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+Project Gutenberg’s Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fromont and Risler, Complete
+
+Author: Alphonse Daudet
+
+Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3980]
+Last Updated: August 23, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROMONT AND RISLER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+
+ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio
+representing Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that
+school, and by private friendship, no less than by a common profession
+of faith, was one of them. But the students of the future, while
+recognizing an obvious affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to
+find Daudet’s name conjoined with theirs.
+
+Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School. But, above all, he
+was an impressionist. All that can be observed--the individual picture,
+scene, character--Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all
+his novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing
+firmness of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of
+the sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
+Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to. Feverish as his
+method of writing was--true to his Southern character he took endless
+pains to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from
+beginning to end. He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and
+it is from this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth
+and the taste of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and
+women. In the earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to
+episode or from scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner
+of the Goncourts. But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the
+same school, but not of the same family. Zola is methodical, Daudet
+spontaneous. Zola works with documents, Daudet from the living fact.
+Zola is objective, Daudet with equal scope and fearlessness shows more
+personal feeling and hence more delicacy. And in style also Zola is
+vast, architectural; Daudet slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive.
+And finally, in their philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of
+vice and wrong, but Daudet wins a love for what is good and true.
+
+Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840. His father
+had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
+child, lost his property. Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
+post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais. In November, 1857, he settled
+in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest. The
+autobiography, ‘Le Petit Chose’ (1868), gives graphic details about this
+period. His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
+Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread.
+He had secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the
+Corps Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the
+‘Figaro’, when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers. Returning,
+he married toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose
+literary talent comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own. After
+the death of the Duc de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to
+literature and published ‘Lettres de mon Moulin’ (1868), which also made
+his name favorably known. He now turned from fiction to the drama,
+and it was not until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his
+vocation as a novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris
+and the humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without
+souring it. Daudet’s genial satire, ‘Tartarin de Tarascon’, appeared
+in 1872; but with the Parisian romance ‘Fromont jeune et Risler aine’,
+crowned by the Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost
+rank of French novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts
+it, “the dawn of his popularity.”
+
+How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
+translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with
+natural pride. The book must be read to be appreciated. “Risler, a
+self-made, honest man, raises himself socially into a society against
+the corruptness of which he has no defence and from which he escapes
+only by suicide. Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and
+heartless woman; Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic
+simplicity of Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing.”
+
+Success followed now after success. ‘Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
+Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L’Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
+(1884); Tartarin sur des Alces (1886); L’Immortel (1888); Port Tarascon
+(1890); Rose et Ninette (1892); La petite Parvisse (1895); and Soutien
+de Famille (1899)’; such is the long list of the great life-artist.
+In Le Nabab we find obvious traces of Daudet’s visits to Algiers and
+Corsica-Mora is the Duc de Morny. Sapho is the most concentrated of his
+novels, with never a divergence, never a break, in its development. And
+of the theme--legitimate marriage contra common-law--what need be said
+except that he handled it in a manner most acceptable to the aesthetic
+and least offensive to the moral sense?
+
+L’Immortel is a satire springing from personal reasons; L’Evangeliste
+and Rose et Ninette--the latter on the divorce problem--may be classed
+as clever novels; but had Daudet never written more than ‘Fromont et
+Risler’, ‘Tartarin sur les Alces’, and ‘Port Tarascon’, these would keep
+him in lasting remembrance.
+
+We must not omit to mention also many ‘contes’ and his ‘Trente ans de
+Paris (A travers ma vie et mes livres), Souvenirs d’un Homme de lettres
+(1888), and Notes sur la Vie (1899)’.
+
+Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897
+
+                    LECONTE DE LISLE
+                  de l’Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. A WEDDING-PARTY AT THE CAFE VEFOUR
+
+“Madame Chebe!”
+
+“My boy--”
+
+“I am so happy!”
+
+This was the twentieth time that day that the good Risler had said that
+he was happy, and always with the same emotional and contented manner,
+in the same low, deep voice-the voice that is held in check by emotion
+and does not speak too loud for fear of suddenly breaking into violent
+tears.
