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By dint of +travelling in railway carriages with fantastically dressed courtesans, +with their hair worn over their eyes like a terrier's, or falling over +the back 'a la Genevieve de Brabant', she came at last to resemble them. +She transformed herself into a blonde for two months, to the unbounded +amazement of Rizer, who could not understand how his doll was so changed. +As for Georges, all these eccentricities amused him; it seemed to him +that he had ten women in one. He was the real husband, the master of the +house. + +To divert Sidonie's thoughts, he had provided a simulacrum of society for +her--his bachelor friends, a few fast tradesmen, almost no women, women +have too sharp eyes. Madame Dobson was the only friend of Sidonie's sex. + +They organized grand dinner-parties, excursions on the water, fireworks. +From day to day Risler's position became more absurd, more distressing. +When he came home in the evening, tired out, shabbily dressed, he must +hurry up to his room to dress. + +"We have some people to dinner," his wife would say. "Make haste." + +And he would be the last to take his place at the table, after shaking +hands all around with his guests, friends of Fromont Jeune, whom he +hardly knew by name. Strange to say, the affairs of the factory were +often discussed at that table, to which Georges brought his acquaintances +from the club with the tranquil self-assurance of the gentleman who pays. + +"Business breakfasts and dinners!" To Risler's mind that phrase +explained everything: his partner's constant presence, his choice of +guests, and the marvellous gowns worn by Sidonie, who beautified herself +in the interests of the firm. This coquetry on his mistress's part drove +Fromont Jeune to despair. Day after day he came unexpectedly to take her +by surprise, uneasy, suspicious, afraid to leave that perverse and +deceitful character to its own devices for long. + +"What in the deuce has become of your husband?" + +Pere Gardinois would ask his grand-daughter with a cunning leer. "Why +doesn't he come here oftener?" + +Claire apologized for Georges, but his continual neglect began to disturb +her. She wept now when she received the little notes, the despatches +which arrived daily at the dinner-hour: "Don't expect me to-night, dear +love. I shall not be able to come to Savigny until to-morrow or the day +after by the night-train." + +She ate her dinner sadly, opposite an empty chair, and although she did +not know that she was betrayed, she felt that her husband was becoming +accustomed to living away from her. He was so absent-minded when a +family gathering or some other unavoidable duty detained him at the +chateau, so silent concerning what was in his mind. Claire, having now +only the most distant relations with Sidonie, knew nothing of what was +taking place at Asnieres: but when Georges left her, apparently eager to +be gone, and with smiling face, she tormented her loneliness with +unavowed suspicions, and, like all those who anticipate a great sorrow, +she suddenly became conscious of a great void in her heart, a place made +ready for disasters to come. + +Her husband was hardly happier than she. That cruel Sidonie seemed to +take pleasure in tormenting him. She allowed everybody to pay court to +her. At that moment a certain Cazabon, alias Cazaboni, an Italian tenor +from Toulouse, introduced by Madame Dobson, came every day to sing +disturbing duets. Georges, jealous beyond words, hurried to Asnieres in +the afternoon, neglecting everything, and was already beginning to think +that Risler did not watch his wife closely enough. He would have liked +him to be blind only so far as he was concerned. + +Ah! if he had been her husband, what a tight rein he would have kept on +her! But he had no power over her and she was not at all backward about +telling him so. Sometimes, too, with the invincible logic that often +occurs to the greatest fools, he reflected that, as he was deceiving his +friend, perhaps he deserved to be deceived. In short, his was a wretched +life. He passed his time running about to jewellers and dry-goods +dealers, inventing gifts and surprises. Ah! he knew her well. He knew +that he could pacify her with trinkets, yet not retain his hold upon her, +and that, when the day came that she was bored-- + +But Sidonie was not bored as yet. She was living the life that she +longed to live; she had all the happiness she could hope to attain. +There was nothing passionate or romantic about her feeling for Georges. +He was like a second husband to her, younger and, above all, richer than +the other. To complete the vulgarization of their liaison, she had +summoned her parents to Asnieres, lodged them in a little house in the +country, and made of that vain and wilfully blind father and that +affectionate, still bewildered mother a halo of respectability of which +she felt the necessity as she sank lower and lower. + +Everything was shrewdly planned in that perverse little brain, which +reflected coolly upon vice; and it seemed to her as if she might continue +to live thus in peace, when Frantz Risler suddenly arrived. + +Simply from seeing him enter the room, she had realized that her repose +was threatened, that an interview of the gravest importance was to take +place between them. + +Her plan was formed on the instant. She must at once put it into +execution. + +The summer-house that they entered contained one large, circular room +with four windows, each looking out upon a different landscape; it was +furnished for the purposes of summer siestas, for the hot hours when one +seeks shelter from the sunlight and the noises of the garden. A broad, +very low divan ran all around the wall. A small lacquered table, also +very low, stood in the middle of the room, covered with odd numbers of +society journals. + +The hangings were new, and the Persian pattern-birds flying among bluish +reeds--produced the effect of a dream in summer, ethereal figures +floating before one's languid eyes. The lowered blinds, the matting on +the floor, the Virginia jasmine clinging to the trellis-work outside, +produced a refreshing coolness which was enhanced by the splashing in the +river near by, and the lapping of its wavelets on the shore. + +Sidonie sat down as soon as she entered the room, pushing aside her long +white skirt, which sank like a mass of snow at the foot of the divan; and +with sparkling eyes and a smile playing about her lips, bending her +little head slightly, its saucy coquettishness heightened by the bow of +ribbon on the side, she waited. + +Frantz, pale as death, remained standing, looking about the room. After +a moment he began: + +"I congratulate you, Madame; you understand how to make yourself +comfortable." + +And in the next breath, as if he were afraid that the conversation, +beginning at such a distance, would not arrive quickly enough at the +point to which he intended to lead it, he added brutally: + +"To whom do you owe this magnificence, to your lover or your husband?" + +Without moving from the divan, without even raising her eyes to his, she +answered: + +"To both." + +He was a little disconcerted by such self-possession. + +"Then you confess that that man is your lover?" + +"Confess it!--yes!" + +Frantz gazed at her a moment without speaking. She, too, had turned +pale, notwithstanding her calmness, and the eternal little smile no +longer quivered at the corners of her mouth. + +He continued: + +"Listen to me, Sidonie! My brother's name, the name he gave his wife, +is mine as well. Since Risler is so foolish, so blind as to allow the +name to be dishonored by you, it is my place to defend it against your +attacks. I beg you, therefore, to inform Monsieur Georges Fromont that +he must change mistresses as soon as possible, and go elsewhere to ruin +himself. If not--" + +"If not?" queried Sidonie, who had not ceased to play with her rings +while he was speaking. + +"If not, I shall tell my brother what is going on in his house, and you +will be surprised at the Risler whose acquaintance you will make then-- +a man as violent and ungovernable as he usually is inoffensive. My +disclosure will kill him perhaps, but you can be sure that he will kill +you first." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Very well! let him kill me. What do I care for that?" + +This was said with such a heartbroken, despondent air that Frantz, in +spite of himself, felt a little pity for that beautiful, fortunate young +creature, who talked of dying with such self-abandonment. + +"Do you love him so dearly?" he said, in an indefinably milder tone. +"Do you love this Fromont so dearly that you prefer to die rather than +renounce him?" + +She drew herself up hastily. + +"I? Love that fop, that doll, that silly girl in men's clothes? +Nonsense!--I took him as I would have taken any other man." + +"Why?" + +"Because I couldn't help it, because I was mad, because I had and still +have in my heart a criminal love, which I am determined to tear out, no +matter at what cost." + +She had risen and was speaking with her eyes in his, her lips near his, +trembling from head to foot. + +A criminal love?--Whom did she love, in God's name? + +Frantz was afraid to question her. + +Although suspecting nothing as yet, he had a feeling that that glance, +that breath, leaning toward him, were about to make some horrible +disclosure. + +But his office of judge made it necessary for him to know all. + +"Who is it?" he asked. + +She replied in a stifled voice: + +"You know very well that it is you." + +She was his brother's wife. + +For two years he had not thought of her except as a sister. In his eyes +his brother's wife in no way resembled his former fiancee, and it would +have been a crime to recognize in a single feature of her face the woman +to whom he had formerly so often said, "I love you." + +And now it was she who said that she loved him. + +The unhappy judge was thunderstruck, dazed, could find no words in which +to reply. + +She, standing before him, waited. + +It was one of those spring days, full of heat and light, to which the +moisture of recent rains imparts a strange softness and melancholy. The +air was warm, perfumed by fresh flowers which, on that first day of heat, +gave forth their fragrance eagerly, like violets hidden in a muff. +Through its long, open windows the room in which they were inhaled all +those intoxicating odors. Outside, they could hear the Sunday organs, +distant shouts on the river, and nearer at hand, in the garden, Madame +Dobson's amorous, languishing voice, sighing: + + "On dit que tu te maries; + Tu sais que j'en puis mouri-i-i-r!" + +"Yes, Frantz, I have always loved you," said Sidonie. "That love which +I renounced long ago because I was a young girl--and young girls do not +know what they are doing--that love nothing has ever succeeded in +destroying or lessening. When I learned that Desiree also loved you, +the unfortunate, penniless child, in a great outburst of generosity I +determined to assure her happiness for life by sacrificing my own, and I +at once turned you away, so that you should go to her. Ah! as soon as +you had gone, I realized that the sacrifice was beyond my strength. Poor +little Desiree! How I cursed her in the bottom of my heart! Will you +believe it? Since that time I have avoided seeing her, meeting her. The +sight of her caused me too much pain." + +"But if you loved me," asked Frantz, in a low voice, "if you loved me, +why did you marry my brother?" + +She did not waver. + +"To marry Risler was to bring myself nearer to you. I said to myself: +'I could not be his wife. Very well, I will be his sister. At all +events, in that way it will still be allowable for me to love him, and we +shall not pass our whole lives as strangers.' Alas! those are the +innocent dreams a girl has at twenty, dreams of which she very soon +learns the impossibility. I could not love you as a sister, Frantz; I +could not forget you, either; my marriage prevented that. With another +husband I might perhaps have succeeded, but with Risler it was terrible. +He was forever talking about you and your success and your future--Frantz +said this; Frantz did that--He loves you so well, poor fellow! And then +the most cruel thing to me is that your brother looks like you. There is +a sort of family resemblance in your features, in your gait, in your +voices especially, for I have often closed my eyes under his caresses, +saying to myself, 'It is he, it is Frantz.' When I saw that that wicked +thought was becoming a source of torment to me, something that I could +not escape, I tried to find distraction, I consented to listen to this +Georges, who had been pestering me for a long time, to transform my life +to one of noise and excitement. But I swear to you, Frantz, that in that +whirlpool of pleasure into which I then plunged, I never have ceased to +think of you, and if any one had a right to come here and call me to +account for my conduct, you certainly are not the one, for you, +unintentionally, have made me what I am." + +She paused. Frantz dared not raise his eyes to her face. For a moment +past she had seemed to him too lovely, too alluring. She was his +brother's wife! + +Nor did he dare speak. The unfortunate youth felt that the old passion +was despotically taking possession of his heart once more, and that at +that moment glances, words, everything that burst forth from it would be +love. + +And she was his brother's wife! + +"Ah! wretched, wretched creatures that we are!" exclaimed the poor +judge, dropping upon the divan beside her. + +Those few words were in themselves an act of cowardice, a beginning of +surrender, as if destiny, by showing itself so pitiless, had deprived him +of the strength to defend himself. Sidonie had placed her hand on his. +"Frantz--Frantz!" she said; and they remained there side by side, silent +and burning with emotion, soothed by Madame Dobson's romance, which +reached their ears by snatches through the shrubbery: + + "Ton amour, c'est ma folie. + Helas! je n'en puis guei-i-i-r." + +Suddenly Risler's tall figure appeared in the doorway. + +"This way, Chebe, this way. They are in the summerhouse." + +As he spoke the husband entered, escorting his father-in-law and mother- +in-law, whom he had gone to fetch. + +There was a moment of effusive greetings and innumerable embraces. You +should have seen the patronizing air with which M. Chebe scrutinized the +young man, who was head and