly seemed
+some stranger she hardly knew. Three months before she had not even been
+aware of his existence, and now she was his wife. How had it happened?
+Did people always plunge into marriage as they might into some uncovered
+hole lying in their path? When she was in her night-dress she slipped
+into bed, and the cold sheets made her shiver, and increased the
+sensation of cold, and sadness and loneliness which had weighed on her
+mind for two hours. Rosalie went away still sobbing, and Jeanne lay
+still, anxiously awaiting the revelation she had partly guessed, and
+that her father had hinted at in confused words--awaiting the unveiling
+of love's great secret.
+
+There came three soft knocks at the door, though she had heard no one
+come upstairs. She started violently, and made no answer; there was
+another knock, and then the door-handle was turned. She hid her head
+under the clothes as if a thief had got into her room, and then came a
+noise of boots on the boards, and all at once some one touched the bed.
+She started again, and gave a little cry; then, uncovering her head, she
+saw Julien standing beside the bed, looking at her with a smile.
+
+"Oh, how you frightened me!" she said.
+
+"Did you not expect me, then?" he asked.
+
+She made no answer, feeling horribly ashamed of being seen in bed by
+this man, who looked so grave and correct in his evening-dress. They did
+not know what to say or do next; they hardly dared to look at one
+another, in this decisive hour, on which the intimate happiness of their
+life depended. Perhaps he vaguely felt what perfect self-possession,
+what affectionate stratagems are needed not to hurt the modesty, the
+extreme delicacy of a maiden's heart. He gently took her hand and kissed
+it; then, kneeling by the bed as he would before an altar, he murmured,
+in a voice soft as a sigh:
+
+"Will you love me?"
+
+She felt a little reassured, and raised her head, which was covered with
+a cloud of lace.
+
+"I love you already, dear," she said, with a smile.
+
+He took his wife's little slender fingers in his mouth, and, his voice
+changed by this living gag, he asked:
+
+"Will you give me a proof of your love?"
+
+The question frightened her again, and, only remembering her father's
+words, and not quite understanding what she said:
+
+"I am yours, dear," she answered.
+
+He covered her hand with humid kisses, and, slowly rising, he bent
+towards her face, which she again began to hide. Suddenly he threw one
+arm across the bed, winding it around his wife over the clothes, and
+slipped his other arm under the bolster, which he raised with her head
+upon it; then he asked, in a low whisper:
+
+"Then you will make room for me beside you?"
+
+She had an instinctive fear, and stammered out: "Oh, not yet, I entreat
+you."
+
+He seemed disappointed and a little hurt; then he went on in a voice
+that was still pleading, but a little more abrupt:
+
+"Why not now, since we have got to come to it sooner or later?"
+
+She did not like him for saying that, but, perfectly resigned and
+submissive, she said, for the second time:
+
+"I am yours, dear."
+
+Then he went quickly into his dressing-room, and she could distinctly
+hear the rustling of his clothes as he took them off, the jingling of
+the money in his pockets, the noise his boots made as he let them drop
+on the floor. All at once he ran across the room in his drawers and
+socks to put his watch on the mantelpiece; then he returned to the other
+room, where he moved about a little while longer. Jeanne turned quickly
+over to the other side and shut her eyes when she heard him coming. She
+nearly started out of bed when she felt a cold, hairy leg slide against
+hers, and, distractedly hiding her face in her hands, she moved right to
+the edge of the bed, almost crying with fear and horror. He took her in
+his arms, although her back was turned to him, and eagerly kissed her
+neck, the lace of her nightcap, and the embroidered collar of her
+night-dress. Filled with a horrible dread, she did not move, and then
+she felt his strong hands caressing her. She gasped for breath at this
+brutal touch, and felt an intense longing to escape and hide herself
+somewhere out of this man's reach. Soon he lay still, and she could feel
+the warmth of his body against her back. She did not feel so frightened
+then, and all at once the thought flashed across her mind that she had
+only to turn round and her lips would touch his.
+
+At last he seemed to get impatient, and, in a sorrowful voice, he said:
+
+"Then you will not be my little wife?"
+
+"Am I not your wife already?" she said, through her hands.
+
+"Come now, my dear, don't try to make a fool of me," he answered, with a
+touch of bad temper in his voice.
+
+She felt very sorry when she heard him speak like that, and with a
+sudden movement she turned towards him to ask his pardon. He
+passionately seized her in his arms and imprinted burning kisses all
+over her face and neck. She had taken her hands from her face and lay
+still, making no response to his efforts, her thoughts so confused that
+she could understand nothing, until suddenly she felt a sharp pain, and
+then she began to moan and writhe in his arms.
+
+What happened next? She did not know, for her head was in a whirl. She
+was conscious of nothing more until she felt him raining grateful kisses
+on her lips. Then he spoke to her and she had to answer; then he made
+other attempts, which she repelled with horror, and as she struggled she
+felt against her chest the thick hair she had already felt against her
+leg, and she drew back in dismay. Tired at last of entreating her
+without effect, he lay still on his back; then she could think. She had
+expected something so different, and this destruction of her hopes, this
+shattering of her expectations of delight, filled her with despair, and
+she could only say to herself: "That, then, is what he calls being his
+wife; that is it, that is it."
+
+For a long time she lay thus, feeling very miserable, her eyes wandering
+over the tapestry on the walls, with its tale of love. As Julien did not
+speak or move, she slowly turned her head towards him, and then she saw
+that he was asleep, with his mouth half opened and his face quite calm.
+Asleep! she could hardly believe it, and it made her feel more
+indignant, more outraged than his brutal passion had done. How could he
+sleep on such a night? There was no novelty for him, then, in what had
+passed between them? She would rather he had struck her, or bruised her
+with his odious caresses till she had lost consciousness, than that he
+should have slept. She leant on her elbow, and bent towards him to
+listen to the breath which sometimes sounded like a snore as it passed
+through his lips.
+
+Daylight came, dim at first, then brighter, then pink, then radiant.
+Julien opened his eyes, yawned, stretched his arms, looked at his wife,
+smiled, and asked:
+
+"Have you slept well, dear?"
+
+She noticed with great surprise that he said "thou" to her now, and she
+replied:
+
+"Oh, yes; have you?"
+
+"I? Oh, very well indeed," he answered, turning and kissing her. Then he
+began to talk, telling her his plans, and using the word "economy" so
+often that Jeanne wondered. She listened to him without very well
+understanding what he said, and, as she looked at him, a thousand
+thoughts passed rapidly through her mind.
+
+Eight o'clock struck.
+
+"We must get up," he said; "we shall look stupid if we stay in bed late
+to-day;" and he got up first.
+
+When he had finished dressing, he helped his wife in all the little
+details of her toilet, and would not hear of her calling Rosalie. As he
+was going out of the room, he stopped to say:
+
+"You know, when we are by ourselves, we can call each other 'thee' and
+'thou,' but we had better wait a little while before we talk like that
+before your parents. It will sound quite natural when we come back after
+our honeymoon." And then he went downstairs.
+
+Jeanne did not go down till lunch-time; and the day passed exactly the
+same as usual, without anything extraordinary happening. There was only
+an extra man in the house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+V
+
+Four days after the wedding, the berlin in which they were to travel to
+Marseilles arrived. After the anguish of that first night, Jeanne soon
+became accustomed to Julien's kisses and affectionate caresses, though
+their more intimate relations still revolted her. When they went away
+she had quite regained her gayety of heart, and the baroness was the
+only one who showed any emotion at the parting. Just as the carriage was
+going off, she put a heavy purse in her daughter's hand.
+
+"That is for any little thing you may want to buy," she said.
+
+Jeanne dropped it into her pocket and the carriage started.
+
+"How much did your mother give you in that purse?" asked Julien in the
+evening.
+
+Jeanne had forgotten all about it, so she turned it out on her knees,
+and found there were two thousand francs in gold.
+
+"What a lot of things I shall be able to buy!" she cried, clapping her
+hands.
+
+At the end of a week they arrived at Marseilles, where the heat was
+terrible, and the next day they embarked on the _Roi Louis_, the little
+packet-boat which calls at Ajaccio on its way to Naples, and started for
+Corsica. It seemed to Jeanne as if she were in a trance which yet left
+her the full possession of all her senses, and she could hardly believe
+she was really going to Corsica, the birthplace of Napoleon, with its
+wild undergrowth, its bandits, and its mountains. She and her husband
+stood side by side on the deck of the boat watching the cliffs of
+Provence fly past. Overhead was a bright blue sky, and the waves seemed
+to be getting thicker and firmer under the burning heat of the sun.
+
+"Do you remember when we went to Etretat in old Lastique's boat?" asked
+Jeanne; and, instead of answering her, Julien dropped a kiss right on
+her ear.
+
+The steamer's paddles churned up the sea, and behind the boat, as far as
+the eye could reach, lay a long foaming track where the troubled waves
+frothed like champagne. All at once an immense dolphin leapt out of the
+water a few fathoms ahead, and then dived in again head foremost. It
+startled Jeanne, and she threw herself in Julien's arms with a little
+cry of fear; then she laughed at her terror, and watched for the
+reappearance of the enormous fish. In a few seconds up it came again,
+like a huge mechanical toy; then it dived again, and again disappeared;
+then came two more, then three, then six, which gamboled round the boat,
+and seemed to be escorting their large wooden brother with the iron
+fins. Sometimes they were on the left of the boat, sometimes on the
+right, and, one following the other in a kind of game, they would leap
+into the air, describe a curve, and replunge into the sea one after the
+other. Jeanne clapped her hands, delighted at each reappearance of the
+big, pliant fish, and felt a childish enjoyment in watching them.
+Suddenly they disappeared, rose to the surface a long way out to sea,
+then disappeared for good, and Jeanne felt quite sorry when they went
+away.
+
+The calm, mild, radiant evening drew on; there was not a breath of air
+to cause the smallest ripple on the sea; the sun was slowly sinking
+towards that part of the horizon beyond which lay the land of burning
+heat, Africa, whose glow could almost be felt across the ocean; then,
+when the sun had quite disappeared, a cool breath of wind, so faint that
+it could not be called a breeze, came over the sea. There were all the
+horrible smells of a packet-boat in their cabin, so Jeanne and Julien
+wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down side by side on deck.
+Julien went to sleep directly, but Jeanne lay looking up at the host of
+stars which sparkled with so bright and clear a light in this soft
+Southern sky; then the monotonous noise of the engines made her drowsy,
+and at last she fell asleep. In the morning she was awakened by the
+voices of the sailors cleaning the boat, and she aroused her husband and
+got up. The sea was still all around them, but straight ahead something
+gray could be faintly seen in the dawn; it looked like a bank of
+strange-shaped clouds, pointed and jagged, lying on the waves. This
+vague outline gradually became more distinct, until, standing out
+against the brightening sky, a long line of mountain-peaks could be
+seen. It was Corsica, hidden behind a light veil of mist.
+
+The sun rose, throwing black shadows around and below every prominence,
+and each peak had a crown of light, while all the rest of the island
+remained enveloped in mist.
+
+The captain, a little elderly man, bronzed, withered, and toughened by
+the rough salt winds, came up on deck.
+
+"Can you smell my lady over there?" he asked Jeanne, in a voice that
+thirty years of command, and shouting above the noise of the wind, had
+made hoarse.
+
+She had indeed noticed a strong, peculiar odor of herbs and aromatic
+plants.
+
+"It's Corsica that smells like that, madame," went on the captain. "She
+has a perfumed breath, just like a pretty woman. I am a Corsican, and I
+should know that smell five miles off, if I'd been away twenty years.
+Over there, at St. Helena, I hear he is always speaking of the perfume
+of his country; he belongs to my family."
+
+And the captain took off his hat and saluted Corsica, and then, looking
+across the ocean, he saluted the great emperor who was a prisoner on
+that far-away isle, and Jeanne's heart was touched by this simple
+action. Then the sailor pointed towards the horizon.
+
+"There are the Sanguinaires," he said.
+
+Julien had his arm round his wife's waist, and they both strained their
+eyes to see what the captain was pointing out. As last they saw some
+pointed rocks that the boat rounded before entering a large, calm bay,
+surrounded by high mountains, whose steep sides looked as though they
+were covered with moss.
+
+"That is the undergrowth," said the captain, pointing out this verdure.
+
+The circle of mountains seemed to close in behind the boat as she slowly
+steamed across the azure water which was so transparent that in places
+the bottom could be seen. Ajaccio came in sight; it was a white town at
+the foot of the mountains, with a few small Italian boats lying at
+anchor in the harbor, and four or five row-boats came beside the _Roi
+Louis_ to take off the passengers. Julien, who was looking after the
+luggage, asked his wife in a low tone:
+
+"A franc is enough, isn't it, to give the steward?"
+
+The whole week he had been constantly asking her this question which she
+hated.
+
+"When you don't know what is enough, give too much," she answered, a
+little impatiently.
+
+He haggled with every one, landlords and hotel-waiters, cabmen and
+shopmen, and when he had obtained the reduction he wanted, he would rub
+his hands, and say to Jeanne: "I don't like to be robbed." She trembled
+when the bills were brought, for she knew beforehand the remarks he
+would make on each item, and felt ashamed of his bargaining; and when
+she saw the scornful look of the servants as her husband left his small
+fee in their hands, she blushed to the roots of her hair. Of course he
+had a discussion with the boatmen who took them ashore.
+
+The first tree she saw on landing was a palm, which delighted her. They
+went to a big empty hotel standing at the corner of a vast square, and
+ordered lunch. When they had finished dessert, Jeanne got up to go and
+wander about the town, but Julien, taking her in his arms, whispered
+tenderly in her ear:
+
+"Shall we go upstairs for a little while, my pet?"
+
+"Go upstairs?" she said, with surprise; "but I am not at all tired."
+
+He pressed her to him: "Don't you understand? For two days--"
+
+She blushed crimson.
+
+"Oh, what would everyone say? what would they think? You could not ask
+for a bedroom in the middle of the day. Oh, Julien, don't say anything
+about it now, please don't."
+
+"Do you think I care what the hotel-people say or think?" he
+interrupted. "You'll see what difference they make to me." And he rang
+the bell.
+
+She did not say anything more, but sat with downcast eyes, disgusted at
+her husband's desires, to which she always submitted with a feeling of
+shame and degradation; her senses were not yet aroused, and her husband
+treated her as if she shared all his ardors. When the waiter answered
+the bell, Julien asked him to show them to their room; the waiter, a man
+of true Corsican type, bearded to the eyes, did not understand, and kept
+saying that the room would be quite ready by the evening. Julien got out
+of patience.
+
+"Get it ready at once," he said. "The journey has tired us and we want
+to rest."
+
+A slight smile crept over the waiter's face, and Jeanne would have liked
+to run away; when they came downstairs again, an hour later, she hardly
+dared pass the servants, feeling sure that they would whisper and laugh
+behind her back. She felt vexed with Julien for not understanding her
+feelings, and wondering at his want of delicacy; it raised a sort of
+barrier between them, and, for the first time, she understood that two
+people can never be in perfect sympathy; they may pass through life side
+by side, seemingly in perfect union, but neither quite understands the
+other, and every soul must of necessity be for ever lonely.
+
+They stayed three days in the little town which was like a furnace, for
+every breath of wind was shut out by the mountains. Then they made out a
+plan of the places they should visit, and decided to hire some horses.
+They started one morning at daybreak on the two wiry little Corsican
+horses they had obtained, and accompanied by a guide mounted on a mule
+which also carried some provisions, for inns are unknown in this wild
+country. At first the road ran along the bay, but soon it turned into a
+shallow valley leading to the mountains. The uncultivated country seemed
+perfectly bare, and the sides of the hills were covered with tall weeds,
+turned sere and yellow by the burning heat; they often crossed ravines
+where only a narrow stream still ran with a gurgling sound, and
+occasionally they met a mountaineer, sometimes on foot, sometimes riding
+his little horse, or bestriding a donkey no bigger than a dog; these
+mountaineers always carried a loaded gun which might be old and rusty,
+but which became a very formidable weapon in their hands. The air was
+filled with the pungent smell of the aromatic plants with which the isle
+is covered, and the road sloped gradually upwards, winding round the
+mountains.
+
+The peaks of blue and pink granite made the island look like a fairy
+palace, and, from the heights, the forests of immense chestnut trees on
+the lower parts of the hills looked like green thickets. Sometimes the
+guide would point to some steep height, and mention a name; Jeanne and
+Julien would look, at first seeing nothing, but at last discovering the
+summit of the mountain. It was a village, a little granite hamlet,
+hanging and clinging like a bird's nest to the vast mountain. Jeanne got
+tired of going at a walking pace for so long.
+
+"Let us gallop a little," she said, whipping up her horse.
+
+She could not hear her husband behind her, and, turning round to see
+where he was, she burst out laughing. Pale with fright, he was holding
+onto his horse's mane, almost jolted out of the saddle by the animal's
+motion. His awkwardness and fear were all the more funny, because he was
+such a grave, handsome man. Then they trotted gently along the road
+between two thickets formed of juniper trees, green oaks, arbutus trees,
+heaths, bay trees, myrtles, and box trees, whose branches were formed
+into a network by the climbing clematis, and between and around which
+grew big ferns, honeysuckles, rosemary, lavender, and briars, forming a
+perfectly impassable thicket, which covered the hill like a cloak. The
+travelers began to get hungry, and the guide rejoined them and took them
+to one of those springs so often met with in a mountainous country, with
+the icy water flowing from a little hole in the rock where some
+passer-by has left the big chestnut leaf which conveyed the water to his
+mouth. Jeanne felt so happy that she could hardly help shouting aloud;
+and they again remounted and began to descend, winding round the Gulf of
+Sagone.
+
+As evening was drawing on they went through Cargese, the Greek village
+founded so long ago by fugitives driven from their country. Round a
+fountain was a group of tall, handsome and particularly graceful girls,
+with well formed hips, long hands, and slender waists; Julien cried
+"Good-night" to them, and they answered him in the musical tongue of
+their ancestors. When they got to Piana they had to ask for hospitality
+quite in the way of the middle ages, and Jeanne trembled with joy as
+they waited for the door to open in answer to Julien's knock. Oh, that
+was a journey! There they did indeed meet with adventures!
+
+They had happened to appeal to a young couple who received them as the
+patriarch received the messenger of God, and they slept on a straw
+mattress in an old house whose woodwork was so full of worms that it
+seemed alive. At sunrise they started off again, and soon they stopped
+opposite a regular forest of crimson rocks; there were peaks, columns,
+and steeples, all marvelously sculptured by time and the sea. Thin,
+round, twisted, crooked, and fantastic, these wonderful rocks nine
+hundred feet high, looked like trees, plants, animals, monuments, men,
+monks in their cassocks, horned demons and huge birds, such as one sees
+in a nightmare, the whole forming a monstrous tribe which seemed to have
+been petrified by some eccentric god.
+
+Jeanne could not speak, her heart was too full, but she took Julien's
+hand and pressed it, feeling that she must love something or some one
+before all this beauty; and then, leaving this confusion of forms, they
+came upon another bay surrounded by a wall of blood-red granite, which
+cast crimson reflections into the blue sea. Jeanne exclaimed, "Oh,
+Julien!" and that was all she could say; a great lump came in her throat
+and two tears ran down her cheeks. Julien looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"What is it, my pet?" he asked.
+
+She dried her eyes, smiled, and said in a voice that still trembled a
+little. "Oh, it's nothing, I suppose I am nervous. I am so happy that
+the least thing upsets me."
+
+He could not understand this nervousness; he despised the hysterical
+excitement to which women give way and the joy or despair into which
+they are cast by a mere sensation, and he thought her tears absurd. He
+glanced at the bad road.
+
+"You had better look after your horse," he said.
+
+They went down by a nearly impassable road, then turning to the right,
+proceeded along the gloomy valley of Ota. The path looked very
+dangerous, and Julien proposed that they should go up on foot. Jeanne
+was only too delighted to be alone with him after the emotion she had
+felt, so the guide went on with the mule and horses, and they walked
+slowly after him. The mountain seemed cleft from top to bottom, and the
+path ran between two tremendous walls of rock which looked nearly black.
+The air was icy cold, and the little bit of sky that could be seen
+looked quite strange, it seemed so far away. A sudden noise made Jeanne
+look up. A large bird flew out of a hole in the rock; it was an eagle,
+and its open wings seemed to touch the two sides of the chasm as it
+mounted towards the sky. Farther on, the mountain again divided, and the
+path wound between the two ravines, taking abrupt turns. Jeanne went
+first, walking lightly and easily, sending the pebbles rolling from
+under her feet and fearlessly looking down the precipices. Julien
+followed her, a little out of breath, and keeping his eyes on the ground
+so that he should not feel giddy and it seemed like coming out of Hades
+when they suddenly came into the full sunlight.
+
+They were very thirsty, and, seeing a damp track, they followed it till
+they came to a tiny spring flowing into a hollow stick which some
+goat-herd had put there; all around the spring the ground was carpeted
+with moss, and Jeanne knelt down to drink. Julien followed her example,
+and as she was slowly enjoying the cool water, he put his arm around her
+and tried to take her place at the end of the wooden pipe. In the
+struggle between their lips they would in turns seize the small end of
+the tube and hold it in their mouths for a few seconds; then, as they
+left it, the stream flowed on again and splashed their faces and necks,
+their clothes and their hands. A few drops shone in their hair like
+pearls, and with the water flowed their kisses.
+
+Then Jeanne had an inspiration of love. She filled her mouth with the
+clear liquid, and, her cheeks puffed out like bladders, she made Julien
+understand that he was to quench his thirst at her lips. He stretched
+his throat, his head thrown backwards and his arms open, and the deep
+draught he drank at this living spring enflamed him with desire. Jeanne
+leant on his shoulder with unusual affection, her heart throbbed, her
+bosom heaved, her eyes, filled with tears, looked softer, and she
+whispered:
+
+"Julien, I love you!"
+
+Then, drawing him to her, she threw herself down and hid her
+shame-stricken face in her hands. He threw himself down beside her, and
+pressed her passionately to him; she gasped for breath as she lay
+nervously waiting, and all at once she gave a loud cry as though
+thunderstruck by the sensation she had invited. It was a long time
+before they reached the top of the mountain, so fluttered and exhausted
+was Jeanne, and it was evening when they got to Evisa, and went to the
+house of Paoli Palabretti, a relation of the guide's. Paoli was a tall
+man with a slight cough, and the melancholy look of a consumptive; he
+showed them their room, a miserable-looking chamber built of stone, but
+which was handsome for this country, where no refinement is known. He
+was expressing in his Corsican patois (a mixture of French and Italian)
+his pleasure at receiving them, when a clear voice interrupted him, and
+a dark little woman, with big black eyes, a sun-kissed skin, and a
+slender waist, hurried forward, kissed Jeanne, shook Julien by the hand
+and said: "Good-day, madame; good-day, monsieur; are you quite well?"
+She took their hats and shawls and arranged everything with one hand,
+for her other arm was in a sling; then she turned them all out, saying
+to her husband: "Take them for a walk till dinner is ready."
+
+M. Palabretti obeyed at once, and, walking between Jeanne and her
+husband, he took them round the village. His steps and his words both
+drawled, and he coughed frequently, saying at each fit, "The cold air
+has got on my lungs." He led them under some immense chestnut-trees,
+and, suddenly stopping, he said in his monotonous voice:
+
+"It was here that Mathieu Lori killed my cousin Jean Rinaldi. I was
+standing near Jean, just there, when we saw Mathieu about three yards
+off. 'Jean,' he cried; 'don't go to Albertacce; don't you go, Jean, or
+I'll kill you:' I took Jean's arm. 'Don't go Jean,' I said, 'or he'll do
+it.' It was about a girl, Paulina Sinacoupi, that they were both after.
+Then Jean cried out, 'I shall go, Mathieu; and you won't stop me,
+either.' Then Mathieu raised his gun, and, before I could take aim, he
+fired. Jean leaped two feet from the ground, monsieur, and then fell
+right on me, and my gun dropped and rolled down to that chestnut there.
+Jean's mouth was wide open, but he didn't say a word; he was dead."
+
+The young couple stared in astonishment at this calm witness of such a
+crime.
+
+"What became of the murderer?" asked Jeanne.
+
+Paoli coughed for some time, then he went on:
+
+"He gained the mountain, and my brother killed him the next year. My
+brother, Philippi Palabretti, the bandit, you know."
+
+Jeanne shuddered. "Is your brother a bandit?" she asked.
+
+The placid Corsican's eye flashed proudly.
+
+"Yes, madame, he was a celebrated bandit, he was; he put an end to six
+gendarmes. He died with Nicolas Morali after they had been surrounded
+for six days, and were almost starved to death."
+
+Then they went in to dinner, and the little woman treated them as if she
+had known them twenty years. Jeanne was haunted by the fear that she
+would not again experience the strange shock she had felt in Julien's
+arms beside the fountain, and when they were alone in their room she was
+still afraid his kisses would again leave her insensible, but she was
+soon reassured, and that was her first night of love. The next day she
+could hardly bear to leave this humble abode, where a new happiness had
+come to her; she drew her host's little wife into her bedroom, and told
+her she did not mean it as a present in return for their hospitality,
+but she must absolutely insist on sending her a souvenir from Paris, and
+to this souvenir she seemed to attach a superstitious importance. For a
+long time the young Corsican woman refused to accept anything at all,
+but at last she said:
+
+"Well, send me a little pistol, a very little one."
+
+Jeanne opened her eyes in astonishment, and the woman added in her ear,
+as though she were confiding some sweet and tender secret to her:
+
+"It's to kill my brother-in-law with."
+
+And with a smile on her face, she quickly unbandaged the arm she could
+not use, and showed Jeanne the soft, white flesh which had been pierced
+right through with a stiletto, though the wound had nearly healed.
+
+"If I had not been as strong as he is," she said, "he would have killed
+me. My husband is not jealous, for he understands me, and then he is
+ill, you see, so he is not so hot-blooded; besides, I am an honest
+woman, madame. But my brother-in-law believes everything that is told
+him about me, and he is jealous for my husband. I am sure he will make
+another attempt upon my life, but if I have a little pistol I shall feel
+safe, and I shall be sure of having my revenge."
+
+Jeanne promised to send the weapon, affectionately kissed her new friend
+and said good-bye. The rest of her journey was a dream, an endless
+embrace, an intoxication of caresses; she no longer saw country or
+people or the places where they stopped, she had eyes only for Julien.
+When they got to Bastia the guide had to be paid; Julien felt in his
+pockets, and not finding what he wanted, he said to Jeanne:
+
+"Since you don't use the two thousand francs your mother gave you, I
+might as well carry them; they will be safer in my pocket, and, besides,
+then I shan't have to change any notes."
+
+They went to Leghorn, Florence, and Genoa, and, one windy morning, they
+found themselves again at Marseilles. It was then the fifteenth of
+October, and they had been away from Les Peuples two months. The cold
+wind, which seemed to blow from Normandy, chilled Jeanne and made her
+feel miserable. There had lately been a change in Julien's behavior
+towards her, he seemed tired, and indifferent, and she had a vague
+presentiment of evil. She persuaded him to stay at Marseilles four days
+longer, for she could not bear to leave these warm, sunny lands where
+she had been so happy, but at last they had to go. They intended to buy
+all the things they wanted for their housekeeping at Paris, and Jeanne
+was looking forward to buying all sorts of things for Les Peuples,
+thanks to her mother's present; but the very first thing she meant to
+purchase was the pistol she had promised to the young Corsican woman at
+Evisa.
+
+The day after they reached Paris, she said to Julien:
+
+"Will you give me mamma's money, dear? I want to buy some things."
+
+He looked rather cross.
+
+"How much do you want?" he asked.
+
+"Oh--what you like," she answered in surprise.
+
+"I will give you a hundred francs," he answered; "and whatever you do,
+don't waste it."
+
+She did not know what to say, she felt so amazed and confused, but at
+last she said in a hesitating way:
+
+"But--I gave you that money to--"
+
+He interrupted her.
+
+"Yes, exactly. What does it matter whether it's in your pocket or mine
+now that we share everything? I am not refusing you the money, am I? I
+am going to give you a hundred francs."
+
+She took the five pieces of gold without another word; she did not dare
+ask for more, so she bought nothing but the pistol.
+
+A week later they started for Les Peuples.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VI
+
+When the post-chaise drove up, the baron and baroness and all the
+servants were standing outside the white railings to give the travelers
+a hearty welcome home. The baroness cried, Jeanne quietly wiped away two
+tears, and her father walked backwards and forwards nervously. Then,
+while the luggage was being brought in, the whole journey was gone over
+again before the drawing-room fire. The eager words flowed from
+Jeanne's lips, and in half-an-hour she had related everything, except a
+few little details she forgot in her haste. Then she went to unpack,
+with Rosalie, who was in a state of great excitement, to help her; when
+she had finished and everything had been put away in its proper place
+Rosalie left her mistress, and Jeanne sat down, feeling a little tired.
+She wondered what she could do next, and she tried to think of some
+occupation for her mind, some task for her fingers. She did not want to
+go down to the drawing-room again to sit by her mother who was dozing,
+and she thought of going for a walk, but it was so miserable out of
+doors that only to glance out of the window made her feel melancholy.
+
+Then the thought flashed across her mind that now there never would be
+anything for her to do. At the convent the future had always given her
+something to think about, and her dreams had filled the hours, so that
+their flight had passed unnoticed; but she had hardly left the convent
+when her love-dreams had been realized. In a few weeks she had met,
+loved, and married a man who had borne her away in his arms without
+giving her time to think of anything. But now the sweet reality of the
+first few weeks of married life was going to become a daily monotony,
+barring the way to all the hopes and delicious fears of an unknown
+future. There was nothing more to which she could look forward, nothing
+more for her to do, to-day, to-morrow, or ever. She felt all that with a
+vague sensation of disillusion and melancholy. She rose and went to lean
+her forehead against the cold window-pane, and, after looking for some
+time at the dull sky and heavy clouds, she made up her mind to go out.
+
+Could it really be the same country, the same grass, the same trees as
+she had seen with such joy in May? What had become of the sun-bathed
+leaves, and the flaming dandelions, the blood-red poppies, the pure
+marguerites that had reared their heads amidst the green grass above
+which had fluttered innumerable yellow butterflies? They were all gone,
+and the very air seemed changed, for now it was no longer full of life,
+and fertilizing germs and intoxicating perfumes. The avenues were soaked
+by the autumn rains and covered with a thick carpet of dead leaves, and
+the thin branches of the poplars trembled in the wind which was shaking
+off the few leaves that still hung on them. All day long these last,
+golden leaves hovered and whirled in the air for a few seconds and then
+fell, in an incessant, melancholy rain.
+
+Jeanne walked on down to the wood. It gave her the sad impression of
+being in the room of a dying man. The leafy walls which had separated
+the pretty winding paths no longer existed, the branches of the shrubs
+blew mournfully one against the other, the rustling of the fallen
+leaves, that the wind was blowing about and piling into heaps, sounded
+like a dying sigh, and the birds hopped from tree to tree with shivering
+little chirps, vainly seeking a shelter from the cold. Shielded by the
+elms which formed a sort of vanguard against the sea-wind, the linden
+and the plane-tree were still covered with leaves, and the one was
+clothed in a mantle of scarlet velvet, the other in a cloak of orange
+silk. Jeanne walked slowly along the baroness's avenue, by the side of
+Couillard's farm, beginning to realize what a dull, monotonous life lay
+before her; then she sat down on the slope where Julien had first told
+his love, too sad even to think and only feeling that she would like to
+go to bed and sleep, so that she might escape from this melancholy day.
+Looking up she saw a seagull blown along by a gust of wind, and she
+suddenly thought of the eagle she had seen in Corsica in the somber
+valley of Ota. As she sat there she could see again the island with its
+sun-ripened oranges, its strong perfumes, its pink-topped mountains, its
+azure bays, its ravines, with their rushing torrents, and it gave her a
+sharp pain to think of that happy time that was past and gone; and the
+damp, rugged country by which she was now surrounded, the mournful fall
+of the leaves, the gray clouds hurrying before the wind, made her feel
+so miserable that she went indoors, feeling that she should cry if she
+stayed out any longer. She found her mother, who was accustomed to these
+dull days, dozing over the fire. The baron and Julien had gone for a
+walk, and the night was drawing on filling the vast drawing-room with
+dark shadows which were sometimes dispersed by the fitful gleams of the
+fire; out of doors the gray sky and muddy fields could just be seen in
+the fading light.
+
+The baron and Julien came in soon after Jeanne. As soon as he came into
+the gloomy room the baron rang the bell, exclaiming:
+
+"How miserable you look in here! Let us have some lights."
+
+He sat down before the fire, putting his feet near the flame, which made
+the mud drop off his steaming boots.
+
+"I think it is going to freeze," he said, rubbing his hands together
+cheerfully. "The sky is clearing towards the north, and it's a full moon
+this evening. We shall have a hard frost to-night."
+
+Then, turning towards his daughter:
+
+"Well, my dear," he asked, "are you glad to get back to your own house
+and see the old people at home again?"
+
+This simple question quite upset Jeanne. Her eyes filled with tears, and
+she threw herself into her father's arms, covering his face with kisses
+as though she would ask him to forgive her discontent. She had thought
+she should be so pleased to see her parents again, and now, instead of
+joy, she felt a coldness around her heart, and it seemed as if she could
+not regain all her former love for them until they had all dropped back
+into their ordinary ways again.
+
+Dinner seemed very long that evening; no one spoke, and Julien did not
+pay the least attention to his wife. In the drawing-room after dinner,
+Jeanne dozed over the fire opposite the baroness who was quite asleep,
+and, when she was aroused for a moment by the voices of the two men,
+raised in argument over something, she wondered if she would ever become
+quite content with a pleasureless, listless life like her mother. The
+crackling fire burnt clear and bright, and threw sudden gleams on the
+faded tapestry chairs, on the fox and the stork, on the
+melancholy-looking heron, on the ant and the grasshopper. The baron came
+over to the fireplace, and held his hands to the blaze.
+
+"The fire burns well to-night," he said; "there is a frost, I am sure."
+
+He put his hands on Jeanne's shoulder, and, pointing to the fire:
+
+"My child," he said, "the hearth with all one's family around it is the
+happiest spot on earth; there is no place like it. But don't you think
+we had better go to bed? You must both be quite worn out with fatigue."
+
+Up in her bedroom Jeanne wondered how this second return to the place
+she loved so well could be so different from the first. "Why did she
+feel so miserable?" she asked herself; "why did the chateau, the fields,
+everything she had so loved, seem to-day so desolate?" Her eyes fell on
+the clock. The little bee was swinging from left to right and from right
+to left over the gilded flowers, with the same quick even movement as of
+old. She suddenly felt a glow of affection for this little piece of
+mechanism, which told her the hour in its silvery tones, and beat like a
+human heart, and the tears came into her eyes as she looked at it; she
+had not felt so moved when she had kissed her father and mother on her
+return, but the heart has no rules or logic, to guide it.
+
+Julien had made his fatigue the pretext for not sharing his wife's
+chamber that night, so, for the first time since her marriage, she slept
+alone. It had been agreed that henceforth they should have separate
+rooms, but she was not yet accustomed to sleep alone, and, for a long
+time she lay awake while the moaning wind swept round the house. In the
+morning she was aroused by the blood-red light falling on her bed.
+Through the frozen window-panes it looked as if the whole sky were on
+fire. Throwing a big dressing-gown round her, Jeanne ran to the window
+and opened it, and in rushed an icy wind, stinging her skin and bringing
+the water to her eyes. In the midst of a crimson sky, the great red sun
+was rising behind the trees, and the white frost had made the ground so
+hard that it rang under the farm-servant's feet. In this one night all
+the branches of the poplars had been entirely stripped of their few
+remaining leaves, and, through the bare trees, beyond the plain,
+appeared the long, green line of the sea, covered with white-crested
+waves. The plane-tree and the linden were being rapidly stripped of
+their bright coverings by the cold wind, and showers of leaves fell to
+the ground as each gust swept by.
+
+Jeanne dressed herself, and for want of something better to do, went to
+see the farmers. The Martins were very surprised to see her. Madame
+Martin kissed her on both cheeks, and she had to drink a little glass of
+noyau; then she went over to the other farm. The Couillards were also
+very surprised when she came in; the farmer's wife gave two pecks at her
+ears and insisted on her drinking a little glass of cassis; then she
+went in to breakfast. And that day passed like the previous one, only it
+was cold instead of damp, and the other days of the week were like the
+first two, and all the weeks of the month were like the first one.
+
+Little by little, Jeanne's regrets for those happy, distant lands
+vanished; she began to get resigned to her life, to feel an interest in
+the many unimportant details of the days, and to perform her simple,
+regular occupations with care. A disenchantment of life, a sort of
+settled melancholy gradually took possession of her. What did she want?
+She did not know herself. She had no desire for society, no thirst for
+the excitement of the world, the pleasures she might have had possessed
+no attraction for her, but all her dreams and illusions had faded away,
+leaving her life as colorless as the old tapestry chairs in the chateau
+drawing-room.
+
+Her relations with Julien had completely changed, for he became quite a
+different man when they settled down after their wedding tour, like an
+actor who becomes himself again as soon as he has finished playing his
+part. He hardly ever took any notice of his wife, or even spoke to her;
+all his love seemed to have suddenly disappeared, and it was very seldom
+that he accompanied her to her room of a night. He had taken the
+management of the estate and the household into his own hands, and he
+looked into all the accounts, saw that the peasants paid their arrears
+of rent, and cut down every expense. No longer the polished, elegant man
+who had won Jeanne's heart, he looked and dressed like a well-to-do
+farmer, neglecting his personal appearance with the carelessness of a
+man who no longer strives to fascinate. He always wore an old velvet
+shooting-jacket, covered all over with stains, which he had found one
+day as he was looking over his old clothes; then he left off shaving,
+and his long, untrimmed beard made him look quite plain, while his hands
+never received any attention.
+
+After each meal, he drank four or five small glasses of brandy, and when
+Jeanne affectionately reproached him, he answered so roughly: "Leave me
+alone, can't you?" that she never tried to reason with him again.
+
+She accepted all this in a calm way that astonished herself, but she
+looked upon him now as a stranger who was nothing whatever to her. She
+often thought of it all, and wondered how it was that after having loved
+and married each other in a delicious passion of affection they should
+suddenly awake from their dream of love as utter strangers, as if they
+had never lain in each other's arms. How was it his indifference did not
+hurt her more? Had they been mistaken in each other? Would she have been
+more pained if Julien had still been handsome, elegant and attractive?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was understood that at the new year the baron and baroness were to
+spend a few months in their Rouen house, leaving Les Peuples to the
+young people who would become settled that winter, and so get accustomed
+to the place where they were to pass their lives. Julien wanted to
+present his wife to the Brisevilles, the Couteliers and the Fourvilles,
+but they could not pay these visits yet because they had not been able
+to get the painter to change the coat-of-arms on the carriage; for
+nothing in the world would have persuaded Julien to go to the
+neighboring chateau in the old family carriage, which the baron had
+given up to him, until the arms of the De Lamares had been quartered on
+it with those of the Leperthius des Vauds. Now there was only one man in
+the whole province who made a speciality of coats-of-arms, a painter
+from Bolbec, named Bataille, who was naturally in great request among
+all the Normandy aristocracy; so Julien had to wait for some time before
+he could secure his services.
+
+At last, one December morning just as they were finishing lunch at Les
+Peuples, they saw a man, with a box on his back, open the gate and come
+up the path; it was Bataille. He was shown into the dining-room, and
+lunch was served to him just as if he had been a gentleman, for his
+constant intercourse with the provincial aristocracy, his knowledge of
+the coats-of-arms, their mottoes and signification, made him a sort of
+herald with whom no gentleman need be ashamed to shake hands.
+
+Pencils and paper were brought, and while Bataille ate his lunch, the
+baron and Julien made sketches of their escutcheons with all the
+quarters. The baroness, always delighted when anything of this sort was
+discussed, gave her advice, and even Jeanne took part in the
+conversation, as if it aroused some interest in her. Bataille, without
+interrupting his lunch, occasionally gave an opinion, took the pencil to
+make a sketch of his idea, quoted examples, described all the
+aristocratic carriages in Normandy, and seemed to scatter an atmosphere
+of nobility all around him. He was a little man with thin gray hair and
+paint-daubed hands which smelt of oil. It was said that he had once
+committed a grave offense against public morality, but the esteem in
+which he was held by all the titled families had long ago effaced this
+stain on his character.
+
+As soon as the painter had finished his coffee, he was taken to the
+coach-house and the carriage was uncovered. Bataille looked at it, gave
+an idea of the size he thought the shield ought to be, and then, after
+the others had again given their opinions, he began his work. In spite
+of the cold the baroness ordered a chair and a foot-warmer to be brought
+out for her that she might sit and watch the painter. Soon she began to
+talk to him, asking him about the marriages and births and deaths of
+which she had not yet heard, and adding these fresh details to the
+genealogical trees which she already knew by heart. Beside her, astride
+a chair, sat Julien, smoking a pipe and occasionally spitting on the
+ground as he watched the growth of the colored certificate of his
+nobility. Soon old Simon on his way to the kitchen garden stopped, with
+his spade on his shoulder, to look at the painting, and the news of
+Bataille's arrival having reached the two farms the farmers' wives came
+hurrying up also. Standing on either side of the baroness, they went
+into ecstasies over the drawing and kept repeating: "He must be clever
+to paint like that."
+
+The shields on both carriage-doors were finished the next morning about
+eleven o'clock. Everyone came to look at the work now it was done, and
+the carriage was drawn out of the coach-house that they might the better
+judge of the effect. The design was pronounced perfect, and Bataille
+received a great many compliments before he strapped his box on his back
+and went off again; the baron, his wife, Jeanne and Julien all agreed
+that the painter was a man of great talent, and would, no doubt, have
+become an artist, if circumstances had permitted.
+
+For the sake of economy, Julien had accomplished some reforms which
+brought with them the need of fresh arrangements. The old coachman now
+performed the duties of gardener, the vicomte himself undertaking to
+drive, and as he was obliged to have someone to hold the horses when the
+family went to make a visit, he had made a groom of a young cowherd
+named Marius. The horses had been sold to do away with the expense of
+their keep, so he had introduced a clause in Couillard's and Martin's
+leases by which the two farmers bound themselves to each provide a horse
+once a month, on whatever day the vicomte chose.
+
+When the day came the Couillards produced a big, raw-boned, yellowish
+horse, and the Martins a little, white, long-haired nag; the two horses
+were harnessed, and Marius, buried in an old livery of Simon's, brought
+the carriage round to the door. Julien, who was in his best clothes,
+would have looked a little like his old, elegant self, if his long beard
+had not made him look common. He inspected the horses, the carriage, and
+the little groom, and thought they looked very well, the only thing of
+any importance in his eyes being the new coat-of-arms. The baroness came
+downstairs on her husband's arm, got in, and had some cushions put
+behind her back; then came Jeanne. She laughed first at the strange pair
+of horses, and her laughter increased when she saw Marius with his face
+buried under his cockaded hat (which his nose alone prevented from
+slipping down to his chin), and his hands lost in his ample sleeves, and
+the skirts of his coat coming right down to his feet, which were encased
+in enormous boots; but when she saw him obliged to throw his head right
+back before he could see anything, and raise his knee at each step as
+though he were going to take a river in his stride, and move like a
+blind man when he had an order given him, she gave a shout of laughter.
+The baron turned round, looked for a moment at the little fellow who
+stood looking so confused in his big clothes, and then he too was
+overcome with laughter, and, hardly able to speak, called out to his
+wife:
+
+"Lo-lo-look at Ma-Marius! Does-doesn't he look fun-funny?"
+
+The baroness leaned out of the carriage-window, and, catching sight of
+Marius, she was shaken by such a fit of laughter that the carriage moved
+up and down on its springs as if it were jolting over some deep ruts.
+
+"What on earth is there to laugh at like that?" said Julien, his face
+pale with anger. "You must be perfect idiots, all of you."
+
+Jeanne sat down on the steps, holding her sides and quite unable to
+contain herself; the baron followed her example, and, inside the
+carriage, convulsive sneezes and a sort of continual clucking intimated
+that the baroness was suffocating with laughter. At last Marius' coat
+began to shake; no doubt, he understood the cause of all this mirth, and
+he giggled himself, beneath his big hat. Julien rushed towards him in a
+rage; he gave him a box on the ear which knocked the boy's hat off and
+sent it rolling onto the grass; then, turning to the baron, he said, in
+a voice that trembled with anger:
+
+"I think you ought to be the last one to laugh. Whose fault is it that
+you are ruined? We should not be like this if you had not squandered
+your fortune and thrown away your money right and left."
+
+All the laughter stopped abruptly, but no one spoke. Jeanne, ready to
+cry now, quietly took her place beside her mother. The baron, without a
+word, sat down opposite, and Julien got up on the box, after lifting up
+the crying boy whose cheek was beginning to swell. The long drive was
+performed in silence, for they all felt awkward and unable to converse
+on ordinary topics. They could only think of the incident that had just
+happened, and, rather than broach such a painful subject, they preferred
+to sit in dull silence.
+
+They went past a great many farm-houses startling the black fowls and
+sending them to the hedges for refuge, and sometimes a yelping dog
+followed for a little while and then ran back to his kennel with
+bristling hair, turning round every now and then to send another bark
+after the carriage. A lad in muddy sabots, was slouching along with his
+hands in his pockets, his blouse blown out by the wind and his long lazy
+legs dragging one after the other, and as he stood on one side for the
+carriage to pass, he awkwardly pulled off his cap. Between each farm lay
+meadows with other farms dotted here and there in the distance, and it
+seemed a long while before they turned up an avenue of firs which
+bordered the road. Here the carriage leant on one side as it passed over
+the deep ruts, and the baroness felt frightened and began to give little
+screams. At the end of the avenue there was a white gate which Marius
+jumped down to open, and then they drove round an immense lawn and drew
+up before a high, gloomy-looking house which had all its shutters
+closed.
+
+The hall-door opened, and an old, semi-paralyzed servant (in a red and
+black striped waistcoat, over which was tied an apron) limped sideways
+down the steps; after asking the visitors' names he showed them into a
+large drawing-room, and drew up the closed Venetian blinds. The
+furniture was all covered up, and the clock and candelabra were
+enveloped in white cloths; the room smelt moldy, and its damp, cold
+atmosphere seemed to chill one to the very heart. The visitors sat down
+and waited. Footsteps could be heard on the floor above, hurrying along
+in an unusual bustle, for the lady of the house had been taken unawares
+and was changing her dress as quickly as possible; a bell rang several
+times and then they could hear more footsteps on the stairs. The
+baroness, feeling thoroughly cold, began to sneeze frequently; Julien
+walked up and down the room, Jeanne sat by her mother, and the baron
+stood with his back against the marble mantelpiece.
+
+At last a door opened, and the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Briseville
+appeared. They were a little, thin couple of an uncertain age, both very
+formal and rather embarrassed. The vicomtesse wore a flowered silk gown
+and a cap trimmed with ribbons, and when she spoke it was in a sharp,
+quick voice. Her husband was in a tight frock-coat; his hair looked as
+if it had been waxed, and his nose, his eyes, his long teeth and his
+coat, which was evidently his best one, all shone as if they had been
+polished with the greatest care. He returned his visitors' bow with a
+bend of the knees.
+
+When the ordinary complimentary phrases had been exchanged no one knew
+what to say next, so they all politely expressed their pleasure at
+making this new acquaintance and hoped it would be a lasting one; for,
+living as they did in the country all the year round, an occasional
+visit made an agreable change. The icy air of the drawing-room froze the
+very marrow of their bones, and the baroness was seized by a fit of
+coughing, interrupted at intervals by a sneeze. The baron rose to go.
+
+"You are not going to leave us already? Pray, stay a little longer,"
+said the Brisevilles.
+
+But Jeanne followed her father's example in spite of all the signs made
+her by Julien, who thought they were leaving too soon. The vicomtesse
+would have rung to order the baron's carriage, but the bell was out of
+order, so the vicomte went to find a servant. He soon returned, to say
+that the horses had been taken out, and the carriage would not be ready
+for some minutes. Everyone tried to find some subject of conversation;
+the rainy winter was discussed, and Jeanne, who could not prevent
+herself shivering, try as she would, asked if their hosts did not find
+it very dull living alone all the year round. Such a question astounded
+the Brisevilles. Their time was always fully occupied, what with writing
+long letters to their numerous aristocratic relations and pompously
+discussing the most trivial matters, for in all their useless, petty
+occupations, they were as formally polite to each other as they would
+have been to utter strangers. At last the carriage, with its two
+ill-matched steeds, drew up before the door, but Marius was nowhere to
+be seen; he had gone for a walk in the fields, thinking he would not be
+wanted again until the evening. Julien, in a great rage, left word for
+him to be sent after them on foot, and, after a great many bows and
+compliments, they started for Les Peuples again.
+
+As soon as they were fairly off, Jeanne and the baron, in spite of the
+uncomfortable feeling that Julien's ill-temper had caused, began to
+laugh and joke about the Brisevilles' ways and tones. The baron imitated
+the husband and Jeanne the wife, and the baroness, feeling a little hurt
+in her reverence for the aristocracy, said to them:
+
+"You should not joke in that way. I'm sure the Brisevilles are very
+well-bred people, and they belong to excellent families."
+
+They stopped laughing for a time, out of respect for the baroness's
+feelings, but every now and then Jeanne would catch her father's eye,
+and then they began again. The baron would make a very stiff bow, and
+say in a solemn voice:
+
+"Your chateau at Les Peuples must be very cold, madame, with the
+sea-breeze blowing on it all day long."
+
+Then Jeanne put on a very prim look, and said with a smirk, moving her
+head all the time like a duck on the water:
+
+"Oh, monsieur, I have plenty to fill up my time. You see we have so many
+relations to whom letters must be written, and M. de Briseville leaves
+all correspondence to me, as his time is taken up with the religious
+history of Normandy that he is writing in collaboration with the Abbe
+Pelle."
+
+The baroness could not help smiling, but she repeated, in a half-vexed,
+half-amused tone:
+
+"It isn't right to laugh at people of our own rank like that."
+
+All at once the carriage came to a standstill, and Julien called out to
+someone on the road behind; Jeanne and the baron leant out of the
+windows, and saw some singular creature rolling, rather than running,
+towards them. Hindered by the floating skirts of his coat, unable to see
+for his hat, which kept slipping over his eyes, his sleeves waving like
+the sails of a windmill, splashing through the puddles, stumbling over
+every large stone in his way, hastening, jumping, covered with mud,
+Marius was running after the carriage as fast as his legs could carry
+him. As soon as he came up Julien leant down, caught hold of him by the
+coat collar, and lifted him up on the box seat; then, dropping the
+reins, he began to pommel the boy's hat, which at once slipped down to
+his shoulders. Inside the hat, which sounded as if it had been a drum,
+Marius yelled at the top of his voice, but it was in vain that he
+struggled and tried to jump down, for his master held him firmly with
+one hand while he beat him with the other.
+
+"Papa! oh, papa!" gasped Jeanne; and the baroness, filled with
+indignation, seized her husband's arm, and exclaimed: "Stop him,
+Jacques, stop him!" The baron suddenly let down the front window, and,
+catching hold of the vicomte's sleeve:
+
+"Are you going to stop beating that child?" he said in a voice that
+trembled with anger.
+
+Julien turned round in astonishment.
+
+"But don't you see what a state the little wretch has got his livery
+into?"
+
+"What does that matter to me?" exclaimed the baron, with his head
+between the two. "You sha'n't be so rough with him."
+
+Julien got angry.
+
+"Kindly leave me alone," he said; "it's nothing to do with you;" and he
+raised his hand to strike the lad again. The baron caught hold of his
+son-in-law's wrist, and flung his uplifted hand heavily down against the
+woodwork of the seat, crying:
+
+"If you don't stop that, I'll get out and soon make you."
+
+He spoke in so determined a tone that the vicomte's rage suddenly
+vanished, and, shrugging his shoulders, he whipped up the horses, and
+the carriage moved on again. All this time Jeanne and her mother had sat
+still, pale with fright, and the beating of the baroness's heart could
+be distinctly heard. At dinner that evening Julien was more agreeable
+than usual, and behaved as if nothing had happened. Jeanne, her father,
+and Madame Adelaide easily forgave, and, touched by his good temper,
+they joined in his gayety with a feeling of relief. When Jeanne
+mentioned the Brisevilles, her husband even made a joke about them,
+though he quickly added:
+
+"But one can see directly that they are gentlepeople."
+
+No more visits were paid, as everyone dreaded any reference to Marius,
+but they were going to send cards to their neighbors on New Year's day,
+and then wait to call on them until spring came, and the weather was
+warmer.
+
+On Christmas day and New Year's day, the cure, the mayor, and his wife
+dined at Les Peuples, and their two visits formed the only break in the
+monotonous days. The baron and baroness were to leave the chateau on the
+ninth of January; Jeanne wanted them to stay longer, but Julien did not
+second her invitation, so the baron ordered the post-chaise to be sent
+from Rouen. The evening before they went away was clear and frosty, so
+Jeanne and her father walked down to Yport, for they had not been there
+since Jeanne's return from Corsica.
+
+They went across the wood where she had walked on her wedding-day with
+him whose companion she was henceforth to be, where she had received his
+first kiss, and had caught her first glimpse of that sensual love which
+was not fully revealed to her till that day in the valley of Ota when
+she had drunk her husband's kisses with the water.
+
+There were no leaves, no climbing plants, in the copse now, only the
+rustling of the branches, and that dry, crackling noise that seems to
+fill every wood in winter.
+
+They reached the little village and went along the empty, silent
+streets, which smelt of fish and of seaweed. The big brown nets were
+hanging before the doors, or stretched out on the beach as of old;
+towards Fecamp the green rocks at the foot of the cliff could be seen,
+for the tide was going out, and all along the beach the big boats lay on
+their sides looking like huge fish.
+
+As night drew on, the fishermen, walking heavily in their big sea-boots,
+began to come down on the shingle in groups, their necks well wrapped up
+with woolen scarfs, and carrying a liter of brandy in one hand, and the
+boat-lantern in the other. They busied themselves round the boats,
+putting on board, with true Normandy slowness, their nets, their buoys,
+a big loaf, a jar of butter, and the bottle of brandy and a glass. Then
+they pushed off the boats, which went down the beach with a harsh noise,
+then rushed through the surf, balanced themselves on the crest of a wave
+for a few seconds, and spread their brown wings and disappeared into the
+night, with their little lights shining at the bottom of the masts. The
+sailors' wives, their big, bony frames shown off by their thin dresses,
+stayed until the last fisherman had gone off, and then went back to the
+hushed village, where their noisy voices roused the sleeping echoes of
+the gloomy streets.