+
+Not for the world would Risler have wept at that moment--imagine
+a newly-made husband giving way to tears in the midst of the
+wedding-festival! And yet he had a strong inclination to do so. His
+happiness stifled him, held him by the throat, prevented the words from
+coming forth. All that he could do was to murmur from time to time, with
+a slight trembling of the lips, “I am happy; I am happy!”
+
+Indeed, he had reason to be happy.
+
+Since early morning the poor man had fancied that he was being whirled
+along in one of those magnificent dreams from which one fears lest he
+may awake suddenly with blinded eyes; but it seemed to him as if this
+dream would never end. It had begun at five o’clock in the morning, and
+at ten o’clock at night, exactly ten o’clock by Vefour’s clock, he was
+still dreaming.
+
+How many things had happened during that day, and how vividly he
+remembered the most trivial details.
+
+He saw himself, at daybreak, striding up and down his bachelor quarters,
+delight mingled with impatience, clean-shaven, his coat on, and
+two pairs of white gloves in his pocket. Then there were the
+wedding-coaches, and in the foremost one--the one with white horses,
+white reins, and a yellow damask lining--the bride, in her finery,
+floated by like a cloud. Then the procession into the church, two by
+two, the white veil in advance, ethereal, and dazzling to behold. The
+organ, the verger, the cure’s sermon, the tapers casting their light
+upon jewels and spring gowns, and the throng of people in the sacristy,
+the tiny white cloud swallowed up, surrounded, embraced, while the
+bridegroom distributed hand-shakes among all the leading tradesmen of
+Paris, who had assembled to do him honor. And the grand crash from the
+organ at the close, made more solemn by the fact that the church door
+was thrown wide open, so that the whole street took part in the family
+ceremony--the music passing through the vestibule at the same time with
+the procession--the exclamations of the crowd, and a burnisher in an
+ample lute-string apron remarking in a loud voice, “The groom isn’t
+handsome, but the bride’s as pretty as a picture.” That is the kind of
+thing that makes you proud when you happen to be the bridegroom.
+
+And then the breakfast at the factory, in a workroom adorned with
+hangings and flowers; the drive in the Bois--a concession to the wishes
+of his mother-in-law, Madame Chebe, who, being the petty Parisian
+bourgeoise that she was, would not have deemed her daughter legally
+married without a drive around the lake and a visit to the Cascade.
+Then the return for dinner, as the lamps were being lighted along
+the boulevard, where people turned to look after the wedding-party, a
+typical well-to-do bourgeois wedding-party, as it drove up to the grand
+entrance at Vefour’s with all the style the livery horses could command.
+
+Risler had reached that point in his dream.
+
+And now the worthy man, dazed with fatigue and well-being, glanced
+vaguely about that huge table of twenty-four covers, curved in the shape
+of a horseshoe at the ends, and surrounded by smiling, familiar faces,
+wherein he seemed to see his happiness reflected in every eye. The
+dinner was drawing near its close. The wave of private conversation
+flowed around the table. Faces were turned toward one another, black
+sleeves stole behind waists adorned with bunches of asclepias, a
+childish face laughed over a fruit ice, and the dessert at the level of
+the guests’ lips encompassed the cloth with animation, bright colors,
+and light.
+
+Ah, yes! Risler was very happy.
+
+Except his brother Frantz, everybody he loved was there. First of all,
+sitting opposite him, was Sidonie--yesterday little Sidonie, to-day his
+wife. For the ceremony of dinner she had laid aside her veil; she had
+emerged from her cloud. Now, above the smooth, white silk gown, appeared
+a pretty face of a less lustrous and softer white, and the crown of
+hair-beneath that other crown so carefully bestowed--would have told you
+of a tendency to rebel against life, of little feathers fluttering
+for an opportunity to fly away. But husbands do not see such things as
+those.