shoulders taller than he. + +"Well, my boy, does the Suez Canal progress as you would wish?" + +Madame Chebe, in whose thoughts Frantz had never ceased to be her future +son-in-law, threw her arms around him, while Risler, tactless as usual in +his gayety and his enthusiasm, waved his arms, talked of killing several +fatted calves to celebrate the return of the prodigal son, and roared to +the singing-mistress in a voice that echoed through the neighboring +gardens: + +"Madame Dobson, Madame Dobson--if you'll allow me, it's a pity for you +to be singing there. To the devil with sadness for to-day! Play us +something lively, a good waltz, so that I can take a turn with Madame +Chebe." + +"Risler, Risler, are you crazy, my son-in-law?" + +"Come, come, mamma! We must dance." + +And up and down the paths, to the strains of an automatic six-step waltz- +a genuine valse de Vaucanson--he dragged his breathless mamma-in-law, who +stopped at every step to restore to their usual orderliness the dangling +ribbons of her hat and the lace trimming of her shawl, her lovely shawl +bought for Sidonie's wedding. + +Poor Risler was intoxicated with joy. + +To Frantz that was an endless, indelible day of agony. Driving, rowing +on the river, lunch on the grass on the Ile des Ravageurs--he was spared +none of the charms of Asnieres; and all the time, in the dazzling +sunlight of the roads, in the glare reflected by the water, he must laugh +and chatter, describe his journey, talk of the Isthmus of Suez and the +great work undertaken there, listen to the whispered complaints of M. +Chebe, who was still incensed with his children, and to his brother's +description of the Press. "Rotary, my dear Frantz, rotary and +dodecagonal!" Sidonie left the gentlemen to their conversation and +seemed absorbed in deep thought. From time to time she said a word or +two to Madame Dobson, or smiled sadly at her, and Frantz, not daring to +look at her, followed the motions of her blue-lined parasol and of the +white flounces of her skirt. + +How she had changed in two years! How lovely she had grown! + +Then horrible thoughts came to his mind. There were races at Longchamps +that day. Carriages passed theirs, rubbed against it, driven by women +with painted faces, closely veiled. Sitting motionless on the box, they +held their long whips straight in the air, with doll-like gestures, and +nothing about them seemed alive except their blackened eyes, fixed on the +horses' heads. As they passed, people turned to look. Every eye +followed them, as if drawn by the wind caused by their rapid motion. + +Sidonie resembled those creatures. She might herself have driven +Georges' carriage; for Frantz was in Georges' carriage. He had drunk +Georges' wine. All the luxurious enjoyment of that family party came +from Georges. + +It was shameful, revolting! He would have liked to shout the whole story +to his brother. Indeed, it was his duty, as he had come there for that +express purpose. But he no longer felt the courage to do it. Ah! the +unhappy judge! + +That evening after dinner, in the salon open to the fresh breeze from the +river, Risler begged his wife to sing. He wished her to exhibit all her +newly acquired accomplishments to Frantz. + +Sidonie, leaning on the piano, objected with a melancholy air, while +Madame Dobson ran her fingers over the keys, shaking her long curls. + +"But I don't know anything. What do you wish me to sing?" + +She ended, however, by being persuaded. Pale, disenchanted, with her +mind upon other things, in the flickering light of the candles which +seemed to be burning incense, the air was so heavy with the odor of the +hyacinths and lilacs in the garden, she began a Creole ballad very +popular in Louisiana, which Madame Dobson herself had arranged for the +voice and piano: + + "Pauv' pitit Mam'zelle Zizi, + C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne la tete a li." + + ["Poor little Mam'zelle Zizi, + 'Tis love, 'tis love that turns her head."] + +And as she told the story of the ill-fated little Zizi, who was driven +mad by passion, Sidonie had the appearance of a love-sick woman. With +what heartrending expression, with the cry of a wounded dove, did she +repeat that refrain, so melancholy and so sweet, in the childlike patois +of the colonies: + + "C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne la tete...." + +It was enough to drive the unlucky judge mad as well. + +But no! The siren had been unfortunate in her choice of a ballad. For, +at the mere name of Mam'zelle Zizi, Frantz was suddenly transported to a +gloomy chamber in the Marais, a long way from Sidonie's salon, and his +compassionate heart evoked the image of little Desiree Delobelle, who had +loved him so long. Until she was fifteen, she never had been called +anything but Ziree or Zizi, and she was the pauv' pitit of the Creole +ballad to the life, the ever-neglected, ever-faithful lover. In vain now +did the other sing. Frantz no longer heard her or saw her. He was in +that poor room, beside the great armchair, on the little low chair on +which he had sat so often awaiting the father's return. Yes, there, and +there only, was his salvation. He must take refuge in that child's love, +throw himself at her feet, say to her, "Take me, save me!" And who +knows? She loved him so dearly. Perhaps she would save him, would cure +him of his guilty passion. + +"Where are you going?" asked Risler, seeing that his brother rose +hurriedly as soon as the last flourish was at an end. + +"I am going back. It is late." + +"What? You are not going to sleep here? Why your room is ready for +you." + +"It is all ready," added Sidonie, with a meaning glance. + +He refused resolutely. His presence in Paris was necessary for the +fulfilment of certain very important commissions intrusted to him by the +Company. They continued their efforts to detain him when he was in the +vestibule, when he was crossing the garden in the moonlight and running +to the station, amid all the divers noises of Asnieres. + +When he had gone, Risler went up to his room, leaving Sidonie and Madame +Dobson at the windows of the salon. The music from the neighboring +Casino reached their ears, with the "Yo-ho!" of the boatmen and the +footsteps of the dancers like a rhythmical, muffled drumming on the +tambourine. + +"There's a kill-joy for you!" observed Madame Dobson. + +"Oh, I have checkmated him," replied Sidonie; "only I must be careful. +I shall be closely watched now. He is so jealous. I am going to write +to Cazaboni not to come again for some time, and you must tell Georges +to-morrow morning to go to Savigny for a fortnight." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +POOR LITTLE MAM'ZELLE ZIZI + +Oh, how happy Desiree was! + +Frantz came every day and sat at her feet on the little low chair, as in +the good old days, and he no longer came to talk of Sidonie. + +As soon as she began to work in the morning, she would see the door open +softly. "Good morning, Mam'zelle Zizi." He always called her now by the +name she had borne as a child; and if you could know how prettily he said +it: "Good morning, Mam'zelle Zizi." + +In the evening they waited for "the father" together, and while she +worked he made her shudder with the story of his adventures. + +"What is the matter with you? You're not the same as you used to be," +Mamma Delobelle would say, surprised to see her in such high spirits and +above all so active. For instead of remaining always buried in her easy- +chair, with the self-renunciation of a young grandmother, the little +creature was continually jumping up and running to the window as lightly +as if she were putting out wings; and she practised standing erect, +asking her mother in a whisper: + +"Do you notice IT when I am not walking?" + +From her graceful little head, upon which she had previously concentrated +all her energies in the arrangement of her hair, her coquetry extended +over her whole person, as did her fine, waving tresses when she unloosed +them. Yes, she was very, very coquettish now; and everybody noticed it. +Even the "birds and insects for ornament" assumed a knowing little air. + +Ah, yes! Desiree Delobelle was happy. For some days M. Frantz had been +talking of their all going into the country together; and as the father, +kind and generous as always, graciously consented to allow the ladies to +take a day's rest, all four set out one Sunday morning. + +Oh! the lovely drive, the lovely country, the lovely river, the lovely +trees! + +Do not ask her where they went; Desiree never knew. But she will tell +you that the sun was brighter there than anywhere else, the birds more +joyous, the woods denser; and she will not lie. + +The bouquet that the little cripple brought back from that beautiful +excursion made her room fragrant for a week. Among the hyacinths, the +violets, the white-thorn, was a multitude of nameless little flowers, +those flowers of the lowly which grow from nomadic seed scattered +everywhere along the roads. + +Gazing at the slender, pale blue and bright pink blossoms, with all the +delicate shades that flowers invented before colorists, many and many a +time during that week Desiree took her excursion again. The violets +reminded her of the little moss-covered mound on which she had picked +them, seeking them under the leaves, her fingers touching Frantz's. +They had found these great water-lilies on the edge of a ditch, still +damp from the winter rains, and, in order to reach them, she had leaned +very heavily on Frantz's arm. All these memories occurred to her as she +worked. Meanwhile the sun, shining in at the open window, made the +feathers of the hummingbirds glisten. The springtime, youth, the songs +of the birds, the fragrance of the flowers, transfigured that dismal +fifth-floor workroom, and Desiree said in all seriousness to Mamma +Delobelle, putting her nose to her friend's bouquet: + +"Have you noticed how sweet the flowers smell this year, mamma?" + +And Frantz, too, began to fall under the charm. Little by little +Mam'zelle Zizi took possession of his heart and banished from it even the +memory of Sidonie. To be sure, the poor judge did all that he could to +accomplish that result. At every hour in the day he was by Desiree's +side, and clung to her like a child. Not once did he venture to return +to Asnieres. He feared the other too much. + +"Pray come and see us once in a while; Sidonie keeps asking for you," +Risler said to him from time to time, when his brother came to the +factory to see him. But Frantz held firm, alleging all sorts of business +engagements as pretexts for postponing his visit to the next day. It was +easy to satisfy Risler, who was more engrossed than ever with his press, +which they had just begun to build. + +Whenever Frantz came down from his brother's closet, old Sigismond was +sure to be watching for him, and would walk a few steps with him in his +long, lute-string sleeves, quill and knife in hand. He kept the young +man informed concerning matters at the factory. For some time past, +things seemed to have changed for the better. Monsieur Georges came to +his office regularly, and returned to Savigny every night. No more bills +were presented at the counting-room. It seemed, too, that Madame over +yonder was keeping more within bounds. + +The cashier was triumphant. + +"You see, my boy, whether I did well to write to you. Your arrival was +all that was needed to straighten everything out. And yet," the good man +would add by force of habit, "and yet I haf no gonfidence." + +"Never fear, Monsieur Sigismond, I am here," the judge would reply. + +"You're not going away yet, are you, my dear Frantz?" + +"No, no--not yet. I have an important matter to finish up first." + +"Ah! so much the better." + +The important matter to which Frantz referred was his marriage to Desiree +Delobelle. He had not yet mentioned it to any one, not even to her; but +Mam'zelle Zizi must have suspected something, for she became prettier and +more lighthearted from day to day, as if she foresaw that the day would +soon come when she would need all her gayety and all her beauty. + +They were alone in the workroom one Sunday afternoon. Mamma Delobelle +had gone out, proud enough to show herself for once in public with her +great man, and leaving friend Frantz with her daughter to keep her +company. Carefully dressed, his whole person denoting a holiday air, +Frantz had a singular expression on his face that day, an expression at +once timid and resolute, emotional and solemn, and simply from the way +in which the little low chair took its place beside the great easy-chair, +the easy-chair understood that a very serious communication was about to +be made to it in confidence, and it had some little suspicion as to what +it might be. + +The conversation began with divers unimportant remarks, interspersed with +long and frequent pauses, just as, on a journey, we stop at every +baiting-place to take breath, to enable us to reach our destination. + +"It is a fine day to-day." + +"Oh! yes, beautiful." + +"Our flowers still smell sweet." + +"Oh! very sweet." + +And even as they uttered those trivial sentences, their voices trembled +at the thought of what was about to be said. + +At last the little low chair moved a little nearer the great easy-chair; +their eyes met, their fingers were intertwined, and the two, in low +tones, slowly called each other by their names. + +"Desiree!" + +"Frantz!" + +At that moment there was a knock at the door. + +It was the soft little tap of a daintily gloved hand which fears to soil +itself by the slightest touch. + +"Come in!" said Desiree, with a slight gesture of impatience; and +Sidonie appeared, lovely, coquettish, and affable. She had come to see +her little Zizi, to embrace her as she was passing by. She had been +meaning to come for so long. + +Frantz's presence seemed to surprise her greatly, and, being engrossed by +her delight in talking with her former friend, she hardly looked at him. +After the effusive greetings and caresses, after a pleasant chat over old +times, she expressed a wish to see the window on the landing and the room +formerly occupied by the Rislers. It pleased her thus to live all her +youth over again. + +"Do you remember, Frantz, when the Princess Hummingbird entered your +room, holding her little head very straight under a diadem of birds' +feathers?" + +Frantz did not reply. He was too deeply moved to reply. Something +warned him that it was on his account, solely on