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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. 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