+
+Next to Sidonie and Frantz, the person whom Risler loved best in the
+world was Madame Georges Fromont, whom he called “Madame Chorche,” the
+wife of his partner and the daughter of the late Fromont, his former
+employer and his god. He had placed her beside him, and in his manner of
+speaking to her one could read affection and deference. She was a very
+young woman, of about the same age as Sidonie, but of a more regular,
+quiet and placid type of beauty. She talked little, being out of
+her element in that conglomerate assemblage; but she tried to appear
+affable.
+
+On Risler’s other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride’s mother, radiant
+and gorgeous in her green satin gown, which gleamed like a shield. Ever
+since the morning the good woman’s every thought had been as brilliant
+as that robe of emblematic hue. At every moment she said to herself: “My
+daughter is marrying Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, of Rue des Vieilles
+Haudriettes!” For, in her mind, it was not Risler alone whom her
+daughter took for her husband, but the whole sign of the establishment,
+illustrious in the commercial annals of Paris; and whenever she mentally
+announced that glorious event, Madame Chebe sat more erect than ever,
+stretching the silk of the bodice until it almost cracked.
+
+What a contrast to the attitude of Monsieur Chebe, who was seated at
+a short distance. In different households, as a general rule, the same
+causes produce altogether different results. That little man, with the
+high forehead of a visionary, as inflated and hollow as a ball, was as
+fierce in appearance as his wife was radiant. That was nothing unusual,
+by the way, for Monsieur Chebe was in a frenzy the whole year long.
+On this particular evening, however, he did not wear his customary
+woe-begone, lack-lustre expression, nor the full-skirted coat, with the
+pockets sticking out behind, filled to repletion with samples of oil,
+wine, truffles, or vinegar, according as he happened to be dealing in
+one or the other of those articles. His black coat, new and magnificent,
+made a fitting pendant to the green gown; but unfortunately his thoughts
+were of the color of his coat. Why had they not seated him beside the
+bride, as was his right? Why had they given his seat to young Fromont?
+And there was old Gardinois, the Fromonts’ grandfather, what business
+had he by Sidonie’s side? Ah! that was how it was to be! Everything for
+the Fromonts and nothing for the Chebes! And yet people are amazed that
+there are such things as revolutions!
+
+Luckily the little man had by his side, to vent his anger upon, his
+friend Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who listened to him with his
+serene and majestic holiday countenance.
+
+Strangely enough, the bride herself had something of that same
+expression. On that pretty and youthful face, which happiness enlivened
+without making glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupation;
+and, at times, the corners of her lips quivered with a smile, as if she
+were talking to herself.
+
+With that same little smile she replied to the somewhat pronounced
+pleasantries of Grandfather Gardinois, who sat by her side.
+
+“This Sidonie, on my word!” said the good man, with a laugh. “When
+I think that not two months ago she was talking about going into a
+convent. We all know what sort of convents such minxes as she go to! As
+the saying is in our province: The Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes
+under the bed!”
+
+And everybody at the table laughed heartily at the rustic jests of
+the old Berrichon peasant, whose colossal fortune filled the place of
+manliness, of education, of kindness of heart, but not of wit; for
+he had plenty of that, the rascal--more than all his bourgeois
+fellow-guests together. Among the very rare persons who inspired a
+sympathetic feeling in his breast, little Chebe, whom he had known as
+an urchin, appealed particularly to him; and she, for her part,
+having become rich too recently not to venerate wealth, talked to her
+right-hand neighbor with a very perceptible air of respect and coquetry.
+
+With her left-hand-neighbor, on the contrary, Georges Fromont, her
+husband’s partner, she exhibited the utmost reserve. Their conversation
+was restricted to the ordinary courtesies of the table; indeed there was
+a sort of affectation of indifference between them.
+
+Suddenly there was that little commotion among the guests which
+indicates that they are about to rise: the rustling of silk, the moving
+of chairs, the last words of conversations, the completion of a laugh,
+and in that half-silence Madame Chebe, who had become communicative,
+observed in a very loud tone to a provincial cousin, who was gazing in
+an ecstasy of admiration at the newly made bride’s reserved and tranquil
+demeanor, as she stood with her arm in Monsieur Gardinois’s:
+
+“You see that child, cousin--well, no one has ever been able to find out
+what her thoughts were.”