his account, that the +woman had come, that she was determined to see him again, to prevent him +from giving himself to another, and the poor wretch realized with dismay +that she would not have to exert herself overmuch to accomplish her +object. When he saw her enter the room, his whole heart had been caught +in her net once more. + +Desiree suspected nothing, not she! Sidonie's manner was so frank and +friendly. And then, they were brother and sister now. Love was no +longer possible between them. + +But the little cripple had a vague presentiment of woe when Sidonie, +standing in the doorway and ready to go, turned carelessly to her +brother-in-law and said: + +"By the way, Frantz, Risler told me to be sure to bring you back to dine +with us to-night. The carriage is below. We will pick him up as we pass +the factory." + +Then she added, with the prettiest smile imaginable: + +"You will let us have him, won't you, Ziree? Don't be afraid; we will +send him back." + +And he had the courage to go, the ungrateful wretch! + +He went without hesitation, without once turning back, whirled away by +his passion as by a raging sea, and neither on that day nor the next nor +ever after could Mam'zelle Zizi's great easy-chair learn what the +interesting communication was that the little low chair had to make to +it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE WAITING-ROOM + + "Well, yes, I love you, I love you, more than ever and for ever! + What is the use of struggling and fighting against fate? Our sin + is stronger than we. But, after all, is it a crime for us to love? + We were destined for each other. Have we not the right to come + together, although life has parted us? So, come! It is all over; + we will go away. Meet me to-morrow evening, Lyon station, at ten + o'clock. The tickets are secured and I shall be there awaiting you. + + FRANTZ." + +For a month past Sidonie had been hoping for that letter, a month during +which she had brought all her coaxing and cunning into play to lure her +brother-in-law on to that written revelation of passion. She had +difficulty in accomplishing it. It was no easy matter to pervert an +honest young heart like Frantz's to the point of committing a crime; and +in that strange contest, in which the one who really loved fought against +his own cause, she had often felt that she was at the end of her strength +and was almost discouraged. When she was most confident that he was +conquered, his sense of right would suddenly rebel, and he would be all +ready to flee, to escape her once more. + +What a triumph it was for her, therefore, when that letter was handed to +her one morning. Madame Dobson happened to be there. She had just +arrived, laden with complaints from Georges, who was horribly bored away +from his mistress, and was beginning to be alarmed concerning this +brother-in-law, who was more attentive, more jealous, more exacting than +a husband. + +"Oh! the poor, dear fellow, the poor, dear, fellow," said the sentimental +American, "if you could see how unhappy he is!" + +And, shaking her curls, she unrolled her music-roll and took from it the +poor, dear fellow's letters, which she had carefully hidden between the +leaves of her songs, delighted to be involved in this love-story, to give +vent to her emotion in an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery which melted +her cold eyes and suffused her dry, pale complexion. + +Strange to say, while lending her aid most willingly to this constant +going and coming of love-letters, the youthful and attractive Dobson had +never written or received a single one on her own account. + +Always on the road between Asnieres and Paris with an amorous message +under her wing, that odd carrier-pigeon remained true to her own dovecot +and cooed for none but unselfish motives. + +When Sidonie showed her Frantz's note, Madame Dobson asked: + +"What shall you write in reply?" + +"I have already written. I consented." + +"What! You will go away with that madman?" + +Sidonie laughed scornfully. + +"Ha! ha! well, hardly! I consented so that he may go and wait for me at +the station. That is all. The least I can do is to give him a quarter +of an hour of agony. He has made me miserable enough for the last month. +Just consider that I have changed my whole life for my gentleman! I have +had to close my doors and give up seeing my friends and everybody I know +who is young and agreeable, beginning with Georges and ending with you. +For you know, my dear, you weren't agreeable to him, and he would have +liked to dismiss you with the rest." + +The one thing that Sidonie did not mention--and it was the deepest cause +of her anger against Frantz--was that he had frightened her terribly by +threatening to tell her husband her guilty secret. From that moment she +had felt decidedly ill at ease, and her life, her dear life, which she so +petted and coddled, had seemed to her to be exposed to serious danger. +Yes, the thought that her husband might some day be apprized of her +conduct positively terrified her. + +That blessed letter put an end to all her fears. It was impossible now +for Frantz to expose her, even in the frenzy of his disappointment, +knowing that she had such a weapon in her hands; and if he did speak, she +would show the letter, and all his accusations would become in Risler's +eyes calumny pure and simple. Ah, master judge, we have you now! + +"I am born again--I am born again!" she cried to Madame Dobson. She ran +out into the garden, gathered great bouquets for her salon, threw the +windows wide open to the sunlight, gave orders to the cook, the coachman, +the gardener. The house must be made to look beautiful, for Georges was +coming back, and for a beginning she organized a grand dinner-party for +the end of the week. + +The next evening Sidonie, Risler, and Madame Dobson were together in the +salon. While honest Risler turned the leaves of an old handbook of +mechanics, Sidonie sang to Madame Dobson's accompaniment. Suddenly she +stopped in the middle of her aria and burst into a peal of laughter. The +clock had just struck ten. + +Risler looked up quickly. + +"What are you laughing at?" + +"Nothing-an idea that came into my head," replied Sidonie, winking of +Madame Dobson and pointing at the clock. + +It was the hour appointed for the meeting, and she was thinking of her +lover's torture as he waited for her to come. + + +Since the return of the messenger bringing from Sidonie the "yes" he had +so feverishly awaited, a great calm had come over his troubled mind, +like the sudden removal of a heavy burden. No more uncertainty, no more +clashing between passion and duty. + +Not once did it occur to him that on the other side of the landing some +one was weeping and sighing because of him. Not once did he think of his +brother's despair, of the ghastly drama they were to leave behind them. +He saw a sweet little pale face resting beside his in the railway train, +a blooming lip within reach of his lip, and two fathomless eyes looking +at him by the soft light of the lamp, to the soothing accompaniment of +the wheels and the steam. + + +Two hours before the opening of the gate for the designated train, +Frantz was already at the Lyon station, that gloomy station which, in the +distant quarter of Paris in which it is situated, seems like a first +halting-place in the provinces. He sat down in the darkest corner and +remained there without stirring, as if dazed. + +Instinctively, although the appointed hour was still distant, he looked +among the people who were hurrying along, calling to one another, to see +if he could not discern that graceful figure suddenly emerging from the +crowd and thrusting it aside at every step with the radiance of her +beauty. + +After many departures and arrivals and shrill whistles, the station +suddenly became empty, as deserted as a church on weekdays. The time for +the ten o'clock train was drawing near. There was no other train before +that. Frantz rose. In a quarter of an hour, half an hour at the least, +she would be there. + +Frantz went hither and thither, watching the carriages that arrived. +Each new arrival made him start. He fancied that he saw her enter, +closely veiled, hesitating, a little embarrassed. How quickly he would +be by her side, to comfort her, to protect her! + +The hour for the departure of the train was approaching. He looked at +the clock. There was but a quarter of an hour more. It alarmed him; but +the bell at the wicket, which had now been opened, summoned him. He ran +thither and took his place in the long line. + +"Two first-class for Marseilles," he said. It seemed to him as if that +were equivalent to taking possession. + +He made his way back to his post of observation through the luggage-laden +wagons and the late-comers who jostled him as they ran. The drivers +shouted, "Take care!" He stood there among the wheels of the cabs, under +the horses' feet, with deaf ears and staring eyes. Only five minutes +more. It was almost impossible for her to arrive in time. + +At last she appeared. + +Yes, there she is, it is certainly she--a woman in black, slender and +graceful, accompanied by another shorter woman--Madame Dobson, no doubt. + +But a second glance undeceived him. It was a young woman who resembled +her, a woman of fashion like her, with a happy face. A man, also young, +joined them. It was evidently a wedding-party; the mother accompanied +them, to see them safely on board the train. + +Now there is the confusion of departure, the last stroke of the bell, the +steam escaping with a hissing sound, mingled with the hurried footsteps +of belated passengers, the slamming of doors and the rumbling of the +heavy omnibuses. Sidonie comes not. And Frantz still waits. + +At that moment a hand is placed on his shoulder. + +Great God! + +He turns. The coarse face of M. Gardinois, surrounded by a travelling- +cap with ear-pieces, is before him. + +"I am not mistaken, it is Monsieur Risler. Are you going to Marseilles +by the express? I am not going far." + +He explains to Frantz that he has missed the Orleans train, and is going +to try to connect with Savigny by the Lyon line; then he talks about +Risler Aine and the factory. + +"It seems that business hasn't been prospering for some time. They were +caught in the Bonnardel failure. Ah! our young men need to be careful. +At the rate they're sailing their ship, the same thing is likely to +happen to them that happened to Bonnardel. But excuse me, I believe +they're about to close the gate. Au revoir." + +Frantz has hardly heard what he has been saying. His brother's ruin, the +destruction of the whole world, nothing is of any further consequence to +him. He is waiting, waiting. + +But now the gate is abruptly closed like a last barrier between him and +his persistent hope. Once more the station is empty. The uproar has +been transferred to the line of the railway, and suddenly a shrill +whistle falls upon the lover's ear like an ironical farewell, then dies +away in the darkness. + +The ten o'clock train has gone! + +He tries to be calm and to reason. Evidently she missed the train from +Asmeres; but, knowing that he is waiting for her, she will come, no +matter how late it may be. He will wait longer. The waiting-room was +made for that. + +The unhappy man sits down on a bench. The prospect of a long vigil +brings to his mind a well-known room in which at that hour the lamp burns +low on a table laden with humming-birds and insects, but that vision +passes swiftly through his mind in the chaos of confused thoughts to +which the delirium of suspense gives birth. + +And while he thus lost himself in thought, the hours passed. The roofs +of the buildings of Mazas, buried in darkness, were already beginning to +stand out distinctly against the brightening sky. What was he to do? He +must go to Asnieres at once and try to find out what had happened. He +wished he were there already. + +Having made up his mind, he descended the steps of the station at a rapid +pace, passing soldiers with their knapsacks on their backs, and poor +people who rise early coming to take the morning train, the train of +poverty and want. + +In front of one of the stations he saw a crowd collected, rag-pickers and +countrywomen. Doubtless some drama of the night about to reach its +denouement before the Commissioner of Police. Ah! if Frantz had known +what that drama was! but he could have no suspicion, and he glanced at +the crowd indifferently from a distance. + +When he reached Asnieres, after a walk of two or three hours, it was like +an awakening. The sun, rising in all its glory, set field and river on +fire. The bridge, the houses, the quay, all stood forth with that +matutinal sharpness of outline which gives the impression of a new day +emerging, luminous and smiling, from the dense mists of the night. From +a distance he descried his brother's house, already awake, the open +blinds and the flowers on the window-sills. He wandered about some time +before he could summon courage to enter. + +Suddenly some one hailed him from the shore: + +"Ah! Monsieur Frantz. How early you are today!" + +It was Sidonie's coachman taking his horses to bathe in the river. + +"Has anything happened at the house?" inquired Frantz tremblingly. + +"No, Monsieur Frantz." + +"Is my brother at home?" + +"No, Monsieur slept at the factory." + +"No one sick?" + +"No, Monsieur Frantz, no one, so far as I know." + +Thereupon Frantz made up his mind to ring at the small gate. The +gardener was raking the paths. The house was astir; and, early as it +was, he heard Sidonie's voice as clear and vibrating as the song of a +bird among the rose-bushes of the facade. + +She was talking with animation. Frantz, deeply moved, drew near to +listen. + +"No, no cream. The 'cafe parfait' will be enough. Be sure that it's +well frozen and ready at seven o'clock. Oh! about an entree--let us +see--" + +She was holding council with her cook concerning the famous dinner-party +for the next day. Her brother-in-law's sudden appearance did not +disconcert her. + +"Ah! good-morning, Frantz," she said very coolly. "I am at your service +directly. We're to have some people to dinner to-morrow, customers of +the firm, a grand business dinner. You'll excuse me, won't you?" + +Fresh and smiling, in the white ruffles of her trailing morning-gown and +her little lace cap, she continued to discuss her menu, inhaling the cool +air that rose from the fields and the river. There was not the slightest +trace of chagrin or anxiety upon that tranquil face, which was a striking +contrast to the lover's features, distorted by a night of agony and +fatigue. + +For a long quarter of an hour Frantz, sitting in a corner of the salon, +saw all the conventional dishes of a bourgeois dinner pass before him in +their regular order, from the little hot pates, the sole Normande and the +innumerable ingredients of which that dish is composed, to the Montreuil +peaches and Fontainebleau grapes. + +At last, when they were alone and he was able to speak, he asked in a +hollow voice: + +"Didn't you receive my letter?" + +"Why, yes, of course." + +She had risen to go to the mirror and adjust a little curl or two +entangled with her floating ribbons, and continued, looking at herself +all the while: + +"Yes, I received your letter. Indeed, I was charmed to receive it. +Now, should you ever feel inclined to tell your brother any of the vile +stories about me that you have threatened me with, I could easily satisfy +him that the only source of your lying tale-bearing was anger with me for +repulsing a criminal passion as it deserved. Consider yourself warned, +my dear boy--and au revoir." + +As pleased as an actress who has just delivered a telling speech with +fine effect, she passed him and left the room smiling, with a little curl +at the corners of her mouth, triumphant and without anger. And he did +not kill her! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AN ITEM OF NEWS + +In the evening preceding that ill-omened day, a few moments after Frantz +had stealthily left his room on Rue de Braque, the illustrious Delobelle +returned home, with downcast face and that air of lassitude and +disillusionment with which he always met untoward events. + +"Oh! mon Dieu, my poor man, what has happened?" instantly inquired Madame +Delobelle, whom twenty years of exaggerated dramatic pantomime had not +yet surfeited. + +Before replying, the ex-actor, who never failed to precede his most +trivial words with some facial play, learned long before for stage +purposes, dropped his lower lip, in token of disgust and loathing, +as if he had just swallowed something very bitter. + +"The matter is that those Rislers are certainly ingrates or egotists, +and, beyond all question, exceedingly ill-bred. Do you know what I just +learned downstairs from the concierge, who glanced at me out of the +corner of his eye, making sport of me? Well, Frantz Risler has gone! +He left the house a short time ago, and has left Paris perhaps ere this, +without so much as coming to shake my hand, to thank me for the welcome +he has received here. What do you think of that? For he didn't say +good-by to you two either, did he? And yet, only a month ago, he was +always in our rooms, without any remonstrance from us." + +Mamma Delobelle uttered an exclamation of genuine surprise and grief. +Desiree, on the contrary, did not say a word or make a motion. She was +always the same little iceberg. + +Oh! wretched mother, turn your eyes upon your daughter. See that +transparent pallor, those tearless eyes which gleam unwaveringly, as if +their thoughts and their gaze were concentrated on some object visible +to them alone. Cause that poor suffering heart to open itself to you. +Question your child. Make her speak, above all things make her weep, +to rid her of the burden that is stifling her, so that her tear-dimmed +eyes can no longer distinguish in space that horrible unknown thing upon +which they are fixed in desperation now. + +For nearly a month past, ever since the day when Sidonie came and took +Frantz away in her coupe, Desiree had known that she was no longer loved, +and she knew her rival's name. She bore them no ill-will, she pitied +them rather. But, why had he returned? Why had he so heedlessly given +her false hopes? How many tears had she devoured in silence since those +hours! How many tales of woe had she told her little birds! For once +more it was work that had sustained her, desperate, incessant work, +which, by its regularity and monotony, by the constant recurrence of the +same duties and the same motions, served as a balance-wheel to her +thoughts. + +Lately Frantz was not altogether lost to her. Although he came but +rarely to see her, she knew that he was there, she could hear him go in +and out, pace, the floor with restless step, and sometimes, through the +half-open door, see his loved shadow hurry across the landing. He did +not seem happy. Indeed, what happiness could be in store for him? He +loved his brother's wife. And at the thought that Frantz was not happy, +the fond creature almost forgot her own sorrow to think only of the +sorrow of the man she loved. + +She was well aware that it was impossible that he could ever love her +again. But she thought that perhaps she would see him come in some day, +wounded and dying, that he would sit down on the little low chair, lay +his head on her knees, and with a great sob tell her of his suffering and +say to her, "Comfort me." + +That forlorn hope kept her alive for three weeks. She needed so little +as that. + +But no. Even that was denied her. Frantz had gone, gone without a +glance for her, without a parting word. The lover's desertion was +followed by the desertion of the friend. It was horrible! + +At her father's first words, she felt as if she were hurled into a deep, +ice-cold abyss, filled with darkness, into which she plunged swiftly, +helplessly, well knowing that she would never return to the light. She +was suffocating. She would have liked to resist, to struggle, to call +for help. + +Who was there who had the power to sustain her in that great disaster? + +God? The thing that is called Heaven? + +She did not even think of that. In Paris, especially in the quarters +where the working class live, the houses are too high, the streets too +narrow, the air too murky for heaven to be seen. + +It was Death alone at which the little cripple was gazing so earnestly. +Her course was determined upon at once: she must die. But how? + +Sitting motionless in her easy-chair, she considered what manner of death +she should choose. As she was almost never alone, she could not think of +the brazier of charcoal, to be lighted after closing the doors and +windows. As she never went out she could not think either of poison to +be purchased at the druggist's, a little package of white powder to be +buried in the depths of the pocket, with the needle-case and the thimble. +There was the phosphorus on the matches, too, the verdigris on old sous, +the open window with the paved street below; but the thought of forcing +upon her parents the ghastly spectacle of a self-inflicted death-agony, +the thought that what would remain of her, picked up amid a crowd of +people, would be so frightful to look upon, made her reject that method. + +She still had the river. At all events, the water carries you away +somewhere, so that nobody finds you and your death is shrouded in +mystery. + +The river! She shuddered at the mere thought. But it was not the vision +of the deep, black water that terrified her. The girls of Paris laugh at +that. You throw your apron over your head so that you can't see, and +pouf! But she must go downstairs, into the street, all alone, and the +street frightened her. + +Yes, it was a terrible thing to go out into the street alone. She must +wait until the gas was out, steal softly downstairs when her mother had +gone to bed, pull the cord of the gate, and make her way across Paris, +where you meet men who stare impertinently into your face, and pass +brilliantly lighted cafes. The river was a long distance away. She +would be very tired. However, there was no other way than that. + +"I am going to bed, my child; are you going to sit up any longer?" + +With her eyes on her work, "my child" replied that she was. She wished +to finish her dozen. + +"Good-night, then," said Mamma Delobelle, her enfeebled sight being +unable to endure the light longer. "I have put father's supper by the +fire. Just look at it before you go to bed." + +Desire did not lie. She really intended to finish her dozen, so that her +father could take them to the shop in the morning; and really, to see +that tranquil little head bending forward in the white light of the lamp, +one would never have imagined all the sinister thoughts with which it was +thronged. + +At last she takes up the last bird of the dozen, a marvellously lovely +little bird whose wings seem to have been dipped in sea-water, all green +as they are with a tinge of sapphire. + +Carefully, daintily, Desiree suspends it on a piece of brass wire, in the +charming attitude of a frightened creature about to fly away. + +Ah! how true it is that the little blue bird is about to fly away! What +a desperate flight into space! How certain one feels that this time it +is the great journey, the everlasting journey from which there is no +return! + +By and by, very softly, Desiree opens the wardrobe and takes a thin shawl +which she throws over her shoulders; then she goes. What? Not a glance +at her mother, not a silent farewell, not a tear? No, nothing! With the +terrible clearness of vision of those who are about to die, she suddenly +realizes that her childhood and youth have been sacrificed to a vast +self-love. She feels very sure that a word from their great man will +comfort that sleeping mother, with whom she is almost angry for not +waking, for allowing her to go without a quiver of her closed eyelids. + +When one dies young, even by one's own act, it is never without a +rebellious feeling, and poor Desiree bids adieu to life, indignant with +destiny. + +Now she is in the street. Where is she going? Everything seems deserted +already. Desiree walks rapidly, wrapped in her little shawl, head erect, +dry-eyed. Not knowing the way, she walks straight ahead. + +The dark, narrow streets of the Marais, where gas-jets twinkle at long +intervals, cross and recross and wind about, and again and again in her +feverish course she goes over the same ground. There is always something +between her and the river. And to think that, at that very hour, almost +in the same quarter, some one else is wandering through the streets, +waiting, watching, desperate! Ah! if they could but meet. Suppose she +should accost that feverish watcher, should ask him to direct her: + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur. How can I get to the Seine?" + +He would recognize her at once. + +"What! Can it be you, Mam'zelle Zizi? What are you doing out-of-doors +at this time of night?" + +"I am going to die, Frantz. You have taken away all my pleasure in +living." + +Thereupon he, deeply moved, would seize her, press her to his heart and +carry her away in his arms, saying: + +"Oh! no, do not die. I need you to comfort me, to cure all the wounds +the other has inflicted on me." + +But that is a mere poet's dream, one of the meetings that life can not +bring about. + +Streets, more streets, then a square and a bridge whose lanterns make +another luminous bridge in the black water. Here is the river at last. +The mist of that damp, soft autumn evening causes all of this huge Paris, +entirely strange to her as it is, to appear to her like an enormous +confused mass, which her ignorance of the landmarks magnifies still more. +This is the place where she must die. + +Poor little Desiree! + +She recalls the country excursion which Frantz had organized for her. +That breath of nature, which she breathed that day for the first time, +falls to her lot again at the moment of her death. "Remember," it seems +to say to her; and she replies mentally, "Oh! yes, I remember." + +She remembers only too well. When it arrives at the end of the quay, +which was bedecked as for a holiday, the furtive little shadow pauses at +the steps leading down to the bank. + +Almost immediately there are shouts and excitement all along the quay: + +"Quick--a boat--grappling-irons!" Boatmen and policemen come running +from all sides. A boat puts off from the shore with a lantern in the +bow. + +The flower-women awake, and, when one of them asks with a yawn what is +happening, the woman who keeps the cafe that crouches at the corner of +the bridge answers coolly: + +"A woman just jumped into the river." + +But no. The river has refused to take that child. It has been moved to +pity by so great gentleness and charm. In the light of the lanterns +swinging to and fro on the shore, a black group forms and moves away. +She is saved! It was a sand-hauler who fished her out. Policemen are +carrying her, surrounded by boatmen and lightermen, and in the darkness a +hoarse voice is heard saying with a sneer: "That water-hen gave me a lot +of trouble. You ought to see how she slipped through my fingers! I +believe she wanted to make me lose my reward." Gradually the tumult +subsides, the bystanders disperse, and the black group moves away toward +a police-station. + +Ah! poor girl, you thought that it was an easy matter to have done with +life, to disappear abruptly. You did not know that, instead of bearing +you away swiftly to the oblivion you sought, the river would drive you +back to all the shame, to all the ignominy of unsuccessful suicide. +First of all, the station, the hideous station, with its filthy benches, +its floor where the sodden dust seems like mud from the street. There +Desiree was doomed to pass the rest of the night. + +At last day broke with the shuddering glare so distressing to invalids. +Suddenly aroused from her torpor, Desiree sat up in her bed, threw off +the blanket in which they had wrapped her, and despite fatigue and fever +tried to stand, in order to regain full possession of her faculties and +her will. She had but one thought--to escape from all those eyes that +were opening on all sides, to leave that frightful place where the breath +of sleep was so heavy and its attitudes so distorted. + +"I implore you, messieurs," she said, trembling from head to foot, "let +me return to mamma." + +Hardened as they were to Parisian dramas, even those good people realized +that they were face to face with something more worthy of attention, more +affecting than usual. But they could not take her back to her mother as +yet. She must go before the commissioner first. That was absolutely +necessary. They called a cab from compassion for her; but she must go +from the station to the cab, and there was a crowd at the door to stare +at the little lame girl with the damp hair glued to her temples, and her +policeman's blanket