+
+The baron and Jeanne stood watching these men go off into the darkness,
+as they went off every night, risking their lives to keep themselves
+from starving, and yet gaining so little that they could never afford to
+eat meat.
+
+"What a terrible, beautiful thing is the ocean!" said the baron. "How
+many lives are at this very moment in danger on it, and yet how
+exquisite it looks now, with the shadows falling over it! Doesn't it,
+Jeannette?"
+
+"This is not so pretty as the Mediterranean," she answered with a watery
+smile.
+
+"The Mediterranean!" exclaimed the baron scornfully. "Why, the
+Mediterranean's nothing but oil or sugared water, while this sea is
+terrific with its crests of foam and its wild waves. And think of those
+men who have just gone off on it, and who are already out of sight."
+
+Jeanne gave in.
+
+"Yes, perhaps you are right," she said with a sigh, for the word
+"Mediterranean" had sent a pang through her heart, and turned her
+thoughts to those far-away countries where all her dreams lay buried.
+
+They did not go back through the wood, but walked along the road; they
+walked in silence, for both were saddened by the thought of the morrow's
+parting. As they passed the farmhouses, they could smell the crushed
+apples--that scent of new cider which pervades all Normandy at this time
+of the year--or the strong odor of cows and the healthy, warm smell of a
+dunghill. The dwelling houses could be distinguished by their little
+lighted windows, and these tiny lights, scattered over the country, made
+Jeanne think of the loneliness of human creatures, and how everything
+tends to separate and tear them away from those they love, and her heart
+seemed to grow bigger and more capable of understanding the mysteries of
+existence.
+
+"Life is not always gay," she said in tones of resignation.
+
+The baron sighed.
+
+"That is true, my child," he replied; "but we cannot help it."
+
+The next day the baron and baroness went away, leaving Jeanne and Julien
+alone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VII
+
+The young couple got into the habit of playing cards; every day after
+lunch Jeanne played several games of bezique with her husband, while he
+smoked his pipe and drank six or eight glasses of brandy. When they had
+finished playing, Jeanne went upstairs to her bedroom, and, sitting by
+the window, worked at a petticoat flounce she was embroidering, while
+the wind and rain beat against the panes. When her eyes ached she looked
+out at the foamy, restless sea, gazed at it for a few minutes, and then
+took up her work again.
+
+She had nothing else to do, for Julien had taken the entire management
+of the house into his hands, that he might thoroughly satisfy his
+longing for authority and his mania for economy. He was exceedingly
+stingy; he never gave the servants anything beyond their exact wages,
+never allowed any food that was not strictly necessary. Every morning,
+ever since she had been at Les Peuples, the baker had made Jeanne a
+little Normandy cake, but Julien cut off this expense, and Jeanne had to
+content herself with toast.
+
+Wishing to avoid all arguments and quarrels, she never made any remark,
+but each fresh proof of her husband's avarice hurt her like the prick of
+a needle. It seemed so petty, so odious to her, brought up as she had
+been in a family where money was never thought of any importance. How
+often she had heard her mother say: "Money is made to be spent"; but now
+Julien kept saying to her: "Will you never be cured of throwing money
+away?" Whenever he could manage to reduce a salary or a bill by a few
+pence he would slip the money into his pocket, saying, with a pleased
+smile:
+
+"Little streams make big rivers."
+
+Jeanne would sometimes find herself dreaming as she used to do before
+she was married. She would gradually stop working, and with her hands
+lying idle in her lap and her eyes fixed on space, she built castles in
+the air as if she were a young girl again. But the voice of Julien,
+giving an order to old Simon, would call her back to the realities of
+life, and she would take up her work, thinking, "Ah, that is all over
+and done with now," and a tear would fall on her fingers as they pushed
+the needle through the stuff.
+
+Rosalie, who used to be so gay and lively, always singing snatches of
+songs as she went about her work, gradually changed also. Her plump
+round cheeks had fallen in and lost their brightened color, and her skin
+was muddy and dark. Jeanne often asked her if she were ill, but the
+little maid always answered with a faint blush, "No, madame," and got
+away as quickly as she could. Instead of tripping along as she had
+always done, she now dragged herself painfully from room to room, and
+seemed not even to care how she looked, for the peddlers in vain spread
+out their ribbons and corsets and bottles of scent before her; she never
+bought anything from them now.
+
+At the end of January, the heavy clouds came across the sea from the
+north, and there was a heavy fall of snow. In one night the whole plain
+was whitened, and, in the morning the trees looked as if a mantle of
+frozen foam had been cast over them.
+
+Julien put on his high boots, and passed his time in the ditch between
+the wood and the plain, watching for the migrating birds. Every now and
+then his shots would break the frozen silence of the fields, and hordes
+of black crows flew from the trees in terror. Jeanne, tired of staying
+indoors, would go out on the steps of the house, where, in the stillness
+of this snow-covered world, she could hear the bustle of the farms, or
+the far-away murmur of the waves and the soft continual rustle of the
+falling snow.
+
+On one of these cold, white mornings she was sitting by her bedroom
+fire, while Rosalie, who looked worse and worse every day, was slowly
+making the bed. All at once Jeanne heard a sigh of pain behind her.
+Without turning her head, she asked:
+
+"What is the matter with you, Rosalie?"
+
+The maid answered as she always did:
+
+"Nothing, madame," but her voice seemed to die away as she spoke.
+
+Jeanne had left off thinking about her, when she suddenly noticed that
+she could not hear the girl moving. She called: "Rosalie."
+
+There was no answer. Then she thought that the maid must have gone
+quietly out of the room without her hearing her, and she cried in a
+louder tone: "Rosalie!" Again she received no answer, and she was just
+stretching out her hand to ring the bell, when she heard a low moan
+close beside her. She started up in terror.
+
+Rosalie was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, her legs
+stretched stiffly out, her face livid, and her eyes staring straight
+before her. Jeanne rushed to her side.
+
+"Oh, Rosalie! What is the matter? what is it?" she asked in affright.
+
+The maid did not answer a word, but fixed her wild eyes on her mistress
+and gasped for breath, as if tortured by some excruciating pain. Then,
+stiffening every muscle in her body, and stifling a cry of anguish
+between her clenched teeth, she slipped down on her back, and all at
+once, something stirred underneath her dress, which clung tightly round
+her legs. Jeanne heard a strange, gushing noise, something like the
+death-rattle of someone who is suffocating, and then came a long low
+wail of pain; it was the first cry of suffering of a child entering the
+world.
+
+The sound came as a revelation to her, and, suddenly losing her head,
+she rushed to the top of the stairs, crying:
+
+"Julien! Julien!"
+
+"What do you want?" he answered, from below.
+
+She gasped out, "It's Rosalie who--who--" but before she could say any
+more Julien was rushing up the stairs two at a time; he dashed into the
+bedroom, raised the girl's clothes, and there lay a creased, shriveled,
+hideous, little atom of humanity, feebly whining and trying to move its
+limbs. He got up with an evil look on his face, and pushed his
+distracted wife out of the room, saying:
+
+"This is no place for you. Go away and send me Ludivine and old Simon."
+
+Jeanne went down to the kitchen trembling all over, to deliver her
+husband's message, and then afraid to go upstairs again, she went into
+the drawing-room, where a fire was never lighted, now her parents were
+away. Soon she saw Simon run out of the house, and come back five
+minutes after with Widow Dentu, the village midwife. Next she heard a
+noise on the stairs which sounded as if they were carrying a body, then
+Julien came to tell her that she could go back to her room. She went
+upstairs and sat down again before her bedroom fire, trembling as if she
+had just witnessed some terrible accident.
+
+"How is she?" she asked.
+
+Julien, apparently in a great rage, was walking about the room in a
+preoccupied, nervous way. He did not answer his wife for some moments,
+but at last he asked, stopping in his walk:
+
+"Well, what do you mean to do with this girl?"
+
+Jeanne looked at her husband as if she did not understand his question.
+
+"What do you mean?" she said. "I don't know; how should I?"
+
+"Well, anyhow, we can't keep that child in the house," he cried,
+angrily.
+
+Jeanne looked very perplexed, and sat in silence for some time. At last
+she said:
+
+"But, my dear, we could put it out to nurse somewhere?"
+
+He hardly let her finish her sentence.
+
+"And who'll pay for it? Will you?"
+
+"But surely the father will take care of it," she said, after another
+long silence. "And if he marries Rosalie, everything will be all right."
+
+"The father!" answered Julien, roughly; "the father! Do you know who is
+the father? Of course you don't. Very well, then!"
+
+Jeanne began to get troubled: "But he certainly will not forsake the
+girl; it would be such a cowardly thing to do. We will ask her his name,
+and go and see him and force him to give some account of himself."
+
+Julien had become calmer, and was again walking about the room.
+
+"My dear girl," he replied, "I don't believe she will tell you the man's
+name, or me either. Besides, suppose he wouldn't marry her? You must see
+that we can't keep a girl and her illegitimate child in our house."
+
+But Jeanne would only repeat, doggedly:
+
+"Then the man must be a villain; but we will find out who he is, and
+then he will have us to deal with instead of that poor girl."
+
+Julien got very red.
+
+"But until we know who he is?" he asked.
+
+She did not know what to propose, so she asked Julien what he thought
+was the best thing to do. He gave his opinion very promptly.
+
+"Oh, I should give her some money, and let her and her brat go to the
+devil."
+
+That made Jeanne very indignant.
+
+"That shall never be done," she declared; "Rosalie is my foster-sister,
+and we have grown up together. She has erred, it is true, but I will
+never turn her out-of-doors for that, and, if there is no other way out
+of the difficulty, I will bring up the child myself."
+
+"And we should have a nice reputation, shouldn't we, with our name and
+connections?" burst out Julien. "People would say that we encouraged
+vice, and sheltered prostitutes, and respectable people would never come
+near us. Why, what can you be thinking of? You must be mad!"
+
+"I will never have Rosalie turned out," she repeated, quietly. "If you
+will not keep her here, my mother will take her back again. But we are
+sure to find out the name of the father."
+
+At that, he went out of the room, too angry to talk to her any longer,
+and as he banged the door after him he cried:
+
+"Women are fools with their absurd notions!"
+
+In the afternoon Jeanne went up to see the invalid. She was lying in
+bed, wide awake, and the Widow Dentu was rocking the child in her arms.
+As soon as she saw her mistress Rosalie began to sob violently, and when
+Jeanne wanted to kiss her, she turned away and hid her face under the
+bed-clothes. The nurse interfered and drew down the sheet, and then
+Rosalie made no further resistance, though the tears still ran down her
+cheeks.
+
+The room was very cold, for there was only a small fire in the grate,
+and the child was crying. Jeanne did not dare make any reference to the
+little one, for fear of causing another burst of tears, but she held
+Rosalie's hand and kept repeating mechanically:
+
+"It won't matter; it won't matter."
+
+The poor girl glanced shyly at the nurse from time to time; the child's
+cries seemed to pierce her heart, and sobs still escaped from her
+occasionally, though she forced herself to swallow her tears. Jeanne
+kissed her again, and whispered in her ear: "We'll take good care of it,
+you may be sure of that," and then ran quickly out of the room, for
+Rosalie's tears were beginning to flow again.
+
+After that, Jeanne went up every day to see the invalid, and every day
+Rosalie burst into tears when her mistress came into the room. The child
+was put out to nurse, and Julien would hardly speak to his wife, for he
+could not forgive her for refusing to dismiss the maid. One day he
+returned to the subject, but Jeanne drew out a letter from her mother
+in which the baroness said that if they would not keep Rosalie at Les
+Peuples she was to be sent on to Rouen directly.
+
+"Your mother's as great a fool as you are," cried Julien; but he did not
+say anything more about sending Rosalie away, and a fortnight later the
+maid was able to get up and perform her duties again.
+
+One morning Jeanne made her sit down, and holding both her hands in
+hers;
+
+"Now, then, Rosalie, tell me all about it," she said, looking her
+straight in the face.
+
+Rosalie began to tremble.
+
+"All about what, madame?" she said, timidly.
+
+"Who is the father of your child?" asked Jeanne.
+
+A look of despair came over the maid's face, and she struggled to
+disengage her hands from her mistress's grasp, but Jeanne kissed her, in
+spite of her struggles, and tried to console her.
+
+"It is true you have been weak," she said, "but you are not the first to
+whom such a misfortune has happened, and, if only the father of the
+child marries you, no one will think anything more about it; we would
+employ him, and he could live here with you."
+
+Rosalie moaned as if she were being tortured, and tried to get her hands
+free that she might run away.
+
+"I can quite understand how ashamed you feel," went on Jeanne, "but you
+see that I am not angry, and that I speak kindly to you. I wish to know
+this man's name for your own good, for I fear, from your grief, that he
+means to abandon you, and I want to prevent that. Julien will see him,
+and we will make him marry you, and we shall employ you both; we will
+see that he makes you happy."
+
+This time Rosalie made so vigorous an effort that she succeeded in
+wrenching her hands away from her mistress, and she rushed from the room
+as if she were mad.
+
+"I have tried to make Rosalie tell me her seducer's name," said Jeanne
+to her husband at dinner that evening, "but I did not succeed in doing
+so. Try and see if she will tell you, that we may force the wretch to
+marry her."
+
+"There, don't let me hear any more about all that," he said, angrily.
+"You wanted to keep this girl, and you have done so, but don't bother me
+about her."
+
+He seemed still more irritable since Rosalie's confinement than he had
+been before. He had got into the habit of shouting at his wife, whenever
+he spoke to her, as if he were always angry, while she, on the contrary,
+spoke softly, and did everything to avoid a quarrel; but she often cried
+when she was alone in her room at night. In spite of his bad temper,
+Julien had resumed the marital duties he had so neglected since his
+wedding tour, and it was seldom now that he let three nights pass
+without accompanying his wife to her room.
+
+Rosalie soon got quite well again, and with better health came better
+spirits, but she always seemed frightened and haunted by some strange
+dread. Jeanne tried twice more to make her name her seducer, but each
+time she ran away, without saying anything. Julien suddenly became
+better tempered, and his young wife began to cherish vague hopes, and to
+regain a little of her former gayety; but she often felt very unwell,
+though she never said anything about it.
+
+For five weeks the crisp, shining snow had lain on the frozen ground; in
+the daytime there was not a cloud to be seen, and at night the sky was
+strewn with stars. Standing alone in their square courtyards, behind the
+great frosted trees, the farms seemed dead beneath their snowy shrouds.
+Neither men nor cattle could go out, and the only sign of life about the
+homesteads and cottages was the smoke that went straight up from the
+chimneys into the frosty air.
+
+The grass, the hedges and the wall of elms seemed killed by the cold.
+From time to time the trees cracked, as if the fibers of their branches
+were separating beneath the bark, and sometimes a big branch would break
+off and fall to the ground, its sap frozen and dried up by the intense
+cold.
+
+Jeanne thought the severe weather was the cause of her ill-health, and
+she longed for the warm spring breezes. Sometimes the very idea of food
+disgusted her, and she could eat nothing; at other times she vomited
+after every meal, unable to digest the little she did eat. She had
+violent palpitations of the heart, and she lived in a constant and
+intolerable state of nervous excitement.
+
+One evening, when the thermometer was sinking still lower, Julien
+shivered as he left the dinner table (for the dining-room was never
+sufficiently heated, so careful was he over the wood), and rubbing his
+hands together:
+
+"It's too cold to sleep alone to-night, isn't it, darling?" he whispered
+to his wife, with one of his old good-tempered laughs.
+
+Jeanne threw her arms round his neck, but she felt so ill, so nervous,
+and she had such aching pains that evening, that, with her lips close to
+his, she begged him to let her sleep alone.
+
+"I feel so ill to-night," she said, "but I am sure to be better
+to-morrow."
+
+"Just as you please, my dear," he answered. "If you are ill, you must
+take care of yourself." And he began to talk of something else.
+
+Jeanne went to bed early. Julien, for a wonder, ordered a fire to be
+lighted in his own room; and when the servant came to tell him that "the
+fire had burnt up," he kissed his wife on the forehead and said
+good-night.
+
+The very walls seemed to feel the cold, and made little cracking noises
+as if they were shivering. Jeanne lay shaking with cold; twice she got
+up to put more logs on the fire, and to pile her petticoats and dresses
+on the bed, but nothing seemed to make her any warmer. There were
+nervous twitchings in her legs, which made her toss and turn restlessly
+from side to side. Her feet were numbed, her teeth chattered, her hands
+trembled, her heart beat so slowly that sometimes it seemed to stop
+altogether; and she gasped for breath as if she could not draw the air
+into her lungs.
+
+As the cold crept higher and higher up her limbs, she was seized with a
+terrible fear. She had never felt like this before; life seemed to be
+gradually slipping away from her, and she thought each breath she drew
+would be her last.
+
+"I am going to die! I am going to die!" she thought; and, in her terror,
+she jumped out of bed, and rang for Rosalie.
+
+No one came; she rang again, and again waited for an answer, shuddering
+and half-frozen; but she waited in vain. Perhaps the maid was sleeping
+too heavily for the bell to arouse her, and, almost beside herself with
+fear, Jeanne rushed out onto the landing without putting anything around
+her, and with bare feet. She went noiselessly up the dark stairs, felt
+for Rosalie's door, opened it, and called "Rosalie!" then went into the
+room, stumbled against the bed, passed her hands over it, and found it
+empty and quite cold, as if no one had slept in it that night.
+
+"Surely she cannot have gone out in such weather as this," she thought.
+
+Her heart began to beat so violently that it almost suffocated her, and
+she went downstairs to rouse Julien, her legs giving way under her as
+she walked. She burst open her husband's door, and hurried across the
+room, spurred on by the idea that she was going to die and the fear that
+she would become unconscious before she could see him again.
+
+Suddenly she stopped with a shriek, for by the light of the dying fire
+she saw Rosalie's head on the pillow beside her husband's. At her cry
+they both started up, but she had already recovered from the first shock
+of her discovery, and fled to her room, while Julien called after her,
+"Jeanne! Jeanne!" She felt she could not see him or listen to his
+excuses and his lies, and again rushing out of her room she ran
+downstairs. The staircase was in total darkness, but filled with the
+desire of flight, of getting away without seeing or hearing any more,
+she never stayed to think that she might fall and break her limbs on the
+stone stairs.
+
+On the last step she sat down, unable to think, unable to reason, her
+head in a whirl. Julien had jumped out of bed, and was hastily dressing
+himself. She heard him moving about, and she started up to escape from
+him. He came downstairs, crying: "Jeanne, do listen to me!"
+
+No, she would not listen; he should not degrade her by his touch. She
+dashed into the dining-room as if a murderer were pursuing her, looked
+round for a hiding-place or some dark corner where she might conceal
+herself, and then crouched down under the table. The door opened, and
+Julien came in with a light in his hand, still calling, "Jeanne!
+Jeanne!" She started off again like a hunted hare, tore into the
+kitchen, round which she ran twice like some wild animal at bay, then,
+as he was getting nearer and nearer to her, she suddenly flung open the
+garden door, and rushed out into the night.
+
+Her bare legs sank into the snow up to her knees, and this icy contact
+gave her new strength. Although she had nothing on but her chemise she
+did not feel the bitter cold; her mental anguish was too great for the
+consciousness of any mere bodily pain to reach her brain, and she ran on
+and on, looking as white as the snow-covered earth. She did not stop
+once to take breath, but rushed on across wood and plain without knowing
+or thinking of what she was doing. Suddenly she found herself at the
+edge of the cliff. She instinctively stopped short, and then crouched
+down in the snow and lay there with her mind as powerless to think as
+her body to move.
+
+All at once she began to tremble, as does a sail when caught by the
+wind. Her arms, her hands, her feet, shook and twitched convulsively,
+and consciousness returned to her. Things that had happened a long time
+before came back to her memory; the sail in Lastique's boat with _him_,
+their conversation, the dawn of their love; the christening of the boat;
+then her thoughts went still farther back till they reached the night of
+her arrival from the convent--the night she had spent in happy dreams.
+And now, now! Her life was ruined; she had had all her pleasure; there
+were no joys, no happiness, in store for her; and she could see the
+terrible future with all its tortures, its deceptions, and despair.
+Surely it would be better to die now, at once.
+
+She heard a voice in the distance crying:
+
+"This way! this way! Here are her footmarks!" It was Julien looking for
+her.
+
+Oh! she could not, she would not, see him again! Never again! From the
+abyss before her came the faint sound of the waves as they broke on the
+rocks. She stood up to throw herself over the cliff, and in a despairing
+farewell to life, she moaned out that last cry of the dying--the word
+that the soldier gasps out as he lies wounded to death on the
+battlefield--"Mother!"
+
+Then the thought of how her mother would sob when she heard of her
+daughter's death, and how her father would kneel in agony beside her
+mangled corpse, flashed across her mind, and in that one second she
+realized all the bitterness of their grief. She fell feebly back on the
+snow, and Julien and old Simon came up, with Marius behind them holding
+a lantern. They drew her back before they dared attempt to raise her, so
+near the edge of the cliff was she; and they did with her what they
+liked, for she could not move a muscle. She knew that they carried her
+indoors, that she was put to bed, and rubbed with hot flannels, and
+then she was conscious of nothing more.
+
+A nightmare--but was it a nightmare?--haunted her. She thought she was
+in bed in her own room; it was broad daylight, but she could not get up,
+though she did not know why she could not. She heard a noise on the
+boards--a scratching, rustling noise--and all at once a little gray
+mouse ran over the sheet. Then another one appeared, and another which
+came running towards her chest. Jeanne was not frightened; she wanted to
+take hold of the little animal, and put out her hand towards it, but she
+could not catch it.
+
+Then came more mice--ten, twenty, hundreds, thousands, sprang up on all
+sides. They ran up the bed-posts, and along the tapestry, and covered
+the whole bed. They got under the clothes, and Jeanne could feel them
+gliding over her skin, tickling her legs, running up and down her body.
+She could see them coming from the foot of the bed to get inside and
+creep close to her breast, but when she struggled and stretched out her
+hands to catch one, she always clutched the air. Then she got angry, and
+cried out, and wanted to run away; she fancied someone held her down,
+and that strong arms were thrown around her to prevent her moving, but
+she could not see anyone. She had no idea of the time that all this
+lasted; she only knew that it seemed a very long while.
+
+At last she became conscious again--conscious that she was tired and
+aching, and yet better than she had been. She felt very, very weak. She
+looked round, and did not feel at all surprised to see her mother
+sitting by her bedside with a stout man whom she did not know. She had
+forgotten how old she was, and thought she was a little child again, for
+her memory was entirely gone.
+
+"See, she is conscious," said the stout man.
+
+The baroness began to cry, and the big man said:
+
+"Come, come, madame le baronne; I assure you there is no longer any
+danger, but you must not talk to her; just let her sleep."
+
+It seemed to Jeanne that she lay for a long time in a doze, which became
+a heavy sleep if she tried to think of anything. She had a vague idea
+that the past contained something dreadful, and she was content to lie
+still without trying to recall anything to her memory. But one day, when
+she opened her eyes, she saw Julien standing beside the bed, and the
+curtain which hid everything from her was suddenly drawn aside, and she
+remembered what had happened.
+
+She threw back the clothes and sprang out of bed to escape from her
+husband; but as soon as her feet touched the floor she fell to the
+ground, for she was too weak to stand. Julien hastened to her
+assistance, but when he attempted to raise her, she shrieked and rolled
+from side to side to avoid the contact of his hands. The door opened,
+and Aunt Lison and the Widow Dentu hurried in, closely followed by the
+baron and his wife, the latter gasping for breath.
+
+They put Jeanne to bed again, and she closed her eyes and pretended to
+be asleep that she might think undisturbed. Her mother and aunt busied
+themselves around her, saying from time to time:
+
+"Do you know us now, Jeanne, dear?"
+
+She pretended not to hear them, and made no answer; and in the evening
+they went away, leaving her to the care of the nurse. She could not
+sleep all that night, for she was painfully trying to connect the
+incidents she could remember, one with the other; but there seemed to be
+gaps in her memory which she could not bridge over. Little by little,
+however, all the facts came back to her, and then she tried to decide
+what she had better do. She must have been very ill, or her mother and
+Aunt Lison and the baron would not have been sent for; but what had
+Julien said? Did her parents know everything? And where was Rosalie?
+
+The only thing she could do was to go back to Rouen with her father and
+mother; they could all live there together as they used to do, and it
+would be just the same as if she had not been married.
+
+The next day she noticed and listened to all that went on around her,
+but she did not let anyone see that she understood everything and had
+recovered her full senses. Towards evening, when no one but the baroness
+was in her room, Jeanne whispered softly:
+
+"Mother, dear!"
+
+She was surprised to hear how changed her own voice was, but the
+baroness took her hands, exclaiming:
+
+"My child! my dear little Jeanne! Do you know me, my pet?"
+
+"Yes, mother. But you mustn't cry; I want to talk to you seriously. Did
+Julien tell you why I ran out into the snow?"
+
+"Yes, my darling. You have had a very dangerous fever."
+
+"That was not the reason, mamma; I had the fever afterwards. Hasn't he
+told you why I tried to run away, and what was the cause of the fever?"
+
+"No, dear."
+
+"It was because I found Rosalie in his bed."
+
+The baroness thought she was still delirious, and tried to soothe her.
+
+"There, there, my darling; lie down and try to go to sleep."
+
+But Jeanne would not be quieted.
+
+"I am not talking nonsense now, mamma dear, though I dare say I have
+been lately," she said. "I felt very ill one night, and I got up and
+went to Julien's room; there I saw Rosalie lying beside him. My grief
+nearly drove me mad, and I ran out into the snow, meaning to throw
+myself over the cliff."
+
+"Yes, darling, you have been ill; very ill indeed," answered the
+baroness.
+
+"It wasn't that, mamma. I found Rosalie in Julien's bed, and I will not
+stay with him any longer. You shall take me back to Rouen with you."
+
+The doctor had told the baroness to let Jeanne have her own way in
+everything, so she answered:
+
+"Very well, my pet."
+
+Jeanne began to lose patience.
+
+"I see you don't believe me," she said pettishly. "Go and find papa;
+perhaps he'll manage to understand that I am speaking the truth."
+
+The baroness rose slowly to her feet, dragged herself out of the room
+with the aid of two sticks, and came back in a few minutes with the
+baron. They sat down by the bedside, and Jeanne began to speak in her
+weak voice. She spoke quite coherently, and she told them all about
+Julien's odd ways, his harshness, his avarice, and, lastly, his
+infidelity.
+
+The baron could see that her mind was not wandering, but he hardly knew
+what to say or think. He affectionately took her hand, like he used to
+do when she was a child and he told her fairy tales to send her to
+sleep.
+
+"Listen, my dear," he said. "We must not do anything rashly. Don't let
+us say anything till we have thought it well over. Will you promise me
+to try and bear with your husband until we have decided what is best to
+be done?"
+
+"Very well," she answered; "but I will not stay here after I get well."
+
+Then she added, in a whisper: "Where is Rosalie now?"
+
+"You shall not see her any more," replied the baron.
+
+But she persisted: "Where is she? I want to know."
+
+He owned that she was still in the house, but he declared she should go
+at once.
+
+Directly he left Jeanne's room, his heart full of pity for his child and
+indignation against her husband, the baron went to find Julien, and said
+to him sternly:
+
+"Monsieur, I have come to ask for an explanation of your behavior to my
+daughter. You have not only been false to her, but you have deceived her
+with your servant, which makes your conduct doubly infamous."
+
+Julien swore he was innocent of such a thing, and called heaven to
+witness his denial. What proof was there? Jeanne was just recovering
+from brain fever, and of course her thoughts were still confused. She
+had rushed out in the snow one night at the beginning of her illness, in
+a fit of delirium, and how could her statement be believed when, on the
+very night that she said she had surprised her maid in her husband's
+bed, she was dashing over the house nearly naked, and quite unconscious
+of what she was doing!
+
+Julien got very angry, and threatened the baron with an action if he did
+not withdraw his accusation; and the baron, confused by this indignant
+denial, began to make excuses and to beg his son-in-law's pardon; but
+Julien refused to take his outstretched hand.
+
+Jeanne did not seem vexed when she heard what her husband had said.
+
+"He is telling a lie, papa," she said, quietly; "but we will force him
+to own the truth."
+
+For two days she lay silent, turning over all sorts of things in her
+mind; on the third morning she asked for Rosalie. The baron refused to
+let the maid go up and told Jeanne that she had left. But Jeanne
+insisted on seeing her, and said:
+
+"Send someone to fetch her, then."
+
+When the doctor came she was very excited because they would not let her
+see the maid, and they told him what was the matter. Jeanne burst into
+tears and almost shrieked: "I will see her! I will see her!"
+
+The doctor took her hand and said in a low voice:
+
+"Calm yourself, madame. Any violent emotion might have very serious
+results just now, for you are _enceinte_."
+
+Jeanne's tears ceased directly; even as the doctor spoke she fancied she
+could feel a movement within her, and she lay still, paying no attention
+to what was being said or done around her. She could not sleep that
+night; it seemed so strange to think that within her was another life,
+and she felt sorry because it was Julien's child, and full of fears in
+case it should resemble its father.
+
+The next morning she sent for the baron.
+
+"Papa, dear," she said, "I have made up my mind to know the whole truth;
+especially now. You hear, I _will_ know it, and you know, you must let
+me do as I like, because of my condition. Now listen; go and fetch M. le
+cure; he must be here to make Rosalie tell the truth. Then, as soon as
+he is here, you must send her up to me, and you and mamma must come too;
+but, whatever you do, don't let Julien know what is going on."
+
+The priest came about an hour afterwards. He was fatter than ever, and
+panted quite as much as the baroness. He sat down in an armchair and
+began joking, while he wiped his forehead with his checked handkerchief
+from sheer habit.
+
+"Well, Madame la baronne, I don't think we are either of us getting
+thinner; in my opinion we make a very handsome pair." Then turning to
+the invalid, he said: "Ah, ah! my young lady, I hear we're soon to have
+a christening, and that it won't be the christening of a boat either,
+this time, ha, ha, ha!" Then he went on in a grave voice, "It will be
+one more defender for the country, or," after a short silence, "another
+good wife and mother like you, madame," with a bow to the baroness.
+
+The door flew open and there stood Rosalie, crying, struggling, and
+refusing to move, while the baron tried to push her in. At last he gave
+her a sudden shake, and threw her into the room with a jerk, and she
+stood in the middle of the floor, with her face in her hands, sobbing
+violently. Jeanne started up as white as a sheet, and her heart could be
+seen beating under her thin nightdress. It was some time before she
+could speak, but at last she gasped out:
+
+"There--there--is no--need for me to--question you. Your confusion in my
+presence--is--is quite sufficient--proof--of your guilt."
+
+She stopped for a few moments for want of breath, and then went on
+again:
+
+"But I wish to know all. You see that M. le cure is here, so you
+understand you will have to answer as if you were at confession."
+
+Rosalie had not moved from where the baron had pushed her; she made no
+answer, but her sobs became almost shrieks. The baron, losing all
+patience with her, seized her hands, drew them roughly from her face and
+threw her on her knees beside the bed, saying:
+
+"Why don't you say something? Answer your mistress."
+
+She crouched down on the ground in the position in which Mary Magdalene
+is generally depicted; her cap was on one side, her apron on the floor,
+and as soon as her hands were free she again buried her face in them.
+
+"Come, come, my girl," said the cure, "we don't want to do you any harm,
+but we must know exactly what has happened. Now listen to what is asked
+you and answer truthfully."
+
+Jeanne was leaning over the side of the bed, looking at the girl.
+
+"Is it not true that I found you in Julien's bed?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, madame," moaned out Rosalie through her fingers.
+
+At that the baroness burst into tears also, and the sound of her sobs
+mingled with the maid's.
+
+"How long had that gone on?" asked Jeanne, her eyes fixed on the maid.
+
+"Ever since he came here," stammered Rosalie.
+
+"Since he came here," repeated Jeanne, hardly understanding what the
+words meant. "Do you mean since--since the spring?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Since he first came to the house?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"But how did it happen? How did he come to say anything to you about
+it?" burst out Jeanne, as if she could keep back the questions no
+longer. "Did he force you, or did you give yourself to him? How could
+you do such a thing?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Rosalie, taking her hands from her face and
+speaking as if the words were forced from her by an irresistible desire
+to talk and to tell all. "The day he dined 'ere for the first time, 'e
+came up to my room. He 'ad 'idden in the garret and I dursn't cry out
+for fear of what everyone would say. He got into my bed, and I dunno'
+how it was or what I did, but he did just as 'e liked with me. I never
+said nothin' about it because I thought he was nice."
+
+"But your--your child? Is it his?" cried Jeanne.
+
+"Yes, madame," answered Rosalie, between her sobs. Then neither said
+anything more, and the silence was only broken by the baroness's and
+Rosalie's sobs.
+
+The tears rose to Jeanne's eyes, and flowed noiselessly down her cheeks.
+So her maid's child had the same father as her own! All her anger had
+evaporated and in its place was a dull, gloomy, deep despair. After a
+short silence she said in a softer, tearful voice.
+
+"After we returned from--from our wedding tour--when did he begin
+again?"
+
+"The--the night you came back," answered the maid, who was now almost
+lying on the floor.
+
+Each word rung Jeanne's heart. He had actually left her for this girl
+the very night of their return to Les Peuples! That, then, was why he
+had let her sleep alone. She had heard enough now; she did not want to
+know anything more, and she cried to the girl:
+
+"Go away! go away!"
+
+As Rosalie, overcome by her emotion, did not move, she called to her
+father:
+
+"Take her away! Carry her out of the room!"
+
+But the cure, who had said nothing up to now, thought the time had come
+for a little discourse.
+
+"You have behaved very wickedly," he said to Rosalie, "very wickedly
+indeed, and the good God will not easily forgive you. Think of the
+punishment which awaits you if you do not live a better life henceforth.
+Now you are young is the time to train yourself in good ways. No doubt
+Madame la baronne will do something for you, and we shall be able to
+find you a husband--"
+
+He would have gone on like this for a long time had not the baron seized
+Rosalie by the shoulders, dragged her to the door and thrown her into
+the passage like a bundle of clothes.
+
+When he came back, looking whiter even than his daughter, the cure began
+again:
+
+"Well, you know, all the girls round here are the same. It is a very bad
+state of things, but it can't be helped, and we must make a little
+allowance for the weakness of human nature. They never marry until they
+are _enceintes_; never, madame. One might almost call it a local
+custom," he added, with a smile. Then he went on indignantly: "Even the
+children are the same. Only last year I found a little boy and girl from
+my class in the cemetery together. I told their parents, and what do you
+think they replied: 'Well, M'sieu l'cure, we didn't teach it them; we
+can't help it.' So you see, monsieur, your maid has only done like the
+others--"
+
+"The maid!" interrupted the baron, trembling with excitement. "The maid!
+What do I care about her? It's Julien's conduct which I think so
+abominable, and I shall certainly take my daughter away with me." He
+walked up and down the room, getting more and more angry with every step
+he took. "It is infamous the way he has deceived my daughter, infamous!
+He's a wretch, a villain, and I will tell him so to his face. I'll
+horsewhip him within an inch of his life."
+
+The cure was slowly enjoying a pinch of snuff as he sat beside the
+baroness, and thinking how he could make peace. "Come now, M. le baron,
+between ourselves he has only done like everyone else. I am quite sure
+you don't know many husbands who are faithful to their wives, do you
+now?" And he added in a sly, good-natured way: "I bet you, yourself,
+have played your little games; you can't say conscientiously that you
+haven't, I know. Why, of course you have! And who knows but what you
+have made the acquaintance of some little maid just like Rosalie. I tell
+you every man is the same. And your escapades didn't make your wife
+unhappy, or lessen your affection for her; did they?"
+
+The baron stood still in confusion. It was true that he had done the
+same himself, and not only once or twice, but as often as he had got the
+chance; his wife's presence in the house had never made any difference,
+when the servants were pretty. And was he a villain because of that?
+Then why should he judge Julien's conduct so severely when he had never
+thought that any fault could be found with his own?
+
+Though her tears were hardly dried, the idea of her husband's pranks
+brought a slight smile to the baroness's lip, for she was one of those
+good-natured, tender-hearted, sentimental women to whom love adventures
+are an essential part of existence.
+
+Jeanne lay back exhausted, thinking, with open unseeing eyes, of all
+this painful episode. The expression that had wounded her most in
+Rosalie's confession was: "I never said anything about it because I
+thought he was nice." She, his wife, had also thought him "nice," and
+that was the sole reason why she had united herself to him for life, had
+given up every other hope, every other project to join her destiny to
+his. She had plunged into marriage, into this pit from which there was
+no escape, into all this misery, this grief, this despair, simply
+because, like Rosalie, she had thought him "nice."
+
+The door was flung violently open and Julien came in, looking perfectly
+wild with rage. He had seen Rosalie moaning on the landing, and guessing
+that she had been forced to speak, he had come to see what was going on;
+but at the sight of the priest he was taken thoroughly aback.
+
+"What is it? What is the matter?" he asked, in a voice which trembled
+in spite of his efforts to make it sound calm.
+
+The baron, who had been so violent just before, dared say nothing after
+the cure's argument, in case his son-in-law should quote his own
+example; the baroness only wept more bitterly than before, and Jeanne
+raised herself on her hands and looked steadily at this man who was
+causing her so much sorrow. Her breath came and went quickly, but she
+managed to answer:
+
+"The matter is that we know all about your shameful conduct
+ever since--ever since the day you first came here; we know
+that--that--Rosalie's child is yours--like--like mine, and that they
+will be--brothers."
+
+Her grief became so poignant at this thought that she hid herself under
+the bedclothes and sobbed bitterly. Julien stood open-mouthed, not
+knowing what to say or do. The cure again interposed.
+
+"Come, come, my dear young lady," he said, "you mustn't give way like
+that. See now, be reasonable."
+
+He rose, went to the bedside, and laid his cool hand on this despairing
+woman's forehead. His simple touch seemed to soothe her wonderfully; she
+felt calmer at once, as if the large hand of this country priest,
+accustomed to gestures of absolution and sympathy, had borne with it
+some strange, peace-giving power.
+
+"Madame, we must always forgive," said the good-natured priest. "You are
+borne down by a great grief, but God, in His mercy, has also sent you a
+great joy, since He has permitted you to have hopes of becoming a
+mother. This child will console you for all your trouble and it is in
+its name that I implore, that I adjure, you to forgive M. Julien. It
+will be a fresh tie between you, a pledge of your husband's future
+fidelity. Can you steel your heart against the father of your unborn
+child?"
+
+Too weak to feel either anger or resentment, and only conscious of a
+crushed, aching, exhausted sensation, she made no answer. Her nerves
+were thoroughly unstrung, and she clung to life but by a very slender
+thread.
+
+The baroness, to whom resentment seemed utterly impossible and whose
+mind was simply incapable of bearing any prolonged strain, said in a low
+tone:
+
+"Come, Jeanne!"
+
+The cure drew Julien close to the bed and placed his hand in his wife's,
+giving it a little tap as if to make the union more complete. Then,
+dropping his professional pulpit tone, he said, with a satisfied air:
+
+"There! that's done. Believe me, it is better so."
+
+The two hands, united thus for an instant, loosed their clasp directly.
+Julien, not daring to embrace Jeanne, kissed his mother-in-law, then
+turned on his heel, took the baron (who, in his heart, was not sorry
+that everything had finished so quietly) by the arm, and drew him from
+the room to go and smoke a cigar.
+
+Then the tired invalid went to sleep and the baroness and the priest
+began to chat in low tones. The abbe talked of what had just occurred
+and proceeded to explain his ideas on the subject, while the baroness
+assented to everything he said with a nod.
+
+"Very well, then, it's understood," he said, in conclusion. "You give
+the girl the farm at Barville and I will undertake to find her a good,
+honest husband. Oh, you may be sure that with twenty thousand francs we
+shall not want candidates for her hand. We shall have an _embarras de
+choix_."
+
+The baroness was smiling happily now, though two tears still lingered on
+her cheeks.
+
+"Barville is worth twenty thousand francs, at the very least," she said;
+"and you understand that it is to be settled on the child though the
+parents will have it as long as they live."
+
+Then the cure shook hands with the baroness, and rose to go.
+
+"Don't get up, Madame la baronne, don't get up," he exclaimed. "I know
+the value of a step too well myself."
+
+As he went out he met Aunt Lison coming to see her patient. She did not
+notice that anything extraordinary had happened. No one had told her
+anything, and, as usual, she had not the slightest idea of what was
+going on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VIII
+
+Rosalie had left the house and the time of Jeanne's confinement was
+drawing near. The sorrow she had gone through had taken away all
+pleasure from the thought of becoming a mother, and she waited for the
+child's birth without any impatience or curiosity, her mind entirely
+filled with her presentiment of coming evils.
+
+Spring was close at hand. The bare trees still trembled in the cold
+wind, but, in the damp ditches, the yellow primroses were already
+blossoming among the decaying autumn leaves. The rain-soaked fields, the
+farm-yards and the commons exhaled a damp odor, as of fermenting
+liquor, and little green leaves peeped out of the brown earth and
+glistened in the sun.
+
+A big, strongly-built woman had been engaged in Rosalie's place, and she
+now supported the baroness in her dreary walks along the avenue, where
+the track made by her foot was always damp and muddy.
+
+Jeanne, low-spirited and in constant pain, leant on her father's arm
+when she went out, while on her other side walked Aunt Lison, holding
+her niece's hand, and thinking nervously, of this mysterious suffering
+that she would never know. They would all three walk for hours without
+speaking a word, and, while they were out, Julien went all over the
+country on horseback, for he had suddenly become very fond of riding.
+
+The baron, his wife, and the vicomte, paid a visit to the Fourvilles
+(whom Julien seemed to know very well, though no one at the chateau knew
+exactly how the acquaintance had begun), and another duty call was paid
+to the Brisevilles, and those two visits were the only break in their
+dull, monotonous life.
+
+One afternoon, about four o'clock, two people on horseback trotted up to
+the chateau. Julien rushed into his wife's room in great excitement:
+
+"Make haste and go down," he exclaimed. "Here are the Fourvilles. They
+have come simply to make a neighborly call as they know the condition
+you are in. Say I am out but that I shall be in soon. I am just going to
+change my coat."
+
+Jeanne went downstairs and found in the drawing-room a gigantic man with
+big, red moustaches, and a pale, pretty woman with a sad-looking face,
+sentimental eyes and hair of a dead gold that looked as if the sun had
+never caressed it. When the fair-haired woman had introduced the big man
+as her husband, she said:
+
+"M. de Lamare, whom we have met several times, has told us how unwell
+you are, so we thought we would not put off coming to see you any
+longer. You see we have come on horseback, so you must look upon this
+simply as a neighborly call; besides, I have already had the pleasure of
+receiving a visit from your mother and the baron."
+
+She spoke easily in a refined, familiar way, and Jeanne fell in love
+with her at once. "In her I might, indeed, find a friend," she thought.
+
+The Comte de Fourville, unlike his wife, seemed as much out of place in
+a drawing-room as a bull in a china shop. When he sat down he put his
+hat on a chair close by him, and then the problem of what he should do
+with his hands presented itself to him. First he rested them on his
+knees, then on the arms of his chair, and finally joined them as if in
+prayer.
+
+Julien came in so changed in appearance that Jeanne stared at him in
+mute surprise. He had shaved himself and looked as handsome and charming
+as when he was wooing her. His hair, just now so coarse and dull, had
+been brushed and sprinkled with perfumed oil till it had recovered its
+soft shining waves, and his large eyes, which seemed made to express
+nothing but love, had their old winning look in them. He made himself as
+amiable and fascinating as he had been before his marriage. He pressed
+the hairy paw of the comte, who seemed much relieved by his presence,
+and kissed the hand of the comtesse, whose ivory cheek became just
+tinged with pink.
+
+When the Fourvilles were going away the comtesse said:
+
+"Will you come for a ride on Thursday, vicomte?" And as Julien bowed and
+replied, "I shall be very pleased, madame," she turned and took Jeanne's
+hand, saying to her, affectionately:
+
+"When you are well again we must all three go for long rides together.
+We could make such delightful excursions if you would."
+
+Then she gracefully caught up the skirt of her riding-habit and sprang
+into the saddle as lightly as a bird, and her husband, after awkwardly
+raising his hat, leapt on his huge horse, feeling and looking at his
+ease as soon as he was mounted.
+
+"What charming people!" cried Julien, as soon as they were out of sight.
+"We may, indeed, think ourselves lucky to have made their acquaintance."
+
+"The little comtesse is delightful," answered Jeanne, feeling pleased
+herself though she hardly knew why. "I am sure I shall like her; but the
+husband seems a bear. How did you get to know them?"
+
+"I met them one day at the Brisevilles," he replied, rubbing his hands
+together cheerfully. "The husband certainly is a little rough, but he is
+a true gentleman. He is passionately fond of shooting."
+
+Nothing else happened until the end of July. Then, one Tuesday evening,
+as they were all sitting under the plane-tree beside a little table, on
+which stood two liqueur glasses and a decanter of brandy, Jeanne
+suddenly turned very white and put both her hands to her side with a
+cry. A sharp pain had shot through her and at once died away. In about
+ten minutes came another one, hardly so severe but of longer duration
+than the first. Her father and husband almost carried her indoors, for
+the short distance between the plane-tree and her room seemed miles to
+her; she could not stifle her moans, and, overpowered by an intolerable
+sense of heaviness and weight, she implored them to let her sit down and
+rest.
+
+The child was not expected until September but, in case of accident, a
+horse was harnessed and old Simon galloped off after the doctor. He came
+about midnight and at once recognized the signs of a premature
+confinement. The actual pain had a little diminished, but Jeanne felt an
+awful deathly faintness, and she thought she was going to die, for Death
+is sometimes so close that his icy breath can almost be felt.
+
+The room was full of people. The baroness lay back in an armchair
+gasping for breath; the baron ran hither and thither, bringing all
+manner of things and completely losing his head; Julien walked up and
+down looking very troubled, but really feeling quite calm, and the Widow
+Dentu, whom nothing could surprise or startle, stood at the foot of the
+bed with an expression suited to the occasion on her face.
+
+Nurse, mid-wife and watcher of the dead, equally ready to welcome the
+new-born infant, to receive its first cry, to immerse it in its first
+bath and to wrap it in its first covering, or to hear the last word, the
+last death-rattle, the last moan of the dying, to clothe them in their
+last garment, to sponge their wasted bodies, to draw the sheet about
+their still faces, the Widow Dentu had become utterly indifferent to any
+of the chances accompanying a birth or a death.
+
+Every now and then Jeanne gave a low moan. For two hours it seemed as if
+the child would not be born yet, after all; but about daybreak the
+pains recommenced and soon became almost intolerable. As the involuntary
+cries of anguish burst through her clenched teeth, Jeanne thought of
+Rosalie who had hardly even moaned, and whose bastard child had been
+born without any of the torture such as she was suffering. In her
+wretched, troubled mind she drew comparisons between her maid and
+herself, and she cursed God Whom, until now, she had believed just. She
+thought in angry astonishment of how fate favors the wicked, and of the
+unpardonable lies of those who hold forth inducements to be upright and
+good.
+
+Sometimes the agony was so great that she could think of nothing else,
+her suffering absorbing all her strength, her reason, her consciousness.
+In the intervals of relief her eyes were fixed on Julien, and then she
+was filled with a mental anguish as she thought of the day her maid had
+fallen at the foot of this very bed with her new-born child--the brother
+of the infant that was now causing her such terrible pain. She
+remembered perfectly every gesture, every look, every word of her
+husband as he stood beside the maid, and now she could see in his
+movements the same _ennui_, the same indifference for her suffering as
+he had felt for Rosalie's; it was the selfish carelessness of a man whom
+the idea of paternity irritates.
+
+She was seized by an excruciating pain, a spasm so agonizing that she
+thought, "I am going to die! I am dying!" And her soul was filled with a
+furious hatred; she felt she must curse this man who was the cause of
+all her agony, and this child which was killing her. She strained every
+muscle in a supreme effort to rid herself of this awful burden, and then
+it felt as if her whole inside were pouring away from her, and her
+suffering suddenly became less.
+
+The nurse and the doctor bent over her and took something away; and she
+heard the choking noise she had heard once before, and then the low cry
+of pain, the feeble whine of the new-born child filled her ears and
+seemed to enter her poor, exhausted body till it reached her very soul;
+and, in an unconsciousness movement she tried to hold out her arms.
+
+With the child was born a new joy, a fresh rapture. In one second she
+had been delivered from that terrible pain and made happier than she had
+ever been before, and she revived in mind and body as she realized, for
+the first time, the pleasure of being a mother.
+
+She wanted to see her child. It had not any hair or nails, for it had
+come before its time, but when she saw this human larva move its limbs
+and open its mouth, and when she touched its wrinkled little face, her
+heart overflowed with happiness, and she knew that she would never feel
+weary of life again, for her love for the atom she held in her arms
+would be so absorbing that it would make her indifferent to everything
+else.
+
+From that time her child was her chief, her only care, and she idolized
+it more, perhaps, because she had been so deceived in her love and
+disappointed in her hopes. She insisted on having the cot close to her
+bed, and, when she could get up, she sat by the window the whole day
+rocking the cradle with her foot. She was even jealous of the wet-nurse,
+and when the hungry baby held out its arms and mouth towards the big
+blue-veined breast, she felt as if she would like to tear her son from
+this strong, quiet peasant woman's arms, and strike and scratch the
+bosom to which he clung so eagerly.
+
+She embroidered his fine robes herself, putting into them the most
+elaborate work; he was always surrounded by a cloud of lace and wore the
+handsomest caps. The only thing she could talk about was the baby's
+clothes, and she was always interrupting a conversation to hold up a
+band, or bib, or some especially pretty ribbon for admiration, for she
+took no notice of what was being said around her as she turned and
+twisted some tiny garment about in her hands, and held it up to the
+light to see better how it looked.
+
+"Don't you think he will look lovely in that?" she was always asking,
+and her mother and the baron smiled at this all-absorbing affection; but
+Julien would exclaim, impatiently, "What a nuisance she is with that
+brat!" for his habits had been upset and his overweening importance
+diminished by the arrival of this noisy, imperious tyrant, and he was
+half-jealous of the scrap of humanity who now held the first place in
+the house. Jeanne could hardly bear to be away from her baby for an
+instant, and she even sat watching him all night through as he lay
+sleeping in his cradle. These vigils and this continual anxiety began to
+tell upon her health. The want of sleep weakened her and she grew
+thinner and thinner, until, at last, the doctor ordered the child to be
+separated from her.
+
+It was in vain that she employed tears, commands and entreaties. Each
+night the baby slept with his nurse, and each night his mother rose from
+her bed and went, barefooted, to put her ear to the keyhole and listen
+if he was sleeping quietly. Julien found her there one night as he was
+coming in late from dining at the Fourvilles, and after that she was
+locked into her room every evening to compel her to stay in bed.
+
+The child was to be named Pierre Simon Paul (they were going to call him
+Paul) and at the end of August he was christened, the baron being
+godfather, and Aunt Lison godmother. At the beginning of September Aunt
+Lison went away, and her absence was as unnoticed as her presence had
+been.
+
+One evening, after dinner, the cure called at the chateau. There seemed
+an air of mystery about him, and, after a few commonplace remarks, he
+asked the baron and baroness if he could speak to them in private for a
+few moments. They all three walked slowly down the avenue talking
+eagerly as they went, while Julien, feeling uneasy and irritated at this
+secrecy, was left behind with Jeanne. He offered to accompany the priest
+when he went away, and they walked off towards the church where the
+angelus was ringing. It was a cool, almost cold, evening, and the others
+soon went into the house. They were all beginning to feel a little
+drowsy when the drawing-room door was suddenly thrown open and Julien
+came in looking very vexed. Without stopping to see whether Jeanne was
+there or not, he cried to the baron, as soon as he entered the room:
+
+"Upon my soul you must be mad to go and give twenty thousand francs to
+that girl!"
+
+They were all taken too much by surprise to make any answer, and he went
+on, too angry to speak distinctly: "I can't understand how you can be
+such fools! But there I suppose you will keep on till we haven't a sou
+left!"
+
+The baron, recovering himself, a little, tried to check his son-in-law:
+
+"Be quiet!" he exclaimed. "Don't you see that your wife is in the room?"
+
+"I don't care if she is," answered Julien, stamping his foot. "Besides,
+she ought to know about it. It is depriving her of her rightful
+inheritance."
+
+Jeanne had listened to her husband in amazement, utterly at a loss to
+know what it was all about:
+
+"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.
+
+Then Julien turned to her, expecting her to side with him, as the loss
+of the money would affect her also. He told her in a few words how her
+parents were trying to arrange a marriage for Rosalie, and how the
+maid's child was to have the farm at Barville, which was worth twenty
+thousand francs at the very least. And he kept on repeating:
+
+"Your parents must be mad, my dear, raving mad! Twenty thousand francs!
+Twenty thousand francs! They can't be in their right senses! Twenty
+thousand francs for a bastard!"
+
+Jeanne listened to him quite calmly, astonished herself to find that she
+felt neither anger nor sorrow at his meanness, but she was perfectly
+indifferent now to everything which did not concern her child. The baron
+was choking with anger, and at last he burst out, with a stamp of the
+foot:
+
+"Really, this is too much! Whose fault is it that this girl has to have
+a dowry? You seem to forget who is her child's father; but, no doubt,
+you would abandon her altogether if you had your way!"
+
+Julien gazed at the baron for a few moments in silent surprise. Then he
+went on more quietly:
+
+"But fifteen hundred francs would have been ample to give her. All the
+peasant-girls about here have children before they marry, so what does
+it matter who they have them by? And then, setting aside the injustice
+you will be doing Jeanne and me, you forget that if you give Rosalie a
+farm worth twenty thousand francs everybody will see at once that there
+must be a reason for such a gift. You should think a little of what is
+due to our name and position."