+
+Thereupon the whole party rose and repaired to the grand salon.
+
+While the guests invited for the ball were arriving and mingling
+with the dinner-guests, while the orchestra was tuning up, while
+the cavaliers, eyeglass in position, strutted before the impatient,
+white-gowned damsels, the bridegroom, awed by so great a throng, had
+taken refuge with his friend Planus--Sigismond Planus, cashier of the
+house of Fromont for thirty years--in that little gallery decorated
+with flowers and hung with a paper representing shrubbery and clambering
+vines, which forms a sort of background of artificial verdure to
+Vefour’s gilded salons.
+
+“Sigismond, old friend--I am very happy.”
+
+And Sigismond too was happy; but Risler did not give him time to say so.
+Now that he was no longer in dread of weeping before his guests, all the
+joy in his heart overflowed.
+
+“Just think of it, my friend!--It’s so extraordinary that a young girl
+like Sidonie would consent to marry me. For you know I’m not handsome.
+I didn’t need to have that impudent creature tell me so this morning to
+know it. And then I’m forty-two--and she such a dear little thing! There
+were so many others she might have chosen, among the youngest and the
+richest, to say nothing of my poor Frantz, who loved her so. But, no,
+she preferred her old Risler. And it came about so strangely. For a long
+time I noticed that she was sad, greatly changed. I felt sure there was
+some disappointment in love at the bottom of it. Her mother and I looked
+about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be. One
+morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, ‘You are the
+man she loves, my dear friend!’--And I was the man--I was the man! Bless
+my soul! Whoever would have suspected such a thing? And to think that
+in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune--a
+partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie--Oh!”
+
+At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple
+whirled into the small salon. They were Risler’s bride and his partner,
+Georges Fromont. Equally young and attractive, they were talking in
+undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.
+
+“You lie!” said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.
+
+And the other, paler than she, replied:
+
+“I do not lie. It was my uncle who insisted upon this marriage. He was
+dying--you had gone away. I dared not say no.”
+
+Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration.
+
+“How pretty she is! How well they dance!”
+
+But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked
+quickly to him.
+
+“What! You here? What are you doing? They are looking everywhere for
+you. Why aren’t you in there?”
+
+As she spoke she retied his cravat with a pretty, impatient gesture.
+That enchanted Risler, who smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his
+eye, too overjoyed at feeling the touch of that little gloved hand on
+his neck, to notice that she was trembling to the ends of her slender
+fingers.
+
+“Give me your arm,” she said to him, and they returned together to the
+salons. The white bridal gown with its long train made the badly cut,
+awkwardly worn black coat appear even more uncouth; but a coat can
+not be retied like a cravat; she must needs take it as it was. As they
+passed along, returning the salutations of all the guests who were so
+eager to smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of
+satisfied vanity. Unhappily it did not last. In a corner of the room
+sat a young and attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who
+looked on at the dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of
+a first maternity. As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the
+corner where she sat and compelled Sidonie to sit beside her. Needless
+to say that it was Madame “Chorche.” To whom else would he have spoken
+with such affectionate respect? In what other hand than hers could he
+have placed his little Sidonie’s, saying: “You will love her dearly,
+won’t you? You are so good. She needs your advice, your knowledge of the
+world.”
+
+“Why, my dear Risler,” Madame Georges replied, “Sidonie and I are old
+friends. We have reason to be fond of each other still.”
+
+And her calm, straightforward glance strove unsuccessfully to meet that
+of her old friend.
+
+With his ignorance of women, and his habit of treating Sidonie as a
+child, Risler continued in the same tone:
+
+“Take her for your model, little one. There are not two people in the
+world like Madame Chorche. She has her poor father’s heart. A true
+Fromont!”