which did not prevent her shivering. At headquarters +she was conducted up a dark, damp stairway where sinister figures were +passing to and fro. + +When Desiree entered the room, a man rose from the shadow and came to +meet her, holding out his hand. + +It was the man of the reward, her hideous rescuer at twenty-five francs. + +"Well, little-mother," he said, with his cynical laugh, and in a voice +that made one think of foggy nights on the water, "how are we since our +dive?" + +The unhappy girl was burning red with fever and shame; so bewildered that +it seemed to her as if the river had left a veil over her eyes, a buzzing +in her ears. At last she was ushered into a smaller room, into the +presence of a pompous individual, wearing the insignia of the Legion of +Honor, Monsieur le Commissaire in person, who was sipping his 'cafe au +lait' and reading the 'Gazette des Tribunaux.' + +"Ah! it's you, is it?" he said in a surly tone and without raising his +eyes from his paper, as he dipped a piece of bread in his cup; and the +officer who had brought Desiree began at once to read his report: + +"At quarter to twelve, on Quai de la Megisserie, in front of No. 17, +the woman Delobelle, twenty-four years old, flower-maker, living with her +parents on Rue de Braque, tried to commit suicide by throwing herself +into the Seine, and was taken out safe and sound by Sieur Parcheminet, +sand-hauler of Rue de la Butte-Chaumont." + +Monsieur le Commissaire listened as he ate, with the listless, bored +expression of a man whom nothing can surprise; at the end he gazed +sternly and with a pompous affectation of virtue at the woman Delobelle, +and lectured her in the most approved fashion. It was very wicked, it +was cowardly, this thing that she had done. What could have driven her +to such an evil act? Why did she seek to destroy herself? Come, woman +Delobelle, answer, why was it? + +But the woman Delobelle obstinately declined to answer. It seemed to her +that it would put a stigma upon her love to avow it in such a place. +"I don't know--I don't know," she whispered, shivering. + +Testy and impatient, the commissioner decided that she should be taken +back to her parents, but only on one condition: she must promise never to +try it again. + +"Come, do you promise?" + +"Oh! yes, Monsieur." + +"You will never try again?" + +"Oh! no, indeed I will not, never--never!" + +Notwithstanding her protestations, Monsieur le Commissaire de Police +shook his head, as if he did not trust her oath. + +Now she is outside once more, on the way to her home, to a place of +refuge; but her martyrdom was not yet at an end. + +In the carriage, the officer who accompanied her was too polite, too +affable. She seemed not to understand, shrank from him, withdrew her +hand. What torture! But the most terrible moment of all was the arrival +in Rue de Braque, where the whole house was in a state of commotion, and +the inquisitive curiosity of the neighbors must be endured. Early in the +morning the whole quarter had been informed of her disappearance. It was +rumored that she had gone away with Frantz Risler. The illustrious +Delobelle had gone forth very early, intensely agitated, with his hat +awry and rumpled wristbands, a sure indication of extraordinary +preoccupation; and the concierge, on taking up the provisions, had found +the poor mother half mad, running from one room to another, looking for a +note from the child, for any clew, however unimportant, that would enable +her at least to form some conjecture. + +Suddenly a carriage stopped in front of the door. Voices and footsteps +echoed through the hall. + +"M'ame Delobelle, here she is! Your daughter's been found." + +It was really Desiree who came toiling up the stairs on the arm of a +stranger, pale and fainting, without hat or shawl, and wrapped in a great +brown cape. When she saw her mother she smiled at her with an almost +foolish expression. + +"Do not be alarmed, it is nothing," she tried to say, then sank to the +floor. Mamma Delobelle would never have believed that she was so strong. +To lift her daughter, take her into the room, and put her to bed was a +matter of a moment; and she talked to her and kissed her. + +"Here you are at last. Where have you come from, you bad child? Tell +me, is it true that you tried to kill yourself? Were you suffering so +terribly? Why did you conceal it from me?" + +When she saw her mother in that condition, with tear-stained face, aged +in a few short hours, Desiree felt a terrible burden of remorse. She +remembered that she had gone away without saying good-by to her, and that +in the depths of her heart she had accused her of not loving her. + +Not loving her! + +"Why, it would kill me if you should die," said the poor mother. "Oh! +when I got up this morning and saw that your bed hadn't been slept in and +that you weren't in the workroom either!--I just turned round and fell +flat. Are you warm now? Do you feel well? You won't do it again, will +you--try to kill yourself?" + +And she tucked in the bed-clothes, rubbed her feet, and rocked her upon +her breast. + +As she lay in bed with her eyes closed, Desiree saw anew all the +incidents of her suicide, all the hideous scenes through which she had +passed in returning from death to life. In the fever, which rapidly +increased, in the intense drowsiness which began to overpower her, her +mad journey across Paris continued to excite and torment her. Myriads of +dark streets stretched away before her, with the Seine at the end of +each. + +That ghastly river, which she could not find in the night, haunted her +now. + +She felt that she was besmirched with its slime, its mud; and in the +nightmare that oppressed her, the poor child, powerless to escape the +obsession of her recollections, whispered to her mother: "Hide me-- +hide me--I am ashamed!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SHE PROMISED NOT TO TRY AGAIN + +Oh! no, she will not try it again. Monsieur le Commissaire need have no +fear. In the first place how could she go as far as the river, now that +she can not stir from her bed? If Monsieur le Commissaire could see her +now, he would not doubt her word. Doubtless the wish, the longing for +death, so unmistakably written on her pale face the other morning, are +still visible there; but they are softened, resigned. The woman +Delobelle knows that by waiting a little, yes, a very little time, she +will have nothing more to wish for. + +The doctors declare that she is dying of pneumonia; she must have +contracted it in her wet clothes. The doctors are mistaken; it is not +pneumonia. Is it her love, then, that is killing her? No. Since that +terrible night she no longer thinks of Frantz, she no longer feels that +she is worthy to love or to be loved. Thenceforth there is a stain upon +her spotless life, and it is of the shame of that and of nothing else +that she is dying. + +Mamma Delobelle sits by Desiree's bed, working by the light from the +window, and nursing her daughter. From time to time she raises her eyes +to contemplate that mute despair, that mysterious disease, then hastily +resumes her work; for it is one of the hardest trials of the poor that +they can not suffer at their ease. + +Mamma Delobelle had to work alone now, and her fingers had not the +marvellous dexterity of Desiree's little hands; medicines were dear, and +she would not for anything in the world have interfered with one of "the +father's" cherished habits. And so, at whatever hour the invalid opened +her eyes, she would see her mother, in the pale light of early morning, +or under her night lamp, working, working without rest. + +Between two stitches the mother would look up at her child, whose face +grew paler and paler: + +"How do you feel?" + +"Very well," the sick girl would reply, with a faint, heartbroken smile, +which illumined her sorrowful face and showed all the ravages that had +been wrought upon it, as a sunbeam, stealing into a poor man's lodging, +instead of brightening it, brings out more clearly its cheerlessness and +nudity. + +The illustrious Delobelle was never there. He had not changed in any +respect the habits of a strolling player out of an engagement. And yet +he knew that his daughter was dying: the doctor had told him so. +Moreover, it had been a terrible blow to him, for, at heart, he loved his +child dearly; but in that singular nature the most sincere and the most +genuine feelings adopted a false and unnatural mode of expression, by the +same law which ordains that, when a shelf is placed awry, nothing that +you place upon it seems to stand straight. + +Delobelle's natural tendency was, before everything, to air his grief, +to spread it abroad. He played the role of the unhappy father from one +end of the boulevard to the other. He was always to be found in the +neighborhood of the theatres or at the actors' restaurant, with red eyes +and pale cheeks. He loved to invite the question, "Well, my poor old +fellow, how are things going at home?" Thereupon he would shake his head +with a nervous gesture; his grimace held tears in check, his mouth +imprecations, and he would stab heaven with a silent glance, overflowing +with wrath, as when he played the 'Medecin des Enfants;' all of which did +not prevent him, however, from bestowing the most delicate and thoughtful +attentions upon his daughter. + +He also maintained an unalterable confidence in himself, no matter what +happened. And yet his eyes came very near being opened to the truth at +last. A hot little hand laid upon that pompous, illusion-ridden head +came very near expelling the bee that had been buzzing there so long. +This is how it came to pass. + +One night Desiree awoke with a start, in a very strange state. It should +be said that the doctor, when he came to see her on the preceding +evening, had been greatly surprised to find her suddenly brighter and +calmer, and entirely free from fever. Without attempting to explain this +unhoped-for resurrection, he had gone away, saying, "Let us wait and +see"; he relied upon the power of youth to throw off disease, upon the +resistless force of the life-giving sap, which often engrafts a new life +upon the very symptoms of death. If he had looked under Desiree's +pillow, he would have found there a letter postmarked Cairo, wherein lay +the secret of that happy change. Four pages signed by Frantz, his whole +conduct confessed and explained to his dear little Zizi. + +It was the very letter of which the sick girl had dreamed. If she had +dictated it herself, all the phrases likely to touch her heart, all the +delicately worded excuses likely to pour balm into her wounds, would have +been less satisfactorily expressed. Frantz repented, asked forgiveness, +and without making any promises, above all without asking anything from +her, described to his faithful friend his struggles, his remorse, his +sufferings. + +What a misfortune that that letter had not arrived a few days earlier. +Now, all those kind words were to Desiree like the dainty dishes that are +brought too late to a man dying of hunger. + +Suddenly she awoke, and, as we said a moment since, in an extraordinary +state. + +In her head, which seemed to her lighter than usual, there suddenly began +a grand procession of thoughts and memories. The most distant periods of +her past seemed to approach her. The most trivial incidents of her +childhood, scenes that she had not then understood, words heard as in a +dream, recurred to her mind. + +From her bed she could see her father and mother, one by her side, the +other in the workroom, the door of which had been left open. Mamma +Delobelle was lying back in her chair in the careless attitude of long- +continued fatigue, heeded at last; and all the scars, the ugly sabre cuts +with which age and suffering brand the faces of the old, manifested +themselves, ineffaceable and pitiful to see, in the relaxation of +slumber. Desiree would have liked to be strong enough to rise and kiss +that lovely, placid brow, furrowed by wrinkles which did not mar its +beauty. + +In striking contrast to that picture, the illustrious Delobelle appeared +to his daughter through the open door in one of his favorite attitudes. +Seated before the little white cloth that bore his supper, with his body +at an angle of sixty-seven and a half degrees, he was eating and at the +same time running through a pamphlet which rested against the carafe in +front of him. + +For the first time in her life Desiree noticed the striking lack of +harmony between her emaciated mother, scantily clad in little black +dresses which made her look even thinner and more haggard than she really +was, and her happy, well-fed, idle, placid, thoughtless father. At a +glance she realized the difference between the two lives. What would +become of them when she was no longer there? Either her mother would +work too hard and would kill herself; or else the poor woman would be +obliged to cease working altogether, and that selfish husband, forever +engrossed by his theatrical ambition, would allow them both to drift +gradually into abject poverty, that black hole which widens and deepens +as one goes down into it. + +Suppose that, before going away--something told her that she would go +very soon--before going away, she should tear away the thick bandage that +the poor man kept over his eyes wilfully and by force? + +Only a hand as light and loving as hers could attempt that operation. +Only she had the right to say to her father: + +"Earn your living. Give up the stage." + +Thereupon, as time was flying, Desire Delobelle summoned all her courage +and called softly: + +"Papa-papa" + +At his daughter's first summons the great man hurried to her side. He +entered Desiree's bedroom, radiant and superb, very erect, his lamp in +his hand and a camellia in his buttonhole. + +"Good evening, Zizi. Aren't you asleep?" + +His voice had a joyous intonation that produced a strange effect amid the +prevailing gloom. Desiree motioned to him not to speak, pointing to her +sleeping mother. + +"Put down your lamp--I have something to say to you." + +Her voice, broken by emotion, impressed him; and so did her eyes, for +they seemed larger than usual, and were lighted by a piercing glance that +he had never seen in them. + +He approached with something like awe. + +"Why, what's the matter, Bichette? Do you feel any worse?" + +Desiree replied with a movement of her little pale face that she felt +very ill and that she wanted to speak to him very close, very close. +When the great man stood by her pillow, she laid her burning hand on the +great man's arm and whispered in his ear. She was very ill, hopelessly +ill. She realized fully that she had not long to live. + +"Then, father, you will be left alone with mamma. Don't tremble like +that. You knew that this thing must come, yes, that it was very near. +But I want to tell you this. When I am gone, I am terribly afraid mamma +won't be strong enough to support the family just see how pale and +exhausted she is." + +The actor looked at his "sainted wife," and seemed greatly surprised to +find that she did really look so badly. Then he consoled himself with +the selfish remark: + +"She never was very strong." + +That remark and the tone in which it was made angered Desiree and +strengthened her determination. She continued, without pity for the +actor's illusions: + +"What will become of you two when I am no longer here? Oh! I know that +you have great hopes, but it takes them a long while to come to anything. +The results you have waited for so long may not arrive for a long time to +come; and until then what will you do? Listen! my dear father, I would +not willingly hurt you; but it seems to me that at your age, as +intelligent as you are, it would be easy for you--I am sure Monsieur +Risler Aine would ask nothing better." + +She spoke slowly, with an effort, carefully choosing her words, leaving +long pauses between every two sentences, hoping always that they might be +filled by a movement, an exclamation from her father. But the actor did +not understand. + +"I think that you would do well," pursued Desiree, timidly, "I think that +you would do well to give up--" + +"Eh?