+
+He spoke in a calm, cool way as if he were sure of his logic and the
+strength of his argument. The baron, disconcerted by this fresh view of
+the matter, could find nothing to say in reply, and Julien, feeling his
+advantage, added:
+
+"But fortunately, nothing is settled. I know the man who is going to
+marry her and he is an honest fellow with whom everything can yet be
+satisfactorily arranged. I will see to the matter myself."
+
+With that he went out of the room, wishing to avoid any further
+discussion, and taking the silence with which his words were received to
+mean acquiescence.
+
+As soon as the door had closed after his son-in-law, the baron
+exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, this is more than I can stand!"
+
+Jeanne, catching sight of her father's horrified expression, burst into
+a clear laugh which rang out as it used to do whenever she had seen
+something very funny:
+
+"Papa, papa!" she cried. "Did you hear the tone in which he said 'twenty
+thousand francs!'"
+
+The baroness, whose smiles lay as near the surface as her tears,
+quivered with laughter as she saw Jeanne's gayety, and thought of her
+son-in-law's furious face, and his indignant exclamations and determined
+attempt to prevent this money, which was not his, being given to the
+girl he had seduced. Finally the baron caught the contagion and they all
+three laughed till they ached as in the happy days of old. When they
+were a little calmer, Jeanne said:
+
+"It is very funny, but really I don't seem to mind in the least what he
+says or does now. I look upon him quite as a stranger, and I can hardly
+believe I am his wife. You see I am able to laugh at his--his want of
+delicacy."
+
+And the parents and child involuntarily kissed each other, with smiles
+on their lips, though the tears were not very far from their eyes.
+
+Two days after this scene, when Julien had gone out for a ride, a tall,
+young fellow of about four or five-and-twenty, dressed in a brand-new
+blue blouse, which hung in stiff folds, climbed stealthily over the
+fence, as if he had been hiding there all the morning, crept along the
+Couillards' ditch, and went round to the other side of the chateau where
+Jeanne and her father and mother were sitting under the plane-tree. He
+took off his cap and awkwardly bowed as he came towards them, and, when
+he was within speaking distance, mumbled:
+
+"Your servant, monsieur le baron, madame and company." Then, as no one
+said anything to him he introduced himself as "Desire Lecoq."
+
+This name failing to explain his presence at the chateau, the baron
+asked:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+The peasant was very disconcerted when he found he had to state his
+business. He hesitated, stammered, cast his eyes from the cap he held in
+his hands to the chateau roof and back again, and at last began:
+
+"M'sieu l'cure has said somethin' to me about this business--" then,
+fearing to say too much and thus injure his own interests, he stopped
+short.
+
+"What business?" asked the baron. "I don't know what you mean."
+
+"About your maid--what's her name--Rosalie," said the man in a low
+voice.
+
+Jeanne, guessing what he had come about, got up and went away with her
+child in her arms.
+
+"Sit down," said the baron, pointing to the chair his daughter had just
+left.
+
+The peasant took the seat with a "Thank you, kindly," and then waited as
+if he had nothing whatever to say. After a few moments, during which no
+one spoke, he thought he had better say something, so he looked up to
+the blue sky and remarked:
+
+"What fine weather for this time of year to be sure. It'll help on the
+crops finely." And then he again relapsed into silence.
+
+The baron began to get impatient.
+
+"Then you are going to marry Rosalie?" he said in a dry tone, going
+straight to the point.
+
+At that all the crafty suspicious nature of the Normandy peasant was on
+the alert.
+
+"That depends," he answered quickly. "Perhaps I am and perhaps I ain't,
+that depends."
+
+All this beating about the bush irritated the baron.
+
+"Can't you give a straightforward answer?" he exclaimed. "Have you come
+to say you will marry the girl or not?"
+
+The man looked at his feet as though he expected to find advice there:
+
+"If it's as M'sieu l'cure says," he replied, "I'll have her; but if it's
+as M'sieu Julien says, I won't."
+
+"What did M. Julien tell you?"
+
+"M'sieu Julien told me as how I should have fifteen hundred francs; but
+M'sieu l'cure told me as how I should 'ave twenty thousand. I'll have
+her for twenty thousand, but I won't for fifteen hundred."
+
+The baroness was tickled by the perplexed look on the yokel's face and
+began to shake with laughter as she sat in her armchair. Her gayety
+surprised the peasant, who looked at her suspiciously out of the corner
+of his eye as he waited for an answer.
+
+The baron cut short all this haggling.
+
+"I have told M. le cure that you shall have the farm at Barville, which
+is worth twenty thousand francs, for life, and then it is to become the
+child's. That is all I have to say on the matter, and I always keep my
+word. Now is your answer yes or no?"
+
+A satisfied smile broke over the man's face, and, with a sudden
+loquacity:
+
+"Oh, then, I don't say no," he replied. "That was the only thing that
+pulled me up. When M'sieu l'cure said somethin' to me about it in the
+first place, I said yes at once, 'specially as it was to oblige M'sieu
+l'baron who'd be sure to pay me back for it, as I says to myself. Ain't
+it always the way, and doesn't one good turn always deserve another? But
+M'sieu Julien comes up and then it was only fifteen 'undred francs. Then
+I says to myself, 'I must find out the rights o' this and so I came
+'ere. In coorse I b'lieved your word, M'sieu l'baron, but I wanted to
+find out the rights o' the case. Short reck'nings make long friends,
+don't they, M'sieu l'baron?"
+
+He would have gone on like this till dinner-time if no one had
+interrupted him, so the baron broke in with:
+
+"When will you marry her?"
+
+The question aroused the peasant's suspicions again directly.
+
+"Couldn't I have it put down in writin' first?" he asked in a halting
+way.
+
+"Why bless my soul, isn't the marriage-contract good enough for you?"
+exclaimed the baron, angered by the man's suspicious nature.
+
+"But until I get that I should like it wrote down on paper," persisted
+the peasant. "Havin' it down on paper never does no harm."
+
+"Give a plain answer, now at once," said the baron, rising to put an end
+to the interview. "If you don't choose to marry the girl, say so. I know
+someone else who would be glad of the chance."
+
+The idea of twenty thousand francs slipping from his hands into someone
+else's, startled the peasant out of his cautiousness, and he at once
+decided to say "yes":
+
+"Agreed, M'sieu l'baron!" he said, holding out his hand as if he were
+concluding the purchase of a cow. "It's done, and there's no going back
+from the bargain."
+
+The baron took his hand and cried to the cook:
+
+"Ludivine! Bring a bottle of wine."
+
+The wine was drunk and then the peasant went away, feeling a great deal
+lighter-hearted than when he had come.
+
+Nothing was said about this visit to Julien. The drawing up of the
+marriage-contract was kept a great secret; then the banns were
+published and Rosalie was married on the Monday morning. At the church a
+neighbor stood behind the bride and bridegroom with a child in her arms
+as an omen of good luck, and everyone thought Desire Lecoq very
+fortunate. "He was born with a caul," said the peasants with a smile.
+
+When Julien heard of the marriage he had a violent quarrel with the
+baron and baroness and they decided to shorten their visit at Les
+Peuples. Jeanne was sorry but she did not grieve as before when her
+parents went away, for now all her hopes and thoughts were centered on
+her son.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IX
+
+Now Jeanne was quite well again she thought she would like to return the
+Fourville's visit, and also to call on the Couteliers. Julien had just
+bought another carriage at a sale, a phaeton. It only needed one horse,
+so they could go out twice a month, now, instead of once, and they used
+it for the first time one bright December morning.
+
+After driving for two hours across the Normandy plains they began to go
+down to a little valley, whose sloping sides were covered with trees,
+while the level ground at the bottom was cultivated. The ploughed fields
+were followed by meadows, the meadows by a fen covered with tall reeds,
+which waved in the wind like yellow ribbons, and then the road took a
+sharp turn and the Chateau de la Vrillette came in sight. It was built
+between a wooded slope on the one side and a large lake on the other,
+the water stretching from the chateau wall to the tall fir-trees which
+covered the opposite acclivity.
+
+The carriage had to pass over an old draw-bridge and under a vast Louis
+XIII. archway before it drew up in front of a handsome building of the
+same period as the archway, with brick frames round the windows and
+slated turrets. Julien pointed out all the different beauties of the
+mansion to Jeanne as if he were thoroughly acquainted with every nook
+and corner of it.
+
+"Isn't it a superb place?" he exclaimed. "Just look at that archway! On
+the other side of the house, which looks on to the lake, there is a
+magnificent flight of steps leading right down to the water. Four boats
+are moored at the bottom of the steps, two for the comte and two for the
+comtesse. The lake ends down there, on the right, where you can see that
+row of poplars, and there the river, which runs to Fecamp, rises. The
+place abounds in wild-fowl, and the comte passes all his time shooting.
+Ah! it is indeed a lordly residence."
+
+The hall door opened and the fair-haired comtesse came to meet her
+visitors with a smile on her face. She wore a trailing dress like a
+chatelaine of the middle ages, and, exactly suited to the place in which
+she lived, she looked like some beautiful Lady of the Lake.
+
+Four out of the eight drawing-room windows looked on to the lake, and
+the water looked dull and dismal, overshadowed as it was by the gloomy
+fir-trees which covered the opposite slope.
+
+The comtesse took both Jeanne's hands in hers as if she had known her
+for ages, placed her in a seat and then drew a low chair beside her for
+herself, while Julien, who had regained all his old refinement during
+the last five months, smiled and chatted in an easy, familiar way. The
+comtesse and he talked about the rides they had had together. She
+laughed a little at his bad horsemanship, and called him "The Tottering
+Knight," and he too laughed, calling her in return "The Amazon Queen."
+
+A gun went off just under the window, and Jeanne gave a little cry. It
+was the comte shooting teal, and his wife called him in. There was the
+splash of oars, the grating of a boat against the stone steps and then
+the comte came in, followed by two dogs of a reddish hue, which lay down
+on the carpet before the door, while the water dripped from their shaggy
+coats.
+
+The comte seemed more at his ease in his own house, and was delighted to
+see the vicomte and Jeanne. He ordered the fire to be made up, and
+Madeira and biscuits to be brought.
+
+"Of course you will dine with us," he exclaimed.
+
+Jeanne refused the invitation, thinking of Paul; and as he pressed her
+to stay and she still persisted in her refusal, Julien made a movement
+of impatience. Then afraid of arousing her husband's quarrelsome temper,
+she consented to stay, though the idea of not seeing Paul till the next
+day was torture to her.
+
+They spent a delightful afternoon. First of all the visitors were taken
+to see the springs which flowed from the foot of a moss-covered rock
+into a crystal basin of water which bubbled as if it were boiling, and
+then they went in a boat among the dry reeds, where paths of water had
+been formed by cutting down the rushes.
+
+The comte rowed (his two dogs sitting each side of him with their noses
+in the air) and each vigorous stroke of the oars lifted the boat half
+out of the water and sent it rapidly on its way. Jeanne let her hand
+trail in the water, enjoying the icy coolness, which seemed to soothe
+her, and Julien and the comtesse, well wrapped up in rugs, sat in
+smiling silence in the stern of the boat, as if they were too happy to
+talk.
+
+The evening drew on, and with it the icy, northerly wind came over the
+withered reeds. The sun had disappeared behind the firs, and it made one
+cold only to look at the crimson sky, covered with tiny, red
+fantastically-shaped clouds.
+
+They all went in to the big drawing-room where an enormous fire was
+blazing. The room seemed to be filled with an atmosphere of warmth and
+comfort, and the comte gayly took up his wife in his strong arms like a
+child, and gave her two hearty kisses on her cheeks.
+
+Jeanne could not help smiling at this good-natured giant to whom his
+moustaches gave the appearance of an ogre. "What wrong impressions of
+people one forms every day," she thought; and, almost involuntarily, she
+glanced at Julien. He was standing in the doorway his eyes fixed on the
+comte and his face very pale. His expression frightened her and, going
+up to him, she asked:
+
+"What is the matter? are you ill?"
+
+"There's nothing the matter with me," he answered, churlishly. "Leave me
+alone. I only feel cold."
+
+Dinner was announced and the comte begged permission for his dogs to
+come into the dining-room. They came and sat one on each side of their
+master, who every minute threw them some scrap of food. The animals
+stretched out their heads, and wagged their tails, quivering with
+pleasure as he drew their long silky ears through his fingers.
+
+After dinner, when Jeanne and Julien began to say good-bye, the comte
+insisted on their staying to see some fishing by torchlight. They and
+the comtesse stood on the steps leading down to the lake, while the
+comte got into his boat with a servant carrying a lighted torch and a
+net. The torch cast strange trembling reflections over the water, its
+dancing glimmers even lighting up the firs beyond the reeds; and
+suddenly, as the boat turned round, an enormous fantastic shadow was
+thrown on the background of the illumined wood. It was the shadow of a
+man, but the head rose above the trees and was lost against the dark
+sky, while the feet seemed to be down in the lake. This huge creature
+raised its arms as if it would grasp the stars; the movement was a rapid
+one, and the spectators on the steps heard a little splash.
+
+The boat tacked a little, and the gigantic shadow seemed to run along
+the wood, which was lighted up as the torch moved with the boat; then it
+was lost in the darkness, then reappeared on the chateau wall, smaller,
+but more distinct; and the loud voice of the comte was heard exclaiming:
+
+"Gilberte, I have caught eight!"
+
+The oars splashed, and the enormous shadow remained standing in the same
+place on the wall, but gradually it became thinner and shorter; the head
+seemed to sink lower and the body to get narrower, and when M. de
+Fourville came up the steps, followed by the servant carrying the torch,
+it was reduced to his exact proportions, and faithfully copied all his
+movements. In the net he had eight big fish which were still quivering.
+
+As Jeanne and Julien were driving home, well wrapped up in cloaks and
+rugs which the Fourvilles had lent them,
+
+"What a good-hearted man that giant is," said Jeanne, almost to herself.
+
+"Yes," answered Julien; "but he makes too much show of his affection,
+sometimes, before people."
+
+A week after their visit to the Fourvilles, they called on the
+Couteliers, who were supposed to be the highest family in the province,
+and whose estate lay near Cany. The new chateau, built in the reign of
+Louis XIV, lay in a magnificent park, entirely surrounded by walls, and
+the ruins of the old chateau could be seen from the higher parts of the
+grounds.
+
+A liveried servant showed the visitors into a large, handsome room. In
+the middle of the floor an enormous Sevres vase stood on a pedestal,
+into which a crystal case had been let containing the king's autograph
+letter, offering this gift to the Marquis Leopold Herve Joseph Germer de
+Varneville, de Rollebosc de Coutelier. Jeanne and Julien were looking at
+this royal present when the marquis and marquise came in, the latter
+wearing her hair powdered.
+
+The marquise thought her rank constrained her to be amiable, and her
+desire to appear condescending made her affected. Her husband was a big
+man, with white hair brushed straight up all over his head, and a
+haughtiness in his voice, in all his movements, in his every attitude
+which plainly showed the esteem in which he held himself. They were
+people who had a strict etiquette for everything, and whose feelings
+seemed always stilted, like their words.
+
+They both talked on without waiting for an answer, smiled with an air of
+indifference, and behaved as if they were accomplishing a duty imposed
+upon them by their superior birth, in receiving the smaller nobles of
+the province with such politeness. Jeanne and Julien tried to make
+themselves agreeable, though they felt ill at ease, and when the time
+came to conclude their visit they hardly knew how to retire, though they
+did not want to stay any longer. However, the marquise, herself, ended
+the visit naturally and simply by stopping short the conversation, like
+a queen ending an audience.
+
+"I don't think we will call on anyone else, unless you want to," said
+Julien, as they were going back. "The Fourvilles are quite as many
+friends as I want."
+
+And Jeanne agreed with him.
+
+Dark, dreary December passed slowly away. Everyone stayed at home like
+the winter before, but Jeanne's thoughts were too full of Paul for her
+ever to feel dull. She would hold him in her arms covering him with
+those passionate kisses which mothers lavish on their children, then
+offering the baby's face to his father:
+
+"Why don't you kiss him?" she would say. "You hardly seem to love him."
+
+Julien would just touch the infant's smooth forehead with his lips,
+holding his body as far away as possible, as if he were afraid of the
+little hands touching him in their aimless movements. Then he would go
+quickly out of the room, almost as though the child disgusted him.
+
+The mayor, the doctor, and the cure came to dinner occasionally, and
+sometimes the Fourvilles, who had become very intimate with Jeanne and
+her husband. The comte seemed to worship Paul. He nursed the child on
+his knees from the time he entered Les Peuples to the time he left,
+sometimes holding him the whole afternoon, and it was marvelous to see
+how delicately and tenderly he touched him with his huge hands. He would
+tickle the child's nose with the ends of his long moustaches, and then
+suddenly cover his face with kisses almost as passionate as Jeanne's. It
+was the great trouble of his life that he had no children.
+
+March was bright, dry, and almost mild. The Comtesse Gilberte again
+proposed that they should all four go for some rides together, and
+Jeanne, a little tired of the long weary evenings and the dull,
+monotonous days, was only too pleased at the idea and agreed to it at
+once. It took her a week to make her riding-habit, and then they
+commenced their rides.
+
+They always rode two and two, the comtesse and Julien leading the way,
+and the comte and Jeanne about a hundred feet behind. The latter couple
+talked easily and quietly as they rode along, for, each attracted by the
+other's straightforward ways and kindly heart, they had become fast
+friends. Julien and the comtesse talked in whispers alternated by noisy
+bursts of laughter, and looked in each other's eyes to read there the
+things their lips did not utter, and often they would break into a
+gallop, as if impelled by a desire to escape alone to some country far
+away.
+
+Sometimes it seemed as if something irritated Gilberte. Her sharp tones
+would be borne on the breeze to the ears of the couple loitering behind,
+and the comte would say to Jeanne, with a smile:
+
+"I don't think my wife got out of bed the right side this morning."
+
+One evening, as they were returning home, the comtesse began to spur her
+mare, and then pull her in with sudden jerks on the rein.
+
+"Take care, or she'll run away with you," said Julien two or three
+times.
+
+"So much the worse for me; it's nothing to do with you," she replied, in
+such cold, hard tones that the clear words rang out over the fields as
+if they were actually floating in the air.
+
+The mare reared, kicked, and foamed at the mouth and the comte cried out
+anxiously:
+
+"Do take care what you are doing, Gilberte!"
+
+Then, in a fit of defiance, for she was in one of those obstinate moods
+that will brook no word of advice, she brought her whip heavily down
+between the animal's ears. The mare reared, beat the air with her fore
+legs for a moment, then, with a tremendous bound, set off over the plain
+at the top of her speed. First she crossed a meadow, then some ploughed
+fields, kicking up the wet heavy soil behind her, and going at such a
+speed that in a few moments the others could hardly distinguish the
+comtesse from her horse.
+
+Julien stood stock still, crying: "Madame! Madame!" The comte gave a
+groan, and, bending down over his powerful steed, galloped after his
+wife. He encouraged his steed with voice and hand, urged it on with whip
+and spur, and it seemed as though he carried the big animal between his
+legs, and raised it from the ground at every leap it took. The horse
+went at an inconceivable speed, keeping a straight line regardless of
+all obstacles; and Jeanne could see the two outlines of the husband and
+wife diminish and fade in the distance, till they vanished altogether,
+like two birds chasing each other till they are lost to sight beyond the
+horizon.
+
+Julien walked his horse up to his wife, murmuring angrily: "She is mad
+to-day." And they both went off after their friends, who were hidden in
+a dip in the plain. In about a quarter of an hour they saw them coming
+back, and soon they came up to them.
+
+The comte, looking red, hot and triumphant, was leading his wife's
+horse. The comtesse was very pale; her features looked drawn and
+contracted, and she leant on her husband's shoulder as if she were going
+to faint. That day Jeanne understood, for the first time, how madly the
+comte loved his wife.
+
+All through the following month the comtesse was merrier than she had
+ever been before. She came to Les Peuples as often as she could, and was
+always laughing and jumping up to kiss Jeanne. She seemed to have found
+some unknown source of happiness, and her husband simply worshiped her
+now, following her about with his eyes and seeking every pretext for
+touching her hand or her dress.
+
+"We are happier now than we have ever been before," he said, one
+evening, to Jeanne. "Gilberte has never been so affectionate as she is
+now; nothing seems to vex her or make her angry. Until lately I was
+never quite sure that she loved me, but now I know she does."
+
+Julien had changed for the better also; he had become gay and
+good-tempered, and their friendship seemed to have brought peace and
+happiness to both families.
+
+The spring was exceptionally warm and forward. The sun cast his warm
+rays upon the budding trees and flowers from early morn until the sweet,
+soft evening. It was one of those favored years when the world seems to
+have grown young again, and nature to delight in bringing everything to
+life once more.
+
+Jeanne felt a vague excitement in the presence of this reawakening of
+the fields and woods. She gave way to a sweet melancholy and spent hours
+languidly dreaming. All the tender incidents of her first hours of love
+came back to her, not that any renewal of affection for her husband
+stirred her heart; _that_ had been completely destroyed; but the soft
+breeze which fanned her cheek and the sweet perfume which filled the air
+seemed to breathe forth a tender sigh of love which made her pulse beat
+quicker. She liked to be alone, and in the warm sunshine, to enjoy these
+vague, peaceful sensations which aroused no thoughts.
+
+One morning she was lying thus half-dormant, when suddenly she saw in
+her mind that sunlit space in the little wood near Etretat where for the
+first time she had felt thrilled by the presence of the man who loved
+her then, where he had for the first time timidly hinted at his hopes,
+and where she had believed that she was going to realize the radiant
+future of her dreams. She thought she should like to make a romantic,
+superstitious pilgrimage to the wood, and she felt as if a visit to that
+sunny spot would in some way alter the course of her life.
+
+Julien had gone out at daybreak, she did not know whither, so she
+ordered the Martins' little white horse, which she sometimes rode, to be
+saddled, and set off.
+
+It was one of those calm days when there is not a leaf nor a blade of
+grass stirring. The wind seemed dead, and everything looked as though
+it would remain motionless until the end of time; even the insects had
+disappeared. A burning, steady heat descended from the sun in a golden
+mist, and Jeanne walked her horse along, enjoying the stillness, and
+every now and then looking up at a tiny white cloud which hung like a
+snowy fleece in the midst of the bright blue sky. She went down into the
+valley leading to the sea, between the two great arches which are called
+the gates of Etretat, and went slowly towards the wood.
+
+The sunlight poured down through the foliage which, as yet, was not very
+thick, and Jeanne wandered along the little paths unable to find the
+spot where she had sat with Julien. She turned into a long alley and, at
+the other end of it, saw two saddle-horses fastened to a tree; she
+recognized them at once; they were Gilberte's and Julien's. Tired of
+being alone and pleased at this unexpected meeting, she trotted quickly
+up to them, and when she reached the two animals, which were waiting
+quietly as if accustomed to stand like this, she called aloud. There was
+no answer.
+
+On the grass, which looked as if someone had rested there, lay a woman's
+glove and two whips. Julien and Gilberte had evidently sat down and then
+gone farther on, leaving the horses tied to the tree. Jeanne wondered
+what they could be doing, and getting off her horse, she leant against
+the trunk of a tree and waited for a quarter of an hour or twenty
+minutes. She stood quite motionless, and two little birds flew down onto
+the grass close by her. One of them hopped round the other, fluttering
+his outstretched wings, and chirping and nodding his little head; all at
+once they coupled. Jeanne watched them, as surprised as if she had
+never known of such a thing before; then she thought: "Oh, of course!
+It is springtime."
+
+Then came another thought--a suspicion. She looked again at the glove,
+the whips and the two horses standing riderless; then she sprang on her
+horse with an intense longing to leave this place. She started back to
+Les Peuples at a gallop. Her brain was busy reasoning, connecting
+different incidents and thinking it all out.
+
+How was it that she had never noticed anything, had never guessed this
+before? How was it that Julien's frequent absence from home, his renewed
+attention to his toilet, his better temper had told her nothing? Now she
+understood Gilberte's nervous irritability, her exaggerated affection
+for herself and the bliss in which she had appeared to be living lately,
+and which had so pleased the comte.
+
+She pulled up her horse for she wanted to think calmly, and the quick
+movement confused her ideas. After the first shock she became almost
+indifferent; she felt neither jealousy nor hatred, only contempt. She
+did not think about Julien at all, for nothing that he could do would
+have astonished her, but the twofold treachery of the comtesse, who had
+deceived her friend as well as her husband, hurt her deeply. So everyone
+was treacherous, and untrue and faithless! Her eyes filled with tears,
+for sometimes it is as bitter to see an illusion destroyed as to witness
+the death of a friend. She resolved to say nothing more about her
+discovery. Her heart would be dead to everyone but Paul and her parents,
+but she would bear a smiling face.
+
+When she reached home she caught up her son in her arms, carried him to
+her room and pressed her lips to his face again and again, and for a
+whole hour she played with and caressed him.
+
+Julien came in to dinner in a very good temper and full of plans for his
+wife's pleasure.
+
+"Won't your father and mother come and stay with us this year?" he said.
+
+Jeanne almost forgave him his infidelity, so grateful was she to him for
+making this proposal. She longed to see the two people she loved best
+after Paul, and she passed the whole evening in writing to them, and
+urging them to come as soon as possible.
+
+They wrote to say they would come on the twentieth of May; it was then
+the seventh, and Jeanne awaited their arrival with intense impatience.
+Besides her natural desire to see her parents, she felt it would be such
+a relief to have near her two honest hearts, two simple-minded beings
+whose life and every action, thought and desire had always been upright
+and pure. She felt she stood alone in her honesty among all this guilt.
+She had learnt to dissimulate her feelings, to meet the comtesse with an
+outstretched hand and a smiling face, but her sense of desolation
+increased with her contempt for her fellow-men.
+
+Every day some village scandal reached her ears which filled her with
+still greater disgust and scorn for human frailty. The Couillards'
+daughter had just had a child and was therefore going to be married. The
+Martins' servant, who was an orphan, a little girl only fifteen years
+old, who lived near, and a widow, a lame, poverty-stricken woman who was
+so horribly dirty that she had been nicknamed La Crotte, were all
+pregnant; and Jeanne was continually hearing of the misconduct of some
+girl, some married woman with a family, or of some rich farmer who had
+been held in general respect.
+
+This warm spring seemed to revive the passions of mankind as it revived
+the plants and the flowers; but to Jeanne, whose senses were dead, and
+whose wounded heart and romantic soul were alone stirred by the warm
+springtide breezes, and who only dreamed of the poetic side of love,
+these bestial desires were revolting and hateful. She was angry with
+Gilberte, not for having robbed her of her husband, but for having
+bespattered herself with this filth. The comtesse was not of the same
+class as the peasants, who could not resist their brutal desires; then
+how could she have fallen into the same abomination?
+
+The very day that her parents were to arrive, Julien increased his
+wife's disgust by telling her laughingly, as though it were something
+quite natural and very funny, that the baker having heard a noise in his
+oven the day before, which was not baking day, had gone to see what it
+was, and instead of finding the stray cat he expected to see, had
+surprised his wife, "who was certainly not putting bread into the oven."
+"The baker closed the mouth of the oven," went on Julien, "and they
+would have been suffocated if the baker's little boy, who had seen his
+mother go into the oven with the blacksmith, had not told the neighbors
+what was going on." He laughed as he added, "That will give a nice
+flavor to the bread. It is just like a tale of La Fontaine's."
+
+For some time after that Jeanne could not touch bread.
+
+When the post-chaise drew up before the door with the baron's smiling
+face looking out of the window, Jeanne felt fonder of her parents and
+more pleased to see them than she had ever been before; but when she saw
+her mother she was overcome with surprise and grief. The baroness looked
+ten years older than when she had left Les Peuples six months before.
+Her huge, flabby cheeks were suffused with blood, her eyes had a glazed
+look, and she could not move a step unless she was supported on either
+side; she drew her breath with so much difficulty that only to hear her
+made everyone around her draw theirs painfully also.
+
+The baron, who had lived with her and seen her every day, had not
+noticed the gradual change in his wife, and if she had complained or
+said her breathing and the heavy feeling about her heart were getting
+worse, he had answered:
+
+"Oh, no, my dear. You have always been like this."
+
+Jeanne went to her own room and cried bitterly when she had taken her
+parents upstairs. Then she went to her father and, throwing herself in
+his arms, said, with her eyes still full of tears:
+
+"Oh, how changed mother is! What is the matter with her? Do tell me what
+is the matter with her?"
+
+"Do you think she is changed?" asked the baron in surprise. "It must be
+your fancy. You know I have been with her all this time, and to me she
+seems just the same as she has always been; she is not any worse."
+
+"Your mother is in a bad way," said Julien to his wife that evening. "I
+don't think she's good for much now."
+
+Jeanne burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, good gracious!" went on Julien irritably. "I don't say that she is
+dangerously ill. You always see so much more than is meant. She is
+changed, that's all; it's only natural she should begin to break up at
+her age."
+
+In a week Jeanne had got accustomed to her mother's altered appearance
+and thought no more about it, thrusting her fears from her, as people
+always do put aside their fears and cares, with an instinctive and
+natural, though selfish dislike of anything unpleasant.
+
+The baroness, unable to walk, only went out for about half an hour every
+day. When she had gone once up and down "her" avenue, she could not move
+another step and asked to sit down on "her" seat. Some days she could
+not walk even to the end of the avenue, and would say:
+
+"Let us stop; my hypertrophy is too much for me to-day."
+
+She never laughed as she used to; things which, the year before, would
+have sent her into fits of laughter, only brought a faint smile to her
+lips now. Her eyesight was still excellent, and she passed her time in
+reading _Corinne_ and Lamartine's _Meditations_ over again, and in going
+through her "Souvenir-drawer." She would empty on her knees the old
+letters, which were so dear to her heart, place the drawer on a chair
+beside her, look slowly over each "relic," and then put it back in its
+place. When she was quite alone she kissed some of the letters as she
+might have kissed the hair of some loved one who was dead.
+
+Jeanne, coming into the room suddenly, sometimes found her in tears.
+
+"What is the matter, mamma, dear?" she would ask.
+
+"My souvenirs have upset me," the baroness would answer, with a
+long-drawn sigh. "They bring to my mind so vividly the happy times which
+are all over now, and make me think of people whom I had almost
+forgotten. I seem to see them, to hear their voices, and it makes me
+sad. You will feel the same, later on."
+
+If the baron came in and found them talking like this, he would say:
+
+"Jeanne, my dear, if you take my advice, you will burn all your
+letters--those from your mother, mine, everyone's. There is nothing more
+painful than to stir up the memories of one's youth when one is old."
+
+But Jeanne, who had inherited her mother's sentimental instincts, though
+she differed from her in nearly everything else, carefully kept all her
+old letters to form a "souvenir-box" for her old age, also.
+
+A few days after his arrival, business called the baron away again. The
+baroness soon began to get better, and Jeanne, forgetting Julien's
+infidelity and Gilberte's treachery, was almost perfectly happy. The
+weather was splendid. Mild, starlit nights followed the soft evenings,
+and dazzling sunrises commenced the glorious days. The fields were
+covered with bright, sweet-smelling flowers, and the vast calm sea
+glittered in the sun from morning till night.
+
+One afternoon Jeanne went into the fields with Paul in her arms. She
+felt an exquisite gladness as she looked now at her son, now at the
+flowery hedgerows, and every minute she pressed her baby closely to her
+and kissed him. The earth exhaled a faint perfume, and, as she walked
+along, she felt as though her happiness were too great for her. Then she
+thought of her child's future. What would he be? Sometimes she hoped he
+would become a great and famous man. Sometimes she felt she would
+rather he remained with her, passing his life in tender devotion to his
+mother and unknown to the world. When she listened to the promptings of
+her mother's heart, she wished him to remain simply her adored son; but
+when she listened to her reason and her pride she hoped he would make a
+name and become something of importance in the world.
+
+She sat down at the edge of a ditch and studied the child's face as if
+she had never really looked at it before. It seemed so strange to think
+that this little baby would grow up, and walk with manly strides, that
+these soft cheeks would become bearded, and the feeble murmur change to
+a deep-toned voice.
+
+Someone called her, and, looking up, she saw Marius running towards her.
+Thinking he had come to announce some visitor, she got up, feeling vexed
+at being disturbed. The boy was running as fast as his legs could carry
+him.
+
+"Madame!" he cried, when he was near enough to be heard. "Madame la
+baronne is very ill."
+
+Jeanne ran quickly towards the house, feeling as if a douche of cold
+water had been poured down her spine. There was quite a little crowd
+standing under the plane tree, which opened to let her through as she
+rushed forward. There, in the midst, lay the baroness on the ground, her
+head supported by two pillows, her face black, her eyes closed, and her
+chest, which for the last twenty years had heaved so tumultuously,
+motionless. The child's nurse was standing there; she took him from his
+mother's arms, and carried him away.
+
+"How did it happen? What made her fall?" asked Jeanne, looking up with
+haggard eyes. "Send for the doctor immediately."
+
+As she turned she saw the cure; he at once offered his services, and,
+turning up his sleeves, began to rub the baroness with Eau de Cologne
+and vinegar; but she showed no signs of returning consciousness.
+
+"She ought to be undressed and put to bed," said the priest; and, with
+his aid, Joseph Couillard, old Simon and Ludivine tried to raise the
+baroness.
+
+As they lifted her, her head fell backwards, and her dress, which they
+were grasping, gave way under the dead weight of her huge body. They
+were obliged to lay her down again, and Jeanne shrieked with horror.
+
+At last an armchair was brought from the drawing-room; the baroness was
+placed in it, carried slowly indoors, then upstairs, and laid on the
+bed. The cook was undressing her as best she could when the Widow Dentu
+came in, as if, like the priest, she had "smelt death," as the servants
+said. Joseph Couillard hurried off for the doctor, and the priest was
+going to fetch the holy oil, when the nurse whispered in his ear:
+
+"You needn't trouble to go, Monsieur le cure. I have seen too much of
+death not to know that she is gone."
+
+Jeanne, in desperation, begged them to tell her what she could do, what
+remedies they had better apply. The cure thought that anyhow he might
+pronounce an absolution, and for two hours they watched beside the
+lifeless, livid body, Jeanne, unable to contain her grief, sobbing aloud
+as she knelt beside the bed. When the door opened to admit the doctor,
+she thought that with him came safety and consolation and hope, and she
+rushed to meet him, trying to tell him, in a voice broken with sobs, all
+the details of the catastrophe.
+
+"She was walking--like she does every day--and she seemed quite well,
+better even--than usual. She had eaten some soup and two eggs for lunch,
+and--quite suddenly, without any warning she fell--and turned black,
+like she is now; she has not moved since, and we have--tried everything
+to restore her to consciousness--everything--"
+
+She stopped abruptly for she saw the nurse making a sign to the doctor
+to intimate that it was all over. Then she refused to understand the
+gesture, and went on anxiously:
+
+"Is it anything serious? Do you think there is any danger?"
+
+He answered at last:
+
+"I very much fear that--that life is extinct. Be brave and try to bear
+up."
+
+For an answer Jeanne opened her arms, and threw herself on her mother's
+body. Julien came in. He made no sign of grief or pity, but stood
+looking simply vexed; he had been taken too much by surprise to at once
+assume an expression of sorrow.
+
+"I expected it," he whispered. "I knew she could not live long."
+
+He drew out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, knelt down and crossed
+himself as he mumbled something, then rose and attempted to raise his
+wife. She was clinging to the corpse, almost lying on it as she
+passionately kissed it; they had to drag her away for she was nearly mad
+with grief, and she was not allowed to go back for an hour.
+
+Then every shadow of hope had vanished, and the room had been arranged
+fittingly for its dead occupant. The day was drawing to a close, and
+Julien and the priest were standing near one of the windows, talking in
+whispers. The Widow Dentu, thoroughly accustomed to death, was already
+comfortably dozing in an armchair. The cure went to meet Jeanne as she
+came into the room, and taking both her hands in his, he exhorted her to
+be brave under this sorrow, and attempted to comfort her with the
+consolation of religion. Then he spoke of her dead mother's good life,
+and offered to pass the night in prayers beside the body.
+
+But Jeanne refused this offer as well as she could for her tears. She
+wanted to be alone, quite alone, with her mother this last night.
+
+"That cannot be," interposed Julien; "we will watch beside her
+together."
+
+She shook her head, unable to speak for some moments; then she said:
+
+"She was my mother, and I want to watch beside her alone."
+
+"Let her do as she wants," whispered the doctor; "the nurse can stay in
+the next room," and Julien and the priest, thinking of their night's
+rest, gave in.
+
+The Abbe Picot knelt down, prayed for a few moments, then rose and went
+out of the room, saying, "She was a saintly woman," in the same tone as
+he always said, "Dominus vobiscum."
+
+"Won't you have some dinner?" asked the vicomte in a perfectly ordinary
+voice.
+
+Jeanne, not thinking he was speaking to her, made no answer.
+
+"You would feel much better if you would eat something," he went on
+again.
+
+"Let someone go for papa, directly," she said as if she had not heard
+what he said; and he went out of the room to dispatch a mounted
+messenger to Rouen.
+
+Jeanne sank into a sort of stupor, as if she were waiting to give way to
+her passion of regret until she should be alone with her mother. The
+room became filled with shadows. The Widow Dentu moved noiselessly
+about, arranging everything for the night, and at last lighted two
+candles which she placed at the head of the bed on a small table covered
+with a white cloth. Jeanne seemed unconscious of everything; she was
+waiting until she should be alone.
+
+When he had dined, Julien came upstairs again and asked for the second
+time:
+
+"Won't you have something to eat?"
+
+His wife shook her head, and he sat down looking more resigned than sad,
+and did not say anything more. They all three sat apart from one
+another; the nurse dropped off to sleep every now and then, snored for a
+little while, then awoke with a start. After some time Julien rose and
+went over to his wife.
+
+"Do you still want to be left alone?" he asked.
+
+She eagerly took his hand in hers: "Oh, yes; do leave me," she answered.
+
+He kissed her on the forehead, whispered, "I shall come and see you
+during the night," then went away with the Widow Dentu, who wheeled her
+armchair into the next room.
+
+Jeanne closed the door and put both windows wide open. A warm breeze,
+laden with the sweet smell of the hay, blew into the room, and on the
+lawn, which had been mown the day before, she could see the heaps of dry
+grass lying in the moonlight. She turned away from the window and went
+back to the bed, for the soft, beautiful night seemed to mock her grief.
+
+Her mother was no longer swollen as she had been when she died; she
+looked simply asleep, only her sleep was more peaceful than it had ever
+been before; the wind made the candles flicker, and the changing shadows
+made the dead face look as though it moved and lived again. As Jeanne
+gazed at it the memories of her early childhood came crowding into her
+mind. She could see again her mother sitting in the convent parlor,
+holding out the bag of cakes she had brought for her little girl; she
+thought of all her little ways, her affectionate words, the way she used
+to move, the wrinkles that came round her eyes when she laughed, the
+deep sigh she always heaved when she sat down, and all her little, daily
+habits, and as she stood gazing at the dead body she kept repeating,
+almost mechanically: "She is dead; she is dead;" until at last she
+realized all the horror of that word.
+
+The woman who was lying there--mamma--little mother--Madame Adelaide,
+was dead! She would never move, never speak, never laugh, never say,
+"Good morning, Jeannette"; never sit opposite her husband at the dinner
+table again. She was dead. She would be enclosed in a coffin, placed
+beneath the ground, and that would be the end; they would never see her
+again. It could not be possible! What! She, her daughter, had now no
+mother! Had she indeed lost for ever this dear face, the first she had
+ever looked upon, the first she had ever loved, this kindly loving
+mother, whose place in her heart could never be filled? And in a few
+hours even this still, unconscious face would have vanished, and then
+there would be nothing left her but a memory. She fell on her knees in
+despair, wringing her hands and pressing her lips to the bed.
+
+"Oh, mother, mother! My darling mother!" she cried, in a broken voice
+which was stifled by the bed-covering.
+
+She felt she was going mad; mad, like the night she had fled into the
+snow. She rushed to the window to breathe the fresh air which had not
+passed over the corpse or the bed on which it lay. The new-mown hay, the
+trees, the waste land and the distant sea lay peacefully sleeping in the
+moonlight, and the tears welled up into Jeanne's eyes as she looked out
+into the clear, calm night. She went back to her seat by the bedside and
+held her mother's dead hand in hers, as if she were lying ill instead of
+dead. Attracted by the lighted candles, a big, winged insect had entered
+through the open window and was flying about the room, dashing against
+the wall at every moment with a faint thud. It disturbed Jeanne, and she
+looked up to see where it was, but she could only see its shadow moving
+over the white ceiling.
+
+Its buzzing suddenly ceased, and then, besides the regular ticking of
+the clock, Jeanne noticed another fainter rustling noise. It was the
+ticking of her mother's watch, which had been forgotten when her dress
+had been taken off and thrown at the foot of the bed, and the idea of
+this little piece of mechanism still moving while her mother lay dead,
+sent a fresh pang of anguish through her heart. She looked at the time.
+It was hardly half-past ten, and as she thought of the long night to
+come, she was seized with a horrible dread.
+
+She began to think of her own life--of Rosalie, of Gilberte--of all her
+illusions which had been, one by one, so cruelly destroyed. Life
+contained nothing but misery and pain, misfortune and death; there was
+nothing true, nothing honest, nothing but what gave rise to suffering
+and tears. Repose and happiness could only be expected in another
+existence, when the soul had been delivered from its early trials. Her
+thoughts turned to the unfathomable mystery of the soul, but, as she
+reasoned about it, her poetic theories were invariably upset by others,
+just as poetic and just as unreal. Where was now her mother's soul, the
+soul which had forsaken this still, cold body? Perhaps it was far away,
+floating in space. But had it entirely vanished like the perfume from a
+withered flower, or was it wandering like some invisible bird freed from
+its cage? Had it returned to God, or was it scattered among the new
+germs of creation? It might be very near; perhaps in this very room,
+hovering around the inanimate body it had left, and at this thought
+Jeanne fancied she felt a breath, as if a spirit had passed by her. Her
+blood ran cold with terror; she did not dare turn round to look behind
+her, and she sat motionless, her heart beating wildly.
+
+At that moment the invisible insect again commenced its buzzing, noisy
+flight, and Jeanne trembled from head to foot at the sound. Then, as she
+recognized the noise, she felt a little reassured, and rose and looked
+around. Her eyes fell on the escritoire with the sphinxes' heads, the
+guardian of the "souvenirs." As she looked at it she thought it would be
+fulfilling a sacred, filial duty, which would please her mother as she
+looked down on her from another world, to read these letters, as she
+might have done a holy book during this last watch.
+
+She knew it was the correspondence of her grandfather and grandmother,
+whom she had never known; and it seemed as if her hands would join
+theirs across her mother's corpse, and so a sacred chain of affection
+would be formed between those who had died so long ago, their daughter
+who had but just joined them, and her child who was still on earth.
+
+She opened the escritoire and took out the letters; they had been
+carefully tied into ten little packets, which were laid side by side in
+the lowest drawer. A refinement of sentimentality prompted her to place
+them all on the bed in the baroness's arms; then she began to read.
+
+They were old-fashioned letters with the perfume of another century
+about them, such as are treasured up in every family. The first
+commenced "My dearie"; another "My little darling"; then came some
+beginning "My pet"--"My beloved daughter," then "My dear child"--"My
+dear Adelaide"--"My dear daughter," the commencements varying as the
+letters had been addressed to the child, the young girl, and, later on,
+to the young wife. They were all full of foolish, loving phrases, and
+news about a thousand insignificant, homely events, which, to a
+stranger, would have seemed too trivial to mention: "Father has an
+influenza; Hortense has burnt her finger; Croquerat, the cat, is dead;
+the fir tree which stood on the right-hand side of the gate has been cut
+down; mother lost her mass book as she was coming home from church, she
+thinks someone must have stolen it," and they talked about people whom
+Jeanne had never known, but whose names were vaguely familiar to her.
+
+She was touched by these simple details which seemed to reveal all her
+mother's life and inmost thoughts to her. She looked at the corpse as it
+lay there, and suddenly she began to read the letters aloud, as though
+to console and gladden the dead heart once more; and a smile of
+happiness seemed to light up the face. As she finished reading them,
+Jeanne threw the letters on the foot of the bed, resolving to place them
+all in her mother's coffin.
+
+She untied another packet. These were in another handwriting, and the
+first ran thus:
+
+     "I cannot live without your kisses. I love you madly."
+
+There was nothing more, not even a signature. Jeanne turned the paper
+over, unable to understand it. It was addressed clearly enough to
+"Madame la baronne Le Perthuis des Vauds."
+
+She opened the next:
+
+     "Come to-night as soon as he has gone out. We shall have at least
+     one hour together. I adore you."
+
+A third:
+
+     "I have passed a night of longing and anguish. I fancied you in my
+     arms, your mouth quivering beneath mine, your eyes looking into my
+     eyes. And then I could have dashed myself from the window, as I
+     thought that, at that very moment, you were sleeping beside him, at
+     the mercy of his caresses."
+
+Jeanne stopped in amazement. What did it all mean? To whom were these
+words of love addressed? She read on, finding in every letter the same
+distracted phrases, the same assignations, the same cautions, and, at
+the end, always the five words: "Above all, burn this letter." At last
+she came to an ordinary note, merely accepting an invitation to dinner;
+it was signed "Paul d'Ennemare." Why, that was the man of whom the baron
+still spoke as "Poor old Paul," and whose wife had been the baroness's
+dearest friend!
+
+Then into Jeanne's mind came a suspicion which at once changed to a
+certainty--he had been her mother's lover! With a sudden gesture of
+loathing, she threw from her all these odious letters, as she would have
+shaken off some venomous reptile, and, running to the window, she wept
+bitterly. All her strength seemed to have left her; she sank on the
+ground, and, hiding her face in the curtains to stifle her moans, she
+sobbed in an agony of despair. She would have crouched there the whole
+night if the sound of someone moving in the next room had not made her
+start to her feet. Perhaps it was her father! And all these letters were
+lying on the bed and on the floor! He had only to come in and open one,
+and he would know all!
+
+She seized all the old, yellow papers--her grandparents' epistles, the
+love letters, those she had not unfolded, those that were still lying in
+the drawer--and threw them all into the fireplace. Then she took one of
+the candles which were burning on the little table, and set fire to this
+heap of paper. A bright flame sprang up at once, lighting up the room,
+the bed and the corpse with a bright, flickering light, and casting on
+the white bed-curtain a dark, trembling shadow of the rigid face and
+huge body.
+
+When there was nothing left but a heap of ashes in the bottom of the
+grate, Jeanne went and sat by the window, as though now she dare not sit
+by the corpse. The tears streamed from her eyes, and, hiding her face
+in her hands, she moaned out in heartbroken tones: "Oh, poor mamma! Poor
+mamma!"
+
+Then a terrible thought came to her: Suppose her mother, by some strange
+chance, was not dead; suppose she was only in a trance-like sleep and
+should suddenly rise and speak! Would not the knowledge of this horrible
+secret lessen her, Jeanne's, love for her mother? Should she be able to
+kiss her with the same respect, and regard her with the same esteem as
+before? No! She knew it would be impossible; and the thought almost
+broke her heart.
+
+The night wore on; the stars were fading, and a cool breeze sprang up.
+The moon was slowly sinking towards the sea over which she was shedding
+her silver light, and the memory of that other night she had passed at
+the window, the night of her return from the convent, came back to
+Jeanne. Ah! how far away was that happy time! How changed everything
+was, and what a different future lay before her from what she had
+pictured then! Over the sky crept a faint, tender tinge of pink, and the
+brilliant dawn seemed strange and unnatural to her, as she wondered how
+such glorious sunrises could illumine a world in which there was no joy
+or happiness.
+
+A slight sound startled her, and looking round she saw Julien.
+
+"Well, are you not very tired?" he said.
+
+"No," she answered, feeling glad that her lonely vigil had come to an
+end.
+
+"Now go and rest," said her husband.
+
+She pressed a long sorrowful kiss on her mother's face; then left the
+room.
+
+That day passed in attending to those melancholy duties that always
+surround a death; the baron came in the evening, and cried a great deal
+over his wife. The next day the funeral took place; Jeanne pressed her
+lips to the clammy forehead for the last time, drew the sheet once more
+over the still face, saw the coffin fastened down, and then went to
+await the people who were to attend the funeral.
+
+Gilberte arrived first, and threw herself into Jeanne's arms, sobbing
+violently. The carriages began to drive up, and voices were heard in the
+hall. The room gradually filled with women with whom Jeanne was not
+acquainted; then the Marquise de Coutelier and the Vicomtesse de
+Briseville arrived, and went up to her and kissed her. She suddenly
+perceived that Aunt Lison was in the room, and she gave her such an
+affectionate embrace, that the old maid was nearly overcome. Julien came
+in dressed in deep mourning; he seemed very busy, and very pleased that
+all these people had come. He whispered some question to his wife about
+the arrangements, and added in a low tone:
+
+"It will be a very grand funeral; all the best families are here."
+
+Then he went away again, bowing to the ladies as he passed down the
+room.
+
+Aunt Lison and the Comtesse Gilberte stayed with Jeanne while the burial
+was taking place. The comtesse repeatedly kissed her, murmuring: "Poor
+darling, poor darling," and when the Comte de Fourville came to take his
+wife home, he wept as if he had lost his own mother.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+X
+
+The next few days were very sad, as they always must be directly after a
+death. The absence of the familiar face from its accustomed place makes
+the house seem empty, and each time the eye falls on anything the dear,
+dead one has had in constant use, a fresh pang of sorrow darts through
+the heart. There is the empty chair, the umbrella still standing in the
+hall, the glass which the maid has not yet washed. In every room there
+is something lying just as it was left for the last time; the scissors,
+an odd glove, the fingered book, the numberless other objects, which,
+insignificant in themselves, become a source of sharp pain because they
+recall so vividly the loved one who has passed away. And the voice rings
+in one's ears till it seems almost a reality, but there is no escape
+from the house haunted by this presence, for others are suffering also,
+and all must stay and suffer with each other.
+
+In addition to her natural grief, Jeanne had to bear the pain of her
+discovery. She was always thinking of it, and the terrible secret
+increased her former sense of desolation tenfold, for now she felt that
+she could never put her trust or confidence in anyone again.
+
+The baron soon went away, thinking to find relief from the grief which
+was deadening all his faculties in change of air and change of scene,
+and the household at Les Peuples resumed its quiet regular life again.
+
+Then Paul fell ill, and Jeanne passed twelve days in an agony of fear,
+unable to sleep and scarcely touching food. The boy got well, but there
+remained the thought that he might die. What should she do if he did?
+What would become of her? Gradually there came a vague longing for
+another child, and soon she could think of nothing else; she had always
+fancied she should like two children, a boy and a girl, and the idea of
+having a daughter haunted her. But since Rosalie had been sent away, she
+had lived quite apart from her husband, and at the present moment it
+seemed utterly impossible to renew their former relations. Julien's
+affections were centered elsewhere; she knew that; and, on her side, the
+mere thought of having to submit to his caresses again, made her shudder
+with disgust.
+
+Still, she would have overcome her repugnance (so tormented was she by
+the desire of another child) if she could have seen any way to bring
+about the intimacy she desired; but she would have died rather than let
+her husband guess what was in her thoughts, and he never seemed to dream
+of approaching her now. Perhaps she would have given up the idea had not
+each night the vision of a daughter playing with Paul under the plane
+tree appeared to her. Sometimes she felt she _must_ get up and join her
+husband in his room; twice, in fact, she did glide to his door, but each
+time she came back, without having turned the handle, her face burning
+with shame.
+
+The baron was away, her mother was dead, and she had no one to whom she
+could confide this delicate secret. She made up her mind, at last, to
+tell the Abbe Picot her difficulty, under the seal of confession. She
+went to him one day and found him in his little garden, reading his
+breviary among the fruit trees. She talked to him for a few minutes
+about one thing and another, then, "Monsieur l'abbe, I want to confess,"
+she said, with a deep blush.
+
+He put on his spectacles to look at her better, for the request
+astonished him. "I don't think you can have any very heavy sins on your
+conscience," he said, with a smile.
+
+"No, but I want to ask your advice on a subject so--so painful to enter
+upon, that I dare not talk about it in an ordinary way," she replied,
+feeling very confused.
+
+He put on his priestly air immediately.
+
+"Very well, my daughter, come to the confessional, and I will hear you
+there."
+
+But she suddenly felt a scruple at talking of such things in the
+quietness of an empty church.
+
+"No, Monsieur le cure--after all--if you will let me--I can tell you
+here what I want to say. See, we will go and sit in your little arbor
+over there."
+
+As they walked slowly over to the arbor she tried to find the words in
+which she could best begin her confidence. They sat down, and she
+commenced, as if she were confessing, "My father," then hesitated, said
+again, "My father," then stopped altogether, too ashamed to continue.
+
+The priest crossed his hands over his stomach and waited for her to go
+on. "Well, my daughter," he said, perceiving her embarrassment, "you
+seem afraid to say what it is; come now, be brave."
+
+"My father, I want to have another child," she said abruptly, like a
+coward throwing himself headlong into the danger he dreads.
+
+The priest, hardly understanding what she meant, made no answer, and she
+tried to explain herself, but, in her confusion, her words became more
+and more difficult to understand.
+
+"I am quite alone in life now; my father and my husband do not agree; my
+mother is dead, and--and--the other day I almost lost my son," she
+whispered with a shudder. "What would have become of me if he had died?"
+
+The priest looked at her in bewilderment. "There, there; come to the
+point," he said.
+
+"I want to have another child," she repeated.
+
+The abbe was used to the coarse pleasantries of the peasants, who did
+not mind what they said before him, and he answered, with a sly smile
+and a knowing shake of the head: "Well, I don't think there need be much
+difficulty about that."
+
+She raised her clear eyes to his and said, hesitatingly:
+
+"But--but--don't you understand that since--since that trouble
+with--the--maid--my husband and I live--quite apart."
+
+These words came as a revelation to the priest, accustomed as he was to
+the promiscuity and easy morals of the peasants. Then he thought he
+could guess what the young wife really wanted, and he looked at her out
+of the corner of his eye, pitying her, and sympathizing with her
+distress.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know exactly what you mean. I can quite understand that you
+should find your--your widowhood hard to bear. You are young, healthy,
+and it is only natural; very natural." He began to smile, his lively
+nature getting the better of him. "Besides, the Church allows these
+feelings, sometimes," he went on, gently tapping Jeanne's hands. "What
+are we told? That carnal desires may be satisfied lawfully in wedlock
+only. Well, you are married, are you not?"