+
+Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed without replying, while an
+imperceptible shudder ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the topmost
+bit of orange-blossom in her crown. But honest Risler saw nothing. The
+excitement, the dancing, the music, the flowers, the lights made him
+drunk, made him mad. He believed that every one breathed the same
+atmosphere of bliss beyond compare which enveloped him. He had no
+perception of the rivalries, the petty hatreds that met and passed one
+another above all those bejewelled foreheads.
+
+He did not notice Delobelle, standing with his elbow on the mantel, one
+hand in the armhole of his waistcoat and his hat upon his hip, weary
+of his eternal attitudinizing, while the hours slipped by and no one
+thought of utilizing his talents. He did not notice M. Chebe, who was
+prowling darkly between the two doors, more incensed than ever against
+the Fromonts. Oh! those Fromonts!--How large a place they filled at that
+wedding! They were all there with their wives, their children, their
+friends, their friends’ friends. One would have said that one of
+themselves was being married. Who had a word to say of the Rislers or
+the Chebes? Why, he--he, the father, had not even been presented!--And
+the little man’s rage was redoubled by the attitude of Madame Chebe,
+smiling maternally upon one and all in her scarab-hued dress.
+
+Furthermore, there were at this, as at almost all wedding-parties, two
+distinct currents which came together but without mingling. One of the
+two soon gave place to the other. The Fromonts, who irritated Monsieur
+Chebe so much and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president
+of the Chamber of Commerce, the syndic of the solicitors, a famous
+chocolate-manufacturer and member of the Corps Legislatif, and the
+old millionaire Gardinois, all retired shortly after midnight. Georges
+Fromont and his wife entered their carriage behind them. Only the Risler
+and Chebe party remained, and the festivity at once changed its aspect,
+becoming more uproarious.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle, disgusted to see that no one called upon him
+for anything, decided to call upon himself for something, and began in a
+voice as resonant as a gong the monologue from Ruy Blas: “Good appetite,
+Messieurs!” while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with
+chocolate and glasses of punch. Inexpensive little costumes were
+displayed upon the benches, overjoyed to produce their due effect
+at last; and here and there divers young shop-clerks, consumed with
+conceit, amused themselves by venturing upon a quadrille.
+
+The bride had long wished to take her leave. At last she disappeared
+with Risler and Madame Chebe. As for Monsieur Chebe, who had recovered
+all his importance, it was impossible to induce him to go. Some one
+must be there to do the honors, deuce take it! And I assure you that
+the little man assumed the responsibility! He was flushed, lively,
+frolicsome, noisy, almost seditious. On the floor below he could
+be heard talking politics with Vefour’s headwaiter, and making most
+audacious statements.
+
+Through the deserted streets the wedding-carriage, the tired coachman
+holding the white reins somewhat loosely, rolled heavily toward the
+Marais.
+
+Madame Chebe talked continuously, enumerating all the splendors of that
+memorable day, rhapsodizing especially over the dinner, the commonplace
+menu of which had been to her the highest display of magnificence.
+Sidonie mused in the darkness of the carriage, and Risler, sitting
+opposite her, even though he no longer said, “I am very happy,”
+ continued to think it with all his heart. Once he tried to take
+possession of a little white hand that rested against the closed window,
+but it was hastily withdrawn, and he sat there without moving, lost in
+mute admiration.
+
+They drove through the Halles and the Rue de Rambuteau, thronged
+with kitchen-gardeners’ wagons; and, near the end of the Rue des
+Francs-Bourgeois, they turned the corner of the Archives into the Rue de
+Braque. There they stopped first, and Madame Chebe alighted at her door,
+which was too narrow for the magnificent green silk frock, so that it
+vanished in the hall with rustlings of revolt and with all its folds
+muttering. A few minutes later, a tall, massive portal on the Rue des
+Vieilles-Haudriettes, bearing on the escutcheon that betrayed the former
+family mansion, beneath half-effaced armorial bearings, a sign in blue
+letters, Wall Papers, was thrown wide open to allow the wedding-carriage
+to pass through.