--what?--what's that?" + +She paused when she saw the effect of her words. The old actor's mobile +features were suddenly contracted under the lash of violent despair; and +tears, genuine tears which he did not even think of concealing behind his +hand as they do on the stage, filled his eyes but did not flow, so +tightly did his agony clutch him by the throat. The poor devil began to +understand. + +She murmured twice or thrice: + +"To give up--to give up--" + +Then her little head fell back upon the pillow, and she died without +having dared to tell him what he would do well to give up. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +APPROACHING CLOUDS + +One night, near the end of January, old Sigismond Planus, cashier of the +house of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, was awakened with a start in his +little house at Montrouge by the same teasing voice, the same rattling of +chains, followed by that fatal cry: + +"The notes!" + +"That is true," thought the worthy man, sitting up in bed; "day after to- +morrow will be the last day of the month. And I have the courage to +sleep!" + +In truth, a considerable sum of money must be raised: a hundred thousand +francs to be paid on two obligations, and at a moment when, for the first +time in thirty years, the strong-box of the house of Fromont was +absolutely empty. What was to be done? Sigismond had tried several +times to speak to Fromont Jeune, but he seemed to shun the burdensome +responsibility of business, and when he walked through the offices was +always in a hurry, feverishly excited, and seemed neither to see nor hear +anything about him. He answered the old cashier's anxious questions, +gnawing his moustache: + +"All right, all right, my old Planus. Don't disturb yourself; I will +look into it." And as he said it, he seemed to be thinking of something +else, to be a thousand leagues away from his surroundings. It was +rumored in the factory, where his liaison with Madame Risler was no +longer a secret to anybody, that Sidonie deceived him, made him very +unhappy; and, indeed, his mistress's whims worried him much more than his +cashier's anxiety. As for Risler, no one ever saw him; he passed his +days shut up in a room under the roof, overseeing the mysterious, +interminable manufacture of his machines. + +This indifference on the part of the employers to the affairs of the +factory, this absolute lack of oversight, had led by slow degrees to +general demoralization. Some business was still done, because an +established house will go on alone for years by force of the first +impetus; but what ruin, what chaos beneath that apparent prosperity? + +Sigismond knew it better than any one, and as if to see his way more +clearly amid the multitude of painful thoughts which whirled madly +through his brain, the cashier lighted his candle, sat down on his bed, +and thought, "Where were they to find that hundred thousand francs?" + +"Take the notes back. I have no funds to meet them." + +No, no! That was not possible. Any sort of humiliation was preferable +to that. + +"Well, it's decided. I will go to-morrow," sighed the poor cashier. + +And he tossed about in torture, unable to close an eye until morning. + +Notwithstanding the late hour, Georges Fromont had not yet retired. +He was sitting by the fire, with his head in his hands, in the blind and +dumb concentration due to irreparable misfortune, thinking of Sidonie, +of that terrible Sidonie who was asleep at that moment on the floor +above. She was positively driving him mad. She was false to him, he was +sure of it,--she was false to him with the Toulousan tenor, that Cazabon, +alias Cazaboni, whom Madame Dobson had brought to the house. For a long +time he had implored her not to receive that man; but Sidonie would not +listen to him, and on that very day, speaking of a grand ball she was +about to give, she had declared explicitly that nothing should prevent +her inviting her tenor. + +"Then he's your lover!" Georges had exclaimed angrily, his eyes gazing +into hers. + +She had not denied it; she had not even turned her eyes away. + +And to think that he had sacrificed everything to that woman-- +his fortune, his honor, even his lovely Claire, who lay sleeping with +her child in the adjoining room--a whole lifetime of happiness within +reach of his hand, which he had spurned for that vile creature! Now she +had admitted that she did not love him, that she loved another. And he, +the coward, still longed for her. In heaven's name, what potion had she +given him? + +Carried away by indignation that made the blood boil in his veins, +Georges Fromont started from his armchair and strode feverishly up and +down the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the sleeping house +like living insomnia. The other was asleep upstairs. She could sleep by +favor of her heedless, remorseless nature. Perhaps, too, she was +thinking of her Cazaboni. + +When that thought passed through his mind, Georges had a mad longing to +go up, to wake Risler, to tell him everything and destroy himself with +her. Really that deluded husband was too idiotic! Why did he not watch +her more closely? She was pretty enough, yes, and vicious enough, too, +for every precaution to be taken with her. + +And it was while he was struggling amid such cruel and unfruitful +reflections as these that the devil of anxiety whispered in his ear: + +"The notes! the notes!" + +The miserable wretch! In his wrath he had entirely forgotten them. +And yet he had long watched the approach of that terrible last day of +January. How many times, between two assignations, when his mind, free +for a moment from thoughts of Sidonie, recurred to his business, to the +realities of life-how many times had he said to himself, "That day will +be the end of everything!" But, as with all those who live in the +delirium of intoxication, his cowardice convinced him that it was too +late to mend matters, and he returned more quickly and more determinedly +to his evil courses, in order to forget, to divert his thoughts. + +But that was no longer possible. He saw the impending disaster clearly, +in its full meaning; and Sigismond Planus's wrinkled, solemn face rose +before him with its sharply cut features, whose absence of expression +softened their harshness, and his light German-Swiss eyes, which had +haunted him for many weeks with their impassive stare. + +Well, no, he had not the hundred thousand francs, nor did he know where +to get them. + +The crisis which, a few hours before, seemed to him a chaos, an eddying +whirl in which he could see nothing distinctly and whose very confusion +was a source of hope, appeared to him at that moment with appalling +distinctness. An empty cash-box, closed doors, notes protested, ruin, +are the phantoms he saw whichever way he turned. And when, on top of all +the rest, came the thought of Sidonie's treachery, the wretched, +desperate man, finding nothing to cling to in that shipwreck, suddenly +uttered a sob, a cry of agony, as if appealing for help to some higher +power. + +"Georges, Georges, it is I. What is the matter?" + +His wife stood before him, his wife who now waited for him every night, +watching anxiously for his return from the club, for she still believed +that he passed his evenings there. That night she had heard him walking +very late in his room. At last her child fell asleep, and Claire, +hearing the father sob, ran to him. + +Oh! what boundless, though tardy remorse overwhelmed him when he saw her +before him, so deeply moved, so lovely and so loving! Yes, she was in +very truth the true companion, the faithful friend. How could he have +deserted her? For a long, long time he wept upon her shoulder, unable to +speak. And it was fortunate that he did not speak, for he would have +told her all, all. The unhappy man felt the need of pouring out his +heart--an irresistible longing to accuse himself, to ask forgiveness, +to lessen the weight of the remorse that was crushing him. + +She spared him the pain of uttering a word: + +"You have been gambling, have you not? You have lost--lost heavily?" + +He moved his head affirmatively; then, when he was able to speak, he +confessed that he must have a hundred thousand francs for the day after +the morrow, and that he did not know how to obtain them. + +She did not reproach him. She was one of those women who, when face +to face with disaster, think only of repairing it, without a word of +recrimination. Indeed, in the bottom of her heart she blessed this +misfortune which brought him nearer to her and became a bond between +their two lives, which had long lain so far apart. She reflected a +moment. Then, with an effort indicating a resolution which had cost a +bitter struggle, she said: + +"Not all is lost as yet. I will go to Savigny tomorrow and ask my +grandfather for the money." + +He would never have dared to suggest that to her. Indeed, it would never +have occurred to him. She was so proud and old Gardinois so hard! +Surely that was a great sacrifice for her to make for him, and a striking +proof of her love. + +"Claire, Claire--how good your are!" he said. + +Without replying, she led him to their child's cradle. + +"Kiss her," she said softly; and as they stood there side by side, their +heads leaning over the child, Georges was afraid of waking her, and he +embraced the mother passionately. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +REVELATIONS + +"Ah! here's Sigismond. How goes the world, Pere Sigismond? How is +business? Is it good with you?" + +The old cashier smiled affably, shook hands with the master, his wife, +and his brother, and, as they talked, looked curiously about. They were +in a manufactory of wallpapers on Faubourg Saint-Antoine, the +establishment of the little Prochassons, who were beginning to be +formidable rivals. Those former employes of the house of Fromont had +set up on their own account, beginning in a very, small way, and had +gradually succeeded in making for themselves a place on 'Change. Fromont +the uncle had assisted them for a long while with his credit and his +money; the result being most friendly relations between the two firms, +and a balance--between ten or fifteen thousand francs--which had never +been definitely adjusted, because they knew that money was in good hands +when the Prochassons had it. + +Indeed, the appearance of the factory was most reassuring. The chimneys +proudly shook their plumes of smoke. The dull roar of constant toil +indicated that the workshops were full of workmen and activity. The +buildings were in good repair, the windows clean; everything had an +aspect of enthusiasm, of good-humor, of discipline; and behind the +grating in the counting-room sat the wife of one of the brothers, simply +dressed, with her hair neatly arranged, and an air of authority on her +youthful face, deeply intent upon a long column of figures. + +Old Sigismond thought bitterly of the difference between the house of +Fromont, once so wealthy, now living entirely upon its former reputation, +and the ever-increasing prosperity of the establishment before his eyes. +His stealthy glance penetrated to the darkest corners, seeking some +defect, something to criticise; and his failure to find anything made his +heart heavy and his smile forced and anxious. + +What embarrassed him most of all was the question how he should approach +the subject of the money due his employers without betraying the +emptiness of the strongbox. The poor man assumed a jaunty, unconcerned +air which was truly pitiful to see. Business was good--very good. +He happened to be passing through the quarter and thought he would come +in a moment--that was natural, was it not? One likes to see old friends. + +But these preambles, these constantly expanding circumlocutions, did not +bring him to the point he wished to reach; on the contrary, they led him +away from his goal, and imagining that he detected surprise in the eyes +of his auditors, he went completely astray, stammered, lost his head, +and, as a last resort, took his hat and pretended to go. At the door he +suddenly bethought himself: + +"Ah! by the way, so long as I am here--" + +He gave a little wink which he thought sly, but which was in reality +heartrending. + +"So long as I am here, suppose we settle that old account." + +The two brothers and the young woman in the counting-room gazed at one +another a second, unable to understand. + +"Account? What account, pray?" + +Then all three began to laugh at the same moment, and heartily too, +as if at a joke, a rather broad joke, on the part of the old cashier. +"Go along with you, you sly old Pere Planus!" The old man laughed with +them! He laughed without any desire to laugh, simply to do as the others +did. + +At last they explained. Fromont Jeune had come in person, six months +before, to collect the balance in their hands. + +Sigismond felt that his strength was going. But he summoned courage to +say: + +"Ah! yes; true. I had forgotten. Sigismond Planus is growing old, that +is plain. I am failing, my children, I am failing." + +And the old man went away wiping his eyes, in which still glistened great +tears caused by the hearty laugh he had just enjoyed. The young people +behind him exchanged glances and shook their heads. They understood. + +The blow he had received was so crushing that the cashier, as soon as he +was out-of-doors, was obliged to sit down on a bench. So that was the +reason why Georges did not come to the counting-room for money. He made +his collections in person. What had taken place at the Prochassons' had +probably been repeated everywhere else. It was quite useless, therefore, +for him to subject himself to further humiliation. Yes, but the notes, +the notes!