+
+She, in her turn, had not at first understood what his words implied,
+but when his meaning dawned on her, her face became crimson, and her
+eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Oh! Monsieur le cure, what do you mean? What do you think? I assure
+you--I assure--" and she could not continue for her sobs.
+
+Her emotion surprised the abbe, and he tried to console her.
+
+"There, there," he said; "I did not mean to pain you. I was only joking,
+and there's no harm in a joke between honest people. But leave it all in
+my hands, and I will speak to M. Julien."
+
+She did not know what to say. She wished, now, that she could refuse his
+help, for she feared his want of tact would only increase her
+difficulties, but she did not dare say anything.
+
+"Thank you, Monsieur le cure," she stammered; and then hurried away.
+
+The next week was passed by Jeanne in an agony of doubts and fears. Then
+one evening, Julien watched her all through dinner with an amused smile
+on his lips, and evinced towards her a gallantry which was faintly
+tinged with irony. After dinner they walked up and down the baroness's
+avenue, and he whispered in her ear:
+
+"Then we are going to be friends again?"
+
+She made no answer, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground, where there
+was a straight line, hardly so thickly covered with grass as the rest of
+the path. It was the line traced by the baroness's foot, which was
+gradually being effaced, just as her memory was fading, and, as she
+looked at it, Jeanne's heart felt bursting with grief; she seemed so
+lonely, so separated from everybody.
+
+"For my part, I am only too pleased," continued Julien. "I should have
+proposed it before, but I was afraid of displeasing you."
+
+The sun was setting; it was a mild, soft evening, and Jeanne longed to
+rest her head on some loving heart, and there sob out her sorrows. She
+threw herself into Julien's arms, her breast heaving, and the tears
+streaming from her eyes. He looked at her in surprise, thinking this
+outburst was occasioned by the love she still felt for him, and, unable
+to see her face, he dropped a condescending kiss upon her hair. Then
+they went indoors in silence and he followed her to her room.
+
+To him this renewal of their former relations was a duty, though hardly
+an unpleasant one, while she submitted to his embraces as a disgusting,
+painful necessity, and resolved to put an end to them for ever, as soon
+as her object was accomplished. Soon, however, she found that her
+husband's caresses were not like they used to be; they may have been
+more refined, they certainly were not so complete. He treated her like a
+careful lover, instead of being an easy husband.
+
+"Why do you not give yourself up to me as you used to do?" she whispered
+one night, her lips close to his.
+
+"To keep you out of the family way, of course," he answered, with a
+chuckle.
+
+She started.
+
+"Don't you wish for any more children, then?" she asked.
+
+His amazement was so great, that, for a moment, he was silent; then:
+
+"Eh? What do you say?" he exclaimed. "Are you in your right senses?
+Another child? I should think not, indeed! We've already got one too
+many, squalling and costing money, and bothering everybody. Another
+child! No, thank you!"
+
+She clasped him in her arms, pressed her lips to his and murmured:
+
+"Oh! I entreat you, make me a mother once more."
+
+"Don't be so foolish," he replied, angrily. "Pray don't let me hear any
+more of this nonsense."
+
+She said no more, but she resolved to trick him into giving her the
+happiness she desired. She tried to prolong her kisses, and threw her
+arms passionately around him, pressing him to her, and pretending a
+delirium of love she was very far from feeling. She tried every means to
+make him lose control over himself, but she never once succeeded.
+
+Tormented more and more by her desire, driven to extremities, and ready
+to do or dare anything to gain her ends, she went again to the Abbe
+Picot. She found him just finishing lunch, with his face crimson from
+indigestion. He looked up as she came in, and, anxious to hear the
+result of his mediation:
+
+"Well?" he exclaimed.
+
+"My husband does not want any more children," she answered at once
+without any of the hesitation or shame-faced timidity she had shown
+before.
+
+The abbe got very interested, and turned towards her, ready to hear once
+more of those secrets of wedded life, the revelation of which made the
+task of confessing so pleasant to him.
+
+"How is that?" he asked.
+
+In spite of her determination to tell him all, Jeanne hardly knew how to
+explain herself.
+
+"He--he refuses--to make me a mother."
+
+The priest understood at once; it was not the first time he had heard
+of such things, but he asked for all the details, and enjoyed them as a
+hungry man would a feast. When he had heard all, he reflected for a few
+moments, then said in the calm, matter-of-fact tone he might have used
+if he had been speaking of the best way to insure a good harvest.
+
+"My dear child, the only thing you can do is to make your husband
+believe you are pregnant; then he will cease his precautions, and you
+will become so in reality."
+
+Jeanne blushed to the roots of her hair, but, determined to be ready for
+every emergency, she argued:
+
+"But--but suppose he should not believe me?"
+
+The cure knew too well the ins and outs of human nature not to have an
+answer for that.
+
+"Tell everybody you are _enceinte_. When he sees that everyone else
+believes it, he will soon believe it himself. You will be doing no
+wrong," he added, to quiet his conscience for advising this deception;
+"the Church does not permit any connection between man and woman, except
+for the purpose of procreation."
+
+Jeanne followed the priest's artful device, and, a fortnight later, told
+Julien she thought she was _enceinte_. He started up.
+
+"It isn't possible! You can't be!"
+
+She gave him her reasons for thinking so.
+
+"Bah!" he answered. "You wait a little while."
+
+Every morning he asked, "Well?" but she always replied: "No, not yet; I
+am very much mistaken if I am not _enceinte_."
+
+He also began to think so, and his surprise was only equaled by his
+annoyance.
+
+"Well, I can't understand it," was all he could say. "I'll be hanged if
+I know how it can have happened."
+
+At the end of a month she began to tell people the news, but she said
+nothing about it to the Comtesse Gilberte, for she felt an old feeling
+of delicacy in mentioning it to her. At the very first suspicion of his
+wife's pregnancy, Julien had ceased to touch her, then, angrily
+thinking, "Well, at any rate, this brat wasn't wanted," he made up his
+mind to make the best of it, and recommenced his visits to his wife's
+room. Everything happened as the priest had predicted, and Jeanne found
+she would a second time become a mother. Then, in a transport of joy,
+she took a vow of eternal chastity as a token of her rapturous gratitude
+to the distant divinity she adored, and thenceforth closed her door to
+her husband.
+
+She again felt almost happy. She could hardly believe that it was barely
+two months since her mother had died, and that only such a short time
+before she had thought herself inconsolable. Now her wounded heart was
+nearly healed, and her grief had disappeared, while in its place was
+merely a vague melancholy, like the shadow of a great sorrow resting
+over her life. It seemed impossible that any other catastrophe could
+happen now; her children would grow up and surround her old age with
+their affection, and her husband could go his way while she went hers.
+
+Towards the end of September the Abbe Picot came to the chateau, in a
+new cassock which had only one week's stains upon it, to introduce his
+successor, the Abbe Tolbiac. The latter was small, thin, and very young,
+with hollow, black-encircled eyes which betokened the depth and violence
+of his feelings, and a decisive way of speaking as if there could be no
+appeal from his opinion. The Abbe Picot had been appointed _doyen_ of
+Goderville. Jeanne felt very sad at the thought of his departure; he was
+connected, in her thoughts, with all the chief events of her life, for
+he had married her, christened Paul, and buried the baroness. She liked
+him because he was always good-tempered and unaffected, and she could
+not imagine Etouvent without the Abbe Picot's fat figure trotting past
+the farms. He himself did not seem very rejoiced at his advancement.
+
+"I have been here eighteen years, Madame la Comtesse," he said, "and it
+grieves me to go to another place. Oh! this living is not worth much, I
+know, and as for the people--well, the men have no more religion than
+they ought to have, the women are not so moral as they might be, and the
+girls never dream of being married until it is too late for them to wear
+a wreath of orange blossoms; still, I love the place."
+
+The new cure had been fidgeting impatiently during this speech, and his
+face had turned very red.
+
+"I shall soon have all that changed," he said, abruptly, as soon as the
+other priest had finished speaking; and he looked like an angry child in
+his worn but spotless cassock, so thin and small was he.
+
+The Abbe Picot looked at him sideways, as he always did when anything
+amused him.
+
+"Listen, l'abbe," he said. "You will have to chain up your parishioners
+if you want to prevent that sort of thing; and I don't believe even that
+would be any good."
+
+"We shall see," answered the little priest in a cutting tone.
+
+The old cure smiled and slowly took a pinch of snuff.
+
+"Age and experience will alter your views, l'abbe; if they don't you
+will only estrange the few good Churchmen you have. When I see a girl
+come to mass with a waist bigger than it ought to be, I say to
+myself--'Well, she is going to give me another soul to look after;'--and
+I try to marry her. You can't prevent them going wrong, but you can find
+out the father of the child and prevent him forsaking the mother. Marry
+them, l'abbe, marry them, and don't trouble yourself about anything
+else."
+
+"We will not argue on this point, for we should never agree," answered
+the new cure, a little roughly; and the Abbe Picot again began to
+express his regret at leaving the village, and the sea which he could
+see from the vicarage windows, and the little funnel-shaped valleys,
+where he went to read his breviary and where he could see the boats in
+the distance. Then the two priests rose to go, and the Abbe Picot kissed
+Jeanne, who nearly cried when she said good-bye.
+
+A week afterwards, the Abbe Tolbiac called again. He spoke of the
+reforms he was bringing about as if he were a prince taking possession
+of his kingdom. He begged the vicomtesse to communicate on all the days
+appointed by the Church, and to attend mass regularly on Sundays.
+
+"You and I are at the head of the parish," he said, "and we ought to
+rule it, and always set it a good example; but, if we wish to have any
+influence, we must be united. If the Church and the chateau support each
+other, the cottage will fear and obey us."
+
+Jeanne's religion was simply a matter of sentiment; she had merely the
+dreamy faith that a woman never quite loses, and if she performed any
+religious duties at all it was only because she had been so used to
+them at the convent, for the baron's carping philosophy had long ago
+overthrown all her convictions. The Abbe Picot had always been contented
+with the little she did do, and never chid her for not confessing or
+attending mass oftener; but when the Abbe Tolbiac did not see her at
+church on the Sunday, he hastened to the chateau to question and
+reprimand her. She did not wish to quarrel with the cure, so she
+promised to be more attentive to the services, inwardly resolving to go
+regularly only for a few weeks, out of good nature.
+
+Little by little, however, she fell into the habit of frequenting the
+church, and, in a short time, she was entirely under the influence of
+the delicate-looking, strong-willed priest. His zeal and enthusiasm
+appealed to her love of everything pertaining to mysticism, and he
+seemed to make the chord of religious poetry, which she possessed in
+common with every woman, vibrate within her. His austerity, his contempt
+for every luxury and sensuality, his disdain for the things that usually
+occupy the thoughts of men, his love of God, his youthful, intolerant
+inexperience, his scathing words, his inflexible will made Jeanne
+compare him, in her mind, to the early martyrs; and she, who had already
+suffered so much, whose eyes had been so rudely opened to the deceptions
+of life, let herself be completely ruled by the rigid fanaticism of this
+boy who was the minister of Heaven. He led her to the feet of Christ the
+Consoler, teaching her how the holy joys of religion could alleviate all
+her sorrows, and, as she knelt in the confessional she humbled herself
+and felt little and weak before this priest, who looked about fifteen
+years old.
+
+Soon he was detested by the whole country-side. With no pity for his
+own weaknesses, he showed a violent intolerance for those of others. The
+thing above all others that roused his anger and indignation was--love.
+He denounced it from the pulpit in crude, ecclesiastical terms,
+thundering out terrible judgments against concupiscence over the heads
+of his rustic audience; and, as the pictures he portrayed in his fury
+persistently haunted his mind, he trembled with rage and stamped his
+foot in anger. The grown-up girls and the young fellows cast side-long
+glances at each other across the aisle; and the old peasants, who liked
+to joke about such matters, expressed their disapproval of the little
+cure's intolerance as they walked back to their farms after service with
+their wives and sons.
+
+The whole country was in an uproar. The priest's severity and the harsh
+penances he inflicted at confession were rumored about, and, as he
+obstinately refused to grant absolution to the girls whose chastity was
+not immaculate, smiles accompanied the whispers. When, at the holy
+festivals, several of the youths and girls stayed in their seats instead
+of going to communicate with the others, most of the congregation
+laughed outright as they looked at them. He began to watch for lovers
+like a keeper on the look-out for poachers, and on moonlight nights he
+hunted up the couples along the ditches, behind the barns and among the
+long grass on the hill-sides. One night he came upon two who did not
+cease their love-making even before him; they were strolling along a
+ditch filled with stones, with their arms round one another, kissing
+each other as they walked.
+
+"Will you stop that, you vagabonds?" cried the abbe.
+
+"You mind yer own bus'ness, M'sieu l'cure," replied the lad, turning
+round. "This ain't nothin' to do with you."
+
+The abbe picked up some stones and threw them at the couple as he might
+have done at stray dogs, and they both ran off, laughing. The next
+Sunday the priest mentioned them by name before the whole congregation.
+All the young fellows soon ceased to attend mass.
+
+The cure dined at the chateau every Thursday, but he very often went
+there on other days to talk to his _penitente_. Jeanne became as ardent
+and as enthusiastic as he as she discussed the mysteries of a future
+existence, and grew familiar with all the old and complicated arguments
+employed in religious controversy. They would both walk along the
+baroness's avenue talking of Christ and the Apostles, of the Virgin Mary
+and of the Fathers of the Church as if they had really known them.
+Sometimes they stopped their walk to ask each other profound questions,
+and then Jeanne would wander off into sentimental arguments, and the
+cure would reason like a lawyer possessed with the mania of proving the
+possibility of squaring the circle.
+
+Julien treated the new cure with great respect. "That's the sort of a
+priest I like," he was continually saying. "Half-measures don't do for
+him," and he zealously set a good example by frequently confessing and
+communicating. Hardly a day passed now without the vicomte going to the
+Fourvilles, either to shoot with the comte, who could not do without
+him, or to ride with the comtesse regardless of rain and bad weather.
+
+"They are riding-mad," remarked the comte; "but the exercise does my
+wife good."
+
+The baron returned to Les Peuples about the middle of November. He
+seemed a different man, he had aged so much and was so low-spirited; he
+was fonder than ever of his daughter, as if the last few months of
+melancholy solitude had caused in him an imperative need of affection
+and tenderness. Jeanne told him nothing about her new ideas, her
+intimacy with the Abbe Tolbiac, or her religious enthusiasm, but the
+first time he saw the priest, he felt an invincible dislike for him, and
+when his daughter asked him in the evening: "Well, what do you think of
+him?"
+
+"He is like an inquisitor!" he answered. "He seems to me a very
+dangerous man."
+
+When the peasants told him about the young priest's harshness and
+bigotry and the sort of war of persecution he waged against natural laws
+and instincts, his dislike changed to a violent hatred. He, the baron,
+belonged to the school of philosophers who worship nature; to him it
+seemed something touching, when he saw two animals unite, and he was
+always ready to fall on his knees before the sort of pantheistic God he
+worshiped; but he hated the catholic conception of a God, Who has petty
+schemes, and gives way to tyrannical anger and indulges in mean revenge;
+a God, in fact, Who seemed less to him than that boundless omnipotent
+nature, which is at once life, light, earth, thought, plant, rock, man,
+air, animal, planet, god and insect, that nature which produces all
+things in such bountiful profusion, fitting each atom to the place it is
+to occupy in space, be that position close to or far from the suns which
+heat the worlds. Nature contained the germ of everything, and she
+brought forth life and thought, as trees bear flowers and fruit.
+
+To the baron, therefore, reproduction was a great law of Nature, and to
+be respected as the sacred and divine act which accomplished the
+constant, though unexpressed will of this Universal Being; and he at
+once began a campaign against this priest who opposed the laws of
+creation. It grieved Jeanne to the heart, and she prayed to the Lord,
+and implored her father not to run counter to the cure, but the baron
+always answered:
+
+"It is everyone's right and duty to fight against such men, for they are
+not like human creatures. They are not human," he repeated, shaking his
+long white hair. "They understand nothing of life, and their conduct is
+entirely influenced by their harmful dreams, which are contrary to
+Nature." And he pronounced "contrary to Nature" as if he were uttering a
+curse.
+
+The priest had at once recognized in him an enemy, and, as he wished to
+remain master of the chateau and its young mistress, he temporized,
+feeling sure of victory in the end. By chance he had discovered the
+_liaison_ between Julien and Gilberte, and his one idea was to break it
+off by no matter what means. He came to see Jeanne one day towards the
+end of the wet, mild winter, and, after a long talk on the mystery of
+life, he asked her to unite with him in fighting against and destroying
+the wickedness which was in her own family, and so save two souls which
+were in danger. She asked him what he meant.
+
+"The hour has not come for me to reveal all to you," he replied; "but I
+will see you again soon," and with that he abruptly left her.
+
+He came again in a few days, and spoke in vague terms of a disgraceful
+connection between people whose conduct ought to be irreproachable. It
+was the duty, he said, of those who were aware of what was going on, to
+use every means to put an end to it. He used all sorts of lofty
+arguments, and then, taking Jeanne's hand, adjured her to open her eyes,
+to understand and to help him.
+
+This time Jeanne saw what he meant, but terrified at the thought of all
+the trouble that might be brought to her home, which was now so
+peaceful, she pretended not to know to what he was alluding. Then he
+hesitated no longer, but spoke in terms there could be no
+misunderstanding.
+
+"I am going to perform a very painful duty, Madame la comtesse, but I
+cannot leave it undone. The position I hold forbids me to leave you in
+ignorance of the sin you can prevent. Learn that your husband cherishes
+a criminal affection for Madame de Fourville."
+
+Jeanne only bent her head in feeble resignation.
+
+"What do you intend to do?" asked the priest.
+
+"What do you wish me to do, Monsieur l'abbe?" she murmured.
+
+"Throw yourself in the way as an obstacle to this guilty love," he
+answered, violently.
+
+She began to cry, and said in a broken voice:
+
+"But he has deceived me before with a servant; he wouldn't listen to me;
+he doesn't love me now; he ill-treats me if I manifest any desire that
+does not please him, so what can I do?"
+
+The cure did not make any direct answer to this appeal.
+
+"Then you bow before this sin! You submit to it!" he exclaimed. "You
+consent to and tolerate adultery under your own roof! The crime is being
+perpetrated before your eyes, and you refuse to see it! Are you a
+Christian woman? Are you a wife and a mother?"
+
+"What would you have me do?" she sobbed.
+
+"Anything rather than allow this sin to continue," he replied.
+"Anything, I tell you. Leave him. Flee from this house which has been
+defiled."
+
+"But I have no money, Monsieur l'abbe," she replied. "And I am not brave
+now like I used to be. Besides, how can I leave without any proofs of
+what you are saying? I have not the right to do so."
+
+The priest rose to his feet, quivering with indignation.
+
+"You are listening to the dictates of your cowardice, madame. I thought
+you were a different woman, but you are unworthy of God's mercy."
+
+She fell on her knees:
+
+"Oh! Do not abandon me, I implore you. Advise me what to do."
+
+"Open M. de Fourville's eyes," he said, shortly. "It is his duty to end
+this _liaison_."
+
+She was seized with terror at this advice.
+
+"But he would kill them, Monsieur l'abbe! And should I be the one to
+tell him? Oh, not that! Never, never!"
+
+He raised his hand as if to curse her, his whole soul stirred with
+anger.
+
+"Live on in your shame and in your wickedness, for you are more guilty
+than they are. You are the wife who condones her husband's sin! My place
+is no longer here."
+
+He turned to go, trembling all over with wrath. She followed him
+distractedly, ready to give in, and beginning to promise; but he would
+not listen to her and strode rapidly along, furiously shaking his big
+blue umbrella which was nearly as high as himself. He saw Julien
+standing near the gate superintending the pruning of some trees, so he
+turned off to the left to reach the road by way of the Couillards' farm,
+and as he walked he kept saying to Jeanne:
+
+"Leave me, madame. I have nothing further to say to you."
+
+In the middle of the yard, and right in his path, some children were
+standing around the kennel of the dog Mirza, their attention
+concentrated on something which the baron was also carefully considering
+as he stood in their midst with his hands behind his back, looking like
+a schoolmaster.
+
+"Do come and see me again, Monsieur l'abbe," pleaded Jeanne. "If you
+will return in a few days, I shall be able to tell you then what I think
+is the best course to take, and we can talk it over together."
+
+By that time they had almost reached the group of children (which the
+baron had left, to avoid meeting and speaking to his enemy, the priest)
+and the cure went to see what it was that was interesting them so
+deeply. It was the dog whelping; five little pups were already crawling
+round the mother, who gently licked them as she lay on her side before
+the kennel, and just as the cure looked over the children's heads, a
+sixth appeared. When they saw it, all the boys and girls clapped their
+hands, crying:
+
+"There's another! There's another!"
+
+To them it was simply a perfectly pure and natural amusement, and they
+watched these pups being born as they might have watched the apples
+falling from a tree.
+
+The Abbe Tolbiac stood still for a moment in horrified surprise, then,
+giving way to his passion, he raised his umbrella and began to rain down
+blows on the children's heads. The startled urchins ran off as fast as
+they could go, and the abbe found himself left alone with the dog, which
+was painfully trying to rise. Before she could stand up, he knocked her
+back again, and began to hit her with all his strength. The animal
+moaned pitifully as she writhed under these blows from which there was
+no escape (for she was chained up) and at last the priest's umbrella
+broke. Then, unable to beat the dog any longer, he jumped on her, and
+stamped and crushed her under-foot in a perfect frenzy of anger. Another
+pup was born beneath his feet before he dispatched the mother with a
+last furious kick, and then the mangled body lay quivering in the midst
+of the whining pups, which were awkwardly groping for their mother's
+teats. Jeanne had escaped, but the baron returned and, almost as enraged
+as the priest, suddenly seized the abbe by the throat, and giving him a
+blow which knocked his hat off, carried him to the fence and threw him
+out into the road.
+
+When he turned round, M. le Perthuis saw his daughter kneeling in the
+midst of the pups, sobbing as she picked them up and put them in her
+skirt. He strode up to her gesticulating wildly.
+
+"There!" he exclaimed. "What do you think of that surpliced wretch,
+now?"
+
+The noise had brought the farmpeople to the spot, and they all stood
+round, gazing at the remains of the dog.
+
+"Could one have believed that a man would be so cruel as that!" said
+Couillard's wife.
+
+Jeanne picked up the pups, saying she would bring them up by hand; she
+tried to give them some milk, but three out of seven died the next day.
+Then old Simon went all over the neighborhood trying to find a
+foster-mother for the others; he could not get a dog, but he brought
+back a cat, asserting that she would do as well. Three more pups were
+killed, and the seventh was given to the cat, who took to it directly,
+and lay down on her side to suckle it. That it might not exhaust its
+foster-mother the pup was weaned a fortnight later, and Jeanne undertook
+to feed it herself with a feeding-bottle; she had named it Toto, but the
+baron rechristened it, and called it Massacre.
+
+The priest did not go to see Jeanne again. The next Sunday he hurled
+curses and threats against the chateau, denouncing it as a plague-spot
+which ought to be removed, and going on to anathematize the baron (who
+laughed at him) and to make veiled, half-timid allusions to Julien's
+latest amour. The vicomte was very vexed at this, but he did not dare
+say anything for fear of giving rise to a scandal; and the priest
+continued to call down vengeance on their heads, and to foretell the
+downfall of God's enemies in every sermon. At last, Julien wrote a
+decided, though respectful, letter to the archbishop, and the Abbe
+Tolbiac, finding himself threatened with disgrace, ceased his
+denunciations. He began to take long solitary walks; often he was to be
+met striding along the roads with an ardent, excited look on his face.
+Gilberte and Julien were always seeing him when they were out riding,
+sometimes in the distance, on the other side of a common, or on the edge
+of the cliff, sometimes close at hand, reading his breviary in a narrow
+valley they were just about to pass through; they always turned another
+way to avoid passing him. Spring had come, enflaming their hearts with
+fresh desires, and urging them to seek each other's embraces in any
+secluded spot to which their rides might lead them; but the leaves were
+only budding, the grass was still damp from the rains of winter, and
+they could not, as in the height of summer, hide themselves amidst the
+undergrowth of the woods. Lately, they had generally sheltered their
+caresses within a movable shepherd's hut which had been left since
+autumn, on the very top of the Vaucotte hill. It stood all alone on the
+edge of the precipitous descent to the valley, five hundred yards above
+the cliff. There they felt quite secure, for they overlooked the whole
+of the surrounding country, and they fastened their horses to the shafts
+to wait until their masters were satiated with love.
+
+One evening as they were leaving the hut, they saw the Abbe Tolbiac
+sitting on the hill-side, nearly hidden by the rushes.
+
+"We must leave our horses in that ravine, another time," said Julien;
+"in case they should tell our whereabouts," and thenceforth they always
+tied their horses up in a kind of recess in the valley, which was hidden
+by bushes.
+
+Another evening, they were both returning to La Vrillette where the
+comte was expecting Julien to dinner, when they met the cure coming out
+of the chateau. He bowed, without looking them in the face, and stood on
+one side to let them pass. For the moment his visit made them uneasy,
+but their anxiety was soon dispelled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jeanne was sitting by the fire reading, one windy afternoon at the
+beginning of May, when she suddenly saw the Comte de Fourville running
+towards the chateau at such a rate as to make her fear he was the
+bearer of bad news. She hastened downstairs to meet him, and when she
+saw him close, she thought he must have gone mad. He had on his
+shooting-jacket and a big fur cap, that he generally only wore on his
+own grounds, and he was so pale that his red moustaches (which, as a
+rule, hardly showed against his ruddy face) looked the color of flame.
+His eyes were haggard and stared vacantly or rolled from side to side.
+
+"My wife is here, isn't she?" he gasped.
+
+"No," answered Jeanne, too frightened to think of what she was saying;
+"I have not seen her at all to-day."
+
+The comte dropped into a chair, as if his legs had no longer strength to
+support him, and, taking off his cap, he mechanically passed his
+handkerchief several times across his forehead; then he started to his
+feet, and went towards Jeanne with outstretched hands, and mouth opened
+to speak and tell her of his terrible grief. But suddenly he stopped
+short, and fixing his eyes on her, murmured, as if he were delirious:
+"But it is your husband--you also--" and breaking off abruptly, he
+rushed out towards the sea.
+
+Jeanne ran after him, calling him and imploring him to stop. "He knows
+all!" she thought, in terror. "What will he do? Oh, pray heaven he may
+not find them."
+
+He did not listen to her, and evidently knowing whither to direct his
+steps, ran straight on without any hesitation as to the path he should
+take. Already he had leapt across the ditch, and was rapidly striding
+across the reeds towards the cliff. Finding she could not catch him up,
+Jeanne stood on the slope beyond the wood, and watched him as long as
+he was in sight; then, when she could see him no longer, she went
+indoors again, tortured with fear and anxiety.
+
+When he reached the edge of the cliff, the comte turned to the right,
+and again began to run. The sea was very rough, and one after the other
+the heavy clouds came up and poured their contents on the land. A
+whistling moaning wind swept over the grass, laying low the young
+barley, and carrying the great, white seagulls inland like sprays of
+foam. The rain, which came in gusts, beat in the comte's face and
+drenched his cheeks and moustaches, and the tumult of the elements
+seemed to fill his heart as well as his ears. There, straight before him
+in the distance, lay the Vaucotte valley, and between it and him stood a
+solitary shepherd's hut, with two horses tied to the shafts. (What fear
+could there be of anyone seeing them on such a day as this?)
+
+As soon as he caught sight of the animals, the comte threw himself flat
+on the ground, and dragged himself along on his hands and knees, his
+hairy cap and mud-stained clothes making him look like some monstrous
+animal. He crawled to the lonely hut, and, in case its occupants should
+see him through the cracks in the planks he hid himself beneath it. The
+horses had seen him and were pawing the ground. He slowly cut the reins
+by which they were fastened with a knife that he held open in his hand,
+and, as a fresh gust of wind swept by, the two animals cantered off,
+their backs stung by the hail which lashed against the sloping roof of
+the shepherd's cot, and made the frail abode tremble on its wheels.
+
+Then the comte rose to his knees, put his eye to the slit at the bottom
+of the door, and remained perfectly motionless while he watched and
+waited. Some time passed thus, and then he suddenly leapt to his feet,
+covered with mire from head to foot. Furiously he fastened the bolt,
+which secured the shelter on the outside, and seizing the shafts, he
+shook the hut as if he would have broken it to atoms. After a moment he
+began to drag it along--exerting the strength of a bull, and bending
+nearly double in his tremendous effort--and it was towards the almost
+perpendicular slope to the valley that he hurried the cottage and its
+human occupants who were desperately shouting and trying to burst open
+the door, in their ignorance of what had happened.
+
+At the extreme edge of the slope, the comte let go of the hut, and it at
+once begun to run down towards the valley. At first it moved but slowly,
+but, its speed increasing as it went, it moved quicker and quicker,
+until soon it was rushing down the hill at a tremendous rate. Its shafts
+bumped along the ground and it leaped over and dashed against the
+obstacles in its path, as if it had been endowed with life; it bounded
+over the head of an old beggar who was crouching in a ditch, and, as it
+passed, the man heard frightful cries issuing from within it. All at
+once one of the wheels was torn off, and the hut turned over on its
+side. That however, did not stop it, and now it rolled over and over
+like a ball, or like some house uprooted from its foundations and hurled
+from the summit of a mountain. It rolled on and on until it reached the
+edge of the last ravine; there it took a final leap, and after
+describing a curve, fell to the earth, and smashed like an egg-shell.
+
+Directly it had dashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the valley, the
+old beggar, who had seen it falling, began to make his way down through
+the brambles. He did not go straight to the shattered hut, but, like the
+cautious rustic that he was, went to announce the accident at the
+nearest farm-house. The farm people ran to the spot the beggar pointed
+out, and beneath the fragments of the hut, found two bruised and mangled
+corpses. The man's forehead was split open, and his face crushed; the
+woman's jaw was almost separated from her head, and their broken limbs
+were as soft as if there had not been a bone beneath the flesh. Still
+the farmers could recognize them, and they began to make all sorts of
+conjectures as to the cause of the accident.
+
+"What could they have been doin' in the cabin?" said a woman.
+
+The old beggar replied that apparently they had taken refuge from the
+weather, and that the high wind had overturned the hut, and blown it
+down the precipice. He added that he himself was going to take shelter
+in it when he saw the horses fastened to the shafts and concluded that
+the place was already occupied.
+
+"If it hadn't been for that I should have been where they are now," he
+said with an air of self-congratulation.
+
+"Perhaps it would have been all the better if you had been," said some
+one.
+
+"Why would it have been better?" exclaimed the beggar in a great rage.
+"'Cause I'm poor and they're rich? Look at them now!" he said, pointing
+to the two corpses with his hooked stick, as he stood trembling and
+ragged, with the water dripping from him, and his battered hat, his
+matted beard, his long unkempt hair, making him look terribly dirty and
+miserable. "We're all equal when we're dead."
+
+The group had grown bigger, and the peasants stood round with a
+frightened, cowardly look on their faces. After a discussion as to what
+they had better do, it was finally decided to carry the bodies back to
+their homes, in the hope of getting a reward. Two carts were got ready,
+and then a fresh difficulty arose; some thought it would be quite enough
+to place straw at the bottom of the carts, and others thought it would
+look better to put mattresses.
+
+"But the mattresses would be soaked with blood," cried the woman who had
+spoken before. "They'd have to be washed with _eau de javelle_."
+
+"The chateau people'll pay for that," said a jolly-faced farmer. "They
+can't expect to get things for nothing."
+
+That decided the matter, and the two carts set off, one to the right,
+the other to the left, jolting and shaking the remains of these two
+beings who had so often been clasped in each other's arms, but who would
+never meet again.
+
+When the comte had seen the hut set off on its terrible journey, he had
+fled away through the rain and the wind, and had run on and on across
+the country like a madman. He ran for several hours, heedless of which
+way his steps were taking him, and, at nightfall, he found himself at
+his own chateau. The servants were anxiously awaiting his return, and
+hastened to tell him that the two horses had just returned riderless,
+for Julien's had followed the other one.
+
+M. de Fourville staggered back. "Some accident must have happened to my
+wife and the vicomte," he said in broken tones. "Let everyone go and
+look for them."
+
+He started off again, himself, as though he were going to seek them,
+but, as soon as he was out of sight, he hid behind a bush, and watched
+the road along which the woman he still loved so dearly would be brought
+dead or dying, or perhaps maimed and disfigured for life. In a little
+while a cart passed by, bearing a strange load; it drew up before the
+chateau-gates, then passed through them. Yes, he knew it was she; but
+the dread of hearing the horrible truth forced him to stay in his
+hiding-place, and he crouched down like a hare, trembling at the
+faintest rustle.
+
+He waited for an hour--perhaps two--and yet the cart did not come back
+again. He was persuaded that his wife was dying, and the thought of
+seeing her, of meeting her eyes was such a torture to him, that, seized
+with a sudden fear of being discovered and compelled to witness her
+death, he again set off running, and did not stop till he was hidden in
+the midst of a wood. Then he thought that perhaps she needed help and
+that there was no one to take care of her as he could, and he sped back
+in mad haste.
+
+As he was going into the house, he met his gardener.
+
+"Well?" he cried, excitedly.
+
+The man dared not answer the truth.
+
+"Is she dead?" almost yelled M. de Fourville.
+
+"Yes, Monsieur le comte," stammered the servant.
+
+The comte experienced an intense relief at the answer; all his agitation
+left him, and he went quietly and firmly up the steps.
+
+In the meantime, the other cart had arrived at Les Peuples. Jeanne saw
+it in the distance, and guessing that a corpse lay upon the mattress,
+understood at once what had happened; the shock was so great that she
+fell to the ground unconscious. When she came to herself again she found
+her father supporting her head, and bathing her forehead with vinegar.
+
+"Do you know--?" he asked hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes, father," she whispered, trying to rise; but she was in such pain
+that she was forced to sink back again.
+
+That evening she gave birth to a dead child--a girl.
+
+She did not see or hear anything of Julien's funeral, for she was
+delirious when he was buried. In a few days she was conscious of Aunt
+Lison's presence in her room, and, in the midst of the feverish
+nightmares by which she was haunted, she strove to recall when, and
+under what circumstances, the old maid had last left Les Peuples. But
+even in her lucid moments she could not remember, and she could only
+feel sure she had seen her since the baroness's death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+XI
+
+Jeanne was confined to her room for three months and everyone despaired
+of her life, but very, very gradually health and strength returned to
+her. Her father and Aunt Lison had come to live at the chateau, and they
+nursed her day and night. The shock she had sustained had entirely upset
+her nervous system; she started at the least noise, and the slightest
+emotion caused her to go off into long swoons. She had never asked the
+details of Julien's death. Why should she? Did she not already know
+enough? Everyone except herself thought it had been an accident, and
+she never revealed to anyone the terrible secret of her husband's
+adultery, and of the comte's sudden, fearful visit the day of the
+catastrophe.
+
+Her soul was filled with the sweet, tender memories of the few, short
+hours of bliss she owed to her husband, and she always pictured him to
+herself as he had been when they were betrothed, and when she had adored
+him in the only moments of sensual passion of her life. She forgot all
+his faults and harshness; even his infidelity seemed more pardonable now
+that death stood between him and her. She felt a sort of vague gratitude
+to this man who had clasped her in his arms, and she forgave him the
+sorrows he had caused her, and dwelt only on the happy moments they had
+passed together.
+
+As time wore on and month followed month, covering her grief and
+memories with the dust of forgetfulness, Jeanne devoted herself entirely
+to her son. The child became the idol, the one engrossing thought, of
+the three beings over whom he ruled like any despot; there was even a
+sort of jealousy between his three slaves, for Jeanne grudged the hearty
+kisses he gave the baron when the latter rode him on his knees, and Aunt
+Lison, who was neglected by this baby, as she had always been by
+everyone, and was regarded as a servant by this master who could not
+talk yet, would go to her room and cry as she compared the few kisses,
+which she had so much difficulty in obtaining, with the embraces the
+child so freely lavished on his mother and grandfather.
+
+Two peaceful, uneventful years were passed thus in devoted attention to
+the child; then, at the beginning of the third winter, it was arranged
+that they should all go to Rouen until the spring. But they had hardly
+arrived at the damp, old house before Paul had such a severe attack of
+bronchitis, that pleurisy was feared. His distracted mother was
+convinced that no other air but that of Les Peuples agreed with him, and
+they all went back there as soon as he was well.
+
+Then came a series of quiet, monotonous years. Jeanne, her father, and
+Aunt Lison spent all their time with the child, and were continually
+going into raptures over the way he lisped, or with his funny sayings
+and doings. Jeanne lovingly called him "Paulet," and, when he tried to
+repeat the word, he made them all laugh by pronouncing it "Poulet," for
+he could not speak plainly. The nickname "Poulet" clung to him, and
+henceforth he was never called anything else. He grew very quickly, and
+one of the chief amusements of his "three mothers," as the baron called
+them, was to measure his height. On the wainscoting, by the drawing-room
+door, was a series of marks made with a penknife, showing how much the
+boy had grown every month, and these marks, which were called "Poulet's
+ladder," were of great importance in everyone's eyes.
+
+Then there came a very unexpected addition to the important personages
+of the household--the dog Massacre, which Jeanne had neglected since all
+her attention had been centered in her son. Ludivine fed him, and he
+lived quite alone, and always on the chain, in an old barrel in front of
+the stables. Paul noticed him one morning, and at once wanted to go and
+kiss him. The dog made a great fuss over the child, who cried when he
+was taken away, so Massacre was unchained, and henceforth lived in the
+house. He became Paul's inseparable friend and companion; they played
+together, and lay down side by side on the carpet to go to sleep, and
+soon Massacre shared the bed of his playfellow, who would not let the
+dog leave him. Jeanne lamented sometimes over the fleas, and Aunt Lison
+felt angry with the dog for absorbing so much of the child's affection,
+affection for which she longed, and which, it seemed to her, this animal
+had stolen.
+
+At long intervals visits were exchanged with the Brisevilles and the
+Couteliers, but the mayor and the doctor were the only regular visitors
+at the chateau.
+
+The brutal way in which the priest had killed the dog, and the
+suspicions he had instilled into her mind about the time of Julien's and
+Gilberte's horrible death, had roused Jeanne's indignation against the
+God who could have such ministers, and she had entirely ceased to attend
+church. From time to time the abbe inveighed in outspoken terms against
+the chateau, which, he said, was inhabited by the Spirit of Evil, the
+Spirit of Everlasting Rebellion, the Spirit of Errors and of Lies, the
+Spirit of Iniquity, the Spirit of Corruption and Impurity; it was by all
+these names that he alluded to the baron.
+
+The church was deserted, and when the cure happened to walk past any
+fields in which the ploughmen were at work, the men never ceased their
+task to speak to him, or turned to touch their hats. He acquired the
+reputation of being a wizard because he cast out the devil from a woman
+who was possessed, and the peasants believed he knew words to dispel
+charms. He laid his hands on cows that gave thin milk, discovered the
+whereabouts of things which had been lost by means of a mysterious
+incantation, and devoted his narrow mind to the study of all the
+ecclesiastical books in which he could find accounts of the devil's
+apparitions upon earth, or descriptions of his resources and stratagems,
+and the various ways in which he manifested his power and exercised his
+influence.
+
+Believing himself specially called to combat this invisible, harmful
+Power, the priest had learnt all the forms given in religious manuals to
+exorcise the devil. He fancied Satan lurked in every shadow, and the
+phrase _Sieut leo rugiens circuit, quaerens quem devoret_ was continually
+on his lips. People began to be afraid of his strange power; even his
+fellow-clergy (ignorant country priests to whom Beelzebub was an article
+of their faith, and who, perplexed by the minute directions for the
+rites to be observed in case of any manifestations of the Evil One's
+power, at last confounded religion with magic) regarded the Abbe Tolbiac
+as somewhat of a wizard, and respected him as much for the supernatural
+power he was supposed to possess as for the irreproachable austerity of
+his life.
+
+The cure never bowed to Jeanne if he chanced to meet her, and such a
+state of things worried and grieved Aunt Lison, who could not understand
+how anyone could systematically stay away from church. Everyone took it
+for granted that she was religious and confessed and communicated at
+proper intervals, and no one ever tried to find out what her views on
+religion really were. Whenever she was quite alone with Paul, Lison
+talked to him, in whispers, about the good God. The child listened to
+her with a faint degree of interest when she related the miracles which
+had been performed in the old times, and, when she told him he must love
+the good God, very, very dearly, he sometimes asked:
+
+"Where is he, auntie?"
+
+She would point upwards and answer: "Up there, above the sky, Poulet;
+but you must not say anything about it," for she feared the baron would
+be angry if he knew what she was teaching the boy. One day, however,
+Poulet startled her by asserting: "The good God is everywhere except in
+church," and she found he had been talking to his grandfather about what
+she had told him.
+
+Paul was now ten years old; his mother looked forty. He was strong,
+noisy, and boldly climbed the trees, but his education had, so far, been
+very neglected. He disliked lessons, would never settle down to them,
+and, if ever the baron managed to keep him reading a little longer than
+usual, Jeanne would interfere, saying:
+
+"Let him go and play, now. He is so young to be tired with books."
+
+In her eyes he was still an infant, and she hardly noticed that he
+walked, ran, and talked like a man in miniature. She lived in constant
+anxiety lest he should fall down, or get too cold or too hot, or
+overload his stomach, or not eat as much as his growth demanded.
+
+When the boy was twelve years old a great difficulty arose about his
+first communion. Lise went to Jeanne's room one morning, and pointed out
+to her that the child could not be permitted to go any longer without
+religious instruction, and without performing the simplest sacred
+duties. She called every argument to her aid, and gave a thousand
+reasons for the necessity of what she was urging, dwelling chiefly upon
+the danger of scandal. The idea worried Jeanne, and, unable to give a
+decided answer, she replied that Paul could very well go on as he was
+for a little longer. A month after this discussion with Lise, Jeanne
+called on the Vicomtesse de Briseville.
+
+"I suppose it will be Paul's first communion this year," said the
+vicomtesse, in the course of conversation.
+
+"Yes, madame," answered Jeanne, taken unawares.
+
+These few words had the effect of deciding her, and, without saying
+anything about it to her father, she asked Lise to take the child to the
+catechism class. Everything went on smoothly for a month; then Poulet
+came back, one evening, with a sore throat, and the next day he began to
+cough. His frightened mother questioned him as to the cause of his cold
+and he told her that he had not behaved very well in class, so the cure
+had sent him to wait at the door of the church, where there was a
+draught from the porch, until the end of the lesson. After that Jeanne
+kept him at home, and taught him his catechism herself; but the Abbe
+Tolbiac refused to admit him to communion, in spite of all Lison's
+entreaties, alleging, as his reason, that the boy had not been properly
+prepared.
+
+The following year he refused him again, and the baron was so
+exasperated that he said plainly there was no need for Paul to believe
+in such foolery as this absurd symbol of transubstantiation, to become a
+good and honest man. So it was resolved to bring the boy up in the
+Christian faith, but not in the Catholic Church, and that he should
+decide his religion for himself when he reached his majority.
+
+A short time afterwards, Jeanne called on the Brisevilles and received
+no visit in return. Knowing how punctilious they were in all matters of
+etiquette, she felt very much surprised at the omission, until the
+Marquise de Coutelier haughtily told her the reason of this neglect.
+Aware that her husband's rank and wealth made her the queen of the
+Normandy aristocracy, the marquise ruled in queen-like fashion, showing
+herself gracious or severe as occasions demanded. She never hesitated to
+speak as she thought, and reproved, or congratulated, or corrected
+whenever she thought fit. When Jeanne called on her she addressed a few
+icy words to her visitor, then said in a cold tone: "Society divides
+itself naturally into two classes: those who believe in God, and those
+who do not. The former, however lowly they may be, are our friends and
+equals; with the latter we can have nothing to do."
+
+Jeanne felt that she was being attacked, and replied:
+
+"But cannot one believe in God without constantly attending church?"
+
+"No, madame. Believers go to pray to God in his church, as they would go
+to visit their friends at their houses."
+
+"God is everywhere, madame, and not only in the churches," answered
+Jeanne, feeling very hurt. "I believe in his goodness and mercy from the
+bottom of my heart, but when there are certain priests between him and
+me, I can no longer realize his presence."
+
+"The priest is the standard-bearer of the church, madame," said the
+marquise, rising, "and, whoever does not follow that flag is as much our
+enemy as the church's."
+
+Jeanne had risen also. "You believe in the God of a sect, madame," she
+replied, quivering with indignation. "_I_ believe in the God whom every
+upright man reveres," and, with a bow, she left the marquise.
+
+Among themselves the peasants also blamed Jeanne for not sending Poulet
+to his first communion. They themselves did not go to mass, and never
+took the sacrament, or at least, only at Easter when the Church formally
+commanded it; but when it came to the children, that was a different
+matter, and not one of them would have dared to bring a child up outside
+the common faith, for, after all, "Religion is Religion."
+
+Jeanne was quite conscious of the disapproval with which everyone
+regarded her conduct, but such inconsistency only roused her
+indignation, and she scorned the people who could thus quiet their
+consciences so easily, and hide the cowardly fears which lurked at the
+bottom of their hearts under the mask of righteousness.
+
+The baron undertook to direct Paul's studies, and began to instruct him
+in Latin. The boy's mother had but one word to say on the subject,
+"Whatever you do, don't tire him," and, while lessons were going on, she
+would anxiously hang round the door of the school-room, which her father
+had forbidden her to enter, because, at every moment, she interrupted
+his teaching to ask: "You're sure your feet are not cold, Poulet?" or
+"Your head does not ache, does it, Poulet?" or to admonish the master
+with: "Don't make him talk so much, he will have a sore throat."
+
+As soon as lessons were over the boy went into the garden with his
+mother and aunt. They were all three very fond of gardening, and took
+great pleasure and interest in planting and pruning, in watching the
+seeds they had sown come up and blossom, and in cutting flowers for
+nosegays. Paul devoted himself chiefly to raising salad plants. He had
+the entire care of four big beds in the kitchen garden, and there he
+cultivated lettuce, endive, cos-lettuce, mustardcress, and every other
+known kind of salad. He dug, watered, weeded, and planted, and made his
+two mothers work like day laborers, and for hours together they knelt on
+the borders, soiling their hands and dresses as they planted the
+seedlings in the holes they made with their forefingers in the mold.
+
+Poulet was almost fifteen; he had grown wonderfully, and the highest
+mark on the drawing-room wall was over five feet from the ground, but in
+mind he was still an ignorant, foolish child, for he had no opportunity
+of expanding his intellect, confined as he was to the society of these
+two women and the good-tempered old man who was so far behind the times.
+At last one evening the baron said it was time for the boy to go to
+college. Aunt Lison withdrew into a dark corner in horror at the idea,
+and Jeanne began to sob.
+
+"Why does he want to know so much?" she replied. "We will bring him up
+to be a gentleman farmer, to devote himself to the cultivation of his
+property, as so many noblemen do, and he will pass his life happily in
+this house, where we have lived before him and where we shall die. What
+more can he want?"
+
+The baron shook his head.
+
+"What answer will you make if he comes to you a few years hence, and
+says: 'I am nothing, and I know nothing through your selfish love. I
+feel incapable of working or of becoming anyone now, and yet I know I
+was not intended to lead the dull, pleasureless life to which your
+short-sighted affection has condemned me.'"
+
+Jeanne turned to her son with the tears rolling down her cheeks.
+
+"Oh, Poulet, you will never reproach me for having loved you too much,
+will you?"
+
+"No, mamma," promised the boy in surprise.
+
+"You swear you will not?"
+
+"Yes, mamma."
+
+"You want to stay here, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, mamma."
+
+"Jeanne, you have no right to dispose of his life in that way," said the
+baron, sternly. "Such conduct is cowardly--almost criminal. You are
+sacrificing your child to your own personal happiness."
+
+Jeanne hid her face in her hands, while her sobs came in quick
+succession.
+
+"I have been so unhappy--so unhappy," she murmured, through her tears.
+"And now my son has brought peace and rest into my life, you want to
+take him from me. What will become of me--if I am left--all alone now?"
+
+Her father went and sat down by her side. "And am I no one, Jeanne?" he
+asked, taking her in his arms. She threw her arms round his neck, and
+kissed him fondly. Then in a voice still choked with tears and sobs:
+
+"Yes, perhaps you are right papa, dear," she answered; "and I was
+foolish; but I have had so much sorrow. I am quite willing for him to go
+to college now."
+
+Then Poulet, who hardly understood what was going to be done with him,
+began to cry too, and his three mothers kissed and coaxed him and told
+him to be brave. They all went up to bed with heavy hearts, and even the
+baron wept when he was alone in his own room, though he had controlled
+his emotion downstairs. It was resolved to send Paul to the college at
+Havre at the beginning of the next term, and during the summer he was
+more spoilt than ever. His mother moaned as she thought of the
+approaching separation and she got ready as many clothes for the boy as
+if he had been about to start on a ten years' journey.
+
+One October morning, after a sleepless night, the baron, Jeanne, and
+Aunt Lison went away with Poulet in the landau. They had already paid a
+visit to fix upon the bed he was to have in the dormitory and the seat
+he was to occupy in class, and this time Jeanne and Aunt Lison passed
+the whole day in unpacking his things and arranging them in the little
+chest of drawers. As the latter would not contain the quarter of what
+she had brought, Jeanne went to the head master to ask if the boy could
+not have another. The steward was sent for, and he said that so much
+linen and so many clothes were simply in the way, instead of being of
+any use, and that the rules of the house forbade him to allow another
+chest of drawers, so Jeanne made up her mind to hire a room in a little
+hotel close by, and to ask the landlord himself to take Poulet all he
+wanted, directly the child found himself in need of anything.
+
+They all went on the pier for the rest of the afternoon and watched the
+ships entering and leaving the harbor; then, at nightfall, they went to
+a restaurant for dinner. But they were too unhappy to eat, and the
+dishes were placed before them and removed almost untouched as they sat
+looking at each other with tearful eyes. After dinner they walked slowly
+back to the college. Boys of all ages were arriving on every side, some
+accompanied by their parents, others by servants. A great many were
+crying, and the big, dim courtyard was filled with the sound of tears.
+
+When the time came to say good-bye, Jeanne and Poulet clung to each
+other as if they could not part, while Aunt Lison stood, quite
+forgotten, in the background, with her face buried in her handkerchief.
+The baron felt he too was giving way, so he hastened the farewells, and
+took his daughter from the college. The landau was waiting at the door,
+and they drove back to Les Peuples in a silence that was only broken by
+an occasional sob.
+
+Jeanne wept the whole of the following day, and the next she ordered the
+phaeton and drove over to Havre. Poulet seemed to have got over the
+separation already; It was the first time he had ever had any companions
+of his own age, and, as he sat beside his mother, he fidgeted on his
+chair and longed to run out and play. Every other day Jeanne went to see
+him, and on Sundays took him out. She felt as though she had not energy
+enough to leave the college between the recreation hours, so she waited
+in the _parloir_ while the classes were going on until Poulet could come
+to her again. At last the head master asked her to go up and see him,
+and begged her not to come so often. She did not take any notice of his
+request, and he warned her that if she still persisted in preventing her
+son from enjoying his play hours, and in interrupting his work, he would
+be obliged to dismiss him from the college. He also sent a note to the
+baron, to the same effect, and thenceforth Jeanne was always kept in
+sight at Les Peuples, like a prisoner. She lived in a constant state of
+nervous anxiety, and looked forward to the holidays with more impatience
+than her son. She began to take long walks about the country, with
+Massacre as her only companion, and would stay out of doors all day
+long, dreamily musing. Sometimes she sat on the cliff the whole
+afternoon watching the sea; sometimes she walked, across the wood, to
+Yport, thinking, as she went, of how she had walked there when she was
+young, and of the long, long years which had elapsed since she had
+bounded along these very paths, a hopeful, happy girl.
+
+Every time she saw her son, it seemed to Jeanne as if ten years had
+passed since she had seen him last; for every month he became more of a
+man, and every month she became more aged. Her father looked like her
+brother, and Aunt Lison (who had been quite faded when she was
+twenty-five, and had never seemed to get older since) might have been
+taken for her elder sister.
+
+Poulet did not study very hard; he spent two years in the fourth form,
+managed to get through the third in one twelvemonth, then spent two more
+in the second, and was nearly twenty when he reached the rhetoric class.
+He had grown into a tall, fair youth, with whiskered cheeks and a
+budding moustache. He came over to Les Peuples every Sunday now, instead
+of his mother going to see him; and as he had been taking riding lessons
+for some time past, he hired a horse and accomplished the journey from
+Havre in two hours.
+
+Every Sunday Jeanne started out early in the morning to go and meet him
+on the road, and with her went Aunt Lison and the baron, who was
+beginning to stoop, and who walked like a little old man, with his hands
+clasped behind his back as if to prevent himself from pitching forward
+on his face. The three walked slowly along, sometimes sitting down by
+the wayside to rest, and all the while straining their eyes to catch the
+first glimpse of the rider. As soon as he appeared, looking like a black
+speck on the white road, they waved their handkerchiefs, and he at once
+put his horse at a gallop, and came up like a whirlwind, frightening
+his mother and Aunt Lison, and making his grandfather exclaim, "Bravo!"
+in the admiration of impotent old age.
+
+Although Paul was a head taller than his mother, she always treated him
+as if he were a child and still asked him, as in former years, "Your
+feet are not cold, are they, Poulet?" If he went out of doors, after
+lunch, to smoke a cigarette, she opened the window to cry: "Oh, don't go
+out without a hat, you will catch cold in your head"; and when, at
+night, he mounted his horse to return, she could hardly contain herself
+for nervousness, and entreated her son not to be reckless.
+
+"Do not ride too quickly, Poulet, dear," she would say. "Think of your
+poor mother, who would go mad if anything happened to you, and be
+careful."
+
+One Saturday morning she received a letter from Paul to say he should
+not come to Les Peuples as usual, the following day, as he had been
+invited to a party some of his college friends had got up. The whole of
+Sunday Jeanne was tortured by a presentiment of evil, and when Thursday
+came, she was unable to bear her suspense any longer, and went over to
+Havre.
+
+Paul seemed changed, though she could hardly tell in what way. He seemed
+more spirited, and his words and tones were more manly.
+
+"By the way, mamma, we are going on another excursion and I sha'n't come
+to Les Peuples next Sunday, as you have come to see me to-day," he said,
+all at once, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
+
+Jeanne felt as much surprised and stunned as if he had told her he was
+going to America; then, when she was again able to speak:
+
+"Oh, Poulet," she exclaimed, "what is the matter with you? Tell me what
+is going on."
+
+He laughed and gave her a kiss.
+
+"Why, nothing at all, mamma. I am only going to enjoy myself with some
+friends, as everyone does at my age."
+
+She made no reply, but when she was alone in the carriage, her head was
+filled with new and strange ideas. She had not recognized her Poulet,
+her little Poulet, as of old; she perceived for the first time that he
+was grown up, that he was no longer hers, that henceforth he was going
+to live his own life, independently of the old people. To her he seemed
+to have changed entirely in a day. What! Was this strong, bearded,
+firm-willed lad her son, her little child who used to make her help him
+plant his lettuces?
+
+Paul only came to Les Peuples at very long intervals for the next three
+months, and even when he was there, it was only too plain that he longed
+to get away again as soon as possible, and that, each evening, he tried
+to leave an hour earlier. Jeanne imagined all sorts of things, while the
+baron tried to console her by saying: "There, let him alone, the boy is
+twenty years old, you know."
+
+One morning, a shabbily dressed old man who spoke with a German accent
+asked for "Matame la vicomtesse." He was shown in, and, after a great
+many ceremonious bows, pulled out a dirty pocketbook, saying:
+
+"I have a leetle paper for you," and then unfolded, and held out a
+greasy scrap of paper.
+
+Jeanne read it over twice, looked at the Jew, read it over again, then
+asked:
+
+"What does it mean?"
+
+"I vill tell you," replied the man obsequiously. "Your son wanted a
+leetle money, and, as I know what a goot mother you are, I lent him
+joost a leetle to go on vith."
+
+Jeanne was trembling. "But why did he not come to me for it?"
+
+The Jew entered into a long explanation about a gambling debt which had
+had to be paid on a certain morning before midday, that no one would
+lend Paul anything as he was not yet of age, and that his "honor would
+have been compromised," if he, the Jew, had not "rendered this little
+service" to the young man. Jeanne wanted to send for the baron, but her
+emotion seemed to have taken all the strength from her limbs, and she
+could not rise from her seat.
+
+"Would you be kind enough to ring?" she said to the money-lender, at
+last.
+
+He feared some trick, and hesitated for a moment.
+
+"If I inconvenience you, I vill call again," he stammered.
+
+She answered him by a shake of the head, and when he had rung they
+waited in silence for the baron. The latter at once understood it all.
+The bill was for fifteen hundred francs. He paid the Jew a thousand,
+saying to him:
+
+"Don't let me see you here again," and the man thanked him, bowed, and
+went away.
+
+Jeanne and the baron at once went over to Havre, but when they arrived
+at the college they learnt that Paul had not been there for a month. The
+principal had received four letters, apparently from Jeanne, the first
+telling him that his pupil was ill, the others to say how he was getting
+on, and each letter was accompanied by a doctor's certificate; of
+course they were all forged. Jeanne and her father looked at each other
+in dismay when they heard this news, and the principal feeling very
+sorry for them took them to a magistrate that the police might be set to
+find the young man.
+
+Jeanne and the baron slept at an hotel that night, and the next day Paul
+was discovered at the house of a fast woman. His mother and grandfather
+took him back with them to Les Peuples and the whole of the way not a
+word was exchanged. Jeanne hid her face in her handkerchief and cried,
+and Paul looked out of the window with an air of indifference.
+
+Before the end of the week they found out that, during the last three
+months, Paul had contracted debts to the amount of fifteen thousand
+francs, but the creditors had not gone to his relations about the money,
+because they knew the boy would soon be of age. Poulet was asked for no
+explanation and received no reproof, as his relations hoped to reform
+him by kindness. He was pampered and caressed in every way; the choicest
+dishes were prepared for him, and, as it was springtime, a boat was
+hired for him at Yport, in spite of Jeanne's nervousness, that he might
+go sailing whenever he liked; the only thing that was denied him was a
+horse, for fear he should ride to Havre. He became very irritable and
+passionate and lived a perfectly aimless life. The baron grieved over
+his neglected studies, and even Jeanne, much as she dreaded to be parted
+from him again, began to wonder what was to be done with him.
+
+One evening he did not come home. It was found, on inquiry, that he had
+gone out in a boat with two sailors, and his distracted mother hurried
+down to Yport, without stopping even to put anything over her head. On
+the beach she found a few men awaiting the return of the boat, and out
+on the sea was a little swaying light, which was drawing nearer and
+nearer to the shore. The boat came in, but Paul was not on board; he had
+ordered the men to take him to Havre, and had landed there.
+
+The police sought him in vain; he was nowhere to be found, and the woman
+who had hidden him once before had sold all her furniture, paid her
+rent, and disappeared also, without leaving any trace behind her. In
+Paul's room at Les Peuples two letters were found from this creature
+(who seemed madly in love with him) saying that she had obtained the
+necessary money for a journey to England. The three inmates of the
+chateau lived on, gloomy and despairing, through all this mental
+torture. Jeanne's hair, which had been gray before, was now quite white,
+and she sometimes asked herself what she could have done, that Fate
+should so mercilessly pursue her. One day she received the following
+letter from the Abbe Tolbiac:
+
+     "Madame: The hand of God has been laid heavily upon you. You
+     refused to give your son to him, and he has delivered him over to a
+     prostitute; will you not profit by this lesson from heaven? God's
+     mercy is infinite, and perhaps he will pardon you if you throw
+     yourself at his feet. I am his humble servant, and I will open his
+     door to you when you come and knock."
+
+Jeanne sat for a long time with this letter lying open on her knees.
+Perhaps, after all, the priest's words were true; and all her religious
+doubts and uncertainties returned to harass her mind. Was it possible
+that God could be vindictive and jealous like men? But if he was not
+jealous, he would no longer be feared and loved, and, no doubt, it was
+that we might the better know him, that he manifested himself to men, as
+influenced by the same feeling as themselves. Then she felt the fear,
+the cowardly dread, which urges those who hesitate and doubt to seek the
+safety of the Church, and one evening, when it was dark, she stealthily
+ran to the vicarage, and knelt at the foot of the fragile-looking priest
+to solicit absolution. He only promised her a semi-pardon, as God could
+not shower all his favors on a house which sheltered such a man as the
+baron. "Still, you will soon receive a proof of the divine mercy," said
+the priest.
+
+Two days later, Jeanne did indeed receive a letter from her son, and in
+the excess of her grief, she looked upon it as the forerunner of the
+consolation promised by the abbe. The letter ran thus:
+
+     "My Dear Mother: Do not be uneasy about me. I am at London, and in
+     good health, but in great need of money. We have not a sou, and
+     some days we have to go without anything to eat. She who is with
+     me, and whom I love with all my heart, has spent all she had (some
+     five thousand francs) that she might remain with me, and you will,
+     of course, understand that I am bound in honor to discharge my debt
+     to her at the very first opportunity. I shall soon be of age, but
+     it would be very good of you if you would advance me fifteen
+     thousand francs of what I inherit from papa; it would relieve me
+     from great embarrassments.
+
+     "Good-bye, mother dear; I hope soon to see you again, but in the
+     meantime, I send much love to grandfather, Aunt Lison and yourself.
+     Your son,
+
+                                        "Vicomte Paul de Lamare."
+
+Then he had not forgotten her, for he had written to her! She did not
+stop to think that it was simply to ask her for money; he had not any
+and some should be sent him; what did money matter? He had written to
+her!
+
+She ran to show the letter to the baron, the tears streaming from her
+eyes. Aunt Lison was called, and, word by word, they read over this
+letter which spoke of their loved one, and lingered over every sentence.
+Jeanne, transported from the deepest despair to a kind of intoxication
+of joy, began to take Paul's part.
+
+"Now he has written, he will come back," she said. "I am sure he will
+come back."
+
+"Still he left us for this creature," said the baron, who was calm
+enough to reason; "and he must love her better than he does us, since he
+did not hesitate in his choice between her and his home."
+
+The words sent a pang of anguish through Jeanne's heart, and within her
+sprang up the fierce, deadly hatred of a jealous mother against the
+woman who had robbed her of her son. Until then her every thought had
+been, for Paul, and she had hardly realized that this creature was the
+cause of all his errors; but the baron's argument had suddenly brought
+this rival who possessed such fatal influence vividly to her mind, and
+she felt that between this woman and herself there must be a determined,
+bitter warfare. With that thought came another one as terrible--that
+she would rather lose her son than share him with this other; and all
+her joy and delight vanished.
+
+The fifteen thousand francs were sent, and for five months nothing more
+was heard of Paul. At the end of that time a lawyer came to the chateau
+to see about his inheritance. Jeanne and the baron acceded to all his
+demands without any dispute, even giving up the money to which the
+mother had a right for her lifetime, and when he returned to Paris, Paul
+found himself the possessor of a hundred and twenty thousand francs.
+During the next six months only four short letters were received from
+him, giving news of his doings in a few, concise sentences, and ending
+with formal protestations of affection.
+
+"I am not idle," he said. "I have obtained a post in connection with the
+Stock Exchange, and I hope some day to see my dear relations at Les
+Peuples."
+
+He never mentioned his mistress, but his silence was more significant
+than if he had written four pages about her; and, in these icy letters,
+Jeanne could perceive the influence of this unknown woman who was, by
+instinct, the implacable enemy of every mother.
+
+Ponder as they would, the three lonely beings at the chateau could think
+of no means by which they might rescue Paul from his present life. They
+would have gone to Paris, but they knew that would be no good.
+
+"We must let his passion wear itself out," said the baron; "sooner or
+later he will return to us of his own accord." And the mournful days
+dragged on.
+
+Jeanne and Lison got into the habit of going to church together without
+letting the baron know; and a long time passed without any news from
+Paul. Then, one morning they received a desperate letter which
+terrified them.
+
+     "My Dear Mother: I am lost; I shall have no resource left but to
+     blow out my brains if you do not help me. A speculation which held
+     out every hope of success has turned the wrong way, and I owe
+     eighty-five thousand francs. It means dishonor, ruin, the
+     destruction of all my future if I do not pay, and, I say again,
+     rather than survive the disgrace, I will blow my brains out. I
+     should, perhaps, have done so already, had it not been for the
+     brave and hopeful words of a woman, whose name I never mention to
+     you, but who is the good genius of my life.
+
+     "I send you my very best love, dear mother. Goodbye, perhaps for
+     ever.
+
+                                                          "Paul."
+
+Enclosed in the letter was a bundle of business papers giving the
+details of this unfortunate speculation. The baron answered by return
+post that they would help as much as they could. Then he went to Havre
+to get legal advice, mortgaged some property and forwarded the money to
+Paul. The young man wrote back three letters full of hearty thanks, and
+said they might expect him almost immediately. But he did not come, and
+another year passed away.
+
+Jeanne and the baron were on the point of starting for Paris, to find
+him and make one last effort to persuade him to return, when they
+received a few lines saying he was again in London, starting a steamboat
+company which was to trade under the name of "Paul Delamare & Co." "I am
+sure to get a living out of it," he wrote, "and perhaps it will make my
+fortune, At any rate I risk nothing, and you must at once see the
+advantages of the scheme. When I see you again, I shall be well up in
+the world; there is nothing like trade for making money, nowadays."
+
+Three months later, the company went into liquidation, and the manager
+was prosecuted for falsifying the books. When the news reached Les
+Peuples, Jeanne had a hysterical fit which lasted several hours. The
+baron went to Havre, made every inquiry, saw lawyers and attorneys, and
+found that the Delamare Company had failed for two hundred and fifty
+thousand francs. He again mortgaged his property, and borrowed a large
+sum on Les Peuples and the two adjoining farms. One evening he was going
+through some final formalities in a lawyer's office, when he suddenly
+fell to the ground in an apoplectic fit. A mounted messenger was at once
+dispatched to Jeanne, but her father died before she could arrive. The
+shock was so great that it seemed to stun Jeanne and she could not
+realize her loss. The body was taken back to Les Peuples, but the Abbe
+Tolbiac refused to allow it to be interred with any sacred rites, in
+spite of all the entreaties of the two women, so the burial took place
+at night without any ceremony whatever. Then Jeanne fell into a state of
+such utter depression that she took no interest in anything, and seemed
+unable to comprehend the simplest things.
+
+Paul, who was still in hiding in England, heard of his grandfather's
+death through the liquidators of the company, and wrote to say he should
+have come before, but he had only just heard the sad news. He concluded:
+"Now you have rescued me from my difficulties, mother dear, I shall
+return to France, and shall at once, come to see you."
+
+Towards the end of that winter Aunt Lison, who was now sixty-eight, had
+a severe attack of bronchitis. It turned to inflammation of the lungs,
+and the old maid quietly expired.
+
+"I will ask the good God to take pity on you, my poor little Jeanne,"
+were the last words she uttered.
+
+Jeanne followed her to the grave, saw the earth fall on the coffin, and
+then sank to the ground, longing for death to take her also that she
+might cease to think and to suffer. As she fell a big, strong peasant
+woman caught her in her arms and carried her away as if she had been a
+child; she took her back to the chateau, and Jeanne let herself be put
+to bed by this stranger, who handled her so tenderly and firmly, and at
+once fell asleep, for she had spent the last five nights watching beside
+the old maid, and she was thoroughly exhausted by sorrow and fatigue. It
+was the middle of the night when she again opened her eyes. A night-lamp
+was burning on the mantelpiece, and, in the armchair, lay a woman
+asleep. Jeanne did not know who it was, and, leaning over the side of
+the bed, she tried to make out her features by the glimmering light of
+the night-lamp. She fancied she had seen this face before, but she could
+not remember when or where.
+
+The woman was quietly sleeping, her head drooping on one shoulder, her
+cap lying on the ground and her big hands hanging on each side of the
+armchair. She was a strong, square-built peasant of about forty or
+forty-five, with a red face and hair that was turning gray. Jeanne was
+sure she had seen her before, but she had not the least idea whether it
+was a long time ago or quite recently, and it worried her to find she
+could not remember. She softly got out of bed, and went on tiptoe to see
+the sleeping woman nearer. She recognized her as the peasant who had
+caught her in her arms in the cemetery, and had afterwards put her to
+bed; but surely she had known her in former times, under other
+circumstances. And yet perhaps the face was only familiar to her because
+she had seen it that day in the cemetery. Still how was it that the
+woman was sleeping here?
+
+Just then the stranger opened her eyes and saw Jeanne standing beside
+her. She started up, and they stood face to face, so close together that
+they touched each other.
+
+"How is it that you're out of bed?" said the peasant; "you'll make
+yourself ill, getting up at this time of night. Go back to bed again."
+
+"Who are you?" asked Jeanne.
+
+The woman made no answer, but picked Jeanne up and carried her back to
+bed as easily as if she had been a baby. She gently laid her down, and,
+as she bent over her, she suddenly began to cover her cheeks, her hair,
+her eyes with violent kisses, while the tears streamed from her eyes.
+
+"My poor mistress! Mam'zelle Jeanne, my poor mistress! Don't you know
+me?" she sobbed.
+
+"Rosalie, my lass!" cried Jeanne, throwing her arms round the woman's
+neck and kissing her; and, clasped in each other's arms they mingled
+their tears and sobs together.
+
+Rosalie dried her eyes the first. "Come now," she said, "you must be
+good and not catch cold."
+
+She picked up the clothes, tucked up the bed and put the pillow back
+under the head of her former mistress, who lay choking with emotion as
+the memories of days that were past and gone rushed back to her mind.
+
+"How is it you have come back, my poor girl?" she asked.
+
+"Do you think I was going to leave you to live all alone now?" answered
+Rosalie.
+
+"Light a candle and let me look at you," went on Jeanne.
+
+Rosalie placed a light on the table by the bedside, and for a long time
+they gazed at each other in silence.
+
+"I should never have known you again," murmured Jeanne, holding out her
+hand to her old servant. "You have altered very much, though not so much
+as I have."
+
+"Yes, you have changed, Madame Jeanne, and more than you ought to have
+done," answered Rosalie, as she looked at this thin, faded, white-haired
+woman, whom she had left young and beautiful; "but you must remember
+it's twenty-four years since we have seen one another."
+
+"Well, have you been happy?" asked Jeanne after a long pause.
+
+"Oh, yes--yes, madame. I haven't had much to grumble at; I've been
+happier than you--that's certain. The only thing that I've always
+regretted is that I didn't stop here--" She broke off abruptly, finding
+she had unthinkingly touched upon the very subject she wished to avoid.
+
+"Well, you know, Rosalie, one cannot have everything one wants," replied
+Jeanne gently; "and now you too are a widow, are you not?" Then her
+voice trembled, as she went on, "Have you any--any other children?"
+
+"No, madame."
+
+"And what is your--your son? Are you satisfied with him?"
+
+"Yes, madame; he's a good lad, and a hard-working one. He married about
+six months ago, and he is going to have the farm now I have come back to
+you."
+
+"Then you will not leave me again?" murmured Jeanne.
+
+"No fear, madame," answered Rosalie in a rough tone. "I've arranged all
+about that."
+
+And for some time nothing more was said.
+
+Jeanne could not help comparing Rosalie's life with her own, but she had
+become quite resigned to the cruelty and injustice of Fate, and she felt
+no bitterness as she thought of the difference between her maid's
+peaceful existence and her own.
+
+"Was your husband kind to you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, madame; he was a good, industrious fellow, and managed to put
+by a good deal. He died of consumption."
+
+Jeanne sat up in bed. "Tell me all about your life, and everything that
+has happened to you," she said. "I feel as if it would do me good to
+hear it."
+
+Rosalie drew up a chair, sat down, and began to talk about herself, her
+house, her friends, entering into all the little details in which
+country people delight, laughing sometimes over things which made her
+think of the happy times that were over, and gradually raising her voice
+as she went on, like a woman accustomed to command, she wound up by
+saying:
+
+"Oh, I'm well off now; I needn't be afraid of anything. But I owe it
+all to you," she added in a lower, faltering voice; "and now I've come
+back I'm not going to take any wages. No! I won't! So, if you don't
+choose to have me on those terms, I shall go away again."
+
+"But you do not mean to serve me for nothing?" said Jeanne.
+
+"Yes, I do, madame. Money! You give me money! Why, I've almost as much
+as you have yourself. Do you know how much you will have after all these
+loans and mortgages have been cleared off, and you have paid all the
+interest you have let run on and increase? You don't know, do you? Well,
+then, let me tell you that you haven't ten thousand livres a year; not
+ten thousand. But I'm going to put everything straight, and pretty soon,
+too."
+
+She had again raised her voice, for the thought of the ruin which hung
+over the house, and the way in which the interest money had been
+neglected and allowed to accumulate roused her anger and indignation. A
+faint, sad smile which passed over her mistress's face angered her still
+more, and she cried:
+
+"You ought not to laugh at it, madame. People are good for nothing
+without money."
+
+Jeanne took both the servant's hands in hers.
+
+"I have never had any luck," she said slowly, as if she could think of
+nothing else. "Everything has gone the wrong way with me. My whole life
+has been ruined by a cruel Fate."
+
+"You must not talk like that, madame," said Rosalie, shaking her head.
+"You made an unhappy marriage, that's all. But people oughtn't to marry
+before they know anything about their future husbands."
+
+They went on talking about themselves and their past loves like two old
+friends, and when the day dawned they had not yet told all they had to
+say.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+XII
+
+In less than a week Rosalie had everything and everybody in the chateau
+under her control, and even Jeanne yielded a passive obedience to the
+servant, who scolded her or soothed her as if she had been a sick child.
+She was very weak now, and her legs dragged along as the baroness's used
+to do; the maid supported her when she went out and their conversation
+was always about bygone times, of which Jeanne talked with tears in her
+eyes, and Rosalie in the calm quiet way of an impassive peasant.
+
+The old servant returned several times to the question of the interest
+that was owing, and demanded the papers which Jeanne, ignorant of all
+business matters, had hidden away that Rosalie might not know of Paul's
+misdoings. Next Rosalie went over to Fecamp each day for a week to get
+everything explained to her by a lawyer whom she knew; then one evening
+after she had put her mistress to bed she sat down beside her and said
+abruptly:
+
+"Now you're in bed, madame, we will have a little talk."
+
+She told Jeanne exactly how matters stood, and that when every claim had
+been settled she, Jeanne, would have about seven or eight thousand
+francs a year; not a penny more.
+
+"Well, Rosalie," answered Jeanne, "I know I shall not live to be very
+old, and I shall have enough until I die."
+
+"Very likely you will, madame," replied Rosalie, getting angry; "but how
+about M. Paul? Don't you mean to leave him anything?"
+
+Jeanne shuddered. "Pray, don't ever speak to me about him; I cannot bear
+to think of him."
+
+"Yes, but I want to talk to you about him, because you don't look at
+things in the right light, Madame Jeanne. He may be doing all sorts of
+foolish things now, but he won't always behave the same. He'll marry and
+then he'll want money to educate his children and to bring them up
+properly. Now listen to what I am going to say; you must sell Les
+Peuples--"
+
+But Jeanne started up in bed.
+
+"Sell Les Peuples! How can you think of such a thing? No! I will never
+sell the chateau!"
+
+Rosalie was not in the least put out.
+
+"But I say you will, madame, simply because you must."
+
+Then she explained her plans and her calculations. She had already found
+a purchaser for Les Peuples and the two adjoining farms, and when they
+had been sold Jeanne would still have four farms at Saint Leonard,
+which, freed from the mortgages, would bring in about eight thousand
+three hundred francs a year. Out of this income thirteen hundred francs
+would have to go for the keeping up and repairing of the property; two
+thousand would be put by for unforeseen expenses, and Jeanne would have
+five thousand francs to live upon.
+
+"Everything else is gone, so there's an end of it," said Rosalie. "But,
+in future, I shall keep the money and M. Paul sha'n't have another
+penny off you. He'd take your last farthing."
+
+"But if he has not anything to eat?" murmured Jeanne, who was quietly
+weeping.
+
+"He can come to us if he's hungry; there'll always be victuals and a bed
+for him. He'd never have got into trouble if you hadn't given him any
+money the first time he asked for some."
+
+"But he was in debt; he would have been dishonored."
+
+"And don't you think he'll get into debt just the same when you've no
+more money to give him? You have paid his debts up to now, so well and
+good; but you won't pay any more, I can tell you. And now, good-night,
+madame."
+
+And away she went.
+
+The idea of selling Les Peuples and leaving the house where she had
+passed all her life threw Jeanne into a state of extreme agitation, and
+she lay awake the whole night. "I shall never be able to go away from
+here," she said, when Rosalie came into the room next morning.
+
+"You'll have to, all the same, madame," answered the maid with rising
+temper. "The lawyer is coming presently with the man who wants to buy
+the chateau, and, if you don't sell it, you won't have a blade of grass
+to call your own in four years' time."
+
+"Oh, I cannot! I cannot!" moaned Jeanne.
+
+But an hour afterwards came a letter from Paul asking for ten thousand
+francs. What was to be done? Jeanne did not know, and, in her distress,
+she consulted Rosalie, who shrugged her shoulders, and observed:
+
+"What did I tell you, madame? Oh, you'd both of you have been in a nice
+muddle if I hadn't come back."
+
+Then, by her advice, Jeanne wrote back:
+
+     "My Dear Son: I cannot help you any more; you have ruined me, and I
+     am even obliged to sell Les Peuples. But I shall always have a home
+     for you whenever you choose to return to your poor old mother, who
+     has suffered so cruelly through you.
+
+                                                         Jeanne."
+
+The lawyer came with M. Jeoffrin, who was a retired sugar baker, and
+Jeanne herself received them, and invited them to go all over the house
+and grounds. Then a month after this visit, she signed the deed of sale,
+and bought, at the same time, a little villa in the hamlet of
+Batteville, standing on the Montivilliers high-road, near Goderville.
+
+After she had signed the deeds she went out to the baroness's avenue,
+and walked up and down, heart-broken and miserable while she bade
+tearful, despairing farewells to the trees, the worm-eaten bench under
+the plane tree, the wood, the old elm trunk, against which she had leant
+so many times, and the hillock, where she had so often sat, and whence
+she had watched the Comte de Fourville running towards the sea on the
+awful day of Julien's death. She stayed out until the evening, and at
+last Rosalie went to look for her and brought her in. A tall peasant of
+about twenty-five was waiting at the door. He greeted Jeanne in a
+friendly way, as if he had known her a long while:
+
+"Good-day, Madame Jeanne, how are you? Mother told me I was to come and
+help with the moving, and I wanted to know what you meant to take with
+you, so that I could move it a little at a time without it hindering the
+farm work."
+
+He was Rosalie's son--Julien's son and Paul's brother. Jeanne's heart
+almost stood still as she looked at him, and yet she would have liked to
+kiss the young fellow. She gazed at him, trying to find any likeness to
+her husband or her son. He was robust and ruddy-cheeked and had his
+mother's fair hair and blue eyes, but there was something in his face
+which reminded Jeanne of Julien, though she could not discover where the
+resemblance lay.
+
+"I should be very much obliged if you could show me the things now,"
+continued the lad.
+
+But she did not know herself yet what she should be able to take, her
+new house was so small, and she asked him to come again in a week's
+time.
+
+For some time the removal occupied Jeanne's thoughts, and made a change,
+though a sad one, in her dull, hopeless life. She went from room to
+room, seeking the pieces of furniture which were associated in her mind
+with various events in her life, for the furniture among which we live
+becomes, in time, part of our lives--almost of ourselves--and, as it
+gets old, and we look at its faded colors, its frayed coverings, its
+tattered linings, we are reminded of the prominent dates and events of
+our existence by these time-worn objects which have been the mute
+companions of our happy and of our sad moments alike.
+
+As agitated as if the decisions she were making had been of the last
+importance, Jeanne chose, one by one, the things she should take with
+her, often hesitating and altering her mind at every moment, as she
+stood unable to decide the respective merits of two armchairs, or of
+some old escritoire and a still older worktable. She opened and searched
+every drawer, and tried to connect every object with something that had
+happened in bygone days, and when at last she made up her mind and said:
+"Yes, I shall take this," the article she had decided upon was taken
+downstairs and put into the dining-room. She wished to keep the whole of
+her bedroom furniture, the bed, the tapestry, the clock--everything, and
+she also took a few of the drawing-room chairs, choosing those with the
+designs she had always liked ever since she could remember--the fox and
+the stork, the fox and the crow, the ant and the grasshopper, and the
+solitary heron.
+
+One day, as she was wandering all over this house she should so soon
+have to leave, Jeanne went up into the garret. She was amazed when she
+opened the door; there lay articles of furniture of every description,
+some broken, others only soiled, others again stored away simply because
+fresh things had been bought and put in their places. She recognized a
+hundred little odds and ends which used to be downstairs and had
+disappeared without her noticing their absence--things of no value which
+she had often used, insignificant little articles, which had stood
+fifteen years beneath her eyes and had never attracted her attention,
+but which now--suddenly discovered in the lumber-room, lying side by
+side with other things older still and which she could quite distinctly
+remember seeing when she first returned from the convent--became as
+precious in her eyes as if they had been valued friends that had been a
+long time absent from her. They appeared to her under a new light, and
+as she looked at them she felt as she might have done if any very
+reserved acquaintances had suddenly begun to talk and to reveal thoughts
+and feelings she had never dreamed they possessed.
+
+As she went from one thing to another, and remembered little incidents
+in connection with them, her heart felt as if it would break. "Why, this
+is the china cup I cracked a few days before I was married, and here is
+mamma's little lantern, and the cane papa broke trying to open the
+wooden gate the rain had swollen."
+
+Besides all these familiar objects there were a great many things she
+had never seen before, which had belonged to her grandparents or her
+great-grandparents. Covered with dust they looked like sad, forsaken
+exiles from another century, their history and adventures for ever lost,
+for there was no one living now who had known those who had chosen,
+bought and treasured them, or who had seen the hands which had so often
+touched them or the eyes which had found such pleasure in looking at
+them. Jeanne touched them, and turned them about, her fingers leaving
+their traces on the thick dust; and she stayed for a long, long time
+amidst these old things, in the garret which was dimly lighted by a
+little skylight.
+
+She tried to find other things with associations to them, and very
+carefully she examined some three-legged chairs, a copper warming-pan, a
+dented foot-warmer (which she thought she remembered) and all the other
+worn-out household utensils. Then she put all the things she thought she
+should like to take away together, and going downstairs, sent Rosalie up
+to fetch them. The latter indignantly refused to bring down "such
+rubbish," but Jeanne, though she hardly ever showed any will of her own,
+now would have her own way this time, and the servant had to obey.
+
+One morning young Denis Lecoq (Julien's son) came, with his cart, to
+take way the first lot of things, and Rosalie went off with him to look
+after the unloading, and to see that the furniture was put into the
+right rooms.
+
+When she was alone Jeanne began to visit every room in the chateau, and
+to kiss in a transport of passionate sorrow and regret everything that
+she was forced to leave behind her--the big white birds in the
+drawing-room tapestry, the old candlesticks, anything and everything
+that came in her way. She went from room to room, half mad with grief,
+and the tears streaming from her eyes, and, when she had gone all over
+the house, she went out to "say good-bye" to the sea. It was the end of
+September, and the dull yellowish waves stretched away as far as the eye
+could reach, under the lowering gray sky which hung over the world. For
+a long, long while, Jeanne stood on the cliff, her thoughts running on
+all her sorrows and troubles, and it was not till night drew on that she
+went indoors. In that day she had gone through as much suffering as she
+had ever passed through in her greatest griefs.
+
+Rosalie had returned enchanted with the new house, "which was much
+livelier than this big barn of a place that was not even on a main
+road," but her mistress wept the whole evening.
+
+Now they knew the chateau was sold the farmers showed Jeanne barely the
+respect that was due to her, and, though they hardly knew why, among
+themselves they always spoke of her as "that lunatic." Perhaps, with
+their brute-like instinct, they perceived her unhealthy and increasing
+sentimentality, her morbid reveries, and the disordered and pitiful
+state of her mind which so much sorrow and affliction had unhinged.
+
+Happening to go through the stables the day before she was to leave Les
+Peuples, Jeanne came upon Massacre, whose existence she had entirely
+forgotten. Long past the age at which dogs generally die, he had become
+blind and paralyzed, and dragged out his life on a bed of straw, whither
+Ludivine, who never forgot him, brought him his food. Jeanne took him up
+in her arms, kissed him and carried him into the house; he could hardly
+creep along, his legs were so stiff, and he barked like a child's wooden
+toy-dog.
+
+At length the last day dawned. Jeanne had passed the night in Julien's
+old room, as all the furniture had been moved out of hers, and when she
+rose she felt as tired and exhausted as if she had just been running a
+long distance.
+
+In the court-yard stood the gig in which Rosalie and her mistress were
+to go, and a cart on which the remainder of the furniture and the trunks
+were already loaded. Ludivine and old Simon were to stay at the chateau
+until its new owner arrived, and then, too old to stay in service any
+longer, they were going to their friends to live on their savings and
+the pensions Jeanne had given them. Marius had married and left the
+chateau long ago.
+
+About eight o'clock a fine, cold rain, which the wind drove in slanting
+lines, began to fall, and the furniture on the cart had to be covered
+over with tarpaulins. Some steaming cups of coffee stood on the
+kitchen-table, and Jeanne sat down and slowly drank hers up; then
+rising:
+
+"Let us go," she said.
+
+She began to put on her hat and shawl, while Rosalie put on her
+goloshes. A great lump rose in her throat, and she whispered:
+
+"Rosalie, do you remember how it rained the day we left Rouen to come
+here?"
+
+She broke off abruptly, pressed her hands to her heart, and fell
+backwards in a sort of fit. For more than an hour she lay as if she were
+dead, then, when she at length recovered consciousness, she went into
+violent hysterics. Gradually she became calmer, but this attack had left
+her so weak that she could not rise to her feet. Rosalie, fearing
+another attack if they did not get her away at once, went for her son,
+and between them, they carried her to the gig, and placed her on the
+leather-covered seat. Rosalie got up beside her, wrapped up her legs,
+threw a thick cloak over her shoulders, then, opening an umbrella over
+her head, cried:
+
+"Make haste, and let's get off, Denis."
+
+The young man climbed up by his mother, sat down with one leg right
+outside the gig, for want of room, and started off his horse at a quick
+jerky trot, which shook the two women from side to side. As they turned
+the corner of the village, they saw someone walking up and down the
+road; it was the Abbe Tolbiac, apparently waiting to see their
+departure. He was holding up his cassock with one hand to keep it out of
+the wet, regardless of showing his thin legs which were encased in black
+stockings, and his huge, muddy boots. When he saw the carriage coming he
+stopped, and stood on one side to let it pass. Jeanne looked down to
+avoid meeting his eyes, while Rosalie, who had heard all about him,
+furiously muttered: "You brute, you brute!" and seizing her son's hand,
+"Give him a cut with the whip!" she exclaimed. The young man did not do
+that, but he urged on his horse and then, just as they were passing the
+Abbe, suddenly let the wheel of the gig drop into a deep rut. There was
+a splash, and, in an instant, the priest was covered with mud from head
+to foot. Rosalie laughed all over her face, and turning round, she shook
+her fist at the abbe as he stood wiping himself down with his big
+handkerchief.
+
+"Oh, we have forgotten Massacre!" suddenly cried Jeanne. Denis pulled
+up, gave Rosalie the reins to hold, and jumped down to run and fetch the
+dog. Then in a few minutes he came back with the big, shapeless animal
+in his arms and placed him in the gig between the two women.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+XIII
+
+After a two hours' drive the gig drew up before a little brick house,
+standing by the high road in the middle of an orchard planted with
+pear-trees. Four lattice-work arbors covered with honeysuckle and
+clematis stood at the four corners of the garden, which was planted with
+vegetables, and laid out in little beds with narrow paths bordered with
+fruit-trees running between them, and both garden and orchard were
+entirely surrounded by a thickset hedge which divided them from a field
+belonging to the next farm. About thirty yards lower down the road was a
+forge, and that was the only dwelling within a mile. All around lay
+fields and plains with farms scattered here and there, half-hidden by
+the four double rows of big trees which surrounded them.
+
+Jeanne wanted to rest as soon as they arrived, but Rosalie, wishing to
+keep her from thinking, would not let her do so. The carpenter from
+Goderville had come to help them put the place in order, and they all
+began to arrange the furniture which was already there without waiting
+for the last cart-load which was coming on. The arrangement of the rooms
+took a long time, for everyone's ideas and opinions had to be consulted,
+and then the cart from Les Peuples arrived, and had to be unloaded in
+the rain. When night fell the house was in a state of utter disorder,
+and all the rooms were full of things piled anyhow one on top of the
+other. Jeanne was tired out and fell asleep as soon as her head touched
+the pillow.
+
+The next few days there was so much to do that she had no time to fret;
+in fact, she even found a certain pleasure in making her new home
+pretty, for all the time she was working she thought that her son would
+one day come and live there. The tapestry from her bedroom at Les
+Peuples was hung in the dining-room, which was also to serve as
+drawing-room, and Jeanne took especial pains over the arrangement of one
+of the rooms on the first floor, which in her own mind she had already
+named "Poulet's room;" she was to have the other one on that floor, and
+Rosalie was to sleep upstairs next to the box-room. The little house
+thus tastefully arranged, looked pretty when it was all finished, and at
+first Jeanne was pleased with it though she was haunted by the feeling
+that there was something missing though she could not tell what.
+
+One morning a clerk came over from the attorney at Fecamp with the three
+thousand six hundred francs, the price at which an upholsterer had
+valued the furniture left at Les Peuples. Jeanne felt a thrill of
+pleasure as she took the money, for she had not expected to get so
+much, and as soon as the man had gone she put on her hat and hurried off
+to Goderville to send Paul this unlooked-for sum as quickly as possible.
+But as she was hastening along the road she met Rosalie coming back from
+market; the maid suspected that something had happened though she did
+not at once guess the truth. She soon found it out, however, for Jeanne
+could not hide anything from her, and placing her basket on the ground
+to give way to her wrath at her ease, she put her hands on her hips and
+scolded Jeanne at the top of her voice; then she took hold of her
+mistress with her right hand and her basket with her left and walked on
+again towards the house in a great passion. As soon as they were indoors
+Rosalie ordered the money to be given into her care, and Jeanne gave it
+her with the exception of the six hundred francs which she said nothing
+about; but this trick was soon detected and Jeanne had to give it all
+up. However, Rosalie consented to these odd hundreds being sent to the
+young man, who in a few days wrote to thank his mother for the money.
+"It was a most welcome present, mother dear," he said, "for we were
+reduced to utter want."
+
+Time went on but Jeanne could not get accustomed to her new home. It
+seemed as if she could not breathe freely at Batteville, and she felt
+more alone and forsaken than ever. She would often walk as far as the
+village of Verneuil and come back through Trois-Mares, but as soon as
+she was home she started up to go out again as if she had forgotten to
+go to the very place to which she had meant to walk. The same thing
+happened time after time and she could not understand where it was she
+longed to go; one evening, however, she unconsciously uttered a sentence
+which at once revealed to her the secret of her restlessness. "Oh! how
+I long to see the ocean," she said as she sat down to dinner.
+
+The sea! That was what she missed. The sea with its salt breezes, its
+never-ceasing roar, its tempests, its strong odors; the sea, near which
+she had lived for five and twenty years, which had always felt near her
+and which, unconsciously, she had come to love like a human being.
+
+Massacre, too, was very uneasy. The very evening of his arrival at the
+new house he had installed himself under the kitchen-dresser and no one
+could get him to move out. There he lay all day long, never stirring,
+except to turn himself over with a smothered grunt, until it was dark;
+then he got up and dragged himself towards the garden door, grazing
+himself against the wall as he went. After he had stayed out of doors a
+few minutes he came in again and sat down before the stove which was
+still warm, and as soon as Jeanne and Rosalie had gone to bed he began
+to howl. The whole night long he howled, in a pitiful, deplorable way,
+sometimes ceasing for an hour only to recommence in a still more doleful
+tone. A barrel was put outside the house and he was tied up to it, but
+he howled just the same out of doors as in, and as he was old and almost
+dying, he was brought back to the kitchen again.
+
+It was impossible for Jeanne to sleep, for the whole night she could
+hear the old dog moaning and scratching as he tried to get used to this
+new house which he found so different from his old home. Nothing would
+quiet him; his eyes were dim and it seemed as if the knowledge of his
+infirmity made him keep still while everyone else was awake and
+downstairs, and at night he wandered restlessly about until daybreak, as
+if he only dared to move in the darkness which makes all beings
+sightless for the time. It was an intense relief to everyone when one
+morning he was found dead.
+
+Winter wore on, and Jeanne gave way more and more to an insuperable
+hopelessness; it was no longer a keen, heartrending grief that she felt,
+but a dull, gloomy melancholy. There was nothing to rouse her from it,
+no one came to see her, and the road which passed before her door was
+almost deserted. Sometimes a gig passed by driven by a red-faced man
+whose blouse, blown out by the wind, looked like a blue balloon, and
+sometimes a cart crawled past, or a peasant and his wife could be seen
+coming from the distance, growing larger and larger as they approached
+the house and then diminishing again when they had passed it, till they
+looked like two insects at the end of the long white line which
+stretched as far as the eye could reach, rising and falling with the
+undulation of the earth. When the grass again sprang up a little girl
+passed the gate every morning with two thin cows which browsed along the
+side of the road, and in the evening she returned, taking, as in the
+morning, one step every ten minutes as she followed the animals.
+
+Every night Jeanne dreamt that she was again at Les Peuples. She thought
+she was there with her father and mother and Aunt Lison as in the old
+times. Again she accomplished the old, forgotten duties and supported
+Madame Adelaide as she walked in her avenue; and each time she awoke she
+burst into tears.
+
+Paul was continually in her thoughts and she wondered what he was doing,
+if he were well and if he ever thought of her. She revolved all these
+painful thoughts in her mind as she walked along the low-lying roads
+between the farms, and what was more torture to her than anything else
+was the fierce jealousy of the woman who had deprived her of her son. It
+was this hatred alone which restrained her from taking any steps towards
+finding Paul and trying to see him. She could imagine her son's mistress
+confronting her at the door and asking, "What is your business here,
+madame?" and her self-respect would not permit her to run the risk of
+such an encounter. In the haughty pride of a chaste and spotless woman,
+who had never stooped to listen to temptation, she became still more
+bitter against the base and cowardly actions to which sensual love will
+drive a man who is not strong enough to throw off its degrading chains.
+The whole of humanity seemed to her unclean as she thought of the
+obscene secrets of the senses, of the caresses which debase as they are
+given and received, and of all the mysteries which surround the
+attraction of the sexes.
+
+Another spring and summer passed away, and when the autumn came again
+with its rainy days, its dull, gray skies, its heavy clouds, Jeanne felt
+so weary of the life she was leading that she determined to make a
+supreme attempt to regain possession of her Poulet. Surely the young
+man's passion must have cooled by this time, and she wrote him a
+touching, pitiful letter:
+
+     "My Dear Child--I am coming to entreat you to return to me. Think
+     how I am left, lonely, aged and ill, the whole year with only a
+     servant. I am living now in a little house by the roadside and it
+     is very miserable for me, but if you were here everything would
+     seem different. You are all I have in the world, and I have not
+     seen you for seven years. You will never know how unhappy I have
+     been and how my every thought was centered in you. You were my
+     life, my soul, my only hope, my only love, and you are away from
+     me, you have forsaken me.
+
+     "Oh! come back, my darling Poulet, come back, and let me hold you
+     in my arms again; come back to your old mother who so longs to see
+     you.
+
+                                                         JEANNE."
+
+A few days later came the following reply:
+
+     "My Dear Mother--I should only be too glad to come and see you, but
+     I have not a penny; send me some money and I will come. I had
+     myself been thinking of coming to speak to you about a plan which,
+     if carried out, would permit me to do as you desire.
+
+     "I shall never be able to repay the disinterested affection of the
+     woman who has shared all my troubles, but I can at least make a
+     public recognition of her faithful love and devotion. Her behavior
+     is all you could desire; she is well-educated and well-read and you
+     cannot imagine what a comfort she has been to me. I should be a
+     brute if I did not make her some recompense, and I ask your
+     permission to marry her. Then we could all live together in your
+     new house, and you would forgive my follies. I am convinced that
+     you would give your consent at once, if you knew her; I assure you
+     she is very lady-like and quiet, and I know you would like her. As
+     for me, I could not live without her.
+
+     "I shall await your reply with every impatience, dear mother. We
+     both send you much love.--Your son,
+
+                                        "Vicomte Paul de Lamare."
+
+Jeanne was thunderstruck. As she sat with the letter on her knees, she
+could see so plainly through the designs of this woman who had not once
+let Paul return to his friends, but had always kept him at her side
+while she patiently waited until his mother should give in and consent
+to anything and everything in the irresistible desire of having her son
+with her again; and it was with bitter pain that she thought of how Paul
+obstinately persisted in preferring this creature to herself. "He does
+not love me, he does not love me," she murmured over and over again.
+
+"He wants to marry her now," she said, when Rosalie came in.
+
+The servant started.
+
+"Oh! madame, you surely will not consent to it. M. Paul can't bring that
+hussy here."
+
+All the pride in Jeanne's nature rose in revolt at the thought, and
+though she was bowed down with grief, she replied decidedly:
+
+"No, Rosalie, never. But since he won't come here I will go to him, and
+we will see which of us two will have the greater influence over him."
+
+She wrote to Paul at once, telling him that she was coming to Paris, and
+would see him anywhere but at the house where he was living with that
+wretch. Then while she awaited his reply, she began to make all her
+preparations for the journey, and Rosalie commenced to pack her
+mistress's linen and clothes in an old trunk.
+
+"You haven't a single thing to put on," exclaimed the servant, as she
+was folding up an old, badly-made dress. "I won't have you go with such
+clothes; you'd be a disgrace to everyone, and the Paris ladies would
+think you were a servant."
+
+Jeanne let her have her own way, and they both went to Goderville and
+chose some green, checked stuff, which they left with the dressmaker to
+be made up. Then they went to see Me. Roussel the lawyer, who went to
+Paris for a fortnight every year, to obtain a few directions, for it was
+twenty-eight years since Jeanne had been to the capital. He gave them a
+great deal of advice about crossing the roads and the way to avoid being
+robbed, saying that the safest plan was to carry only just as much money
+as was necessary in the pockets and to sew the rest in the lining of the
+dress; then he talked for a long time about the restaurants where the
+charges were moderate, and mentioned two or three to which ladies could
+go, and he recommended Jeanne to stay at the Hotel de Normandie, which
+was near the railway station. He always stayed there himself, and she
+could say he had sent her. There had been a railway between Paris and
+Havre for the last six years, but Jeanne had never seen one of these
+steam-engines of which everyone was talking, and which were
+revolutionizing the whole country.
+
+The day passed on, but still there came no answer from Paul. Every
+morning, for a fortnight, Jeanne had gone along the road to meet the
+postman, and had asked, in a voice which she could not keep steady:
+
+"You have nothing for me to-day, Pere Malandain?" And the answer was
+always the same: "No nothing yet, _ma bonne dame_."
+
+Fully persuaded that it was that woman who was preventing Paul from
+answering, Jeanne determined not to wait any longer, but to start at
+once. She wanted to take Rosalie with her, but the maid would not go
+because of increasing the expense of the journey, and she only allowed
+her mistress to take three hundred francs with her.
+
+"If you want any more money," she said, "write to me, and I'll tell the
+lawyer to forward you some; but if I give you any more now, Monsieur
+Paul will have it all."
+
+Then one December morning, Denis Lecoq's gig came to take them both to
+the railway station, for Rosalie was going to accompany her mistress as
+far as that. When they reached the station, they found out first how
+much the tickets were, then, when the trunk had been labeled and the
+ticket bought, they stood watching the rails, both too much occupied in
+wondering what the train would be like to think of the sad cause of this
+journey. At last a distant whistle made them look round, and they saw a
+large, black machine approaching, which came up with a terrible noise,
+dragging after it a long chain of little rolling houses. A porter opened
+the door of one of these little huts, and Jeanne kissed Rosalie and got
+in.
+
+"_Au revoir_, madame. I hope you will have a pleasant journey, and will
+soon be back again."
+
+"_Au revoir_, Rosalie."
+
+There was another whistle, and the string of carriages moved slowly off,
+gradually going faster and faster, till they reached a terrific speed.
+In Jeanne's compartment there were only two other passengers, who were
+both asleep, and she sat and watched the fields and farms and villages
+rush past. She was frightened at the speed at which she was going, and
+the feeling came over her that she was entering a new phase of life,
+and was being hurried towards a very different world from that in which
+she had spent her peaceful girlhood and her monotonous life.
+
+It was evening when she reached Paris. A porter took her trunk, and she
+followed closely at his heels, sometimes almost running for fear of
+losing sight of him, and feeling frightened as she was pushed about by
+the swaying crowd through which she did not know how to pass.
+
+"I was recommended here by Me. Roussel," she hastened to say when she
+was in the hotel office.
+
+The landlady, a big, stolid-looking woman, was sitting at the desk.
+
+"Who is Me. Roussel?" she asked.
+
+"The lawyer from Goderville, who stays here every year," replied Jeanne,
+in surprise.
+
+"Very likely he does," responded the big woman, "but I don't know him.
+Do you want a room?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+A waiter shouldered the luggage and led the way upstairs.
+
+Jeanne followed, feeling very low-spirited and depressed, and sitting
+down at a little table, she ordered some soup and the wing of a chicken
+to be sent up to her, for she had had nothing to eat since day-break.
+She thought of how she had passed through this same town on her return
+from her wedding tour, as she ate her supper by the miserable light of
+one candle, and of how Julien had then first shown himself in his true
+character. But then she was young and brave and hopeful; now she felt
+old and timid; and the least thing worried and frightened her.
+
+When she had finished her supper, she went to the window and watched
+the crowded street. She would have liked to go out if she had dared, but
+she thought she should be sure to lose herself, so she went to bed. But
+she had hardly yet got over the bustle of the journey, and that, and the
+noise and the sensation of being in a strange place, kept her awake. The
+hours passed on, and the noises outside gradually ceased, but still she
+could not sleep, for she was accustomed to the sound, peaceful sleep of
+the country, which is so different from the semi-repose of a great city.
+Here she was conscious of a sort of restlessness all around her; the
+murmur of voices reached her ears, and every now and then a board
+creaked, a door shut, or a bell rang. She was just dozing off, about two
+o'clock in the morning, when a woman suddenly began to scream in a
+neighboring room. Jeanne started up in bed, and next she thought she
+heard a man laughing. As dawn approached she became more and more
+anxious to see Paul, and as soon as it was light, she got up and
+dressed.
+
+He lived in the Rue du Sauvage, and she meant to follow Rosalie's advice
+about spending as little as possible, and walk there. It was a fine day,
+though the wind was keen, and there were a great many people hurrying
+along the pavements. Jeanne walked along the street as quickly as she
+could. When she reached the other end, she was to turn to the right,
+then to the left; then she would come to a square, where she was to ask
+again. She could not find the square, and a baker from whom she inquired
+the way gave her different directions altogether. She started on again,
+missed the way, wandered about, and in trying to follow other
+directions, lost herself entirely. She walked on and on, and was just
+going to hail a cab when she saw the Seine. Then she decided to walk
+along the quays, and in about an hour she reached the dark, dirty lane
+called Rue du Sauvage.
+
+When she came to the number she was seeking, she was so excited that she
+stood before the door unable to move another step. Poulet was there, in
+that house! Her hands and knees trembled violently, and it was some
+moments before she could enter and walk along the passage to the
+doorkeeper's box.
+
+"Will you go and tell M. Paul de Lamare that an old lady friend of his
+mother's, is waiting to see him?" she said, slipping a piece of money
+into the man's hand.
+
+"He does not live here now, madame," answered the doorkeeper.
+
+She started.
+
+"Ah! Where--where is he living now?" she gasped.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+She felt stunned, and it was some time before she could speak again.
+
+"When did he leave?" she asked at last, controlling herself by a violent
+effort.
+
+The man was quite ready to tell her all he knew.
+
+"About a fortnight ago," he replied. "They just walked out of the house
+one evening and didn't come back. They owed all over the neighborhood,
+so you may guess they didn't leave any address."
+
+Tongues of flame were dancing before Jeanne's eyes, as if a gun were
+being fired off close to her face; but she wanted to find Poulet, and
+that kept her up and made her stand opposite the doorkeeper, as if she
+were calmly thinking.
+
+"Then he did not say anything when he left?"
+
+"No, nothing at all; they went away to get out of paying their debts."
+
+"But he will have to send for his letters."
+
+"He'll send a good many times before he gets them, then; besides, they
+didn't have ten in a twelvemonth, though I took them up one two days
+before they left."
+
+That must have been the one she sent.
+
+"Listen," she said, hastily. "I am his mother, and I have come to look
+for him. Here are ten francs for yourself. If you hear anything from or
+about him, let me know at once at the Hotel de Normandie, Rue du Havre,
+and you shall be well paid for your trouble."
+
+"You may depend upon me, madame," answered the doorkeeper; and Jeanne
+went away.
+
+She hastened along the streets as if she were bent on an important
+mission, but she was not looking or caring whither she was going. She
+walked close to the walls, pushed and buffeted by errand boys and
+porters; crossed the roads, regardless of the vehicles and the shouts of
+the drivers; stumbled against the curbstones, which she did not see; and
+hurried on and on, unconscious of everything and everyone. At last she
+found herself in some gardens, and, feeling too weary to walk any
+further, she dropped on a seat. She sat there a long while, apparently
+unaware that the tears were running down her cheeks, and that passersby
+stopped to look at her. At last the bitter cold made her rise to go, but
+her legs would hardly carry her, so weak and exhausted was she. She
+would have liked some soup, but she dared not go into a restaurant, for
+she knew people could see she was in trouble, and it made her feel timid
+and ashamed. When she passed an eating-place she would stop a moment at
+the door, look inside, and see all the people sitting at the tables
+eating, and then go on again, saying to herself: "I will go into the
+next one"; but when she came to the next her courage always failed her
+again. In the end she went into a baker's shop, and bought a little
+crescent-shaped roll, which she ate as she went along. She was very
+thirsty, but she did not know where to go to get anything to drink, so
+she went without.
+
+She passed under an arch, and found herself in some more gardens with
+arcades running all round them, and she recognized the Palais Royal. Her
+walk in the sun had made her warm again, so she sat down for another
+hour or two. A crowd of people flowed into the gardens--an elegant crowd
+composed of beautiful women and wealthy men, who only lived for dress
+and pleasure, and who chatted and smiled and bowed as they sauntered
+along. Feeling ill at ease amidst this brilliant throng, Jeanne rose to
+go away; but suddenly the thought struck her that perhaps she might meet
+Paul here, and she began to walk from end to end of the gardens, with
+hasty, furtive steps, carefully scanning every face she met.
+
+Soon she saw that people turned to look and laugh at her, and she
+hurried away, thinking it was her odd appearance and her green-checked
+dress, which Rosalie had chosen and had made up, that attracted
+everyone's attention and smiles. She hardly dared ask her way, but she
+did at last venture, and when she had reached her hotel, she passed the
+rest of the day sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed. In the
+evening she dined off some soup and a little meat, like the day before,
+and then undressed and went to bed, performing all the duties of her
+toilet quite mechanically, from sheer habit.
+
+The next morning she went to the police office to see if she could get
+any help there towards the discovery of her son's whereabouts. They told
+her they could not promise her anything, but that they would attend to
+the matter. After she had left the police office, she wandered about the
+streets, in the hopes of meeting her child, and she felt more friendless
+and forsaken among the busy crowds than she did in the midst of the
+lovely fields.
+
+When she returned to the hotel in the evening, she was told that a man
+from M. Paul had asked for her, and was coming again the next day. All
+the blood in her body seemed to suddenly rush to her heart and she could
+not close her eyes all night. Perhaps it was Paul himself! Yes, it must
+be so, although his appearance did not tally with the description the
+hotel people had given of the man who had called, and when, about nine
+o'clock in the morning, there came a knock at her door, she cried, "Come
+in!" expecting her son to rush into her arms held open to receive him.