--that thought renewed his strength. He wiped the perspiration +from his forehead and started once more to try his luck with a customer +in the faubourg. But this time he took his precautions and called to the +cashier from the doorway, without entering: + +"Good-morning, Pere So-and-So. I want to ask you a question." + +He held the door half open, his hand upon the knob. + +"When did we settle our last bill? I forgot to enter it." + +Oh! it was a long while ago, a very long while, that their last bill was +settled. Fromont Jeune's receipt was dated in September. It was five +months ago. + +The door was hastily closed. Another! Evidently it would be the same +thing everywhere. + +"Ah! Monsieur Chorche, Monsieur Chorche," muttered poor Sigismond; and +while he pursued his journey, with bowed head and trembling legs, Madame +Fromont Jeune's carriage passed him close, on its way to the Orleans +station; but Claire did not see old Planus, any more than she had seen, +when she left her house a few moments earlier, Monsieur Chebe in his long +frock-coat and the illustrious Delobelle in his stovepipe hat, turning +into the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes at opposite ends, each with the +factory and Risler's wallet for his objective point. The young woman was +much too deeply engrossed by what she had before her to look into the +street. + +Think of it! It was horrible. To go and ask M. Gardinois for a hundred +thousand francs--M. Gardinois, a man who boasted that he had never +borrowed or loaned a sou in his life, who never lost an opportunity to +tell how, on one occasion, being driven to ask his father for forty +francs to buy a pair of trousers, he had repaid the loan in small +amounts. In his dealings with everybody, even with his children, +M. Gardinois followed those traditions of avarice which the earth, +the cruel earth, often ungrateful to those who till it, seems to +inculcate in all peasants. The old man did not intend that any part of +his colossal fortune should go to his children during his lifetime. + +"They'll find my property when I am dead," he often said. + +Acting upon that principle, he had married off his daughter, the elder +Madame Fromont, without one sou of dowry, and he never forgave his son- +in-law for having made a fortune without assistance from him. For it +was one of the peculiarities of that nature, made up of vanity and +selfishness in equal parts, to wish that every one he knew should need +his help, should bow before his wealth. When the Fromonts expressed in +his presence their satisfaction at the prosperous turn their business was +beginning to take, his sharp, cunning, little blue eye would smile +ironically, and he would growl, "We shall see what it all comes to in the +end," in a tone that made them tremble. Sometimes, too, at Savigny, in +the evening, when the park, the avenues, the blue slates of the chateau, +the red brick of the stables, the ponds and brooks shone resplendent, +bathed in the golden glory of a lovely sunset, this eccentric parvenu +would say aloud before his children, after looking about him: + +"The one thing that consoles me for dying some day is that no one in the +family will ever be rich enough to keep a chateau that costs fifty +thousand francs a year to maintain." + +And yet, with that latter-day tenderness which even the sternest +grandfathers find in the depths of their hearts, old Gardinois would +gladly have made a pet of his granddaughter. But Claire, even as a +child, had felt an invincible repugnance for the former peasant's +hardness of heart and vainglorious selfishness. And when affection forms +no bonds between those who are separated by difference in education, such +repugnance is increased by innumerable trifles. When Claire married +Georges, the grandfather said to Madame Fromont: + +"If your daughter wishes, I will give her a royal present; but she must +ask for it." + +But Claire received nothing, because she would not ask for anything. + +What a bitter humiliation to come, three years later, to beg a hundred +thousand francs from the generosity she had formerly spurned, to humble +herself, to face the endless sermons, the sneering raillery, the whole +seasoned with Berrichon jests, with phrases smacking of the soil, with +the taunts, often well-deserved, which narrow, but logical, minds can +utter on occasion, and which sting with their vulgar patois like an +insult from an inferior! + +Poor Claire! Her husband and her father were about to be humiliated in +her person. She must necessarily confess the failure of the one, the +downfall of the house which the other had founded and of which he had +been so proud while he lived. The thought that she would be called upon +to defend all that she loved best in the world made her strong and weak +at the same time. + +It was eleven o'clock when she reached Savigny. As she had given no +warning of her visit, the carriage from the chateau was not at the +station, and she had no choice but to walk. + +It was a cold morning and the roads were dry and hard. The north wind +blew freely across the arid fields and the river, and swept unopposed +through the leafless trees and bushes. The chateau appeared under the +low-hanging clouds, with its long line of low walls and hedges separating +it from the surrounding fields. The slates on the roof were as dark as +the sky they reflected; and that magnificent summer residence, completely +transformed by the bitter, silent winter, without a leaf on its trees or +a pigeon on its roofs, showed no life save in its rippling brooks and the +murmuring of the tall poplars as they bowed majestically to one another, +shaking the magpies' nests hidden among their highest branches. + +At a distance Claire fancied that the home of her youth wore a surly, +depressed air. It seemed to het that Savigny watched her approach with +the cold, aristocratic expression which it assumed for passengers on the +highroad, who stopped at the iron bars of its gateways. + +Oh! the cruel aspect of everything! + +And yet not so cruel after all. For, with its tightly closed exterior, +Savigny seemed to say to her, "Begone--do not come in!" And if she had +chosen to listen, Claire, renouncing her plan of speaking to her +grandfather, would have returned at once to Paris to maintain the repose +of her life. But she did not understand, poor child! and already the +great Newfoundland dog, who had recognized her, came leaping through the +dead leaves and sniffed at the gate. + +"Good-morning, Francoise. Where is grandpapa?" the young woman asked +the gardener's wife, who came to open the gate, fawning and false and +trembling, like all the servants at the chateau when they felt that the +master's eye was upon them. + +Grandpapa was in his office, a little building independent of the main +house, where he passed his days fumbling among boxes and pigeonholes and +great books with green backs, with the rage for bureaucracy due to his +early ignorance and the strong impression made upon him long before by +the office of the notary in his village. + +At that moment he was closeted there with his keeper, a sort of country +spy, a paid informer who apprised him as to all that was said and done in +the neighborhood. + +He was the master's favorite. His name was Fouinat (polecat), and he had +the flat, crafty, blood-thirsty face appropriate to his name. + +When Claire entered, pale and trembling under her furs, the old man +understood that something serious and unusual had happened, and he made a +sign to Fouinat, who disappeared, gliding through the half-open door as +if he were entering the very wall. + +"What's the matter, little one? Why, you're all 'perlute'," said the +grandfather, seated behind his huge desk. + +Perlute, in the Berrichon dictionary, signifies troubled, excited, upset, +and applied perfectly to Claire's condition. Her rapid walk in the cold +country air, the effort she had made in order to do what she was doing, +imparted an unwonted expression to her face, which was much less reserved +than usual. Without the slightest encouragement on his part, she kissed +him and seated herself in front of the fire, where old stumps, surrounded +by dry moss and pine needles picked up in the paths, were smouldering +with occasional outbursts of life and the hissing of sap. She did not +even take time to shake off the frost that stood in beads on her veil, +but began to speak at once, faithful to her resolution to state the +object of her visit immediately upon entering the room, before she +allowed herself to be intimidated by the atmosphere of fear and respect +which encompassed the grandfather and made of him a sort of awe-inspiring +deity. + +She required all her courage not to become confused, not to interrupt her +narrative before that piercing gaze which transfixed her, enlivened from +her first words by a malicious joy, before that savage mouth whose +corners seemed tightly closed by premeditated reticence, obstinacy, a +denial of any sort of sensibility. She went on to the end in one speech, +respectful without humility, concealing her emotion, steadying her voice +by the consciousness of the truth of her story. Really, seeing them thus +face to face, he cold and calm, stretched out in his armchair, with his +hands in the pockets of his gray swansdown waistcoat, she carefully +choosing her words, as if each of them might condemn or absolve her, you +would never have said that it was a child before her grandfather, but an +accused person before an examining magistrate. + +His thoughts were entirely engrossed by the joy, the pride of his +triumph. So they were conquered at last, those proud upstarts of +Fromonts! So they needed old Gardinois at last, did they? Vanity, +his dominating passion, overflowed in his whole manner, do what he would. +When she had finished, he took the floor in his turn, began naturally +enough with "I was sure of it--I always said so--I knew we should see +what it would all come to"--and continued in the same vulgar, insulting +tone, ending with the declaration that, in view of his principles, which +were well known in the family, he would not lend a sou. + +Then Claire spoke of her child, of her husband's name, which was also her +father's, and which would be dishonored by the failure. The old man was +as cold, as implacable as ever, and took advantage of her humiliation to +humiliate her still more; for he belonged to the race of worthy rustics +who, when their enemy is down, never leave him without leaving on his +face the marks of the nails in their sabots. + +"All I can say to you, little one, is that Savigny is open to you. +Let your husband come here. I happen to need a secretary. Very well, +Georges can do my writing for twelve hundred francs a year and board for +the whole family. Offer him that from me, and come." + +She rose indignantly. She had come as his child and he had received her +as a beggar. They had not reached that point yet, thank God! + +"Do you think so?" queried M. Gardinois, with a savage light in his eye. + +Claire shuddered and walked toward the door without replying. The old +man detained her with a gesture. + +"Take care! you don't know what you're refusing. It is in your +interest, you understand, that I suggest bringing your husband here. +You don't know the life he is leading up yonder. Of course you don't +know it, or you'd never come and ask me for money to go where yours has +gone. Ah! I know all about your man's affairs. I have my police at +Paris, yes, and at Asnieres, as well as at Savigny. I know what the +fellow does with his days and his nights; and I don't choose that my +crowns shall go to the places where he goes. They're not clean enough +for money honestly earned." + +Claire's eyes opened wide in amazement and horror, for she felt that a +terrible drama had entered her life at that moment through the little low +door of denunciation. The old man continued with a sneer: + +"That little Sidonie has fine, sharp teeth." + +"Sidonie!" + +"Faith, yes, to be sure. I have told you the name. At all events, you'd +have found it out some day or other. In fact, it's an astonishing thing +that, since the time--But you women are so vain! The idea that a man +can deceive you is the last idea to come into your head. Well, yes, +Sidonie's the one who has got it all out of him--with her husband's +consent, by the way." + +He went on pitilessly to tell the young wife the source of the money for +the house at Asnieres, the horses, the carriages, and how the pretty +little nest in the Avenue Gabriel had been furnished. He explained +everything in detail. It was clear that, having found a new opportunity +to exercise his mania for espionage, he had availed himself of it to the +utmost; perhaps, too, there was at the bottom of it all a vague, +carefully concealed rage against his little Chebe, the anger of a senile +passion never declared. + +Claire listened to him without speaking, with a smile of incredulity. +That smile irritated the old man, spurred on his malice. "Ah! you don't +believe me. Ah! you want proofs, do you?" And he gave her proofs, +heaped them upon her, overpowered her with knife-thrusts in the heart. +She had only to go to Darches, the jeweller in the Rue de la Paix. +A fortnight before, Georges had bought a diamond necklace there for +thirty thousand francs. It was his New Year's gift to Sidonie. Thirty +thousand francs for diamonds at the moment of becoming bankrupt! + +He might have talked the entire day and Claire would not have interrupted +him. She felt that the slightest effort would cause the tears