+
+But it was a stranger who entered--a stranger who began to apologize for
+disturbing her and to explain that he had come about some money Paul
+owed him. As he spoke she felt herself beginning to cry, and she tried
+to hide her tears from the man by wiping them away with the end of her
+finger as soon as they reached the corners of her eyes. The man had
+heard of her arrival from the concierge at the Rue du Sauvage, and as he
+could not find Paul he had come to his mother. He held out a paper which
+Jeanne mechanically took; she saw "90 francs" written on it, and she
+drew out the money and paid the man. She did not go out at all that day,
+and the next morning more creditors appeared. She gave them all the
+money she had left, except twenty francs, and wrote and told Rosalie how
+she was placed.
+
+Until her servant's answer came she passed the days in wandering
+aimlessly about the streets. She did not know what to do or how to kill
+the long, miserable hours; there was no one who knew of her troubles, or
+to whom she could go for sympathy, and her one desire was to get away
+from this city and to return to her little house beside the lonely road,
+where, a few days before, she had felt she could not bear to live
+because it was so dull and lonely. Now she was sure she could live
+nowhere else but in that little home where all her mournful habits had
+taken root.
+
+At last, one evening, she found a letter from Rosalie awaiting her with
+two hundred francs enclosed.
+
+     "Come back as soon as possible, Madame Jeanne," wrote the maid,
+     "for I shall send you nothing more. As for M. Paul, I will go and
+     fetch him myself the next time we hear anything from him.--With
+     best respects, your servant,
+
+                                                        ROSALIE."
+
+And Jeanne started back to Batteville one bitterly cold, snowy morning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+XIV
+
+After her return from Paris, Jeanne would not go out or take any
+interest in anything. She rose at the same hour every morning, looked
+out of the window to see what sort of day it was, then went downstairs
+and sat before the fire in the dining-room. She stayed there the whole
+day, sitting perfectly still with her eyes fixed on the flames while
+she thought of all the sorrows she had passed through. The little room
+grew darker and darker, but she never moved, except to put more wood on
+the fire, and when Rosalie brought in the lamp she cried:
+
+"Come, Madame Jeanne, you must stir about a bit, or you won't be able to
+eat any dinner again this evening."
+
+Often she was worried by thoughts which she could not dismiss from her
+mind, and she allowed herself to be tormented by the veriest trifles,
+for the most insignificant matters appeared of the greatest importance
+to her diseased mind. She lived in the memories of the past, and she
+would think for hours together of her girlhood and her wedding tour in
+Corsica. The wild scenery that she had long forgotten suddenly appeared
+before her in the fire, and she could recall every detail, every event,
+every face connected with the island. She could always see the features
+of Jean Ravoli, the guide, and sometimes she fancied she could even hear
+his voice.
+
+At other times she thought of the peaceful years of Paul's childhood--of
+how he used to make her tend the salad plants, and of how she and Aunt
+Lison used to kneel on the ground, each trying to outdo the other in
+giving pleasure to the boy, and in rearing the greater number of plants.
+
+Her lips would form the words, "Poulet, my little Poulet," as if she
+were talking to him, and she would cease to muse, and try for hours to
+write in the air the letters which formed her son's name, with her
+outstretched finger. Slowly she traced them before the fire, fancying
+she could see them, and, thinking she had made a mistake, she began the
+word over and over again, forcing herself to write the whole name
+though her arm trembled with fatigue. At last she would become so
+nervous that she mixed up the letters, and formed other words, and had
+to give it up.
+
+She had all the manias and fancies which beset those who lead a solitary
+life, and it irritated her to the last degree to see the slightest
+change in the arrangement of the furniture. Rosalie often made her go
+out with her along the road, but after twenty minutes or so Jeanne would
+say: "I cannot walk any further, Rosalie," and would sit down by the
+roadside. Soon movement of any kind became distasteful to her, and she
+stayed in bed as late as she could. Ever since a child she had always
+been in the habit of jumping out of bed as soon as she had drunk her
+_cafe au lait_. She was particularly fond of her morning coffee, and she
+would have missed it more than anything. She always waited for Rosalie
+to bring it with an impatience that had a touch of sensuality in it, and
+as soon as the cup was placed on the bedside table she sat up, and
+emptied it, somewhat greedily. Then she at once drew back the bedclothes
+and began to dress. But gradually she fell into the habit of dreaming
+for a few moments after she had placed the empty cup back in the saucer,
+and from that she soon began to lie down again, and at last she stayed
+in bed every day until Rosalie came back in a temper and dressed her
+almost by force.
+
+She had no longer the slightest will of her own. Whenever her servant
+asked her advice, or put any question to her, or wanted to know her
+opinion, she always answered: "Do as you like, Rosalie." So firmly did
+she believe herself pursued by a persistent ill luck that she became as
+great a fatalist as an Oriental, and she was so accustomed to seeing
+her dreams unfulfilled, and her hopes disappointed, that she did not
+dare undertake anything fresh, and hesitated for days before she
+commenced the simplest task, so persuaded was she that whatever she
+touched would be sure to go wrong.
+
+"I don't think anyone could have had more misfortune than I have had all
+my life," she was always saying.
+
+"How would it be if you had to work for your bread, and if you were
+obliged to get up every morning at six o'clock to go and do a hard day's
+work?" Rosalie would exclaim. "That's what a great many people have to
+do, and then when they get too old to work, they die of want."
+
+"But my son has forsaken me, and I am all alone," Jeanne would reply.
+
+That enraged Rosalie.
+
+"And what if he has? How about those whose children enlist, or settle in
+America?" (America, in her eyes, was a shadowy country whither people
+went to make their fortune, and whence they never returned). "Children
+always leave their parents sooner or later; old and young people aren't
+meant to stay together. And then, what if he were dead?" she would
+finish up with savagely, and her mistress could say nothing after that.
+
+Jeanne got a little stronger when the first warm days of spring came,
+but she only took advantage of her better health to bury herself still
+deeper in her gloomy thoughts.
+
+She went up to the garret one morning to look for something, and, while
+she was there, happened to open a box full of old almanacs. It seemed as
+if she had found the past years themselves, and she was filled with
+emotion as she looked at the pile of cards. They were of all sizes, big
+and little, and she took them every one down to the dining-room and
+began to lay them out on the table in the right order of years. Suddenly
+she picked up the very first one--the one she had taken with her from
+the convent to Les Peuples. For a long time she gazed at it with its
+dates which she had crossed out the day she had left Rouen, and she
+began to shed slow, bitter tears--the weak, pitiful tears of an aged
+woman--as she looked at these cards spread out before her on the table,
+and which represented all her wretched life.
+
+Then the thought struck her that by means of these almanacs she could
+recall all that she had ever done, and giving way to the idea, she at
+once devoted herself to the task of retracing the past. She pinned all
+the cards, which had grown yellow with age, up on the tapestry, and then
+passed hours before one or other of them, thinking, "What did I do in
+that month?"
+
+She had put a mark beside all the important dates in her life, and
+sometimes, by means of linking together and adding one to the other, all
+the little circumstances which had preceded and followed a great event,
+she succeeded in remembering a whole month. By dint of concentrated
+attention, and efforts of will and of memory, she retraced nearly the
+whole of her first two years at Les Peuples, recalling without much
+difficulty this far-away period of her life, for it seemed to stand out
+in relief. But the following years were shrouded in a sort of mist and
+seemed to run one into the other, and sometimes she pored over an
+almanac for hours without being able to remember whether it was even in
+that year that such and such a thing had happened. She would go slowly
+round the dining-room looking at these images of past years, which, to
+her, were as pictures of an ascent to Calvary, until one of them
+arrested her attention and then she would sit gazing at it all the rest
+of the day, absorbed in her recollections.
+
+Soon the sap began to rise in the trees; the seeds were springing up,
+the leaves were budding and the air was filled with the faint, sweet
+smell of the apple blossoms which made the orchards a glowing mass of
+pink. As summer approached Jeanne became very restless. She could not
+keep still; she went in and out twenty times a day, and, as she rambled
+along past the farms, she worked herself into a perfect state of fever.
+
+A daisy half hidden in the grass, a sunbeam falling through the leaves,
+or the reflection of the sky in a splash of water in a rut was enough to
+agitate and affect her, for their sight brought back a kind of echo of
+the emotions she had felt when, as a young girl, she had wandered
+dreamily through the fields; and though now there was nothing to which
+she could look forward, the soft yet exhilarating air sent the same
+thrill through her as when all her life had lain before her. But this
+pleasure was not unalloyed with pain, and it seemed as if the universal
+joy of the awakening world could now only impart a delight which was
+half sorrow to her grief-crushed soul and withered heart. Everything
+around her seemed to have changed. Surely the sun was hardly so warm as
+in her youth, the sky so deep a blue, the grass so fresh a green, and
+the flowers, paler and less sweet, could no longer arouse within her the
+exquisite ecstasies of delight as of old. Still she could enjoy the
+beauty around her, so much that sometimes she found herself dreaming
+and hoping again; for, however cruel Fate may be, is it possible to give
+way to utter despair when the sun shines and the sky is blue?
+
+She went for long walks, urged on and on by her inward excitement, and
+sometimes she would suddenly stop and sit down by the roadside to think
+of her troubles. Why had she not been loved like other women? Why had
+even the simple pleasure of an uneventful existence been refused her?
+
+Sometimes, again forgetting for a moment that she was old, that there
+was no longer any pleasure in store for her, and that, with the
+exception of a few more lonely years, her life was over and done, she
+would build all sorts of castles in the air and make plans for such a
+happy future, just as she had done when she was sixteen. Then suddenly
+remembering the bitter reality she would get up again, feeling as if a
+heavy load had fallen upon her, and return home, murmuring:
+
+"Oh, you old fool! You old fool!"
+
+Now Rosalie was always saying to her:
+
+"Do keep still, madame. What on earth makes you want to run about so?"
+
+"I can't help it," Jeanne would reply sadly. "I am like Massacre was
+before he died."
+
+One morning Rosalie went into her mistress's room earlier than usual.
+
+"Make haste and drink up your coffee," she said as she placed the cup on
+the table. "Denis is waiting to take us to Les Peuples. I have to go
+over there on business."
+
+Jeanne was so excited that she thought she would have fainted, and, as
+she dressed herself with trembling fingers, she could hardly believe
+she was going to see her dear home once more.
+
+Overhead was a bright, blue sky, and, as they went along, Denis's pony
+would every now and then break into a gallop. When they reached
+Etouvent, Jeanne could hardly breathe, her heart beat so quickly, and
+when she saw the brick pillars beside the chateau gate, she exclaimed,
+"Oh," two or three times in a low voice, as if she were in the presence
+of something which stirred her very soul, and she could not help
+herself.
+
+They put up the horse at the Couillards' farm, and, when Rosalie and her
+son went to attend to their business, the farmer asked Jeanne if she
+would like to go over the chateau, as the owner was away, and gave her
+the key.
+
+She went off alone, and when she found herself opposite the old manor
+she stood still to look at it. The outside had not been touched since
+she had left. All the shutters were closed, and the sunbeams were
+dancing on the gray walls of the big, weather-beaten building. A little
+piece of wood fell on her dress, she looked up and saw that it had
+fallen from the plane tree, and she went up to the big tree and stroked
+its pale, smooth bark as if it had been alive. Her foot touched a piece
+of rotten wood lying in the grass; it was the last fragment of the seat
+on which she had so often sat with her loved ones--the seat which had
+been put up the very day of Julien's first visit to the chateau.
+
+Then she went to the hall-door. She had some difficulty in opening it as
+the key was rusty and would not turn, but at last the lock gave way, and
+the door itself only required a slight push before it swung back. The
+first thing Jeanne did was to run up to her own room. It had been hung
+with a light paper and she hardly knew it again, but when she opened one
+of the windows and looked out, she was moved almost to tears as she saw
+again the scene she loved so well--the thicket, the elms, the common,
+and the sea covered with brown sails which, at this distance, looked as
+if they were motionless.
+
+Then she went all over the big, empty house. She stopped to look at a
+little hole in the plaster which the baron had made with his cane, for
+he used to make a few thrusts at the wall whenever he passed this spot,
+in memory of the fencing bouts he had had in his youth. In her mother's
+bedroom she found a small gold-headed pin stuck in the wall behind the
+door, in a dark corner near the bed. She had stuck it there a long while
+ago (she remembered it now), and had looked everywhere for it since, but
+it had never been found; and she kissed it and took it with her as a
+priceless relic.
+
+She went into every room, recognizing the almost invisible spots and
+marks on the hangings which had not been changed and again noting the
+odd forms and faces which the imagination so often traces in the designs
+of the furniture coverings, the carvings of mantelpieces and the shadows
+on soiled ceilings. She walked through the vast, silent chateau as
+noiselessly as if she were in a cemetery; all her life was interred
+there.
+
+She went down to the drawing-room. The closed shutters made it very
+dark, and it was a few moments before she could distinguish anything;
+then, as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she gradually made
+out the tapestry with the big, white birds on it. Two armchairs stood
+before the fireplace, looking as if they had just been vacated, and the
+very smell of the room--a smell that had always been peculiar to it, as
+each human being has his, a smell which could be perceived at once, and
+yet was vague like all the faint perfumes of old rooms--brought the
+memories crowding to Jeanne's mind.
+
+Her breath came quickly as she stood with her eyes fixed on the two
+chairs, inhaling this perfume of the past; and, all at once, in a sudden
+hallucination occasioned by her thoughts, she fancied she saw--she did
+see--her father and mother with their feet on the fender as she had so
+often seen them before. She drew back in terror, stumbling against the
+door-frame, and clung to it for support, still keeping her eyes fixed on
+the armchairs. The vision disappeared and for some minutes she stood
+horror-stricken; then she slowly regained possession of herself and
+turned to fly, afraid that she was going mad. Her eyes fell on the
+wainscoting against which she was leaning and she saw Poulet's ladder.
+There were all the faint marks traced on the wall at unequal intervals
+and the figures which had been cut with a penknife to indicate the
+month, and the child's age and growth. In some places there was the
+baron's big writing, in others her own, in others again Aunt Lison's,
+which was a little shaky. She could see the boy standing there now, with
+his fair hair, and his little forehead pressed against the wall to have
+his height measured, while the baron exclaimed: "Jeanne, he has grown
+half an inch in six weeks," and she began to kiss the wainscoting in a
+frenzy of love for the very wood.
+
+Then she heard Rosalie's voice outside, calling: "Madame Jeanne! Madame
+Jeanne! lunch is waiting," and she went out with her head in a whirl.
+She felt unable to understand anything that was said to her. She ate
+what was placed before her, listened to what was being said without
+realizing the sense of the words, answered the farmers' wives when they
+inquired after her health, passively received their kisses and kissed
+the cheeks which were offered to her, and then got into the chaise
+again.
+
+When she could no longer see the high roof of the chateau through the
+trees, something within her seemed to break, and she felt that she had
+just said good-bye to her old home for ever.
+
+They went straight back to Batteville, and as she was going indoors
+Jeanne saw something white under the door; it was a letter which the
+postman had slipped there during their absence. She at once recognized
+Paul's handwriting and tore open the envelope in an agony of anxiety. He
+wrote:
+
+     "My Dear Mother: I have not written before because I did not want
+     to bring you to Paris on a fruitless errand, for I have always been
+     meaning to come and see you myself. At the present moment I am in
+     great trouble and difficulty. My wife gave birth to a little girl
+     three days ago, and now she is dying and I have not a penny. I do
+     not know what to do with the child; the doorkeeper is trying to
+     nourish it with a feeding-bottle as best she can, but I fear I
+     shall lose it. Could not you take it? I cannot send it to a wet
+     nurse as I have not any money, and I do not know which way to turn.
+     Pray answer by return post.
+
+                                                "Your loving son,
+
+                                                          "Paul."
+
+Jeanne dropped on a chair with hardly enough strength left to call
+Rosalie. The maid came and they read the letter over again together, and
+then sat looking at each other in silence.
+
+"I'll go and fetch the child myself, madame," said Rosalie at last. "We
+can't leave it to die."
+
+"Very well, my girl, go," answered Jeanne.
+
+"Put on your hat, madame," said the maid, after a pause, "and we will go
+and see the lawyer at Goderville. If that woman is going to die, M. Paul
+must marry her for the sake of the child."
+
+Jeanne put on her hat without a word. Her heart was overflowing with
+joy, but she would not have allowed anyone to see it for the world, for
+it was one of those detestable joys in which people can revel in their
+hearts, but of which they are all the same ashamed; her son's mistress
+was going to die.
+
+The lawyer gave Rosalie detailed instructions which the servant made him
+repeat two or three times; then, when she was sure she knew exactly what
+to do, she said:
+
+"Don't you fear; I'll see it's all right now." And she started for Paris
+that very night.
+
+Jeanne passed two days in such an agony of mind that she could fix her
+thoughts on nothing. The third morning she received a line from Rosalie
+merely saying she was coming back by that evening's train; nothing more;
+and in the afternoon, about three o'clock, Jeanne sent round to a
+neighbor to ask him if he would drive her to the Beuzeville railway
+station to meet her servant.
+
+She stood on the platform looking down the rails (which seemed to get
+closer together right away as far off as she could see), and turning
+every now and then to look at the clock. Ten minutes more--five
+minutes--two--and at last the train was due, though as yet she could see
+no signs of it. Then, all at once, she saw a cloud of white smoke, and
+underneath it a black speck which got rapidly larger and larger. The big
+engine came into the station, snorting and slackening its speed, and
+Jeanne looked eagerly into every window as the carriages went past her.
+
+The doors opened and several people got out--peasants in blouses,
+farmers' wives with baskets on their arms, a few _bourgeois_ in soft
+hats--and at last Rosalie appeared, carrying what looked like a bundle
+of linen in her arms. Jeanne would have stepped forward to meet her, but
+all strength seemed to have left her legs and she feared she would fall
+if she moved. The maid saw her and came up in her ordinary, calm way.
+
+"Good-day, madame; here I am again, though I've had some bother to get
+along."
+
+"Well?" gasped Jeanne.
+
+"Well," answered Rosalie, "she died last night. They were married and
+here's the baby," and she held out the child which could not be seen for
+its wraps. Jeanne mechanically took it, and they left the station and
+got into the carriage which was waiting.
+
+"M. Paul is coming directly after the funeral. I suppose he'll be here
+to-morrow, by this train."
+
+"Paul--" murmured Jeanne, and then stopped without saying anything more.
+
+The sun was sinking towards the horizon, bathing in a glow of light the
+green fields which were flecked here and there with golden colewort
+flowers or blood-red poppies, and over the quiet country fell an
+infinite peace.
+
+The peasant who was driving the chaise kept clicking his tongue to urge
+on his horse which trotted swiftly along, and Jeanne looked straight up
+into the sky which the circling flight of the swallows seemed to cut
+asunder.
+
+All at once she became conscious of a soft warmth which was making
+itself felt through her skirts; it was the heat from the tiny being
+sleeping on her knees, and it moved her strangely. She suddenly drew
+back the covering from the child she had not yet seen, that she might
+look at her son's daughter; as the light fell on its face the little
+creature opened its blue eyes, and moved its lips, and then Jeanne
+hugged it closely to her, and, raising it in her arms, began to cover it
+with passionate kisses.
+
+"Come, come, Madame Jeanne, have done," said Rosalie, in sharp, though
+good-tempered tones; "you'll make the child cry."
+
+Then she added, as if in reply to her own thoughts:
+
+"After all, life is never so jolly or so miserable as people seem to
+think."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUTOT SENIOR
+
+AND
+
+HAUTOT JUNIOR
+
+
+PART I
+
+In front of the building, half farm-house, half manor-house, one of
+those rural habitations of a mixed character which were all but
+seigneurial, and which are at the present time occupied by large
+cultivators, the dogs lashed beside the apple-trees in the orchard near
+the house, kept barking and howling at the sight of the shooting-bags
+carried by the gamekeepers and the boys. In the spacious dining-room
+kitchen, Hautot Senior and Hautot Junior, M. Bermont, the tax-collector,
+and M. Mondaru, the notary were taking a pick and drinking a glass
+before going out to shoot, for it was the opening day.
+
+Hautot Senior, proud of all his possessions, talked boastfully
+beforehand of the game which his guests were going to find on his lands.
+He was a big Norman, one of those powerful, sanguineous, bony men, who
+lift wagon-loads of apples on their shoulders. Half-peasant,
+half-gentleman, rich, respected, influential, invested with authority he
+made his son Cesar go as far as the third form at school, so that he
+might be an educated man, and there he had brought his studies to a stop
+for fear of his becoming a fine gentleman and paying no attention to the
+land.
+
+Cesar Hautot, almost as tall as his father, but thinner, was a good
+son, docile, content with everything, full of admiration, respect, and
+deference, for the wishes and opinions of his sire.
+
+M. Bermont, the tax-collector, a stout little man, who showed on his red
+cheeks a thin network of violet veins resembling the tributaries and the
+winding courses of rivers on maps, asked:
+
+"And hares--are there any hares on it?"
+
+Hautot Senior answered:
+
+"As much as you like, especially in the Puysatier lands."
+
+"Which direction are we to begin at?" asked the notary, a jolly notary
+fat and pale, big paunched too, and strapped up in an entirely new
+hunting-costume bought at Rouen.
+
+"Well, that way, through these grounds. We will drive the partridges
+into the plain, and we will beat there again."
+
+And Hautot Senior rose up. They all followed his example, took their
+guns out of the corners, examined the locks, stamped with their feet in
+order to feel themselves firmer in their boots which were rather hard,
+not having as yet been rendered flexible by the heat of the blood. Then
+they went out; and the dogs, standing erect at the ends of their lashes,
+gave vent to piercing howls while beating the air with their paws.
+
+They set forth for the lands referred to. They consisted of a little
+glen, or rather a long undulating stretch of inferior soil, which had on
+that account remained uncultivated, furrowed with mountain-torrents,
+covered with ferns, an excellent preserve for game.
+
+The sportsmen took up their positions at some distance from each other,
+Hautot Senior posting himself at the right, Hautot Junior at the left,
+and the two guests in the middle. The keeper and those who carried the
+game-bags followed. It was the solemn moment when the first shot it
+awaited, when the heart beats a little, while the nervous finger keeps
+feeling at the gun-lock every second.
+
+Suddenly the shot went off. Hautot Senior had fired. They all stopped,
+and saw a partridge breaking off from a covey which was rushing along at
+a single flight to fall down into a ravine under a thick growth of
+brushwood. The sportsman, becoming excited, rushed forward with rapid
+strides, thrusting aside the briers which stood in his path, and he
+disappeared in his turn into the thicket, in quest of his game.
+
+Almost at the same instant, a second shot was heard.
+
+"Ha! ha! the rascal!" exclaimed M. Bermont, "he will unearth a hare down
+there."
+
+They all waited, with their eyes riveted on the heap of branches through
+which their gaze failed to penetrate.
+
+The notary, making a speaking-trumpet of his hands, shouted:
+
+"Have you got them?"
+
+Hautot Senior made no response.
+
+Then Cesar, turning towards the keeper, said to him:
+
+"Just go, and assist him, Joseph. We must keep walking in a straight
+line. We'll wait."
+
+And Joseph, an old stump of a man, lean and knotty, all whose joints
+formed protuberances, proceeded at an easy pace down the ravine,
+searching at every opening through which a passage could be effected
+with the cautiousness of a fox. Then, suddenly, he cried:
+
+"Oh! come! come! an unfortunate thing has occurred."
+
+They all hurried forward, plunging through the briers.
+
+The elder Hautot, who had fallen on his side, in a fainting condition,
+kept both his hands over his stomach, from which flowed down upon the
+grass through the linen vest torn by the lead, long streamlets of blood.
+As he was laying down his gun, in order to seize the partridge, within
+reach of him, he had let the firearm fall, and the second discharge
+going off with the shock, had torn open his entrails. They drew him out
+of the trench; they removed his clothes, and they saw a frightful wound,
+through which the intestines came out. Then, after having bandaged him
+the best way they could, they brought him back to his own house, and
+they awaited the doctor, who had been sent for, as well as a priest.
+
+When the doctor arrived, he gravely shook his head, and, turning towards
+young Hautot, who was sobbing on a chair:
+
+"My poor boy," said he, "this has not a good look."
+
+But, when the dressing was finished, the wounded man moved his fingers,
+opened his mouth, then his eyes, cast around his troubled, haggard
+glances, then appeared to search about in his memory, to recollect, to
+understand, and he murmured:
+
+"Ah! good God! this has done for me!"
+
+The doctor held his hand.
+
+"Why no, why no, some days of rest merely--it will be nothing."
+
+Hautot returned:
+
+"It has done for me! My stomach is split! I know it well."
+
+Then, all of a sudden:
+
+"I want to talk to the son, if I have the time."
+
+Hautot Junior, in spite of himself, shed tears, and kept repeating like
+a little boy.
+
+"P'pa, p'pa, poor p'ps!"
+
+But the father, in a firmer tone:
+
+"Come! stop crying--this is not the time for it. I have to talk to you.
+Sit down there quite close to me. It will be quickly done, and I will be
+more calm. As for the rest of you, kindly give me one minute."
+
+They all went out, leaving the father and son face to face.
+
+As soon as they were alone:
+
+"Listen, son! you are twenty-four years; one can say things like this to
+you. And then there is not such mystery about these matters as we import
+into them. You know well that your mother is seven years dead, isn't
+that so? and that I am not more than forty-five years myself, seeing
+that I got married at nineteen. Is not that true?"
+
+The son faltered:
+
+"Yes, it is true."
+
+"So then your mother is seven years dead, and I have remained a widower.
+Well! a man like me cannot remain without a wife at thirty-seven isn't
+that true?"
+
+The son replied:
+
+"Yes, it is true."
+
+The father, out of breath, quite pale, and his face contracted with
+suffering, went on:
+
+"God! what pain I feel! Well, you understand. Man is not made to live
+alone, but I did not want to take a successor to your mother, since I
+promised her not to do so. Then--you understand?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"So, I kept a young girl at Rouen, Reu de l'Eperlan 18, in the third
+story, the second door--I tell you all this, don't forget--but a young
+girl, who has been very nice to me, loving, devoted, a true woman, eh?
+You comprehend, my lad?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"So then, if I am carried off, I owe something to her, but something
+substantial, that will place her in a safe position. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I tell you that she is an honest girl, and that, but for you, and the
+remembrance of your mother, and again but for the house in which we
+three lived, I would have brought her here, and then married her, for
+certain--listen--listen, my lad. I might have made a will--I haven't
+done so. I did not wish to do so--for it is not necessary to write down
+things--things of this sort--it is too hurtful to the legitimate
+children--and then it embroils everything--it ruins everyone! Look you,
+the stamped paper, there's no need of it--never make use of it. If I am
+rich, it is because I have not made use of what I have during my own
+life. You understand, my son?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Listen again--listen well to me! So then, I have made no will--I did
+not desire to do so--and then I knew what you were; you have a good
+heart; you are not niggardly, not too near, in any way, I said to myself
+that when my end approached I would tell you all about it, and that I
+would beg of you not to forget the girl. And then listen again! When I
+am gone, make your way to the place at once--and make such arrangements
+that she may not blame my memory. You have plenty of means. I leave it
+to you--I leave you enough. Listen! You won't find her at home every day
+in the week. She works at Madame Moreau's in the Rue Beauvoisine. Go
+there on a Thursday. That is the day she expects me. It has been my day
+for the past six years. Poor little thing! she will weep!--I say all
+this to you, because I have known you so well, my son. One does not tell
+these things in public either to the notary or to the priest. They
+happen--everyone knows that--but they are not talked about, save in case
+of necessity. Then there is no outsider in the secret, nobody except the
+family, because the family consists of one person alone. You
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Do you swear it?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I beg of you, I implore of you, son do not forget. I bind you to it."
+
+"No, father."
+
+"You will go yourself. I want you to make sure of everything."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"And, then, you will see--you will see what she will explain to you. As
+for me, I can say no more to you. You have vowed to do it."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"That's good, my son. Embrace me. Farewell. I am going to break up, I'm
+sure. Tell them they may come in."
+
+Young Hautot embraced his father, groaning while he did so; then, always
+docile, he opened the door, and the priest appeared in a white surplice,
+carrying the holy oils.
+
+But the dying man had closed his eyes, and he refused to open them
+again, he refused to answer, he refused to show, even by a sign, that he
+understood.
+
+He had spoken enough, this man; he could speak no more. Besides he now
+felt his heart calm; he wanted to die in peace. What need had he to make
+a confession to the deputy of God, since he had just done so to his son,
+who constituted his own family?
+
+He received the last rites, was purified and absolved, in the midst of
+his friends and his servants on their bended knees, without any movement
+of his face indicating that he still lived.
+
+He expired about midnight, after four hours' convulsive movements, which
+showed that he must have suffered dreadfully in his last moments.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PART II
+
+It was on the following Tuesday that they buried him, the shooting
+opened on Sunday. On his return home, after having accompanied his
+father to the cemetery, Cesar Hautot spent the rest of the day weeping.
+He scarcely slept at all on the following night, and he felt so sad on
+awakening that he asked himself how he could go on living.
+
+However, he kept thinking until evening that, in order to obey the last
+wish of his father, he ought to repair to Rouen next day, and see this
+girl Catholine Donet, who resided in the Rue d'Eperlan in the third
+story, second door. He had repeated to himself in a whisper, just as a
+little boy repeats a prayer, this name and address, a countless number
+of times, so that he might not forget them, and he ended by lisping them
+continually, without being able to stop or to think of what it was, so
+much were his tongue and his mind possessed by the appellation.
+
+According, on the following day, about eight o'clock, he ordered
+Graindorge to be yoked to the tilbury, and set forth, at the quick
+trotting pace of the heavy Norman horse, along the high road from the
+Ainville to Rouen. He wore his black frock coat drawn over his
+shoulders, a tall silk hat on his head, and on his legs his breeches
+with straps; and he did not wish, on account of the occasion, to
+dispense with the handsome costume, the blue overall which swelled in
+the wind, protected the cloth from dust and from stains, and which was
+to be removed quickly on reaching his destination the moment he had
+jumped out of the coach.
+
+He entered Rouen accordingly just as it was striking ten o'clock, drew
+up, as he had usually done at the Hotel des Bon-Enfants, in the Rue des
+Trois-Mares, submitted to the hugs of the landlord and his wife and
+their five children, for they had heard the melancholy news; after that,
+he had to tell them all the particulars about the accident, which caused
+him to shed tears, to repel all the proffered attentions which they
+sought to thrust upon him merely because he was wealthy, and to decline
+even the breakfast they wanted him to partake of, thus wounding their
+sensibilities.
+
+Then, having wiped the dust off his hat, brushed his coat and removed
+the mud stains from his boots, he set forth in search of the Rue de
+l'Eperlan, without venturing to make inquiries from anyone, for fear of
+being recognized and arousing suspicions.
+
+At length, being unable to find the place, he saw a priest passing by,
+and, trusting to the professional discretion which churchmen possess, he
+questioned the ecclesiastic.
+
+He had only a hundred steps farther to go; it was exactly the second
+street to the right.
+
+Then he hesitated. Up to that moment, he had obeyed, like a mere animal,
+the expressed wish of the deceased. Now he felt quite agitated,
+confused, humiliated, at the idea of finding himself--the son--in the
+presence of this woman who had been his father's mistress. All the
+morality which lies buried in our breasts, heaped up at the bottom of
+our sensuous emotions by centuries of hereditary instruction, all that
+he had been taught since he had learned his catechism about creatures of
+evil life, to instinctive contempt which every man entertains towards
+them, even though he may marry one of them, all the narrow honesty of
+the peasant in his character, was stirred up within him, and held him
+back, making him grow red with shame.
+
+But he said to himself:
+
+"I promised the father, I must not break my promise."
+
+Then he gave a push to the door of the house bearing the number 18,
+which stood ajar, discovered a gloomy-looking staircase, ascended three
+flights, perceived a door, then a second door, came upon the string of a
+bell, and pulled it. The ringing, which resounded in the apartment
+before which he stood, sent a shiver through his frame. The door was
+opened, and he found himself facing a young lady very well dressed, a
+brunette with a fresh complexion who gazed at him with eyes of
+astonishment.
+
+He did not know what to say to her, and she who suspected nothing, and
+who was waiting for the other, did not invite him to come in. They stood
+looking thus at one another for nearly half-a-minute, at the end of
+which she said in a questioning tone:
+
+"You have something to tell me Monsieur?" He falteringly replied:
+
+"I am M. Hautot's son."
+
+She gave a start, turned pale, and stammered out as If she had known him
+for a long time:
+
+"Monsieur Cesar?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what next?"
+
+"I have come to speak to you on the part of my father."
+
+She articulated:
+
+"Oh my God!"
+
+She then drew back so that he might enter. He shut the door and followed
+her into the interior. Then he saw a little boy of four or five years
+playing with a cat, seated on a floor in front of a stove, from which
+rose the steam of dishes which were being kept hot.
+
+"Take a seat," she said.
+
+He sat down.
+
+She asked:
+
+"Well?"
+
+He no longer ventured to speak, keeping his eyes fixed on the table
+which stood in the center of the room, with three covers laid on it,
+one of which was for a child. He glanced at the chair which had its back
+turned to the fire. They had been expecting him. That was his bread
+which he saw, and which he recognized near the fork, for the crust had
+been removed on account of Hautot's bad teeth. Then, raising his eyes,
+he noticed on the wall his father's portrait, the large photograph taken
+at Paris the year of the exhibition, the same as that which hung above
+the bed in the sleeping apartment at Ainville.
+
+The young woman again asked:
+
+"Well, Monsieur Cesar?"
+
+He kept staring at her. Her face was livid with anguish; and she waited,
+her hands trembling with fear.
+
+Then he took courage.
+
+"Well, Mam'zelle, papa died on Sunday last just after he had opened the
+shooting."
+
+She was so much overwhelmed that she did not move. After a silence of a
+few seconds, she faltered in an almost inaudible tone:
+
+"Oh! it is not possible!"
+
+Then, on a sudden, tears showed themselves in her eyes, and covering her
+face with her hands, she burst out sobbing.
+
+At that point the little boy turned round, and, seeing his mother
+weeping, began to howl. Then, realizing that this sudden trouble was
+brought about by the stranger, he rushed at Cesar, caught hold of his
+breeches with one hand, and with the other hit him with all his strength
+on the thigh. And Cesar remained agitated, deeply affected, with this
+woman mourning for his father at one side of him, and the little boy
+defending his mother at the other. He felt their emotion taking
+possession of himself, and his eyes were beginning to brim over with the
+same sorrow; so, to recover her self-command, he began to talk:
+
+"Yes," he said, "the accident occurred on Sunday, at eight o'clock--."
+
+And he told, as if she were listening to him, all the facts without
+forgetting a single detail, mentioning the most trivial matters with the
+minuteness of a countryman. And the child still kept assailing him,
+making kicks at his ankles.
+
+When he came to the time at which his father had spoken about her, her
+attention was caught by hearing her own name, and, uncovering her face
+she said:
+
+"Pardon me! I was not following you; I would like to know--If you did
+not mind beginning over again."
+
+He related everything at great length, with stoppages, breaks and
+reflections of his own from time to time. She listened to him eagerly
+now perceiving with a woman's keen sensibility all the sudden changes of
+fortune which his narrative indicated, and trembling with horror, every
+now and then, exclaiming:
+
+"Oh, my God!"
+
+The little fellow, believing that she had calmed down, ceased beating
+Cesar, in order to catch his mother's hand, and he listened, too, as if
+he understood.
+
+When the narrative was finished, young Hautot continued:
+
+"Now we will settle matters together in accordance with his wishes."
+
+"Listen: I am well off he has left me plenty of means. I don't want you
+to have anything to complain about--"
+
+But she quickly interrupted him.
+
+"Oh, Monsieur Cesar, Monsieur Cesar, not to-day. I am cut to the
+heart--another time--another day. No, not to-day. If I accept, listen!
+'Tis not for myself--no, no, no, I swear to you. 'Tis for the child.
+Besides this provision will be put to his account."
+
+Thereupon, Cesar scared, divined the truth, and stammering:
+
+"So then--'tis his--the child?"
+
+"Why, yes," she said.
+
+And Hautot, Junior, gazed at his brother with a confused emotion,
+intense and painful.
+
+After a lengthened silence, for she had begun to weep afresh, Cesar,
+quite embarrassed, went on:
+
+"Well, then, Mam'zelle Donet I am going. When would you wish to talk
+this over with me?"
+
+She exclaimed:
+
+"Oh! no, don't go! don't go. Don't leave me all alone with Emile. I
+would die of grief. I have no longer anyone, anyone but my child. Oh!
+what wretchedness, what wretchedness. Mousieur Cesar! Stop! Sit down
+again. You will say something more to me. You will tell me what he was
+doing over there all the week."
+
+And Cesar resumed his seat, accustomed to obey.
+
+She drew over another chair for herself in front of the stove, where the
+dishes had all this time been simmering, took Emile upon her knees, and
+asked Cesar a thousand questions about his father with reference to
+matters of an intimate nature, which made him feel without reasoning on
+the subject, that she had loved Hautot with all the strength of her
+frail woman's heart.
+
+And, by the natural concatenation of his ideas--which were rather
+limited in number--he recurred once more to the accident, and set about
+telling the story over again with all the same details.
+
+When he said:
+
+"He had a hole in his stomach--you could put your two fists into it."
+
+She gave vent to a sort of shriek, and the tears gushed forth again from
+her eyes.
+
+Then seized by the contagion of her grief, Cesar began to weep, too, and
+as tears always soften the fibers of the heart, he bent over Emile whose
+forehead was close to his own mouth, and kissed him.
+
+The mother, recovering her breath, murmured:
+
+"Poor lad, he is an orphan now!"
+
+"And so am I," said Cesar.
+
+And they ceased to talk.
+
+But suddenly the practical instinct of the housewife, accustomed to be
+thoughtful about many things, revived in the young woman's breast.
+
+"You have perhaps taken nothing all the morning, Monsieur Cesar."
+
+"No, Mam'zelle."
+
+"Oh! you must be hungry. You will eat a morsel."
+
+"Thanks," he said, "I am not hungry; I have had too much trouble."
+
+She replied:
+
+"In spite of sorrow, we must live. You will not refuse to let me get
+something for you! And then you will remain a little longer. When you
+are gone, I don't know what will become of me."
+
+He yielded after some further resistance, and, sitting down with his
+back to the fire, facing her, he ate a plateful of tripe, which had been
+bubbling in the stove, and drank a glass of red wine. But he would not
+allow her to uncork the bottle of white wine. He several times wiped
+the mouth of the little boy, who had smeared all his chin with sauce.
+
+As he was rising up to go, he asked:
+
+"When would you like me to come back to speak about this business to
+you, Mam'zelle Donet?"
+
+"If it is all the same to you, say next Thursday, Monsieur Cesar. In
+that way, I would lose none of my time, as I always have my Thursdays
+free."
+
+"That will suit me--next Thursday."
+
+"You will come to lunch. Won't you?"
+
+"Oh! On that point I can't give you a promise."
+
+"The reason I suggested is that people can chat better when they are
+eating. One has more time too."
+
+"Well, be it so. About twelve o'clock, then."
+
+And he took his departure, after he had again kissed little Emile, and
+pressed Mademoiselle Donet's hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PART III
+
+The week appeared long to Cesar Hautot. He had never before found
+himself alone, and the isolation seemed to him insupportable. Till now,
+he had lived at his father's side, just like his shadow, followed him
+into the fields, superintended the execution of his orders, and, when
+they had been a short time separated, again met him at dinner. They had
+spent the evenings smoking their pipes, face to face with one another,
+chatting about horses, cows or sheep, and the grip of their hands when
+they rose up in the morning might have been regarded as a manifestation
+of deep family affection on both sides.
+
+Now Cesar was alone, he went vacantly through the process of dressing
+the soil of autumn, every moment expecting to see the tall gesticulating
+silhouette of his father rising up at the end of a plain. To kill time,
+he entered the houses of his neighbors, told about the accident to all
+who had not heard of it, and sometimes repeated it to the others. Then,
+after he had finished his occupations and his reflections, he would sit
+down at the side of a road, asking himself whether this kind of life was
+going to last for ever.
+
+He frequently thought of Mademoiselle Donet. He liked her. He considered
+her thoroughly respectable, a gentle and honest young woman, as his
+father had said. Yes, undoubtedly she was an honest girl. He resolved to
+act handsomely towards her, and to give her two thousand francs a year,
+settling the capital on the child. He even experienced a certain
+pleasure in thinking that he was going to see her on the following
+Thursday and arrange this matter with her. And then the notion of this
+brother, this little chap of five, who was his father's son, plagued
+him, annoyed him a little, and, at the same time, exhibited him. He had,
+as it were, a family in this brat, sprung from a clandestine alliance,
+who would never bear the name of Hautot, a family which he might take or
+leave, just as he pleased, but which would recall his father.
+
+And so, when he saw himself on the road to Rouen on Thursday morning,
+carried along by Graindorge trotting with clattering foot-beats, he felt
+his heart lighter, more at peace than he had hitherto felt it since his
+bereavement.
+
+On entering Mademoiselle Donet's apartment, he saw the table laid as on
+the previous Thursday with the sole difference that the crust had not
+been removed from the bread. He pressed the young woman's hand, kissed
+Emile on the cheeks, and sat down, more at ease than if he were in his
+own house, his heart swelling in the same way. Mademoiselle Donet seemed
+to him a little thinner and paler. She must have grieved sorely. She
+wore now an air of constraint in his presence, as if she understood what
+she had not felt the week before under the first blow of her misfortune,
+and she exhibited an excessive deference towards him, a mournful
+humility, and made touching efforts to please him, as if to pay him back
+by her attentions for the kindness he had manifested towards her. They
+were a long time at lunch talking over the business, which had brought
+him there. She did not want so much money. It was too much. She earned
+enough to live on herself, but she only wished that Emile might find a
+few sous awaiting him when he grew big. Cesar held out, however, and
+even added a gift of a thousand francs for herself for the expense of
+mourning.
+
+When he had taken his coffee, she asked:
+
+"Do you smoke?"
+
+"Yes--I have my pipe."
+
+He felt in his pocket. Good God! He had forgotten it! He was becoming
+quite woebegone about it when she offered him a pipe of his father that
+had been shut up in a cupboard. He accepted it, took it up in his hand,
+recognized it, smelled it, spoke of its quality in a tone of emotion,
+filled it with tobacco, and lighted it. Then, he set Emile astride on
+his knee, and made him play the cavalier, while she removed the
+tablecloth, and put the soiled plates at one end of the sideboard in
+order to wash them as soon as he was gone.
+
+About three o'clock, he rose up with regret, quite annoyed at the
+thought of having to go.
+
+"Well! Mademoiselle Donet," he said, "I wish you good evening, and am
+delighted to have found you like this."
+
+She remained standing before him, blushing, much affected, and gazed at
+him while she thought of the other.
+
+"Shall we not see one another again?" she said.
+
+He replied simply:
+
+"Why, yes, mam'zelle, if it gives you pleasure."
+
+"Certainly, Monsieur Cesar. Will next Thursday suit you then?"
+
+"Yes, Mademoiselle Donet."
+
+"You will come to lunch, of course?"
+
+"Well--if you are so kind as to invite me, I can't refuse."
+
+"It is understood, then, Monsieur Cesar--next Thursday at twelve, the
+same as to-day."
+
+"Thursday at twelve, Mam'zelle Donet!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LITTLE LOUISE ROQUE
+
+
+Mederic Rompel, the postman, who was familiarly called by the country
+people Mederi, started at the usual hour from the posthouse at
+Rouy-le-Tors. Having passed through the little town with his big strides
+of an old trooper, he first cut across the meadows of Villaumes in order
+to reach the bank of the Brindelle, which led him along the water's edge
+to the village of Carvelin, where his distribution commenced. He went
+quickly, following the course of the narrow river, which frothed,
+murmured, and boiled along its bed of grass, under an arch of
+willow-trees. The big stones, impeding the flow, had around them a
+cushion of water, a sort of cravat ending in a knot of foam. In some
+places, there were cascades, a foot wide, often invisible, which made
+under the leaves, under the tendrils, under a roof of verdure, a big
+noise at once angry and gentle; then, further on, the banks widened out,
+and you saw a small, placid lake where trouts were swimming in the midst
+of all that green vegetation which keeps undulating in the depths of
+tranquil streams.
+
+Mederic went on without a halt, seeing nothing, and with only this
+thought in his mind: "My first letter is for the Poivron family, then I
+have one for M. Renardet; so I must cross the wood."
+
+His blue blouse, fastened round his waist by a black leathern belt moved
+in a quick, regular fashion above the green hedge of the willow-trees;
+and his stick of stout holly kept time with the steady movement of his
+legs.
+
+Then, he crossed the Brindelle over a bridge formed of a single tree
+thrown lengthwise, with a rope attached to two stakes driven into the
+river's banks as its only balustrade.
+
+The wood, which belonged to M. Renardet, the Mayor of Carvelin, and the
+largest landowner in the district, consisted of a number of huge old
+trees, straight as pillars, and extending for about half a league along
+the left-bank of the stream which served as a boundary for this immense
+arch of foliage. Alongside the water there were large shrubs warmed by
+the sun; but under the trees you found nothing but moss, thick, soft,
+plastic moss, which exhaled into the stagnant air a light odor of loam
+with withered branches.
+
+Mederic slackened his pace, took off his black cap adorned with red
+lace, and wiped his forehead, for it was by this time hot in the
+meadows, though it was not yet eight o'clock in the morning.
+
+He had just recovered from the effects of the heat, and resumed his
+accelerated pace when he noticed at the foot of a tree a knife, a
+child's small knife. When he picked it up, he discovered a thimble and
+also a needle-case not far away.
+
+Having taken up these objects, he thought: "I'll intrust them to the
+Mayor," and he resumed his journey, but now he kept his eyes open
+expecting to find something else.
+
+All of a sudden, he drew up stiffly as if he had knocked himself against
+a wooden bar; for, ten paces in front of him, lay stretched on her back
+a little girl, quite naked, on the moss. She was about twelve years old.
+Her arms were hanging down, her legs parted, and her face covered with
+a handkerchief. There were little spots of blood on her thighs.
+
+Mederic advanced now on tiptoe, as if he were afraid to make a noise,
+apprehended some danger, and he glanced towards the spot uneasily.
+
+What was this? No doubt, she was asleep. Then, he reflected that a
+person does not go to sleep thus naked, at half-past seven in the
+morning under cool trees. So then she must be dead; and he must be face
+to face with a crime. At this thought, a cold shiver ran through his
+frame, although he was an old soldier. And then a murder was such a rare
+thing in the country, and above all the murder of a child, that he could
+not believe his eyes. But she had no wound--nothing save this blood
+stuck on her leg. How, then, had she been killed?
+
+He stopped quite near her; and he stared at her, while he leaned on his
+stick. Certainly, he knew her, as he knew all the inhabitants of the
+district; but, not being able to get a look at her face, he could not
+guess her name. He stooped forward in order to take off the handkerchief
+which covered her face, then paused with outstretched hand, restrained
+by an idea that occurred to him.
+
+Had he the right to disarrange anything in the condition of the corpse
+before the magisterial investigation? He pictured justice to himself as
+a kind of general whom nothing escapes, and who attaches as much
+importance to a lost button as to a stab of a knife in the stomach.
+Perhaps under this handkerchief evidence to support a capital charge
+could be found; in fact if there were sufficient proof there to secure a
+conviction, it might lost its value, if touched by an awkward hand.
+
+Then, he raised himself with the intention of hastening towards the
+Mayor's residence, but again another thought held him back. If the
+little girl was still alive, by any chance, he could not leave her lying
+there in this way. He sank on his knees very gently, a little bit away
+from her through precaution, and extended his hand towards her feet. It
+was icy cold, with the terrible coldness which makes the dead flesh
+frightful, and which leaves us no longer in doubt. The letter-carrier,
+as he touched her, felt his heart in his mouth, as he said to himself
+afterwards and his lips were parched with dry spittle. Rising up
+abruptly he rushed off under the trees towards M. Renardet's house.
+
+He walked on in double-quick time, with his stick under his arm, his
+hands clenched, and his head thrust forward, and his leathern bag,
+filled with letters and newspapers, kept regularly flapping at his side.
+
+The Mayor's residence was at the end of the wood which he used as a
+park, and one side of it was washed by a little pool formed at this spot
+by the Brindelle.
+
+It was a big, square house of gray stone, very old, which had stood many
+a siege in former days, and at the end of it was a huge tower, twenty
+meters high, built in the water.
+
+From the top of this fortress the entire country around it could be seen
+in olden times. It was called the Fox's tower, without anyone knowing
+exactly why; and from this appellation, no doubt, had come the name
+Renardet, borne by the owners of this fief, which had remained in the
+same family, it was said, for more than two hundred years. For the
+Renardets formed part of the upper middle class all but noble to be met
+with so often in the provinces before the Revolution.
+
+The postman dashed into the kitchen where the servants were taking
+breakfast, and exclaimed:
+
+"Is the Mayor up? I want to speak to him at once."
+
+Mederic was recognized as a man of weight and authority, and it was soon
+understood that something serious had happened.
+
+As soon as word was brought to M. Renardet, he ordered the postman to be
+sent up to him. Pale and out of breath, with his cap in his hand,
+Mederic found the Mayor seated in front of a long table covered with
+scattered papers.
+
+He was a big, tall man, heavy and red-faced, strong as an ox and was
+greatly liked in the district, though of an excessively violent
+disposition. Very nearly forty years old, and a widower for the past six
+months, he lived on his estate like a country gentleman. His choleric
+temperament had often brought him into trouble, from which the
+magistrates of Rouy-le-Tors, like indulgent and prudent friends, had
+extricated him. Had he not one day thrown the conductor of the diligence
+from the top of his seat because he was near crushing his retriever,
+Micmac? Had he not broken the ribs of a gamekeeper, who abused him for
+having, with a gun in his hand, passed through a neighbor's property?
+Had he not even caught by the collar the sub-prefect, who stopped in the
+village in the course of an administrative round described by M.
+Renardet as an electioneering round; for he was against the government,
+according to his family tradition.
+
+The Mayor asked:
+
+"What's the matter now, Mederic?"
+
+"I found a little girl dead in your wood."
+
+Renardet rose up, with his face the color of brick.
+
+"Do you say--a little girl?"
+
+"Yes, m'sieur, a little girl, quite naked, on her back, with blood on
+her, dead--quite dead!"
+
+The Mayor gave vent to an oath:
+
+"My God, I'd make a bet 'tis little Louise Roque! I have just learned
+that she did not go home to her mother last night. Where did you find
+her?"
+
+The postman pointed out where the place was, gave full details, and
+offered to conduct the Mayor to the spot.
+
+But Renardet became brusque:
+
+"No, I don't need you. Send the steward, the Mayor's secretary, and the
+doctor immediately to me, and resume your rounds. Quick, quick, go and
+tell them to meet me in the woods."
+
+The letter-carrier, a man used to discipline, obeyed and withdrew, angry
+and grieved at not being able to be present at the investigation.
+
+The Mayor, in his turn, prepared to go out, took his hat, a big soft
+hat, and paused for a few seconds on the threshold of his abode. In
+front of him stretched a wide sward, in which three large patches were
+conspicuous--three large beds of flowers in full bloom, one facing the
+house and the others at either side of it. Further on, rose skyward the
+principal trees in the wood, while at the left, above the Brindelle
+widened into a pool, could be seen long meadows, an entirely green flat
+sweep of the country, cut by dikes and willow edges like monsters,
+twisted dwarf-trees, always cut short, and having on their thick squat
+trunks a quivering tuft of thick branches.
+
+At the right, behind the stables, the outhouses, all the buildings
+connected with the property, might be seen the village, which was
+wealthy, being mainly inhabited by rearers of oxen.
+
+Renardet slowly descended the steps in front of his house, and turning
+to the left, gained the water's edge, which he followed at a slow pace,
+his hand behind his back. He went on with bent head, and from time to
+time he glanced round in search of the persons for whom he had sent.
+
+When he stood beneath the trees, he stopped, took off his hat, and wiped
+his forehead as Mederic had done; for the burning sun was falling in
+fiery rain upon the ground. Then the Mayor resumed his journey, stopped
+once more, and retraced his steps. Suddenly, stooping down, he steeped
+his handkerchief in the stream that glided at his feet, and stretched it
+round his head, under his hat. Drops of water flowed along his temples
+over his ears always purple over his strong red neck, and made their
+way, one after the other, under his white shirt-collar.
+
+As nobody yet appeared he began tapping with his foot, then he called
+out--
+
+"Hallo! Hallo!"
+
+A voice at his right, answered:
+
+"Hallo! Hallo!"
+
+And the doctor appeared under the trees. He was a thin little man, an
+ex-military surgeon, who passed in the neighborhood for a very skillful
+practitioner. He limped, having been wounded while in the service, and
+had to use a stick to assist him in walking.
+
+Next came the steward and the Mayor's secretary, who, having been sent
+for at the same time, arrived together. They looked scared, and hurried
+forward out of breath, walking and trotting in turn in order to hasten
+their progress, and moving their arms up and down so vigorously that
+they seemed to do more work with them than with their legs.
+
+Renardet said to the doctor:
+
+"You know what the trouble is about?"
+
+"Yes, a child found dead in the wood by Mederic."
+
+"That's quite correct. Come on."
+
+They walked on side by side, followed by the two men.
+
+Their steps made no noise on the moss, their eyes were gazing downward
+right in front of them.
+
+The doctor hastened his steps, interested by the discovery. As soon as
+they were near the corpse, he bent down to examine it without touching
+it. He had put on a pair of glasses, as when one is looking at some
+curious object, and turned round very quietly.
+
+He said without rising up:
+
+"Violated and assassinated, as we are going to prove presently. This
+little girl moreover, is almost a woman--look at her throat."
+
+Her two breasts, already nearly full-developed, fell over her chest,
+relaxed by death.
+
+The doctor lightly drew away the handkerchief which covered her face. It
+looked black, frightful, the tongue protruding, the eyes bloodshot. He
+went on:
+
+"Faith, she was strangled the moment the deed was done."
+
+He felt her neck:
+
+"Strangled with the hands without leaving any special trace, neither the
+mark of the nails nor the imprint of the fingers. Quite right. It is
+little Louise Roque, sure enough!"