that +filled her eyes to overflow, and she was determined to smile to the end, +the sweet, brave woman. From time to time she cast a sidelong glance at +the road. She was in haste to go, to fly from the sound of that spiteful +voice, which pursued her pitilessly. + +At last he ceased; he had told the whole story. She bowed and walked +toward the door. + +"Are you going? What a hurry you're in!" said the grandfather, +following her outside. + +At heart he was a little ashamed of his savagery. + +"Won't you breakfast with me?" + +She shook her head, not having strength to speak. + +"At least wait till the carriage is ready--some one will drive you to the +station." + +No, still no. + +And she walked on, with the old man close behind her. Proudly, and with +head erect, she crossed the courtyard, filled with souvenirs of her +childhood, without once looking behind. And yet what echoes of hearty +laughter, what sunbeams of her younger days were imprinted in the tiniest +grain of gravel in that courtyard! + +Her favorite tree, her favorite bench, were still in the same place. She +had not a glance for them, nor for the pheasants in the aviary, nor even +for the great dog Kiss, who followed her docilely, awaiting the caress +which she did not give him. She had come as a child of the house, she +went away as a stranger, her mind filled with horrible thoughts which the +slightest reminder of her peaceful and happy past could not have failed +to aggravate. + +"Good-by, grandfather." + +"Good-by, then." + +And the gate closed upon her harshly. As soon as she was alone, she +began to walk swiftly, swiftly, almost to run. She was not merely going +away, she was escaping. Suddenly, when she reached the end of the wall +of the estate, she found herself in front of the little green gate, +surrounded by nasturtiums and honeysuckle, where the chateau mail-box +was. She stopped instinctively, struck by one of those sudden awakenings +of the memory which take place within us at critical moments and place +before our eyes with wonderful clearness of outline the most trivial acts +of our lives bearing any relation to present disasters or joys. Was it +the red sun that suddenly broke forth from the clouds, flooding the level +expanse with its oblique rays in that winter afternoon as at the sunset +hour in August? Was it the silence that surrounded her, broken only by +the harmonious sounds of nature, which are almost alike at all seasons? + +Whatever the cause she saw herself once more as she was, at that same +spot, three years before, on a certain day when she placed in the post a +letter inviting Sidonie to come and pass a month with her in the country. +Something told her that all her misfortunes dated from that moment. +"Ah! had I known--had I only known!" And she fancied that she could +still feel between her fingers the smooth envelope, ready to drop into +the box. + +Thereupon, as she reflected what an innocent, hopeful, happy child she +was at that moment, she cried out indignantly, gentle creature that she +was, against the injustice of life. She asked herself: "Why is it? What +have I done?" + +Then she suddenly exclaimed: "No! it isn't true. It can not be +possible. Grandfather lied to me." And as she went on toward the +station, the unhappy girl tried to convince herself, to make herself +believe what she said. But she did not succeed. + +The truth dimly seen is like the veiled sun, which tires the eyes far +more than its most brilliant rays. In the semi-obscurity which still +enveloped her misfortune, the poor woman's sight was keener than she +could have wished. Now she understood and accounted for certain peculiar +circumstances in her husband's life, his frequent absences, his +restlessness, his embarrassed behavior on certain days, and the abundant +details which he sometimes volunteered, upon returning home, concerning +his movements, mentioning names as proofs which she did not ask. From +all these conjectures the evidence of his sin was made up. And still she +refused to believe it, and looked forward to her arrival in Paris to set +her doubts at rest. + +No one was at the station, a lonely, cheerless little place, where no +traveller ever showed his face in winter. As Claire sat there awaiting +the train, gazing vaguely at the station-master's melancholy little +garden, and the debris of climbing plants running along the fences by the +track, she felt a moist, warm breath on her glove. It was her friend +Kiss, who had followed her and was reminding her of their happy romps +together in the old days, with little shakes of the head, short leaps, +capers of joy tempered by humility, concluding by stretching his +beautiful white coat at full length at his mistress's feet, on the cold +floor of the waiting-room. Those humble caresses which sought her out, +like a hesitating offer of devotion and sympathy, caused the sobs she had +so long restrained to break forth as last. But suddenly she felt ashamed +of her weakness. She rose and sent the dog away, sent him away +pitilessly with voice and gesture, pointing to the house in the distance, +with a stern face which poor Kiss had never seen. Then she hastily wiped +her eyes and her moist hands; for the train for Paris was approaching and +she knew that in a moment she should need all her courage. + +Claire's first thought on leaving the train was to take a cab and drive +to the jeweller in the Rue de la Paix, who had, as her grandfather +alleged, supplied Georges with a diamond necklace. If that should prove +to be true, then all the rest was true. Her dread of learning the truth +was so great that, when she reached her destination and alighted in front +of that magnificent establishment, she stopped, afraid to enter. To give +herself countenance, she pretended to be deeply interested in the jewels +displayed in velvet cases; and one who had seen her, quietly but +fashionably dressed, leaning forward to look at that gleaming and +attractive display, would have taken her for a happy wife engaged in +selecting a bracelet, rather than an anxious, sorrow-stricken soul who +had come thither to discover the secret of her life. + +It was three o'clock in the afternoon. At that time of day, in winter, +the Rue de la Paix presents a truly dazzling aspect. In that luxurious +neighborhood, life moves quickly between the short morning and the early +evening. There are carriages moving swiftly in all directions, +a ceaseless rumbling, and on the sidewalks a coquettish haste, a rustling +of silks and furs. Winter is the real Parisian season. To see that +devil's own Paris in all its beauty and wealth and happiness one must +watch the current of its life beneath a lowering sky, heavy with snow. +Nature is absent from the picture, so to speak. No wind, no sunlight. +Just enough light for the dullest colors, the faintest reflections to +produce an admirable effect, from the reddish-gray tone of the monuments +to the gleams of jet which bespangle a woman's dress. Theatre and +concert posters shine resplendent, as if illumined by the effulgence of +the footlights. The shops are crowded. It seems that all those people +must be preparing for perpetual festivities. And at such times, if any +sorrow is mingled with that bustle and tumult, it seems the more terrible +for that reason. For five minutes Claire suffered martyrdom worse than +death. Yonder, on the road to Savigny, in the vast expanse of the +deserted fields, her despair spread out as it were in the sharp air and +seemed to enfold her less closely. Here she was stifling. The voices +beside her, the footsteps, the heedless jostling of people who passed, +all added to her torture. + +At last she entered the shop. + +"Ah! yes, Madame, certainly--Monsieur Fromont. A necklace of diamonds +and roses. We could make you one like it for twenty-five thousand +francs." + +That was five thousand less than for him. + +"Thanks, Monsieur," said Claire, "I will think it over." + +A mirror in front of her, in which she saw her dark-ringed eyes and her +deathly pallor, frightened her. She went out quickly, walking stiffly in +order not to fall. + +She had but one idea, to escape from the street, from the noise; to be +alone, quite alone, so that she might plunge headlong into that abyss of +heartrending thoughts, of black things dancing madly in the depths of her +mind. Oh! the coward, the infamous villain! And to think that only last +night she was speaking comforting words to him, with her arms about him! + +Suddenly, with no knowledge of how it happened, she found herself in the +courtyard of the factory. Through what streets had she come? Had she +come in a carriage or on foot? She had no remembrance. She had acted +unconsciously, as in a dream. The sentiment of reality returned, +pitiless and poignant, when she reached the steps of her little house. +Risler was there, superintending several men who were carrying potted +plants up to his wife's apartments, in preparation for the magnificent +party she was to give that very evening. With his usual tranquillity he +directed the work, protected the tall branches which the workmen might +have broken: "Not like that. Bend it over. Take care of the carpet." + +The atmosphere of pleasure and merry-making which had so revolted her a +moment before pursued her to her own house. It was too much, after all +the rest! She rebelled; and as Risler saluted her, affectionately and +with deep respect as always, her face assumed an expression of intense +disgust, and she passed without speaking to him, without seeing the +amazement that opened his great, honest eyes. + +From that moment her course was determined. Wrath, a wrath born of +uprightness and sense of justice, guided her actions. She barely took +time to kiss her child's rosy cheeks before running to her mother's room. + +"Come, mamma, dress yourself quickly. We are going away. We are going +away." + +The old lady rose slowly from the armchair in which she was sitting, +busily engaged in cleaning her watch-chain by inserting a pin between +every two links with infinite care. + +"Come, come, hurry. Get your things ready." + +Her voice trembled, and the poor monomaniac's room seemed a horrible +place to her, all glistening as it was with the cleanliness that had +gradually become a mania. She had reached one of those fateful moments +when the loss of one illusion causes you to lose them all, enables you to +look to the very depths of human misery. The realization of her complete +isolation, between her half-mad mother, her faithless husband, her too +young child, came upon her for the first time; but it served only to +strengthen her in her resolution. + +In a moment the whole household was busily engaged in making preparations +for this abrupt, unexpected departure. Claire hurried the bewildered +servants, and dressed her mother and the child, who laughed merrily amid +all the excitement. She was in haste to go before Georges' return, so +that he might find the cradle empty and the house deserted. Where should +she go? She did not know as yet. Perhaps to her aunt at Orleans, +perhaps to Savigny, no matter where. What she must do first of all was- +go, fly from that atmosphere of treachery and falsehood. + +At that moment she was in her bedroom, packing a trunk, making a pile of +her effects--a heartrending occupation. Every object that she touched +set in motion whole worlds of thoughts, of memories. There is so much of +ourselves in anything that we use. At times the odor of a sachet-bag, +the pattern of a bit of lace, were enough to bring tears to her eyes. +Suddenly she heard a heavy footstep in the salon, the door of which was +partly open; then there was a slight cough, as if to let her know that +some one was there. She supposed that it was Risler: for no one else had +the right to enter her apartments so unceremoniously. The idea of having +to endure the presence of that hypocritical face, that false smile, was +so distasteful to her that she rushed to close the door. + +"I am not at home to any one." + +The door resisted her efforts, and Sigismond's square head appeared in +the opening. + +"It is I, Madame," he said in an undertone. "I have come to get the +money." + +"What money?" demanded Claire, for she no longer remembered why she had +gone to Savigny. + +"Hush! The funds to meet my note to-morrow. Monsieur Georges, when he +went out, told me that you would hand it to me very soon." + +"Ah! yes--true. The hundred thousand francs." + +"I haven't them, Monsieur Planus; I haven't anything." + +"Then," said the cashier, in a strange voice, as if he were speaking to +himself, "then it means failure." + +And he turned slowly away. + +Failure! She sank on a chair, appalled, crushed. For the last few hours +the downfall of her happiness had caused her to forget the downfall of +the house; but she remembered now. + +So her husband was ruined! In a little while, when he returned home, he +would learn of the disaster, and he would learn at the same time that his +wife and child had gone; that he was left alone in the midst of the +wreck. + +Alone--that weak, easily influenced creature, who could only weep and +complain and shake his fist at life like a child! What would become of +the miserable man? + +She pitied him, notwithstanding his great sin. + +Then the thought came to her that she would perhaps seem to have fled at +the approach of bankruptcy, of poverty. + +Georges might say to himself: + +"Had I been rich, she would have forgiven me!" + +Ought she to allow him to entertain that doubt? + +To a generous, noble heart like Claire's nothing more than that was +necessary to change her plans. Instantly she was conscious that her +feeling of repugnance, of revolt, began to grow less bitter, and a sudden +ray of light seemed to make her duty clearer to her. When they came to +tell her that the child was dressed and the trunks ready, her mind was +made up anew. + +"Never mind," she replied gently. "We are not going away." + + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered +Exaggerated dramatic pantomime +Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come +Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler, v3 +by Alphonse Daudet + diff --git a/3978.zip b/3978.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b8e4c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/3978.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7b1a87 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #3978 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3978) |