+
+He delicately replaced the handkerchief:
+
+"There's nothing for me to do--She's been dead for the last hour at
+least. We must give notice of the matter to the authorities."
+
+Renardet, standing up, with his hands behind his back, kept staring with
+a stony look at the little body exposed to view on the grass. He
+murmured:
+
+"What a wretch! We must find the clothes."
+
+The doctor felt the hands, the arms, the legs. He said:
+
+"She must have been bathing, no doubt. They ought to be at the water's
+edge."
+
+The Mayor thereupon gave directions:
+
+"Do you, Princepe" (this was his secretary), "go and look for those
+clothes for me along the river. Do you, Maxime" (this was the steward),
+"hurry on towards Roug-le-Tors, and bring on here to me the examining
+magistrate with the gendarmes. They must be here within an hour. You
+understand."
+
+The two men quickly departed, and Renardet said to the doctor:
+
+"What miscreant has been able to do such a deed in this part of the
+country."
+
+The doctor murmured:
+
+"Who knows? Everyone is capable of that? Everyone in particular and
+nobody in general. No matter, it must be some prowler, some workman out
+of employment. As we live under a Republic, we must expect to meet only
+this kind of person along the roads."
+
+Both of them were Bonapartists.
+
+The Mayor went on:
+
+"Yes, it can only be a stranger, a passer-by, a vagabond without heart
+or home."
+
+The doctor added with the shadow of a smile on his face:
+
+"And without a wife. Having neither a good supper nor a good bed, he
+procured the rest for himself. You can't tell how many men there may be
+in the world capable of a crime at a given moment. Did you know that
+this little girl had disappeared?"
+
+And with the end of his stick he touched one after the other the
+stiffened fingers of the corpse, resting on them as on the keys of a
+piano.
+
+"Yes, the mother came last night to look for me about nine o'clock, the
+child not having come home from supper up to seven. We went to try and
+find her along the roads up to midnight, but we did not think of the
+wood. However, we needed daylight to carry out a search with a practical
+result."
+
+"Will you have a cigar?" said the doctor.
+
+"Thanks, I don't care to smoke. It gives me a turn to look at this."
+
+They both remained standing in front of this corpse of a young girl, so
+pale, on the dark moss. A big fly with a blue belly that was walking
+along one of the thighs, stopped at the bloodstains, went on again,
+always rising higher, ran along the side with his lively, jerky
+movements, climbed up one of the breasts, then came back again to
+explore the other, looking out for something to drink on this dead girl.
+The two men kept watching this wandering black speck.
+
+The doctor said:
+
+"How pretty it is, a fly on the skin! The ladies of the last century
+had good reason to paste them on their faces. Why has this fashion gone
+out?"
+
+The Mayor seemed not to hear, plunged as he was in deep thought.
+
+But, all of a sudden, he turned round, for he was surprised by a shrill
+noise. A woman in a cap and a blue apron rushed up under the trees. It
+was the mother, La Roque. As soon as she saw Renardet she began to
+shriek:
+
+"My little girl, where's my little girl?" in such a distracted manner
+that she did not glance down at the ground. Suddenly, she saw the
+corpse, stopped short, clasped her hands, and raised both her arms while
+she uttered a sharp, heartrending cry--the cry of a mutilated animal.
+Then she rushed towards the body, fell on her knees, and took off, as if
+she would have snatched it away, the handkerchief that covered the face.
+When she saw that frightful countenance, black and convulsed, she rose
+up with a shudder, then pressed her face against the ground, giving vent
+to terrible and continuous screams with her mouth close to the thick
+moss.
+
+Her tall, thin frame, to which her clothes were clinging tightly, was
+palpitating, shaken with convulsions. They could see her bony ankles and
+her dried up calves covered with thick blue stockings, shivering
+horribly; and she went digging the soil with her crooked fingers as if
+in order to make a hole there to hide herself in it.
+
+The doctor moved, said in a low tone:
+
+"Poor old woman!"
+
+Renardet felt a strange rumbling in his stomach; then he gave vent to a
+sort of loud sneeze that issued at the same time through his nose and
+through his mouth; and, drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he
+began to weep internally, coughing, sobbing, and wiping his face
+noisily.
+
+He stammered--
+
+"Damn--damn--damned pig to do this! I would like to see him
+guillotined."
+
+But Princepe reappeared, with his hands empty. He murmured--
+
+"I have found nothing, M'sieu le Maire, nothing at all anywhere."
+
+The doctor, scared, replied in a thick voice, drowned in tears:
+
+"What is that you could not find?"
+
+"The little girl's clothes."
+
+"Well--well--look again, and find them--or you'll have to answer to me."
+
+The man, knowing that the Mayor would not brook opposition, set forth
+again with hesitating steps, casting on the corpse indirect and timid
+glances.
+
+Distant voices arose under the trees, a confused sound, the noise of an
+approaching crowd; for Mederic had, in the course of his rounds carried
+the news from door to door. The people of the neighborhood, stupefied at
+first, had gone chatting from their own firesides into the street, from
+one threshold to another. Then they gathered together. They talked over,
+discussed, and commented on the event for some minutes, and they had now
+come to see it for themselves.
+
+They arrived in groups a little faltering and uneasy through fear of the
+first impression of such a scene on their minds. When they saw the body
+they stopped, not daring to advance, and speaking low. They grew bold,
+went on a few steps, stopped again, advanced once more, and soon they
+formed around the dead girl, her mother, the doctor, and Renardet, a
+thick circle, agitated and noisy, which crushed forward under the sudden
+pushes of the last comers. And now they touched the corpse. Some of them
+even bent down to feel it with their fingers. The doctor kept them back.
+But the mayor, waking abruptly out of his torpor, broke into a rage,
+and, seizing Dr. Labarbe's stick, flung himself on his townspeople,
+stammering:
+
+"Clear out--clear out--you pack of brutes--clear out!"
+
+And in a second, the crowd of sightseers had fallen back two hundred
+meters.
+
+La Roque was lifted up, turned round, and placed in a sitting posture,
+and she now remained weeping with her hands clasped over her face.
+
+The occurrence was discussed among the crowd; and young lads' eager eyes
+curiously scrutinized this naked body of a girl. Renardet perceived
+this, and abruptly taking off his vest, he flung it over the little
+girl, who was entirely lost to view under the wide garment.
+
+The spectators drew near quietly. The wood was filled with people, and a
+continuous hum of voices rose up under the tangled foliage of the tall
+trees.
+
+The Mayor, in his shirt sleeves, remained standing, with his stick in
+his hands, in a fighting attitude. He seemed exasperated by this
+curiosity on the part of the people, and kept repeating:
+
+"If one of you come nearer, I'll break his head just as I would a
+dog's."
+
+The peasants were greatly afraid of him. They held back. Dr. Labarbe,
+who was smoking, sat down beside La Roque, and spoke to her in order to
+distract her attention. The old woman soon removed her hands from her
+face, and she replied with a flood of tearful words, emptying her grief
+in copious talk. She told the whole story of her life, her marriage, the
+death of her man, a bullsticker, who had been gored to death, the
+infancy of her daughter, her wretched existence as a widow without
+resources and with a child to support. She had only this one, her little
+Louise, and the child had been killed--killed in this wood. All of a
+sudden, she felt anxious to see it again, and dragging herself on her
+knees towards the corpse, she raised up one corner of the garment that
+covered her; then she let it fall again, and began wailing once more.
+The crowd remained silent, eagerly watching all the mother's gestures.
+
+But all of a sudden, a great swaying movement took place, and there was
+a cry of "the gendarmes! the gendarmes!"
+
+The gendarmes appeared in the distance, coming on at a rapid trot,
+escorting their captain and a little gentleman with red whiskers, who
+was bobbing up and down like a monkey on a big white mare.
+
+The steward had just found M. Putoin, the examining magistrate, at the
+moment when he was mounting his horse to take his daily ride, for he
+posed as a good horseman to the great amusement of the officers.
+
+He alighted along with the captain, and passed the hands of the Mayor
+and the Doctor, casting a ferret-like glance on the linen vest which
+swelled above the body lying underneath.
+
+When he was thoroughly acquainted with the facts, he first gave orders
+to get rid of the public, whom the gendarmes drove out of the wood, but
+who soon reappeared in the meadow, and formed a hedge, a big hedge of
+excited and moving heads all along the Brindelle, on the other side of
+the stream.
+
+The doctor in his turn, gave explanations, of which Renardet took a note
+in his memorandum book. All the evidence was given, taken down, and
+commented on without leading to any discovery. Maxime, too, came back
+without having found any trace of the clothes.
+
+This disappearance surprised everybody; no one could explain it on the
+theory of theft, and as these rags were not worth twenty sous, even this
+theory was inadmissible.
+
+The examining magistrate, the mayor, the captain, and the doctor, set to
+work by searching in pairs, putting aside the smallest branches along
+the water.
+
+Renardet said to the judge:
+
+"How does it happen that this wretch has concealed or carried away the
+clothes, and has thus left the body exposed in the open air and visible
+to everyone?"
+
+The other, sly and knowing, answered:
+
+"Ha! Ha! Perhaps a dodge? This crime has been committed either by a
+brute or by a crafty blackguard. In any case we'll easily succeed in
+finding him."
+
+The rolling of a vehicle made them turn their heads round. It was the
+deputy magistrate, the doctor and the registrar of the court who had
+arrived in their turn. They resumed their searches, all chatting in an
+animated fashion.
+
+Renardet said suddenly:
+
+"Do you know that I am keeping you to lunch with me?"
+
+Everyone smilingly accepted the invitation, and the examining
+magistrate, finding that the case of little Louise Roque was quite
+enough to bother about for one day, turned towards the Mayor:
+
+"I can have the body brought to your house, can I not? You have a room
+in which you can keep it for me till this evening."
+
+The other got confused, and stammered:
+
+"Yes--no--no. To tell the truth, I prefer that it should not come into
+my house on account of--on account of my servants who are already
+talking about ghosts in--in my tower, in the Fox's tower. You know--I
+could no longer keep a single one. No--I prefer not to have it in my
+house."
+
+The magistrate began to smile:
+
+"Good! I am going to get it carried off at once to Roug, for the legal
+examination."
+
+Turning towards the door:
+
+"I can make use of your trap can I not?"
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+Everybody came back to the place where the corpse lay. La Roque now,
+seated beside her daughter, had caught hold of her head, and was staring
+right before her, with a wandering listless eye.
+
+The two doctors endeavored to lead her away, so that she might not
+witness the dead girl's removal; but she understood at once what they
+wanted to do, and, flinging herself on the body, she seized it in both
+arms. Lying on top of the corpse, she exclaimed:
+
+"You shall not have it--'tis mine--'tis mine now. They have killed her
+on me, and I want to keep her--you shall not have her--!"
+
+All the men, affected and not knowing how to act, remained standing
+around her. Renardet fell on his knees, and said to her:
+
+"Listen, La Roque, it is necessary in order to find out who killed her.
+Without this, it could not be found out. We must make a search for him
+in order to punish him. When we have found him, we'll give her up to
+you. I promise you this."
+
+This explanation shook the woman's mind, and a feeling of hatred
+manifested itself in her distracted glance.
+
+"So then they'll take him?"
+
+"Yes, I promise you that."
+
+She rose up, deciding to let them do as they liked; but, when the
+captain remarked:
+
+"'Tis surprising that her clothes were not found."
+
+A new idea, which she had not previously thought of, abruptly found an
+entrance into her brain, and she asked:
+
+"Where are her clothes. They're mine. I want them. Where have they been
+put?"
+
+They explained to her that they had not been found. Then she called out
+for them with desperate obstinacy and with repeated moans.
+
+"They're mine--I want them. Where are they? I want them!"
+
+The more they tried to calm her the more she sobbed, and persisted in
+her demands. She no longer wanted the body, she insisted on having the
+clothes, as much perhaps through the unconscious cupidity of a wretched
+being to whom a piece of silver represents a fortune, as through
+maternal tenderness.
+
+And when the little body rolled up in blankets which had been brought
+out from Renardet's house, had disappeared in the vehicle, the old woman
+standing under the trees, held up by the Mayor and the Captain,
+exclaimed:
+
+"I have nothing, nothing, nothing in the world, not even her little
+cap--her little cap."
+
+The cure had just arrived, a young priest already growing stout. He took
+it on himself to carry off La Roque, and they went away together towards
+the village. The mother's grief was modified under the sugary words of
+the clergyman, who promised her a thousand compensations. But she
+incessantly kept repeating:
+
+"If I had only her little cap."
+
+Sticking to this idea which now dominated every other.
+
+Renardet exclaimed some distance away:
+
+"You lunch with us, Monsieur l'Abbe--in an hour's time."
+
+The priest turned his head round, and replied:
+
+"With pleasure, Monsieur le Maire. I'll be with you at twelve."
+
+And they all directed their steps towards the house whose gray front and
+large tower built on the edge of the Brindelle, could be seen through
+the branches.
+
+The meal lasted a long time. They talked about the crime. Everybody was
+of the same opinion. It had been committed by some tramp passing there
+by mere chance while the little girl was bathing.
+
+Then the magistrates returned to Roug, announcing that they would return
+next day at an early hour. The doctor and the cure went to their
+respective homes, while Renardet, after a long walk through the meadows,
+returned to the wood where he remained walking till nightfall with slow
+steps, his hands behind his back.
+
+He went to bed early, and was still asleep next morning when the
+examining magistrate entered his room. He rubbed his hands together with
+a self-satisfied air. He said:
+
+"Ha! ha! You're still sleeping. Well, my dear fellow, we have news this
+morning."
+
+The Mayor sat up on his bed.
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"Oh! Something strange. You remember well how the mother yesterday
+clamored for some memento of her daughter, especially her little cap?
+Well, on opening her door this morning, she found on the threshold, her
+child's two little wooden shoes. This proves that the crime was
+perpetrated by some one from the district, some one who felt pity for
+her. Besides, the postman, Mederic comes and brings the thimble, the
+knife and the needle case of the dead girl. So then the man in carrying
+off the clothes in order to hide them, must have let fall the articles
+which were in the pocket. As for me, I attach special importance about
+the wooden shoes, as they indicate a certain moral culture and a faculty
+for tenderness on the part of the assassin. We will therefore, if I have
+no objection, pass in review together the principal inhabitants of your
+district."
+
+The Mayor got up. He rang for hot water to shave with, and said:
+
+"With pleasure, but it will take rather a long time, and we may begin at
+once."
+
+M. Putoin had sat astride on a chair, thus pursuing even in a room, his
+mania for horsemanship.
+
+Renardet now covered his chin with a white lather while he looked at
+himself in the glass; then he sharpened his razor on the strop and went
+on:
+
+"The principal inhabitant of Carvelin bears the name of Joseph Renardet,
+Mayor, a rich landowner, a rough man who beats guards and coachmen--"
+
+The examining magistrate burst out laughing:
+
+"That's enough; let us pass on to the next."
+
+"The second in importance is ill. Pelledent, his deputy, a rearer of
+oxen, an equally rich landowner, a crafty peasant, very sly, very
+close-fisted on every question of money, but incapable in my opinion, of
+having perpetrated such a crime."
+
+M. Putoin said:
+
+"Let us pass on."
+
+Then, while continuing to shave and wash himself, Renardet went on with
+the moral inspection of all the inhabitants of Carvelin. After two
+hours' discussion, their suspicions were fixed on three individuals who
+had hitherto borne a shady reputation--a poacher named Cavalle, a fisher
+for trails and crayfish named Paquet, and a bullsticker named Clovis.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PART II
+
+The search for the perpetrator of the crime lasted all the summer, but
+he was not discovered. Those who were suspected and those who were
+arrested easily proved their innocence, and the authorities were
+compelled to abandon the attempt to capture the criminal.
+
+But this murder seemed to have moved the entire country in a singular
+fashion. There redisquietude, a vague fear, a sensation of mysterious
+terror, springing not merely from the impossibility of discovering any
+trace of the assassin, but also and above all from that strange finding
+of the wooden shoes in front of La Roque's door on the day after the
+crime. The certainty that the murderer had assisted at the
+investigation, that he was still living in the village without doubt,
+left a gloomy impression on people's minds, and appeared to brood over
+the neighborhood like an incessant menace.
+
+The wood besides, had become a dreaded spot, a place to be avoided, and
+supposed to be haunted.
+
+Formerly, the inhabitants used to come and sit down on the moss at the
+feet of the huge tall trees, or walk along the water's edge watching the
+trouts gliding under the green undergrowth. The boys used to play bowls,
+hide-and-seek and other games in certain places where they had upturned,
+smoothed out, and leveled the soil, and the girls, in rows of four or
+five, used to trip along holding one another by the arms, and screaming
+out with their shrill voices ballads which grated on the ear, and whose
+false notes disturbed the tranquil air and set the teeth on edge like
+drops of vinegar. Now nobody went any longer under the wide lofty vault,
+as if people were afraid of always finding there some corpse lying on
+the ground.
+
+Autumn arrived, the leaves began to fall. They fell down day and night,
+descended from the tall trees, round and round whirling to the ground;
+and the sky could be seen through the bare branches. Sometimes when a
+gust of wind swept over the tree-tops, the slow, continuous rain
+suddenly grew heavier, and became a storm with a hoarse roar, which
+covered the moss with a thick carpet of yellow water that made rather a
+squashing sound under the feet. And the almost imperceptible murmur, the
+floating, ceaseless murmur gentle and sad, of this rainfall seemed like
+a low wail, and those leaves continually falling, seemed like tears,
+big tears shed by the tall mournful trees which were weeping, as it
+were, day and night over the close of the year, over the ending of warm
+dawns and soft twilights, over the ending of hot breezes and bright
+suns, and also perhaps over the crime which they had seen committed
+under the shade of their branches, over the girl violated and killed at
+their feet. They wept in the silence of the desolate empty wood, the
+abandoned, dreaded wood, where the soul, the childish soul of the dead
+little girl must be wandering all alone.
+
+The Brindelle, swollen by the storms, rushed on more quickly, yellow and
+angry, between its dry banks, between two thin, bare willow-hedges.
+
+And here was Renardet suddenly resuming his walks under the trees. Every
+day, at sunset, he came out of his house decended the front steps
+slowly, and entered the wood, in a dreamy fashion with his hands in his
+pockets. For a long time he paced over the damp soft moss, while a
+legion of rooks, rushing to the spot from all the neighboring haunts in
+order to rest in the tall summits, unrolled themselves through space,
+like an immense mourning veil floating in the wind, uttering violent and
+sinister screams. Sometimes, they rested, dotting with black spots the
+tangled branches against the red sky, the sky crimsoned with autumn
+twilights. Then, all of a sudden, they set again, croaking frightfully
+and trailing once more above the wood the long dark festoon of their
+flight.
+
+They swooped down at last, on the highest treetops, and gradually their
+cawings died away while the advancing night mingled their black plumes
+with the blackness of space.
+
+Renardet was still strolling slowly under the trees; then, when the
+thick darkness prevented him from walking any longer, he went back to
+the house, sank all of a heap into his armchair in front of the glowing
+hearth, stretching towards the fire his damp feet from which for some
+time under the flames vapor emanated.
+
+Now, one morning, an important bit of news was circulated around the
+district; the Mayor was getting his wood cut down.
+
+Twenty woodcutters were already at work. They had commenced at the
+corner nearest to the house, and they worked rapidly in the master's
+presence.
+
+At first, the loppers climbed up the trunk. Tied to it by a rope collar,
+they cling round in the beginning with both arms, then, lifting one leg,
+they strike it hard with a blow of the edge of a steel instrument
+attached to each foot. The edge penetrates the wood, and remains stuck
+in it; and the man rises up as if on a step in order to strike with the
+steel attached to the other foot, and once more supports himself till he
+lifts his first foot again.
+
+And with every upward movement he raises higher the rope collar which
+fastens him to the tree. Over his loins, hangs and glitters the steel
+hatchet. He keeps continually clinging on in an easy fashion like a
+parasitic creature attacking a giant; he mounts slowly up the immense
+trunk, embracing it and spurring it in order to decapitate it.
+
+As soon as he reaches the first branches, he stops, detaches from his
+side the sharp ax, and strikes. He strikes slowly, methodically, cutting
+the limb close to the trunk, and, all of a sudden, the branch cracks,
+gives away, bends, tears itself off, and falls down grazing the
+neighboring trees in its fall. Then, it crashes down on the ground with
+a great sound of broken wood, and its slighter branches keep quivering
+for a long time.
+
+The soil was covered with fragments which other men cut in their turn,
+bound in bundles, and piled in heaps, while the trees which were still
+left standing seemed like enormous posts, gigantic forms amputated and
+shorn by the keen steel of the cutting instruments.
+
+And when the lopper had finished his task, he left at the top of the
+straight slender shaft of the tree the rope collar which he had brought
+up with him, and afterwards descends again with spurlike prods along the
+discrowned trunk, which the woodcutters thereupon attacked at the base,
+striking it with great blows which resounded through all the rest of the
+wood.
+
+When the foot seemed pierced deeply enough, some men commenced dragging
+to the accompaniment of a cry in which they joined harmoniously, at the
+rope attached to the top; and, all of a sudden, the immense mast cracked
+and tumbled to the earth with the dull sound and shock of a distant
+cannon-shot.
+
+And each day the wood grew thinner, losing its trees which fell down one
+by one, as an army loses its soldiers.
+
+Renardet no longer walked up and down. He remained from morning till
+night, contemplating, motionless, and with his hands behind his back the
+slow death of his wood. When a tree fell, he placed his foot on it as if
+it were a corpse. Then he raised his eyes to the next with a kind of
+secret, calm impatience, as if he had expected, hoped for, something at
+the end of this massacre.
+
+Meanwhile, they were approaching the place where little Louise Roque had
+been found. At length, they came to it one evening, at the hour of
+twilight.
+
+As it was dark, the sky being overcast, the woodcutters wanted to stop
+their work, putting off till next day the fall of an enormous
+beech-tree, but the master objected to this, and insisted that even at
+this hour they should lop and cut down this giant, which had
+overshadowed the crime.
+
+When the lopper had laid it bare, had finished its toilets for the
+guillotine, when the woodcutters were about to sap its base, five men
+commenced hauling at the rope attached to the top.
+
+The tree resisted; its powerful trunk, although notched up to the middle
+was as rigid as iron. The workmen, altogether, with a sort of regular
+jump, strained at the rope, stooping down to the ground, and they gave
+vent to a cry with throats out of breath, so as to indicate and direct
+their efforts.
+
+Two woodcutters standing close to the giant, remained with axes in their
+grip, like two executioners ready to strike once more, and Renardet,
+motionless, with his hand on the bark, awaited the fall with an uneasy,
+nervous feeling.
+
+One of the men said to him:
+
+"You're too near, Monsieur le Maire. When it falls, it may hurt you."
+
+He did not reply and did not recoil. He seemed ready himself to catch
+the beech-tree in his open arms in order to cast it on the ground like a
+wrestler.
+
+All at once, at the foot of the tall column of wood there was a rent
+which seemed to run to the top, like a painful shake; and it bent
+slightly, ready to fall, but still resisting. The men, in a state of
+excitement, stiffened their arms, renewed their efforts with greater
+vigor, and, just as the tree, breaking, came crashing down, Renardet
+suddenly made forward step, then stopped, his shoulders raised to
+receive the irresistible shock, the mortal shock which would crush him
+on the earth.
+
+But the beech-tree, having deviated a little, only rubbed against his
+loins, throwing him on his face five meters away.
+
+The workmen dashed forward to lift him up. He had already risen to his
+knees, stupefied, with wandering eyes, and passing his hand across his
+forehead, as if he were awaking out of an attack of madness.
+
+When he had got to his feet once more, the men, astonished, questioned
+him, not being able to understand what he had done. He replied, in
+faltering tones, that he had had for a moment a fit of abstraction, or
+rather a return to the days of his childhood, that he imagined he had to
+pass his time under a tree, just as street-boys rush in front of
+vehicles driving rapidly past, that he had played at danger, that, for
+the past eight days, he felt this desire growing stronger within him,
+asking himself whether, every time one was cracking, so as to be on the
+point of falling, he could pass beneath it without being touched. It was
+a piece of stupidity he confessed; but everyone has these moments of
+insanity, and these temptations towards boyish folly.
+
+He made this explanation in a slow tone, searching for his words, and
+speaking in a stupefied fashion.
+
+Then, he went off, saying:
+
+"Till to-morrow, my friends--till to-morrow."
+
+As soon as he had got back to his room, he sat down before his table,
+which his lamp, covered with a shade, lighted up brightly, and, clasping
+his hands over his forehead, he began to cry.
+
+He remained crying for a long time, then wiped his eyes, raised his
+head, and looked at the clock. It was not yet six o'clock.
+
+He thought:
+
+"I have time before dinner."
+
+And he went to the door and locked it. He then came back, and sat down
+before his table. He pulled out a drawer in the middle of it, and taking
+from it a revolver, laid it down over his papers, under the glare of the
+sun. The barrel of the fire-arm glittered and cast reflections which
+resembled flames.
+
+Renardet gazed at it for some time with the uneasy glance of a drunken
+man; then he rose by, and began to pace up and down the room.
+
+He walked from one end of the apartment to the other, and stopped from
+time to time, and started to pace up and down again a moment afterwards.
+Suddenly, he opened the door of his dressing room, steeped a napkin in a
+water-jug and moistened his forehead, as he had done on the morning of
+the crime.
+
+Then he went walking up and down once more. Each time he passed the
+table the gleaming revolver attracted his glance, tempted his hand; but
+he kept watching the clock, and reflected:
+
+"I have still time."
+
+It struck half-past six. Then he took up the revolver, opened his mouth
+wide with a frightful grimace, and stuck the barrel into it, as if he
+wanted to swallow it. He remained in this position for some seconds
+without moving, his finger on the lock, then, suddenly, seized with a
+shudder of horror, he dropped the pistol on the carpet.
+
+And he fell back on his arm-chair, sobbing:
+
+"I can't. I dare not! My God! My God! How can I have the courage to kill
+myself?"
+
+There was a knock at the door. He rose up in a stupefied condition. A
+servant said:
+
+"Monsieur's dinner is ready."
+
+He replied:
+
+"All right. I'm going down."
+
+Then he picked up the revolver, locked it up again in the drawer, then
+he looked at himself in the glass over the mantelpiece to see whether
+his face did not look too much convulsed. It was as red as usual, a
+little redder perhaps. That was all. He went down, and seated himself
+before the table.
+
+He ate slowly, like a man who wants to drag on the meal, who does not
+want to be alone with himself.
+
+Then he smoked several pipes in the hall while the plates were being
+removed. After that, he went back to his room.
+
+As soon as he was shut up in it, he looked under his bed, opened all his
+cupboards, explored every corner, rummaged through all the furniture.
+Then he lighted the tapers over the mantelpiece, and, turning round
+several times, ran his eye all over the apartment with an anguish of
+terror that made his face lose its color, for he knew well that he was
+going to see her, as on every night--Little Louise Roque, the little
+girl he had violated and afterwards strangled.
+
+Every night the odious vision came back again. First, it sounded in his
+ears like a kind of snorting such as is made by a threshing machine or
+the distant passage of a train over a bridge. Then he commenced to pant,
+to feel suffocated, and he had to unbutton his shirt-collar and his
+belt. He moved about to make his blood circulate, he tried to read, he
+attempted to sing. It was in vain. His thoughts, in spite of himself,
+went back to the day of the murder, and made him begin it all over again
+in all its most secret details, with all the violent emotions he had
+experienced from the first minute to the last.
+
+He had felt on rising up that morning, the morning of the horrible day,
+a little stupefaction and dizziness which he attributed to the heat, so
+that he remained in his room till the time came for breakfast.
+
+After the meal he had taken a siesta, then, towards the close of the
+afternoon, he had gone out to breathe the fresh, soothing breeze under
+the trees in the wood.
+
+But, as soon as they were outside, the heavy, scorching air of the plain
+oppressed him more. The sun, still high in the heavens, poured out on
+the parched soil, dry and thirsty, floods of ardent light. Not a breath
+of wind stirred the leaves. Every beast and bird, even the grasshoppers,
+were silent. Renardet reached the tall trees, and began to walk over the
+moss where the Brindelle sent forth a slight, cool vapor under the
+immense roof of trees. But he felt ill at ease. It seemed to him that an
+unknown, invisible hand, was squeezing his neck, and he scarcely thought
+of anything, having usually few ideas in his head. For the last three
+months, only one thought haunted him, the thought of marrying again. He
+suffered from living alone, suffered from it morally and physically.
+Accustomed for ten years past to feeling a woman near him, habituated
+to her presence every moment, to her embrace each successive day, he had
+need, an imperious and perplexing need of incessant contact with her and
+the regular touch of her lips. Since Madame Renardet's death, he had
+suffered continually without knowing why, he had suffered from not
+feeling her dress brush against his legs every day, and, above all, from
+no longer being able to grow calm and languid between her arms. He had
+been scarcely six months a widower, and he had already been looking out
+through the district for some young girl or some widow he might marry
+when his period of marrying was at an end.
+
+He had a chaste soul, but it was lodged in a powerful Herculean body,
+and carnal images began to disturb his sleep and his vigils. He drove
+them away; they came back again; and he murmured from time to time,
+smiling at himself:
+
+"Here I am, like St. Antony."
+
+Having had this morning several besetting visions, the desire suddenly
+came into his breast to bathe in the Brindelle in order to refresh
+himself and appease the ardor of his heat.
+
+He knew, a little further on, a large deep spot where the people of the
+neighborhood came sometimes to take a dip in summer. He went there.
+
+Thick willow trees hid this clear volume of water where the current
+rested and went to sleep for a little while before starting its way
+again. Renardet, as he appeared, thought he heard a light sound, a faint
+smell which was not that of the stream on the banks. He softly put aside
+the leaves and looked. A little girl, quite naked in the transparent
+water, was beating the waves with both hands, dancing about in them a
+little and dipping herself with pretty movements. She was not a child
+nor was she yet a woman. She was plump and formed, while preserving an
+air of youthful precocity, as of one who had grown rapidly, and who was
+now almost ripe. He no longer moved, overcome with surprise, with a pang
+of desire, holding his breath with a strange poignant emotion. He
+remained there, his heart beating as if one of his sensual dreams had
+just been realized, as if an impure fairy had conjured up before him
+this creature so disturbing to his blood, so very young this little
+rustic Venus, was born in the waves of the sea.
+
+Suddenly the little girl came out of the water, and without seeing came
+over to where he stood looking for her clothes in order to dress
+herself. While she was gradually approaching with little hesitating
+steps, through fear of the sharp pointed stones, he felt himself pushed
+towards her by an irresistible force, by a bestial transport of passion,
+which stirred up all his flesh, stupefied his soul, and made him tremble
+from head to foot.
+
+She remained standing some seconds behind the willow tree which
+concealed him from view. Then, losing his reason entirely, he opened the
+branches, rushed on her, and seized her in his arms. She fell, too
+scared to offer any resistance, too much terror-stricken to cry out, and
+he possessed her without understanding what he was doing.
+
+He woke up from his crime, as one wakes out of a nightmare. The child
+burst out weeping.
+
+He said:
+
+"Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue! I'll give you money."
+
+But she did not hear him, she went on sobbing.
+
+He went on:
+
+"Come now, hold your tongue! Do hold your tongue. Keep quiet."
+
+She still kept shrieking, writhing in the effort to get away from him.
+He suddenly realized that he was ruined, and he caught her by the neck
+to stop her mouth from uttering these heartrending, dreadful screams. As
+she continued to struggle with the desperate strength of a being who is
+seeking to fly from death, he pressed his enormous hands on the little
+throat swollen with cries, and in a few seconds he had strangled her so
+furiously did he grip her, without intending to kill her but only to
+make her keep silent.
+
+Then he rose up overwhelmed with horror.
+
+She lay before him with her face bleeding and blackened. He was going to
+rush away when there sprang up in his agitated soul the mysterious and
+undefined instinct that guides all beings in the hour of danger.
+
+It was necessary to throw the body into the water; but another impulse
+drove him towards the clothes, of which he made a thin parcel. Then as
+he had a piece of twine in his pocket, he tied it up and hid it in a
+deep portion of the stream, under the trunk of a tree, the foot of which
+was steeped in the Brindelle.
+
+Then he went off at a rapid pace, reached the meadows, took a wide turn
+in order to show himself to some peasants who dwelt some distance away
+at the opposite side of the district, and he came back to dine at the
+usual hour, and told his servants all that was supposed to have happened
+during his walk.
+
+He slept, however, that night; he slept with a heavy brutish sleep, such
+as the sleep of persons condemned to death must be occasionally. He
+only opened his eyes at the first glimmer of dawn, and he waited,
+tortured by the fear of having his crime discovered, for his usual
+waking hour.
+
+Then he would have to be present at all the stages of the inquiry as to
+the cause of death. He did so after the fashion of a somnambulist, in a
+hallucination which showed him things and human beings in a sort of
+dream, in a cloud of intoxication, in that dubious sense of unreality
+which perplexes the mind at the time of the greatest catastrophe.
+
+The only thing that pierced his heart was La Roque's cry of anguish. At
+that moment he felt inclined to cast himself at the old woman's feet,
+and to exclaim--
+
+"'Tis I."
+
+But he restrained himself. He went back, however, during the night, to
+fish up the dead girl's wooden shoes, in order to carry them to her
+mother's threshold.
+
+As long as the inquiry lasted, as long as it was necessary to guide and
+aid justice, he was calm, master of himself, sly and smiling. He
+discussed quietly with the magistrates all the suppositions that passed
+through their minds, combated their opinions, and demolished their
+arguments. He even took a keen and mournful pleasure in disturbing their
+investigations, in embroiling their ideas in showing the innocence of
+those whom they suspected.
+
+But from the day when the inquiry came to a close he became gradually
+nervous, more excitable still than he had been before, although he
+mastered his irritability. Sudden noises made him jump up with fear; he
+shuddered at the slightest thing, trembled sometimes from head to foot
+when a fly alighted on his forehead. Then he was seized with an
+imperious desire for movement, which compelled him to keep continually
+on foot, and made him remain up whole nights walking to and fro in his
+own room.
+
+It was not that he was goaded by remorse. His brutality did not lend
+itself to any shade of sentiment or of moral terror. A man of energy and
+even of violence, born to make war, to ravage conquered countries and to
+massacre the vanquished, full of the savage instincts of the hunter and
+the fighter, he scarcely took count of human life. Though he respected
+the church through policy, he believed neither in God nor in the devil,
+expecting consequently in another life neither chastisement nor
+recompense for his acts. As his sole belief, he retained a vague
+philosophy composed of all the ideas of the encyclopedists of the last
+century; and he regarded religion as a moral sanction of the law, the
+one and the other having been invented by men to regulate social
+relations. To kill anyone in a duel, or in war, or in a quarrel, or by
+accident, or for the sake of revenge, or even through bravado, would
+have seemed to him an amusing and clever thing, and would not have left
+more impression on his mind than a shot fired at a hare; but he had
+experienced a profound emotion at the murder of this child. He had, in
+the first place, perpetrated it in the distraction of an irresistible
+gust of passion, in a sort of spiritual tempest that had overpowered his
+reason. And he had cherished in his heart, cherished in his flesh,
+cherished on his lips, cherished even to the very tips of his murderous
+fingers, a kind of bestial love, as well as a feeling of crushing
+horror, towards this little girl surprised by him and basely killed.
+Every moment his thoughts returned to that horrible scene, and, though
+he endeavored to drive away this picture from his mind, though he put it
+aside with terror, with disgust, he felt it surging through his soul,
+moving about in him, waiting incessantly for the moment to reappear.
+
+Then, in the night, he was afraid, afraid of the shadow falling around
+him. He did not yet know why the darkness seemed to seem frightful to
+him; but he instinctively feared it, he felt that it was peopled with
+terrors. The bright daylight did not lend itself to fears. Things and
+beings were seen there, and so there were only to be met there natural
+things and beings which could exhibit themselves in the light of day.
+But the night, the unpenetrable night, thicker than walls, and empty,
+the infinite night, so black, so vast, in which one might brush against
+frightful things, the night when one feels that mysterious terror is
+wandering, prowling about, appeared to him to conceal an unknown danger,
+close and menacing.
+
+What was it?
+
+He knew it ere long. As he sat in his armchair, rather late one evening
+when he could not sleep, he thought he saw the curtain of his window
+move. He waited, in an uneasy state of mind, with beating heart. The
+drapery did not stir; then, all of a sudden it moved once more. He did
+not venture to rise up; he no longer ventured to breathe, and yet he was
+brave. He had often fought, and he would have liked to catch thieves in
+his house.
+
+Was it true that this curtain did move? he asked himself, fearing that
+his eyes had deceived him. It was, moreover, such a slight thing, a
+gentle flutter of lace, a kind of trembling in its folds, less than an
+undulation such as is caused by the wind.
+
+Renardet sat still, with staring eyes, and outstretched neck; and he
+sprang to his feet abruptly ashamed of his fear, took four steps, seized
+the drapery with both hands, and pulled it wide apart. At first, he saw
+nothing but darkened glass, resembling plates of glittering ink. The
+night, the vast, impenetrable sketched behind as far as the invisible
+horizon. He remained standing in front of this illimitable shadow, and
+suddenly he perceived a light, a moving light, which seemed some
+distance away.
+
+Then he put his face close to the window-pane, thinking that a person
+looking for crayfish might be poaching in the Brindelle, for it was past
+midnight, and this light rose up at the edge of the stream, under the
+trees. As he was not yet able to see clearly, Renardet placed his hands
+over his eyes; and suddenly this light became an illumination, and he
+beheld little Louise Roque naked and bleeding on the moss. He recoiled
+frozen with horror, sank into his chair, and fell backward. He remained
+there some minutes, his soul in distress, then he sat up and began to
+reflect. He had had a hallucination--that was all; a hallucination due
+to the fact that a marauder of the night was walking with a lantern in
+his hand near the water's edge. What was there astonishing, besides, in
+the circumstance that the recollection of his crime should sometimes
+bring before him the vision of the dead girl?
+
+He rose up, swallowed a glass of wine and sat down again.
+
+He thought.
+
+"What am I to do if this come back?"
+
+And it did come back; he felt it; he was sure of it. Already his glance
+was drawn towards the window; it called him; it attracted him. In order
+to avoid looking at it, he turned aside his chair. Then he took a book
+and tried to read; but it seemed to him that he presently heard
+something stirring behind him, and he swung round his armchair on one
+foot.
+
+The curtain still moved--unquestionably, it did move this time; he could
+no longer have any doubt about it.
+
+He rushed forward and seized it in his grasp so violently that he
+knocked it down with its fastener. Then, he eagerly pasted his face
+against the glass. He saw nothing. All was black without; and he
+breathed with the delight of a man whose life has just been saved.
+
+Then, he went back to his chair, and sat down again; but almost
+immediately he felt a longing once more to look out through the window.
+Since the curtain had fallen the space in front of him made a sort of
+dark patch fascinating and terrible on the obscure landscape. In order
+not to yield to this dangerous temptation, he took off his clothes, blew
+out the light, went to bed, and shut his eyes.
+
+Lying on his back motionless, his skin hot and moist, he awaited sleep.
+Suddenly a great gleam of light flashed across his eyelids. He opened
+them, believing that his dwelling was on fire. All was black as before,
+and he leaned on his elbow in order to try to distinguish his window
+which had still for him an unconquerable attraction. By dint of
+straining his eyes, he could perceive some stars, and he arose, groped
+his way across the room, discovered the panes with his outstretched
+hands, and placed his forehead close to them. There below, under the
+trees, the body of the little girl glittered like phosphorus, lighting
+up the surrounding darkness.
+
+Renardet uttered a cry and rushed towards his bed, where he lay till
+morning, his head hidden under the pillow.
+
+From that moment, his life became intolerable. He passed his days in
+apprehension of each succeeding night; and each night the vision came
+back again. As soon as he had locked himself up in his room, he strove
+to struggle; but in vain. An irresistible force lifted him up and pushed
+him against the glass, as if to call the phantom, and ere long he saw it
+lying at first in the spot where the crime was committed, lying with
+arms and legs outspread, just in the way the body had been found.
+
+Then the dead girl rose up and came towards him with little steps just
+as the child had done when she came out of the river. She advanced
+quietly, passing straight across the grass, and over the border of
+withered flowers. Then she rose up into the air towards Renardet's
+window. She came towards him, as she had come on the day of the crime
+towards the murderer. And the man recoiled before the apparition--he
+retreated to his bed and sank down upon it, knowing well that the little
+one had entered the room, and that she now was standing behind the
+curtain which presently moved. And until daybreak, he kept staring at
+this curtain, with a fixed glance, ever waiting to see his victim
+depart.
+
+But she did not show herself any more; she remained there behind the
+curtain which quivered tremulously now and then.
+
+And Renardet, his fingers clinging to the bedclothes, squeezed them as
+he had squeezed the throat of little Louise Roque.
+
+He heard the clock striking the hours; and in the stillness the pendulum
+kept ticking in time with the loud beatings of his heart. And he
+suffered, the wretched man, more than any man had ever suffered before.
+
+Then, as soon as a white streak of light on the ceiling announced the
+approaching day, he felt himself free, alone, at last, alone in his
+room; and at last he went to sleep. He slept then some hours--a
+restless, feverish sleep in which he retraced in dreams the horrible
+vision of the night just past.
+
+When, later on, he went down to breakfast, he felt doubled up as if
+after prodigious fatigues; and he scarcely ate anything, still haunted
+as he was by the fear of what he had seen the night before.
+
+He knew well, however, that it was not an apparition, that the dead do
+not come back, and that his sick soul, his soul possessed by one thought
+alone, by an indelible remembrance, was the only cause of his
+punishment, the only evoker of the dead girl brought back by it to life,
+called up by it and raised by it before his eyes in which the
+ineffaceable image remained imprinted. But he knew, too, that he could
+not cure it, that he would never escape from the savage persecution of
+his memory; and he resolved to die, rather than to endure these tortures
+any longer.
+
+Then, he thought of how he would kill himself. He wished for something
+simple and natural, which would preclude the idea of suicide. For he
+clung to his reputation, to the names bequeathed to him by his
+ancestors; and if there were any suspicion as the cause of his death,
+people's thoughts might be perhaps directed towards the mysterious
+crime, towards the murderer who could not be found, and they would not
+hesitate to accuse him of the crime.
+
+A strange idea came into his head, that of getting himself crushed by
+the tree at the foot of which he had assassinated little Louise Roque.
+So he determined to have his wood cut down, and to simulate an accident.
+But the beech-tree refused to smash his ribs.
+
+Returning to his house, a prey to utter despair he had snatched up his
+revolver, and then he did not dare to fire it.
+
+The dinner bell summoned him. He could eat nothing, and then he went
+up-stairs again. And he did not know what he was going to do. Now that
+he had escaped the first time, he felt himself a coward. Presently, he
+would be ready, fortified, decided, master of his courage and of his
+resolution; now, he was weak and feared death as much as he did the dead
+girl.
+
+He faltered:
+
+"I will not venture it again--I will not venture it."
+
+Then he glanced with terror, first at the revolver on the table, and
+next at the curtain which hid his window. It seemed to him, moreover
+that something horrible would occur as soon as his life was ended.
+Something? What? A meeting with her perhaps. She was watching for him;
+she was waiting for him; she was calling him; and her object was to
+seize him in her turn, to draw him towards the doom that would avenge
+her, and to lead him to die so that she might exhibit herself thus every
+night.
+
+He began to cry like a child, repeating:
+
+"I will not venture it again--I will not venture it." Then, he fell on
+his knees, and murmured:
+
+"My God! my God!" without believing, nevertheless, in God. And he no
+longer dared, in fact, to look out through his window where he knew the
+apparition was visible nor at his table where his revolver gleamed.
+
+When he had risen up, he said:
+
+"This cannot last; there must be an end of it."
+
+The sound of his voice in the silent room made a shiver of fear pass
+through his limbs, but, as he could not bring himself to come to a
+determination as he felt certain that his finger would always refuse to
+pull the trigger of his revolver, he turned round to hide his head under
+the bedclothes, and plunged into reflection.
+
+He would have to find some way in which he could force himself to die,
+to invent some device against himself, which would not permit of any
+hesitation on his part, any delay, any possible regrets. He envied
+condemned criminals who are led to the scaffold surrounded by soldiers.
+Oh! if he could only beg of some one to shoot him; if he could,
+confessing the state of his soul, confessing his crime to a sure friend
+who would never divulge it, obtain from him death.
+
+But from whom could he ask this terrible service? From whom? He cast
+about in his thoughts among his friends whom he knew intimately. The
+doctor? No, he would talk about it afterwards, most certainly. And
+suddenly a fantastic idea entered his mind. He would write to the
+examining magistrate, who was on terms of close friendship with him and
+would denounce himself as the perpetrator of the crime. He would in this
+letter confess everything, revealing how his soul had been tortured, how
+he had resolved to die, how he had hesitated about carrying out his
+resolution, and what means he had employed to strengthen his failing
+courage. And in the name of their old friendship he would implore of the
+other to destroy the letter as soon as he had ascertained that the
+culprit had inflicted justice on himself. Renardet might rely on this
+magistrate, he knew him to be sure, discreet, incapable of even an idle
+word. He was one of those men who have an inflexible conscience
+governed, directed, regulated by their reason alone.
+
+Scarcely had he formed this project when a strange feeling of joy took
+possession of his heart. He was calm now. He would write his letter
+slowly, then at daybreak he would deposit it in the box nailed to the
+wall in his office, then he would ascend his tower to watch for the
+postman's arrival, and when the man in the blue blouse showed himself,
+he would cast himself head foremost on the rocks on which the
+foundations rested. He would take care to be seen first by the workmen
+who had cut down his wood. He could then climb to the step some distance
+up which bore the flag staff displayed on fete days. He would smash this
+pole with a shake and precipitate it along with him.
+
+Who would suspect that it was not an accident? And he would be killed
+completely, having regard to his weight and the height of the tower.
+
+Presently he got out of bed, went over to the table, and began to write.
+He omitted nothing, not a single detail of the crime, not a single
+detail of the torments of his heart, and he ended by announcing that he
+had passed sentence on himself, that he was going to execute the
+criminal, and begging of his friend, his old friend, to be careful that
+there should never be any stain on his memory.
+
+When he had finished his letter, he saw that the day had dawned.
+
+He closed and sealed it, wrote the address; then he descended with light
+steps, hurried towards the little white box fastened to the wall in the
+corner of the farm-house, and when he had thrown into it the paper which
+made his hand tremble, he came back quickly, shut the bolts of the great
+door, and climbed up to his tower to wait for the passing of the
+postman, who would convey his death sentence.
+
+He felt self-possessed, now. Liberated! Saved!
+
+A cold dry wind, an icy wind, passed across his face. He inhaled it
+eagerly, with open mouth, drinking in its chilling kiss. The sky was
+red, with a burning red, the red of winter, and all the plain whitened
+with frost glistened under the first rays of the sun, as if it had been
+powdered with bruised glass.
+
+Renardet, standing up, with his head bare, gazed at the vast tract of
+country before him, the meadow to the left, and to the right the village
+whose chimneys were beginning to smoke with the preparations for the
+morning meal. At his feet he saw the Brindelle flowing towards the
+rocks, where he would soon be crushed to death. He felt himself reborn
+on that beautiful frosty morning, full of strength, full of life. The
+light bathed him, penetrated him like a new-born hope. A thousand
+recollections assailed him, recollections of similar mornings, of rapid
+walks on the hard earth which rang under his footsteps, of happy chases
+on the edges of pools where wild ducks sleep. All the good things that
+he loved, the good things of existence rushed into memory, penetrated
+him with fresh desires, awakened all the vigorous appetites of his
+active, powerful body.
+
+And he was about to die? Why? He was going to kill himself stupidly,
+because he was afraid of a shadow--afraid of nothing? He was still rich
+and in the prime of life! What folly! But all he wanted was distraction,
+absence, a voyage in order to forget.
+
+This night even he had not seen the little girl because his mind was
+preoccupied, and so had wandered towards some other subject. Perhaps he
+would not see her any more? And even if she still haunted him in this
+house, certainly she would not follow him elsewhere! The earth was wide,
+the future was long.
+
+Why die?
+
+His glance traveled across the meadows, and he perceived a blue spot in
+the path which wound alongside the Brindelle. It was Mederic coming to
+bring letters from the town and to carry away those of the village.
+
+Renardet got a start, a sensation of pain shot through his breast, and
+he rushed towards the winding staircase to get back his letter, to
+demand it back from the postman. Little did it matter to him now whether
+he was seen. He hurried across the grass moistened by the light frost of
+the previous night, and he arrived in front of the box in the corner of
+the farm-house exactly at the same time as the letter carrier.
+
+The latter had opened the little wooden door, and drew forth the four
+papers deposited there by the inhabitants of the locality.
+
+Renardet said to him:
+
+"Good morrow, Mederic."
+
+"Good morrow, M'sieu le Maire."
+
+"I say, Mederic, I threw a letter into the box that I want back again. I
+came to ask you to give it back to me."
+
+"That's all right, M'sieur le Maire--you'll get it."
+
+And the postman raised his eyes. He stood petrified at the sight of
+Renardet's face. The Mayor's cheeks were purple, his eyes were glaring
+with black circles round them as if they were sunk in his head, his hair
+was all tangled, his beard untrimmed, his necktie unfastened. It was
+evident that he had not gone to bed.
+
+The postman asked:
+
+"Are you ill, M'sieur le Maire?"
+
+The other, suddenly comprehending that his appearance must be unusual,
+lost countenance, and faltered--
+
+"Oh! no--oh! no. Only I jumped out of bed to ask you for this letter. I
+was asleep. You understand?"
+
+He said in reply:
+
+"What letter?"
+
+"The one you are going to give back to me."
+
+Mederic now began to hesitate. The Mayor's attitude did not strike him
+as natural. There was perhaps a secret in that letter, a political
+secret. He knew Renardet was not a Republican, and he knew all the
+tricks and chicaneries employed at elections.
+
+He asked:
+
+"To whom is it addressed, this letter of yours?"
+
+"To M. Putoin, the examining magistrate--you know my friend, M. Putoin,
+well!"
+
+The postman searched through the papers, and found the one asked for.
+Then he began looking at it, turning it round and round between his
+fingers, much perplexed, much troubled by the fear of committing a
+grave offense or of making an enemy for himself of the Mayor.
+
+Seeing his hesitation, Renardet made a movement for the purpose of
+seizing the letter and snatching it away from him. This abrupt action
+convinced Mederic that some important secret was at stake and made him
+resolve to do his duty, cost what it may.
+
+So he flung the letter into his bag and fastened it up, with the reply:
+
+"No, I can't, M'sieur le Maire. From the moment it goes to the
+magistrate, I can't."
+
+A dreadful pang wrung Renardet's heart, and he murmured:
+
+"Why, you know me well. You are even able to recognize my handwriting. I
+tell you I want that paper."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Look here, Mederic, you know that I'm incapable of deceiving you--I
+tell you I want it."
+
+"No, I can't."
+
+A tremor of rage passed through Renardet's soul.
+
+"Damn it all, take care! You know that I don't go in for chaffing, and
+that I could get you out of your job, my good fellow, and without much
+delay either. And then, I am the Mayor of the district, after all; and I
+now order you to give me back that paper."
+
+The postman answered firmly:
+
+"No, I can't, M'sieur le Maire."
+
+Thereupon, Renardet, losing his head, caught hold of the postman's arms
+in order to take away his bag; but, freeing himself by a strong effort,
+and springing backwards, the letter carrier raised his big holly stick.
+Without losing his temper, he said emphatically:
+
+"Don't touch me, M'sieur le Maire, or I'll strike. Take care, I'm only
+doing my duty!"
+
+Feeling that he was lost, Renardet suddenly became humble, gentle,
+appealing to him like a crying child:
+
+"Look here, look here, my friend, give me back that letter, and I'll
+recompense you--I'll give you money. Stop! Stop! I'll give you a hundred
+francs, you understand--a hundred francs!"
+
+The postman turned on his heel and started on his journey.
+
+Renardet followed him, out of breath, faltering:
+
+"Mederic, Mederic, listen! I'll give you a thousand francs, you
+understand--a thousand francs."
+
+The postman still went on without giving any answer.
+
+Renardet went on:
+
+"I'll make your fortune, you understand--whatever you wish--fifty
+thousand francs--fifty thousand francs for that letter! What does it
+matter to you? You won't? Well, a hundred thousand--I say--a hundred
+thousand francs. Do you understand? A hundred thousand francs--a hundred
+thousand francs."
+
+The postman turned back, his face hard, his eye severe:
+
+"Enough of this, or else I'll repeat to the magistrate everything you
+have just said to me."
+
+Renardet stopped abruptly. It was all over. He turned back and rushed
+towards his house, running like a hunted animal.
+
+Then, in his turn, Mederic stopped, and watched this flight with
+stupefaction. He saw the Mayor re-entering his own house, and he waited
+still as if something astonishing was about to happen.
+
+In fact, presently the tall form of Renardet appeared on the summit of
+the Fox's tower. He ran round the platform, like a madman. Then he
+seized the flagstaff and shook it furiously without succeeding in
+breaking it, then, all of a sudden, like a swimmer taking a plunge, he
+dashed into the air with his two hands in front of him.
+
+Mederic rushed forward to give succor. As he crossed the park, he saw
+the woodcutters going to work. He called out to them telling them an
+accident had occurred, and at the foot of the walls they found a
+bleeding body the head of which was crushed on a rock. The Brindelle
+surrounded this rock, and over its clear, calm waters, swollen at this
+point, could be seen a long red stream of mingled brains and blood.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
+
+
+"The Comtesse Samoris."
+
+"That lady in black over there?"
+
+"The very one. She's wearing mourning for her daughter, whom she
+killed."
+
+"Come now! You don't mean that seriously?"
+
+"Oh! it is a very simple story, without any crime in it, any violence."
+
+"Then what really happened?"
+
+"Almost nothing. Many courtesans were born to be virtuous women, they
+say; and many women called virtuous were born to be courtesans--is that
+not so? Now, Madame Samoris, who was born a courtesan, had a daughter
+born a virtuous woman, that's all."
+
+"I don't quite understand you."
+
+"I'll explain what I mean. The Comtesse Samoris is one of those tinsel
+foreign women hundreds of whom are rained down every year on Paris. A
+Hungarian or Wallachian countess, or I know not what, she appeared one
+winter in apartments she had taken in the Champs Elysees, that quarter
+for adventurers and adventuresses, and opened her drawing-room to the
+first comer or to anyone that turned up.
+
+"I went there. Why? you will say. I really can't tell you. I went there,
+as everyone goes to such places because the women are facile and the men
+are dishonest. You know that set composed of filibusters with varied
+decorations, all noble, all titled, all unknown at the embassies, with
+the exception of those who are spies. All talk of their honor without
+the slightest occasion for doing so, boast of their ancestors, tell you
+about their lives, braggarts, liars, sharpers, as dangerous as the false
+cards they have up their sleeves, as delusive as their name--in short,
+the aristocracy of the bagnio.
+
+"I adore these people. They are interesting to study, interesting to
+know, amusing to understand, often clever, never commonplace like public
+functionaries. Their wives are always pretty, with a slight flavor of
+foreign roguery, with the mystery of their existence, half of it perhaps
+spent in a house of correction. They have, as a rule, magnificent eyes
+and incredible hair. I adore them also.
+
+"Madame Samoris is the type of these adventuresses, elegant, mature, and
+still beautiful. Charming feline creatures, you feel that they are
+vicious to the marrow of their bones. You find them very amusing when
+you visit them; they give card-parties; they have dances and suppers; in
+short, they offer you all the pleasures of social life.
+
+"And she had a daughter--a tall, fine-looking girl, always ready for
+entertainments, always full of laughter and reckless gayety--a true
+adventuress's daughter--but, at the same time, an innocent,
+unsophisticated, artless girl, who saw nothing, knew nothing, understood
+nothing of all the things that happened in her father's house."
+
+"How do you know about him?"
+
+"How do I know? That's the funniest part of the business! One morning,
+there was a ring at my door, and my valet came up to tell me that M.
+Joseph Bonenthal wanted to speak to me. I said directly: 'And who is
+this gentleman?' My valet replied: 'I don't know, monsieur; perhaps
+'tis someone that wants employment.' And so it was. The man wanted me to
+take him as a servant. I asked him where he had been last. He answered:
+'With the Comtesse Samoris.' 'Ah!' said I, 'but my house is not a bit
+like hers.' 'I know that well, monsieur,' he said, 'and that's the very
+reason I want to take service with monsieur. I've had enough of these
+people: a man may stay a little while with them, but he won't remain
+long with them.' I required an additional man servant at the time, and
+so I took him.
+
+"A month later, Mademoiselle Yveline Samoris died mysteriously, and here
+are all the details of her death I could gather from Joseph, who got
+them from his sweetheart, the Comtesse's chambermaid:
+
+"It was a ball-night, and two newly-arrived guests were chatting behind
+a door. Mademoiselle Yveline, who had just been dancing, leaned against
+this door to get a little air.
+
+"They did not see her approaching; but she heard what they were saying.
+And this was what they said:
+
+"'But who is the father of the girl?'
+
+"'A Russian, it appears, Count Rouvaloff. He never comes near the mother
+now.'
+
+"'And who is the reigning prince to-day?'
+
+"'That English prince standing near the window; Madame Samoris adores
+him. But her adoration of anyone never lasts longer than a month or six
+weeks. Nevertheless, as you see, she has a large circle of admirers. All
+are called--and nearly all are chosen. That kind of thing costs a good
+deal, but--hang it, what can you expect?'
+
+"'And where did she get this name of Samoris?'
+
+"'From the only man perhaps that she ever loved--a Jewish banker from
+Berlin who goes by the name of Samuel Morris.'
+
+"'Good. Thanks. Now that I know all about her, and see her sort, I'm
+off!'
+
+"What a start there was in the brain of the young girl endowed with all
+the instincts of a virtuous woman! What despair overwhelmed that simple
+soul! What mental tortures quenched her endless gayety, her delightful
+laughter, her exulting satisfaction with life! What a conflict took
+place in that youthful heart up to the moment when the last guest had
+left! Those were things that Joseph could not tell me. But, the same
+night, Yveline abruptly entered her mother's room just as the Comtesse
+was getting into bed, sent out the waiting-maid, who was close to the
+door, and, standing erect and pale, and with great staring eyes, she
+said:
+
+"'Mamma, listen to what I heard a little while ago during the ball.'
+
+"And she repeated word for word the conversation just as I told it to
+you.
+
+"The Comtesse was so stupefied that she did not know what to say in
+reply, at first. When she recovered her self-possession, she denied
+everything, and called God to witness that there was no truth in the
+story.
+
+"The young girl went away, distracted but not convinced. And she watched
+her mother.
+
+"I remember distinctly the strange alteration that then took place in
+her. She was always grave and melancholy. She used to fix on us her
+great earnest eyes as if she wanted to read what was at the bottom of
+our hearts. We did not know what to think of her, and we used to
+maintain that she was looking out for a husband.
+
+"One evening her doubts were dispelled. She caught her mother with a
+lover. Thereupon she said coldly, like a man of business laying down the
+terms of an agreement:
+
+"'Here is what I have determined to do, mamma: We will both go away to
+some little town--or rather into the country. We will live there quietly
+as well as we can. Your jewelry alone may be called a fortune. If you
+wish to marry some honest man, so much the better; still better will it
+be if I can find one. If you don't consent to do this, I will kill
+myself.'
+
+"This time, the Comtesse ordered her daughter to go to bed, and never to
+administer again this lecture so unbecoming in the mouth of a child
+towards her mother.
+
+"Yveline's answer to this was: 'I give you a month to reflect. If, at
+the end of that month, we have not changed our way of living, I will
+kill myself, since there is no other honorable issue left to my life.'
+
+"Then she took herself off.
+
+"At the end of a month, the Comtesse Samoris was giving balls and
+suppers just the same as ever. Yveline then, under the pretext that she
+had a bad toothache purchased a few drops of chloroform from a
+neighboring chemist. The next day she purchased more; and, every time
+she went out, she managed to procure small doses of the narcotic. She
+filled a bottle with it.
+
+"One morning she was found in bed, lifeless, and already quite cold,
+with a cotton mask over her face.
+
+"Her coffin was covered with flowers, the church was hung in white.
+There was a large crowd at the funeral ceremony.
+
+"Ah! well, if I had known--but you never can know--I would have married
+that girl, for she was infernally pretty."
+
+"And what became of the mother?"
+
+"Oh! she shed a lot of tears over it. She has only begun to receive
+visits again for the past week."
+
+"And what explanation is given of the girl's death?"
+
+"Oh! 'tis pretended that it was an accident caused by a new stove, the
+mechanism of which got out of order. As a good many such accidents have
+happened, the thing looks probable enough."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A PASSION
+
+The sea was brilliant and unruffled, scarcely stirred, and on the pier
+the entire town of Havre watched the ships as they came on.
+
+They could be seen at a distance, in great numbers; some of them, the
+steamers, with plumes of smoke; the others, the sailing vessels, drawn
+by almost invisible tugs, lifting towards the sky their bare masts, like
+leafless trees.
+
+They hurried from every end of the horizon towards the narrow mouth of
+the jetty which devoured these monsters; and they groaned, they
+shrieked, they hissed while they spat out puffs of steam like animals
+panting for breath.
+
+Two young officers were walking on the landing-stage, where a number of
+people were waiting, saluting or returning salutes, and sometimes
+stopping to chat.
+
+Suddenly, one of them, the taller, Paul d'Henricol, pressed the arm of
+his comrade, Jean Renoldi, then, in a whisper, said:
+
+"Hallo, here's Madame Poincot; give a good look at her. I assure you
+that she's making eyes at you."
+
+She was moving along on the arm of her husband. She was a woman of about
+forty, very handsome still, slightly stout, but, owing to her graceful
+fullness of figure, as fresh as she was at twenty. Among her friends she
+was known as the Goddess on account of her proud gait, her large black
+eyes, and the entire air of nobility of her person. She remained
+irreproachable; never had the least suspicion cast a breath on her
+life's purity. She was regarded as the very type of a virtuous,
+uncorrupted woman. So upright that no man had ever dared to think of
+her.
+
+And yet for the last month Paul d'Henricol had been assuring his friend
+Renoldi that Madame Poincot was in love with him, and he maintained that
+there was no doubt of it.
+
+"Be sure I don't deceive myself. I see it clearly. She loves you--she
+loves you passionately, like a chaste woman who had never loved. Forty
+years is a terrible age for virtuous women when they possess senses;
+they become foolish, and commit utter follies. She is hit, my dear
+fellow; she is falling like a wounded bird, and is ready to drop into
+your arms. I say--just look at her!"
+
+The tall woman, preceded by her two daughters, aged twelve and fifteen
+years, suddenly turned pale, on her approach, as her eyes lighted on the
+officer's face. She gave him an ardent glance, concentrating her gaze
+upon him, and no longer seemed to have any eyes for her children, her
+husband, or any other person around her. She returned the salutation of
+the two young men without lowering her eyes, glowing with such a flame
+that a doubt, at last, forced its way into Lieutenant Renoldi's mind.
+
+His friend said, in the same hushed voice: "I was sure of it. Did you
+not notice her this time? By Jove, she is a nice tit-bit!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Jean Renoldi had no desire for a society intrigue. Caring little for
+love, he longed, above all, for a quiet life, and contented himself with
+occasional amours such as a young man can always have. All the
+sentimentality, the attentions, and the tenderness which a well-bred
+woman exacts bored him. The chain, however slight it might be, which is
+always formed by an adventure of this sort, filled him with fear. He
+said: "At the end of a month I'll have had enough of it, and I'll be
+forced to wait patiently for six months through politeness."
+
+Then, a rupture exasperated him, with the scenes, the allusions, the
+clinging attachment, of the abandoned woman.
+
+He avoided meeting Madame Poincot.
+
+But, one evening he found himself by her side at a dinner-party, and he
+felt on his skin, in his eyes, and even in his heart, the burning glance
+of his fair neighbor. Their hands met, and almost involuntarily were
+pressed together in a warm clasp. Already the intrigue was almost begun.
+
+He saw her again, always in spite of himself. He realized that he was
+loved. He felt himself moved by a kind of pitying vanity when he saw
+what a violent passion for him swayed this woman's breast. So he allowed
+himself to be adored, and merely displayed gallantry, hoping that the
+affair would be only sentimental.
+
+But, one day, she made an appointment with him for the ostensible
+purpose of seeing him and talking freely to him. She fell, swooning,
+into his arms; and he had no alternative but to be her lover.
+
+And this lasted six months. She loved him with an unbridled, panting
+love. Absorbed in this frenzied passion, she no longer bestowed a
+thought on anything else. She surrendered herself to it utterly--her
+body, her soul, her reputation, her position, her happiness--all she
+had cast into that fire of her heart, as one casts, as a sacrifice,
+every precious object into a funeral pier.
+
+He had for some time grown tired of her, and deeply regretted his easy
+conquest as a fascinating officer; but he was bound, held prisoner. At
+every moment she said to him: "I have given you everything. What more
+would you have?" He felt a desire to answer:
+
+"But I have asked nothing from you, and I beg of you to take back what
+you gave me."
+
+Without caring about being seen, compromised, ruined, she came to see
+him every evening, her passion becoming more inflamed each time they
+met. She flung herself into his arms, strained him in a fierce embrace,
+fainted under the force of rapturous kisses which to him were now
+terribly wearisome.
+
+He said in a languid tone: "Look here! be reasonable!"
+
+She replied:
+
+"I love you," and sank on her knees gazing at him for a long time in an
+attitude of admiration. At length, exasperated by her persistent gaze,
+he tried to make her rise.
+
+"I say! Sit down. Let us talk."
+
+She murmured:
+
+"No, leave me;" and remained there, her soul in a state of ecstasy.
+
+He said to his friend d'Henricol:
+
+"You know, 'twill end by my beating her. I won't have any more of it! It
+must end, and that without further delay!" Then he went on:
+
+"What do you advise me to do?"
+
+The other replied:
+
+"Break it off."
+
+And Renoldi added, shrugging his shoulders:
+
+"You speak indifferently about the matter; you believe that it is easy
+to break with a woman who tortures you with attention, who annoys you
+with kindnesses, who persecutes you with her affection, whose only care
+is to please you, and whose only wrong is that she gave herself to you
+in spite of you."
+
+But suddenly, one morning the news came that the regiment was about to
+be removed from the garrison; Renoldi began to dance with joy. He was
+saved! Saved without scenes, without cries! Saved! All he had to do now
+was to wait patiently for two months more. Saved!
+
+In the evening she came to him more excited than she had ever been
+before. She had heard the dreadful news, and, without taking off her hat
+she caught his hands and pressed them nervously, with her eyes fixed on
+his, and her voice vibrating and resolute.
+
+"You are leaving," she said; "I know it. At first, I felt heart-broken;
+then, I understood what I had to do. I don't hesitate about doing it. I
+have come to give you the greatest proof of love that a woman can offer.
+I follow you. For you I am abandoning my husband, my children, my
+family. I am ruining myself, but I am happy. It seems to me that I am
+giving myself to you over again. It is the last and the greatest
+sacrifice. I am yours for ever!"
+
+He felt a cold sweat down his back, and was seized with a dull and
+violent rage, the anger of weakness. However, he became calm, and, in a
+disinterested tone, with a show of kindness, he refused to accept her
+sacrifice, tried to appease her, to bring her to reason, to make her see
+her own folly! She listened to him, staring at him with her great black
+eyes and with a smile of disdain on her lips, and said not a word in
+reply. He went on talking to her, and when, at length, he stopped, she
+said merely:
+
+"Can you really be a coward? Can you be one of those who seduce a woman,
+and then throw her over, through sheer caprice?"
+
+He became pale, and renewed his arguments; he pointed out to her the
+inevitable consequences of such an action to both of them as long as
+they lived--how their lives would be shattered and how the world would
+shut its doors against them. She replied obstinately: "What does it
+matter when we love each other?" Then, all of a sudden, he burst out
+furiously:
+
+"Well, then, I will not. No--do you understand? I will not do it, and I
+forbid you to do it." Then, carried away by the rancorous feeling which
+had seethed within him so long, he relieved his heart:
+
+"Ah, damn it all, you have now been sticking on to me for a long time in
+spite of myself, and the best thing for you now is to take yourself off.
+I'll be much obliged if you do so, upon my honor!"
+
+She did not answer him, but her livid countenance began to look
+shriveled up, as if all her nerves and muscles had been twisted out of
+shape. And she went away without saying good-bye.
+
+The same night she poisoned herself.
+
+For a week she was believed to be in a hopeless condition. And in the
+city people gossiped about the case, and pitied her, excusing her sin on
+account of the violence of her passion, for overstrained emotions,
+becoming heroic through their intensity, always obtain forgiveness for
+whatever is blameworthy in them. A woman who kills herself is, so to
+speak, not an adulteress. And ere long there was a feeling of general
+reprobation against Lieutenant Renoldi for refusing to see her again--a
+unanimous sentiment of blame.
+
+It was a matter of common talk that he had deserted her, betrayed her,
+ill-treated her. The Colonel, overcome by compassion, brought his
+officer to book in a quiet way. Paul d'Henricol called on his friend:
+
+"Deuce take it, Renoldi, it's not good enough to let a woman die; it's
+not the right thing anyhow."
+
+The other, enraged, told him to hold his tongue, whereupon d'Henricol
+made use of the word "infamy." The result was a duel, Renoldi was
+wounded, to the satisfaction of everybody, and was for some time
+confined to his bed.
+
+She heard about it, and only loved him the more for it, believing that
+it was on her account he had fought the duel; but, as she was too ill to
+move, she was unable to see him again before the departure of the
+regiment.
+
+He had been three months in Lille when he received one morning, a visit
+from the sister of his former mistress.
+
+After long suffering and a feeling of dejection, which she could not
+conquer, Madame Poincot's life was now despaired of, and she merely
+asked to see him for a minute, only for a minute, before closing her
+eyes for ever.
+
+Absence and time had appeased the young man's satiety and anger; he was
+touched, moved to tears, and he started at once for Havre.
+
+She seemed to be in the agonies of death. They were left alone together;
+and by the bedside of this woman whom he now believed to be dying, and
+whom he blamed himself for killing, though it was not by his own hand,
+he was fairly crushed with grief. He burst out sobbing, embraced her
+with tender, passionate kisses, more lovingly than he had ever done in
+the past. He murmured in a broken voice:
+
+"No, no, you shall not die! You shall get better! We shall love each
+other for ever--for ever!"
+
+She said in faint tones:
+
+"Then it is true. You do love me, after all?"
+
+And he, in his sorrow for her misfortunes, swore, promised to wait till
+she had recovered, and full of loving pity, kissed again and again the
+emaciated hands of the poor woman whose heart was panting with feverish,
+irregular pulsations.
+
+The next day he returned to the garrison.
+
+Six weeks later she went to meet him, quite old-looking, unrecognizable,
+and more enamored than ever.
+
+In his condition of mental prostration, he consented to live with her.
+Then, when they remained together as if they had been legally united,
+the same colonel who had displayed indignation with him for abandoning
+her, objected to this irregular connection as being incompatible with
+the good example officers ought to give in a regiment. He warned the
+lieutenant on the subject, and then furiously denounced his conduct, so
+Renoldi retired from the army.
+
+He went to live in a village on the shore of the Mediterranean, the
+classic sea of lovers.
+
+And three years passed. Renoldi, bent under the yoke, was vanquished,
+and became accustomed to the woman's persevering devotion. His hair had
+now turned white.
+
+He looked upon himself as a man done for, gone under. Henceforth, he had
+no hope, no ambition, no satisfaction in life, and he looked forward to
+no pleasure in existence.
+
+But one morning a card was placed in his hand, with the name--"Joseph
+Poincot, Shipowner, Havre."
+
+The husband! The husband, who had said nothing, realizing that there was
+no use in struggling against the desperate obstinacy of women. What did
+he want?
+
+He was waiting in the garden, having refused to come into the house. He
+bowed politely, but would not sit down, even on a bench in a
+gravel-path, and he commenced talking clearly and slowly.
+
+"Monsieur, I did not come here to address reproaches to you. I know too
+well how things happened. I have been the victim of--we have been the
+victims of--a kind of fatality. I would never have disturbed you in your
+retreat if the situation had not changed. I have two daughters,
+Monsieur. One of them, the elder, loves a young man, and is loved by
+him. But the family of this young man is opposed to the marriage, basing
+their objection on the situation of--my daughter's mother. I have no
+feeling of either anger or spite, but I love my children, Monsieur. I
+have, therefore, come to ask my wife to return home. I hope that to-day
+she will consent to go back to my house--to her own house. As for me, I
+will make a show of having forgotten, for--for the sake of my
+daughters."
+
+Renoldi felt a wild movement in his heart, and he was inundated with a
+delirium of joy like a condemned man who receives a pardon.
+
+He stammered: "Why, yes--certainly, Monsieur--I myself--be assured of
+it--no doubt--it is right, it is only quite right."
+
+This time M. Poincot no longer declined to sit down.
+
+Renoldi then rushed up the stairs, and pausing at the door of his
+mistress's room, to collect his senses, entered gravely.
+
+"There is somebody below waiting to see you," he said. "'Tis to tell you
+something about your daughters."
+
+She rose up. "My daughters? What about them? They are not dead?"
+
+He replied: "No; but a serious situation has arisen, which you alone can
+settle."
+
+She did not wait to hear more, but rapidly descended the stairs.
+
+Then, he sank down on a chair, greatly moved, and waited.
+
+He waited a long long time. Then he heard angry voices below stairs, and
+made up his mind to go down.
+
+Madame Poincot was standing up exasperated, just on the point of going
+away, while her husband had seized hold of her dress, exclaiming: "But
+remember that you are destroying our daughters, your daughters, our
+children!"
+
+She answered stubbornly:
+
+"I will not go back to you!"
+
+Renoldi understood everything, came over to them in a state of great
+agitation, and gasped:
+
+"What, does she refuse to go?"
+
+She turned towards him, and, with a kind of shame-facedness, addressed
+him without any familiarity of tone, in the presence of her legitimate
+husband, said:
+
+"Do you know what he asks me to do? He wants me to go back, and live
+under one roof with him!"
+
+And she tittered with a profound disdain for this man, who was appealing
+to her almost on his knees.
+
+Then Renoldi, with the determination of a desperate man playing his last
+card, began talking to her in his turn, and pleaded the cause of the
+poor girls, the cause of the husband, his own cause. And when he
+stopped, trying to find some fresh argument, M. Poincot, at his wits'
+end, murmured, in the affectionate style in which he used to speak to
+her in days gone by:
+
+"Look here, Delphine! Think of your daughters!"
+
+Then she turned on both of them a glance of sovereign contempt, and,
+after that, flying with a bound towards the staircase, she flung at them
+these scornful words:
+
+"You are a pair of wretches!"
+
+Left alone, they gazed at each other for a moment, both equally
+crestfallen, equally crushed. M. Poincot picked up his hat, which had
+fallen down near where he sat, dusted off his knees the signs of
+kneeling on the floor, then raising both hands sorrowfully, while
+Renoldi was seeing him to the door, remarked with a parting bow:
+
+"We are very unfortunate, Monsieur."
+
+Then he walked away from the house with a heavy step.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NO QUARTER
+
+
+The broad sunlight threw its burning rays on the fields, and under this
+shower of flame life burst forth in glowing vegetation from the earth.
+As far as the eye could see, the soil was green; and the sky was blue to
+the verge of the horizon. The Norman farms scattered through the plain
+seemed at a distance like little doors enclosed each in a circle of thin
+beech trees. Coming closer, on opening the worm-eaten stile, one fancied
+that he saw a giant garden, for all the old apple-trees, as knotted as
+the peasants, were in blossom. The weather-beaten black trunks, crooked,
+twisted, ranged along the enclosure, displayed beneath the sky their
+glittering domes, rosy and white. The sweet perfume of their blossoms
+mingled with the heavy odors of the open stables and with the fumes of
+the steaming dunghill, covered with hens and their chickens. It was
+midday. The family sat at dinner in the shadow of the pear-tree planted
+before the door--the father, the mother, the four children, the two
+maid-servants, and the three farm laborers. They scarcely uttered a
+word. Their fare consisted of soup and of a stew composed of potatoes
+mashed up in lard.
+
+From time to time one of the maid-servants rose up and went to the
+cellar to fetch a pitcher of cider.
+
+The husband, a big fellow of about forty, stared at a vine-tree, quite
+exposed to view, which stood close to the farm-house twining like a
+serpent under the shutters the entire length of the wall.
+
+He said, after a long silence:
+
+"The father's vine-tree is blossoming early this year. Perhaps it will
+bear good fruit."
+
+The peasant's wife also turned round, and gazed at the tree without
+speaking.
+
+This vine-tree was planted exactly in the place where the father of the
+peasant had been shot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was during the war of 1870. The Prussians were in occupation of the
+entire country. General Faidherbe, with the Army of the North, was at
+their head.
+
+Now the Prussian staff had taken up its quarters in this farm-house. The
+old peasant who owned it, Pere Milon Pierre, received them, and gave
+them the best treatment he could.
+
+For a whole month the German vanguard remained on the look-out in the
+village. The French were posted ten leagues away without moving; and yet
+each night, some of the Uhlans disappeared.
+
+All the isolated scouts, those who were sent out on patrol, whenever
+they started in groups of two or three, never came back.
+
+They were picked up dead in the morning in a field, near a farm-yard, in
+a ditch. Their horses even were found lying on the roads with their
+throats cut by a saber-stroke. These murders seemed to have been
+accomplished by the same men, who could not be discovered.
+
+The country was terrorized. Peasants were shot on mere information,
+women were imprisoned, attempts were made to obtain revelations from
+children by fear.
+
+But, one morning, Pere Milon was found stretched in his stable, with a
+gash across his face.
+
+Two Uhlans ripped open were seen lying three kilometers away from the
+farm-house. One of them still grasped in his hand his blood-stained
+weapon. He had fought and defended himself.
+
+A council of war having been immediately constituted, in the open air,
+in front of the farm-house, the old man was brought before it.
+
+He was sixty-eight years old. He was small, thin, a little crooked, with
+long hands resembling the claws of a crab. His faded hair, scanty and
+slight, like the down on a young duck, allowed his scalp to be plainly
+seen. The brown, crimpled skin of his neck showed the big veins which
+sank under his jaws and reappeared at his temples. He was regarded in
+the district as a miser and a hard man in business transactions.
+
+He was placed standing between four soldiers in front of the kitchen
+table, which had been carried out of the house for the purpose. Five
+officers and the Colonel sat facing him. The Colonel was the first to
+speak.
+
+"Pere Milon," he said, in French, "since we came here, we have had
+nothing to say of you but praise. You have always been obliging, and
+even considerate towards us. But to-day a terrible accusation rests on
+you, and the matter must be cleared up. How did you get the wound on
+your face?"
+
+The peasant gave no reply.
+
+The Colonel went on:
+
+"Your silence condemns you, Pere Milon. But I want you to answer me, do
+you understand. Do you know who has killed the two Uhlans who were found
+this morning near the cross-roads?"
+
+The old man said in a clear voice:
+
+"It was I!"
+
+The Colonel, surprised, remained silent for a second, looking
+steadfastly at the prisoner. Pere Milon maintained his impassive
+demeanor, his air of rustic stupidity, with downcast eyes, as if he were
+talking to his cure. There was only one thing that could reveal his
+internal agitation, the way in which he slowly swallowed his saliva with
+a visible effort, as if he were choking.
+
+The old peasant's family--his son Jean, his daughter-in-law, and two
+little children stood ten paces behind scared and dismayed.
+
+The Colonel continued:
+
+"Do you know also who killed all the scouts of our Army, whom we have
+found every morning, for the past month, lying here and there in the
+fields?"
+
+The old man answered with the same brutal impassiveness:
+
+"It was I!"
+
+"It is you, then, that killed them all?"
+
+"All of them--yes, it was I."
+
+"You alone?"
+
+"I alone."
+
+"Tell me the way you managed to do it?"
+
+This time the peasant appeared to be affected; the necessity of speaking
+at some length incommoded him.
+
+"I know myself. I did it the way I found easiest."
+
+The Colonel proceeded:
+
+"I warn you, you must tell me everything. You will do well, therefore,
+to make up your mind about it at once. How did you begin it?"
+
+The peasant cast an uneasy glance towards his family, who remained in a
+listening attitude behind him. He hesitated for another second or so,
+then all of a sudden, he came to a resolution on the matter.
+
+"I came home one night about ten o'clock and the next day you were here.
+You and your soldiers gave me fifty crowns for forage with a cow and two
+sheep. Said I to myself: 'As long as I get twenty crowns out of them,
+I'll sell them the value of it.' But then I had other things in my
+heart, which I'll tell you about now. I came across one of your
+cavalrymen smoking his pipe near my dike, just behind my barn. I went
+and took my scythe off the hook, and I came back with short steps from
+behind, while he lay there without hearing anything. And I cut off his
+head with one stroke, like a feather, while he only said 'Oof!' You have
+only to look at the bottom of the pond; you'll find him there in a
+coal-bag, with a big stone tied to it.
+
+"I got an idea into my head. I took all he had on him from his boots to
+his cap, and I hid them in the bake-house in the Martin wood behind the
+farm-yard."
+
+The old man stopped. The officers, speechless, looked at one another.
+The examination was resumed, and this is what they were told.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once he had accomplished this murder, the peasant lived with only one
+thought: "To kill the Prussians!" He hated them with the sly and
+ferocious hatred of a countryman who was at the same time covetous and
+patriotic. He had got an idea into his head, as he put it. He waited for
+a few days.
+
+He was allowed to go and come freely, to go out and return just as he
+pleased, as long as he displayed humility, submissiveness, and
+complaisance towards the conquerors.
+
+Now, every evening he saw the cavalrymen bearing dispatches leaving the
+farmhouse; and he went out one night after discovering the name of the
+village to which they were going, and after picking up by associating
+with the soldiers the few words of German he needed.
+
+He made his way through his farm-yard slipped into the wood, reached the
+bake-house, penetrated to the end of the long passage, and having found
+the clothes of the soldier which he had hidden there, he put them on.
+Then, he went prowling about the fields, creeping along, keeping to the
+slopes so as to avoid observation, listening to the least sounds,
+restless as a poacher.
+
+When he believed the time had arrived he took up his position at the
+roadside, and hid himself in a clump of brushwood. He still waited. At
+length, near midnight, he heard the galloping of a horse's hoofs on the
+hard soil of the road. The old man put his ear to the ground to make
+sure that only one cavalryman was approaching; then he got ready.
+
+The Uhlan came on at a very quick pace, carrying some dispatches. He
+rode forward with watchful eyes and strained ears. As soon as he was no
+more than ten paces away, Pere Milon dragged himself across the road,
+groaning: "Hilfe! Hilfe!" ("Help! help!")
+
+The cavalryman drew up, recognized a German soldier dismounted, believed
+that he was wounded, leaped down from his horse, drew near the prostrate
+man, never suspecting anything, and, as he stooped over the stranger, he
+received in the middle of the stomach the long curved blade of the
+saber. He sank down without any death throes, merely quivering with a
+few last shudders.
+
+Then, the Norman radiant with the mute joy of an old peasant, rose up,
+and merely to please himself, cut the dead soldier's throat. After that,
+he dragged the corpse to the dike and threw it in.
+
+The horse was quietly waiting for its rider. Pere Milon got on the
+saddle, and started across the plain at the gallop.
+
+At the end of an hour, he perceived two more Uhlans approaching the
+staff-quarters side by side. He rode straight towards them, crying,
+"Hilfe! hilfe!" The Prussians let him come on, recognizing the uniform
+without any distrust.
+
+And like a cannon-ball, the old man shot between the two, bringing both
+of them to the ground with his saber and a revolver. The next thing he
+did was to cut the throats of the horses--the German horses! Then,
+softly he re-entered the bake-house, and hid the horse he had ridden
+himself in the dark passage. There he took off the uniform, put on once
+more his own old clothes, and going to his bed, slept till morning.
+
+For four days he did not stir out, awaiting the close of the open
+inquiry as to the cause of the soldiers' deaths; but, on the fifth day,
+he started out again, and by a similar stratagem killed two more
+soldiers.
+
+Thenceforth he never stopped. Each night he wandered about, prowled
+through the country at random, cutting down some Prussians, sometimes
+here, sometimes there, galloping through the deserted fields under the
+moonlight, a lost Uhlan, a hunter of men. Then when he had finished his
+task, leaving behind the corpses lying along the roads, the old horseman
+went to the bake-house, where he concealed both the animal and the
+uniform. About midday he calmly returned to the spot to give the horse a
+feed of oats and some water, and he took every care of the animal,
+exacting therefore the hardest work.
+
+But, the night before his arrest, one of the soldiers he attacked put
+himself on his guard, and cut the old peasant's face with a slash of a
+saber.
+
+He had, however, killed both of them. He had even managed to go back and
+hide his horse and put on his everyday garb, but, when he reached the
+stable, he was overcome by weakness, and was not able to make his way
+into the house.
+
+He had been found lying on the straw, his face covered with blood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he had finished his story, he suddenly lifted his head, and glanced
+proudly at the Prussian officers.
+
+The Colonel, tugging at his moustache, asked:
+
+"Have you anything more to say?"
+
+"No, nothing more; we are quits. I killed sixteen, not one more, not one
+less."
+
+"You know you have to die?"
+
+"I ask for no quarter!"
+
+"Have you been a soldier?"
+
+"Yes, I served at one time. And 'tis you killed my father, who was a
+soldier of the first Emperor, not to speak of my youngest son, Francois,
+whom you killed last month near Exreux. I owed this to you, and I've
+paid you back. 'Tis tit for tat!"
+
+The officers stared at one another.
+
+The old man went on:
+
+"Eight for my father, eight for my son--that pays it off! I sought for
+no quarrel with you. I don't know you! I only know where you came from.
+You came to my house here, and ordered me about as if the house was
+yours. I have had my revenge, and I'm glad of it!"
+
+And stiffening up his old frame, he folded his arms in the attitude of a
+humble hero.
+
+The Prussians held a long conference. A captain, who had also lost a son
+the month before, defended the brave old scoundrel.
+
+Then the Colonel rose up, and, advancing towards Pere Milon, he said,
+lowering his voice:
+
+"Listen, old man! There is perhaps one way of saving your life--it is--"
+
+But the old peasant was not listening to him, and fixing his eyes
+directly on the German officer, while the wind made the scanty hair move
+to and fro on his skull, he made a frightful grimace, which shriveled up
+his pinched countenance scarred by the saber-stroke, and, puffing out
+his chest, he spat, with all his strength, right into the Prussian's
+face.
+
+The Colonel, stupefied, raised his hand, and for the second time the
+peasant spat in his face.
+
+All the officers sprang to their feet and yelled out orders at the same
+time.
+
+In less than a minute, the old man, still as impassive as ever, was
+stuck up against the wall, and shot while he cast a smile at Jean, his
+eldest son, and then at his daughter-in-law and the two children, who
+were staring with terror at the scene.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE IMPOLITE SEX
+
+
+Madame de X. to Madame de L.
+
+                                                 Etretat, Friday.
+
+My dear Aunt,--I am going to pay you a visit without making much fuss
+about it. I shall be at Les Fresnes on the 2nd of September, the day
+before the hunting season opens, as I do not want to miss it, so that I
+may tease these gentlemen. You are very obliging, aunt, and I would like
+you to allow them to dine with you, as you usually do when there are no
+strange guests, without dressing or shaving for the occasion, on the
+ground that they are fatigued.
+
+They are delighted, of course, when I am not present. But I shall be
+there, and I shall hold a review, like a general, at the dinner-hour;
+and, if I find a single one of them at all careless in dress, no matter
+how little, I mean to send him down to the kitchen to the servant-maids.
+
+The men of to-day have so little consideration for others and so little
+good manners that one must be always severe with them. We live indeed in
+an age of vulgarity. When they quarrel with one another, they attack one
+another with insults worthy of street-porters, and, in our presence,
+they do not conduct themselves even as well as our servants. It is at
+the seaside that you see this most clearly. They are to be found there
+in battalions, and you can judge them in the lump.
+
+Oh! what coarse beings they are!
+
+Just imagine in a train, one of them, a gentleman who looked well, as I
+thought, at first sight, thanks to his tailor, was dainty enough to take
+off his boots in order to put on a pair of old shoes! Another, an old
+man, who was probably some wealthy upstart (these are the most
+ill-bred), while sitting opposite to me, had the delicacy to place his
+two feet on the seat quite close to me. This is a positive fact.
+
+At the water-places, there is an unrestrained outpouring of
+unmannerliness. I must here make one admission--that my indignation is
+perhaps due to the fact that I am not accustomed to associate, as a
+rule, with the sort of people one comes across here, for I should be
+less shocked by their manners if I had the opportunity of observing them
+oftener. In the inquiry-office of the hotel, I was nearly thrown down by
+a young man who snatched the key over my head. Another knocked against
+me so violently without begging my pardon or lifting his hat, coming
+away from a ball at the Casino, that he gave me a pain in the chest. It
+is the same way with all of them. Watch them addressing ladies on the
+terrace; they scarcely ever bow. They merely raise their hands to their
+head-gear. But indeed, as they are all more or less bald, it is their
+best plan.
+
+But what exasperates and disgusts me specially is the liberty they take
+of talking publicly without any precaution whatsoever about the most
+revolting adventures. When two men are together, they relate to each
+other, in the broadest language and with the most abominable comments
+really horrible stories without caring in the slightest degree whether a
+woman's ear is within reach of their voices. Yesterday, on the beach I
+was forced to go away from the place where I sat in order not to be any
+longer the involuntary confidante of an obscene anecdote, told in such
+immodest language that I felt just as much humiliated as indignant at
+having heard it. Would not the most elementary good-breeding have taught
+them to speak in a lower tone about such matters when we are near at
+hand. Etretat is, moreover, the country of gossip and scandal. From five
+to seven o'clock you can see people wandering about in quest of nasty
+stories about others which they retail from group to group. As you
+remarked to me, my dear aunt, tittle-tattle is the mark of petty
+individuals and petty minds. It is also the consolation of women who are
+no longer loved or sought after. It is enough for me to observe the
+women who are fondest of gossiping to be persuaded that you are quite
+right.
+
+The other day I was present at a musical evening at the Casino, given by
+a remarkable artist, Madame Masson, who sings in a truly delightful
+manner. I took the opportunity of applauding the admirable Coquelin, as
+well as two charming boarders of the Vaudeville, M---- and Meillet. I
+was able, on the occasion, to see all the bathers collected together
+this year on the beach. There were not many persons of distinction among
+them.
+
+Next day I went to lunch at Yport. I noticed a tall man with a beard who
+was coming out of a large house like a castle. It was the painter, Jean
+Paul Laurens. He is not satisfied apparently with imprisoning the
+subjects of his pictures he insists on imprisoning himself.
+
+Then, I found myself seated on the shingle close to a man still young,
+of gentle and refined appearance, who was reading some verses. But he
+read them with such concentration, with such passion, I may say, that he
+did not even raise his eyes towards me. I was somewhat astonished, and I
+asked the conductor of the baths without appearing to be much concerned,
+the name of this gentleman. I laughed inwardly a little at this reader
+of rhymes; he seemed behind the age, for a man. This person, I thought,
+must be a simpleton. Well, aunt, I am now infatuated about this
+stranger. Just fancy, his name is Sully Prudhomme! I turned round to
+look at him at my ease, just where I sat. His face possesses the two
+qualities of calmness and elegance. As somebody came to look for him, I
+was able to hear his voice, which is sweet and almost timid. He would
+certainly not tell obscene stories aloud in public, or knock against
+ladies without apologizing. He is sure to be a man of refinement, but
+his refinement is of an almost morbid, vibrating character. I will try
+this winter to get an introduction to him.
+
+I have no more news to tell you, my dear aunt, and I must interrupt this
+letter in haste, as the post-hour is near. I kiss your hands and your
+cheeks.--Your devoted niece,
+
+                                                     Berthe De X.
+
+P. S.--I should add, however, by way of justification of French
+politeness, that our fellow-countrymen are, when traveling, models of
+good manners in comparison with the abominable English, who seem to have
+been brought up by stable-boys, so much do they take care not to
+incommode themselves in any way, while they always incommode their
+neighbors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Madame de L. to Madame de X.
+
+                                           Les Fresnes, Saturday.
+
+My Dear Child,--Many of the things you have said to me are very
+reasonable, but that does not prevent you from being wrong. Like you, I
+used formerly to feel very indignant at the impoliteness of men, who, as
+I supposed, constantly treated me with neglect; but, as I grew older and
+reflected on everything, putting aside coquetry, and observing things
+without taking any part in them myself, I perceived this much--that if
+men are not always polite, women are always indescribably rude.
+
+We imagine that we should be permitted to do anything, my darling, and
+at the same time we consider that we have a right to the utmost respect,
+and in the most flagrant manner we commit actions devoid of that
+elementary good-breeding of which you speak with passion.
+
+I find, on the contrary, that men have, for us, much consideration, as
+compared with our bearing towards them. Besides, darling, men must needs
+be, and are, what we make them. In a state of society, where women are
+all true gentlewomen, all men would become gentlemen.
+
+Mark my words; just observe and reflect.
+
+Look at two women meeting in the street. What an attitude each assumes
+towards the other! What disparaging looks! What contempt they throw into
+each glance! How they toss their heads while they inspect each other to
+find something to condemn! And, if the footpath is narrow, do you think
+one woman would make room for another, or will beg pardon as she sweeps
+by? Never! When two men jostle each other by accident in some narrow
+lane, each of them bows and at the same time gets out of the other's
+way, while we women press against each other stomach to stomach, face to
+face, insolently staring each other out of countenance.
+
+Look at two women who are acquaintances meeting on a stair case before
+the drawing-room door of a friend of theirs to whom one has just paid a
+visit, and to whom the other is about to pay a visit. They begin to talk
+to each other, and block up the passage. If anyone happens to be coming
+up behind them, man or woman, do you imagine that they will put
+themselves half-an-inch out of their way? Never! never!
+
+I was waiting myself, with my watch in my hands, one day last winter, at
+a certain drawing-room door. And behind two gentlemen were also waiting
+without showing any readiness to lose their temper, like me. The reason
+was that they had long grown accustomed to our unconscionable insolence.
+
+The other day, before leaving Paris, I went to dine with no less a
+person than your husband in the Champs Elysees in order to enjoy the
+open air. Every table was occupied. The waiter asked us not to go, and
+there would soon be a vacant table.
+
+At that moment, I noticed an elderly lady of noble figure, who, having
+paid the amount of her docket, seemed on the point of going away. She
+saw me, scanned me from head to foot, and did not budge. For more than a
+full quarter-of-an-hour she sat there, immovable, putting on her gloves,
+and calmly staring at those who were waiting like myself. Now, two young
+men who were just finishing their dinner, having seen me in their turn,
+quickly summoned the waiter in order to pay whatever they owed, and at
+once offered me their seats, even insisting on standing while waiting
+for their change. And, bear in mind, my fair niece, that I am no longer
+pretty, like you, but old and white-haired.
+
+It is we (do you see?) who should be taught politeness, and the task
+would be such a difficult one that Hercules himself would not be equal
+to it. You speak to me about Etretat, and about the people who indulged
+in "tittle-tattle" along the beach of that delightful watering-place. It
+is a spot now lost to me, a thing of the past, but I found much
+amusement there in days gone by.
+
+There were only a few of us, people in good society, really good
+society, and a few artists, and we all fraternized. We paid little
+attention to gossip in those days.
+
+Well, as we had no insipid Casino, where people only gather for show,
+where they talk in whispers, where they dance stupidly, where they
+succeed in thoroughly boring one another, we sought some other way of
+passing our evenings pleasantly. Now, just guess what came into the head
+of one of our husbandry? Nothing less than to go and dance each night in
+one of the farm-houses in the neighborhood.
+
+We started out in a group with a street-organ, generally played by Le
+Poittevin, the painter, with a cotton nightcap on his head. Two men
+carried lanterns. We followed in procession, laughing and chattering
+like a pack of fools.
+
+We woke up the farmer and his servant-maids and laboring men. We got
+them to make onion-soup (horror!), and we danced under the apple-trees,
+to the sound of the barrel-organ. The cocks waking up began to crow in
+the darkness of the out-houses; the horses began prancing on the straw
+of their stables. The cool air of the country caressed our cheeks with
+the smell of grass and of new-mown hay.
+
+How long ago it is! How long ago it is. It is thirty years since then!
+
+I do not want you, my darling, to come for the opening of the hunting
+season. Why spoil the pleasure of our friends by inflicting on them
+fashionable toilets on this day of vigorous exercise in the country?
+This is the way, child, that men are spoiled. I embrace you.--Your old
+aunt
+
+                                                  Genevieve De Z.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WOMAN'S WILES
+
+
+"Women?"
+
+"Well, what do you say about women?"
+
+"Well, there are no conjurors more subtle in taking us in at every
+available opportunity with or without reason, often for the sole
+pleasure of playing tricks on us. And they play these tricks with
+incredible simplicity, astonishing audacity, unparalleled ingenuity.
+They play tricks from morning till night, and they all do it--the most
+virtuous, the most upright, the most sensible of them. You may add that
+sometimes they are to some extent driven to do these things. Man has
+always idiotic fits of obstinacy and tyrannical desires. A husband is
+continually giving ridiculous orders in his own house. He is full of
+caprices; his wife plays on them even while she makes use of them for
+the purpose of deception. She persuades him that a thing costs so much
+because he would kick up a row if its price were higher. And she always
+extricates herself from the difficulty cunningly by a means so simple
+and so sly that we gape with amazement when by chance we discover them.
+We say to ourselves in a stupefied state of mind 'How is it we did not
+see this till now?'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The man who uttered the words was an ex-Minister of the Empire, the
+Comte de L----, a thorough profligate, it was said, and a very
+accomplished gentleman. A group of young men were listening to him.
+
+He went on:
+
+"I was outwitted by an ordinary uneducated woman in a comic and
+thorough-going fashion. I will tell you about it for your instruction.
+
+"I was at the time Minister for Foreign Affairs, and I was in the habit
+of taking a long walk every morning in the Champs Elysees. It was the
+month of May; I walked along, sniffing in eagerly that sweet odor of
+budding leaves.
+
+"Ere long, I noticed, that I used to meet every day a charming little
+woman, one of those marvelous, graceful creatures, who bear the
+trade-mark of Paris. Pretty? Well, yes and no. Well-made? No, better
+than that: her waist was too slight, her shoulders too narrow, her
+breast too full, no doubt; but I prefer those exquisite human dolls to
+that great statuesque corpse, the Venus of Milo.
+
+"And then this sort of woman trots along in an incomparable fashion, and
+the very rustle of her skirt fills the marrow of your bones with desire.
+She seemed to give me a side-glance as she passed me. But these women
+give you all sorts of looks--you never can tell....
+
+"One morning, I saw her sitting on a bench with an open book between her
+hands. I came across, and sat down beside her. Five minutes later, we
+were friends. Then, each day, after the smiling salutation 'Good day,
+Madame,' 'Good day, Monsieur,' we began to chat. She told me that she
+was the wife of a Government clerk, that her life was a sad one, that in
+it pleasures were few and cares numerous, and a thousand other things.
+
+"I told her who I was, partly through thoughtlessness, and partly
+perhaps through vanity. She pretended to be much astonished.
+
+"Next day, she called at the Ministry to see me; and she came again
+there so often that the ushers, having their attention drawn to her
+appearance, used to whisper to one another, as soon as they saw her, the
+name with which they had christened her 'Madame Leon' that is my
+Christian name.
+
+"For three months I saw her every morning without growing tired of her
+for a second, so well was she able incessantly to give variety and
+piquancy to her physical attractiveness. But one day I saw that her eyes
+were bloodshot and glowing with suppressed tears, that she could
+scarcely speak, so much was she preoccupied with secret troubles.
+
+"I begged of her, I implored of her, to tell me what was the cause of
+her agitation.
+
+"She faltered out at length with a shudder: 'I am--I am pregnant!'
+
+"And she burst out sobbing. Oh! I made a dreadful grimace, and I have no
+doubt I turned pale, as men generally do at hearing such a piece of
+news. You cannot conceive what an unpleasant stab you feel in your
+breast at the announcement of an unexpected paternity of this kind. But
+you are sure to know it sooner or later. So, in my turn, I gasped:
+'But--but--you are married, are you not?'
+
+"She answered: 'Yes, but my husband has been away in Italy for the last
+two months, and he will not be back for some time.'
+
+"I was determined at any cost to get out of my responsibility.
+
+"I said: 'You must go and join him immediately.'
+
+"She reddened to her very temples, and with downcast eyes, murmured:
+'Yes--but--' She either dared not or would not finish the sentence.
+
+"I understood, and I prudently enclosed her in an envelope the expenses
+of the journey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Eight days later, she sent me a letter from Genoa. The following week,
+I received one from Florence. Then letters reached me from Leghorn,
+Rome, and Naples.
+
+"She said to me: 'I am in good health, my dear love, but I am looking
+frightful. I would not care to have you see me till it is all over; you
+would not love me. My husband suspects nothing. As his business in this
+country will require him to stay there much longer, I will not return to
+France till after my confinement.'
+
+"And, at the end of about eight months, I received from Venice these few
+words: 'It is a boy.'
+
+"Some time after, she suddenly entered my study one morning, fresher and
+prettier than ever, and flung herself into my arms.
+
+"And our former connection was renewed.
+
+"I left the Ministry, and she came to live in my house in the Rue de
+Grenelle. She often spoke to me about the child, but I scarcely listened
+to what she said about it; it did not concern me. Now and then I placed
+a rather large sum of money in her hand, saying: 'Put that by for him.'
+
+"Two more years glided by; and she was more eager to tell me some news
+about the youngster--'about Leon.'
+
+"Sometimes she would say in the midst of tears: 'You don't care about
+him; you don't even wish to see him. If you know what grief you cause
+me!'
+
+"At last I was so much harassed by her that I promised, one day, to go,
+next morning, to the Champs Elysees, when she took the child there for
+an airing.
+
+"But at the moment when I was leaving the house, I was stopped by a
+sudden apprehension. Man is weak and foolish. What if I were to get fond
+of this tiny being of whom I was the father--my son?
+
+"I had my hat on my head, my gloves in my hands. I flung down the gloves
+on my desk, and my hat on a chair:
+
+"No. Decidedly I will not go; it is wiser not to go.'
+
+"My door flew open. My brother entered the room. He handed me an
+anonymous letter he had received that morning:
+
+"'Warn the Comte de L----, your brother, that the little woman of the
+Rue Casette is impudently laughing at him. Let him make some inquiries
+about her.'
+
+"I had never told anybody about this intrigue, and I now told my brother
+the history of it from the beginning to the end. I added:
+
+"For my part, I don't want to trouble myself any further about the
+matter; but will you, like a good fellow, go and find out what you can
+about her?
+
+"When my brother had left me, I said to myself: 'In what way can she
+have deceived me? She has other lovers? What does it matter to me? She
+is young, fresh, and pretty; I ask nothing more from her. She seems to
+love me, and as a matter of fact, she does not cost me much. Really, I
+don't understand this business.'
+
+"My brother speedily returned. He had learned from the police all that
+was to be known about her husband: 'A clerk in the Home Department, of
+regular habits and good repute, and, moreover, a thinking man, but
+married to a very pretty woman, whose expenses seemed somewhat
+extravagant for her modest position.' That was all.
+
+"Now, my brother having sought for her at her residence, and finding
+that she was gone out, succeeded, with the assistance of a little gold,
+in making the doorkeeper chatter: 'Madame D----, a very worthy woman,
+and her husband a very worthy man, not proud, not rich, but generous.'
+
+"My brother asked for the sake of saying something:
+
+"'How old is her little boy now?'
+
+"'Why, she has not got any little boy, monsieur.'
+
+"'What? Little Leon?'
+
+"'No, monsieur, you are making a mistake.'
+
+"'I mean the child she had while she was in Italy, two years ago?'
+
+"'She has never been in Italy, monsieur; she has not quitted the house
+she is living in for the last five years.'
+
+"My brother, in astonishment, questioned the doorkeeper anew, and then
+he pushed his investigation of the matter further. No child, no journey.
+
+"I was prodigiously astonished, but without clearly understanding the
+final meaning of this comedy.
+
+"'I want,' said I to him, 'to have my mind perfectly clear about the
+affair. I will ask her to come here to-morrow. You shall receive her
+instead of me. If she has deceived me, you will hand her these ten
+thousand francs, and I will never see her again. In fact, I am beginning
+to find I have had enough of her.'
+
+"Would you believe it? I had been grieved the night before because I had
+a child by this woman; and I was now irritated, ashamed, wounded at
+having no more of her. I found myself free, released from all
+responsibility, from all anxiety, and yet I felt myself raging at the
+position in which I was placed.
+
+"Next morning my brother awaited her in my study. She came in as quickly
+as usual, rushing towards him with outstretched arms, but when she saw
+who it was she at once drew back.
+
+"He bowed, and excused himself.
+
+"'I beg your pardon, madame, for being here instead of my brother, but
+he has authorized me to ask you for some explanations which he would
+find it painful to seek from you himself.'
+
+"Then, fixing on her face a searching glance, he said abruptly:
+
+"'We know you have not a child by him.'
+
+"After the first moment of stupor, she regained her composure, took a
+seat, and gazed with a smile at this man who was sitting in judgment on
+her.
+
+"She answered simply:
+
+"'No; I have no child.'
+
+"'We know also that you have never been in Italy.'
+
+"This time she burst out laughing in earnest.
+
+"'No, I have never been in Italy.'
+
+"My brother, quite stunned, went on:
+
+"'The Comte has requested me to give you this money, and tell you that
+it is all broken off.'
+
+"She became serious again, calmly putting the money into her pocket,
+and, in an ingenuous tone asked:
+
+"'And I am not, then, to see the Comte any more?'
+
+"'No, madame.'
+
+"She appeared to be annoyed, and in a passionless voice she said:
+
+"'So much the worse; I was very fond of him.'
+
+"Seeing that she had made up her mind on the subject so resolutely, my
+brother, smiling in his turn, said to her:
+
+"'Look here, now, tell me why you invented all this tricky yarn,
+complicating it by bringing in the sham journey to Italy and the child?'"
+
+She gazed at my brother in amazement, as if he had asked her a stupid
+question, and replied:
+
+"'I say! How spiteful you are! Do you believe a poor little woman of the
+people such as I am--nothing at all--could have for three years kept on
+my hands the Comte de L----, Minister, a great personage, a man of
+fashion, wealthy and seductive, if she had not taken a little trouble
+about it? Now it is all over. So much the worse. It couldn't last for
+ever. None the less I succeeded in doing it for three years. You will
+say many things to him on my behalf.'
+
+"She rose up. My brother continued questioning her:
+
+"'But--the child? You had one to show him?'
+
+"'Certainly--my sister's child. She lent it to me. I'd bet it was she
+gave you the information.'
+
+"'Good! And all those letters from Italy?'
+
+"She sat down again so as to laugh at her ease.
+
+"'Oh! those letters--well, they were a bit of poetry. The Comte was not
+a Minister of Foreign Affairs for nothing.'
+
+"'But--another thing?'
+
+"Oh! the other thing is my secret. I don't want to compromise anyone.'
+
+"And bowing to him with a rather mocking smile, she left the room
+without any emotion, an actress who had played her part to the end."
+
+And the Comte de L---- added by way of moral:
+
+"So take care about putting your trust in that sort of turtle dove!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been maintained.
+
+Page 13, "pentrating" changed to "penetrating".
+
+Page 25, "parishoner" changed to "parishioner".
+
+Page 130, "consiousness" changed to "consciousness".
+
+Page 133, "dinning" changed to "dining".
+
+Page 178, "inns" changed to "ins".
+
+Page 193, "delirous" changed to "delirious".
+
+Page 218, Parenthesis added after "five thousand francs."
+
+Page 283, Double quote added after "You will come to lunch. Won't you?"
+
+Page 374, "moveover" changed to "moreover".
+
+Ligatures removed in ASCII Version: S[oe]urs to Soeurs, C[oe]ur to Coeur.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The works of Guy de Maupassant, Vol. 5
+(of 8), by Guy de Maupassant 1850-1893
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 21655.txt or 21655.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/6/5/21655/
+
+Produced by Susan Carr, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.