+
+Thereupon the bride, hitherto motionless and like one asleep, seemed to
+wake suddenly, and if all the lights in the vast buildings, workshops or
+storehouses, which surrounded the courtyard, had not been extinguished,
+Risler might have seen that pretty, enigmatical face suddenly lighted by
+a smile of triumph. The wheels revolved less noisily on the fine gravel
+of a garden, and soon stopped before the stoop of a small house of two
+floors. It was there that the young Fromonts lived, and Risler and his
+wife were to take up their abode on the floor above. The house had an
+aristocratic air. Flourishing commerce avenged itself therein for the
+dismal street and the out-of-the-way quarter. There was a carpet on the
+stairway leading to their apartment, and on all sides shone the gleaming
+whiteness of marble, the reflection of mirrors and of polished copper.
+
+While Risler was parading his delight through all the rooms of the new
+apartment, Sidonie remained alone in her bedroom. By the light of the
+little blue lamp hanging from the ceiling, she glanced first of all at
+the mirror, which gave back her reflection from head to foot, at all her
+luxurious surroundings, so unfamiliar to her; then, instead of going
+to bed, she opened the window and stood leaning against the sill,
+motionless as a statue.
+
+The night was clear and warm. She could see distinctly the whole
+factory, its innumerable unshaded windows, its glistening panes, its
+tall chimney losing itself in the depths of the sky, and nearer at hand
+the lovely little garden against the ancient wall of the former mansion.
+All about were gloomy, miserable roofs and squalid streets. Suddenly
+she started. Yonder, in the darkest, the ugliest of all those attics
+crowding so closely together, leaning against one another, as if
+overweighted with misery, a fifth-floor window stood wide open, showing
+only darkness within. She recognized it at once. It was the window of
+the landing on which her parents lived.
+
+The window on the landing!
+
+How many things the mere name recalled! How many hours, how many
+days she had passed there, leaning on that damp sill, without rail or
+balcony, looking toward the factory. At that moment she fancied that she
+could see up yonder little Chebe’s ragged person, and in the frame made
+by that poor window, her whole child life, her deplorable youth as a
+Parisian street arab, passed before her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. LITTLE CHEBE’S STORY
+
+In Paris the common landing is like an additional room, an enlargement
+of their abodes, to poor families confined in their too small
+apartments. They go there to get a breath of air in summer, and there
+the women talk and the children play.
+
+When little Chebe made too much noise in the house, her mother would say
+to her: “There there! you bother me, go and play on the landing.” And
+the child would go quickly enough.
+
+This landing, on the upper floor of an old house in which space had not
+been spared, formed a sort of large lobby, with a high ceiling, guarded
+on the staircase side by a wrought-iron rail, lighted by a large window
+which looked out upon roofs, courtyards, and other windows, and, farther
+away, upon the garden of the Fromont factory, which was like a green
+oasis among the huge old walls.
+
+There was nothing very cheerful about it, but the child liked it much
+better than her own home. Their rooms were dismal, especially when it
+rained and Ferdinand did not go out.
+
+With his brain always smoking with new ideas, which unfortunately
+never came to anything, Ferdinand Chebe was one of those slothful,
+project-devising bourgeois of when there are so many in Paris. His
+wife, whom he had dazzled at first, had soon detected his utter
+insignificance, and had ended by enduring patiently and with unchanged
+demeanor his continual dreams of wealth and the disasters that
+immediately followed them.
+
+Of the dot of eighty thousand francs which she had brought him, and
+which he had squandered in his absurd schemes, only a small annuity
+remained, which still gave them a position of some importance in the
+eyes of their neighbors, as did Madame Chebe’s cashmere, which had been
+rescued from every wreck, her wedding laces and two diamond studs, very
+tiny and very modest, which Sidonie sometimes begged her mother to show
+her, as they lay in the drawer of the bureau, in an old-fashioned white
+velvet case, on which the jeweller’s name, in gilt letters, thirty years
+old, was gradually fading. That was the only bit of luxury in that poor
+annuitant’s abode.
+
+For a very long time M. Chebe had sought a place which would enable him
+to eke out their slender income. But he sought it only in what he called
+standing business, his health forbidding any occupation that required
+him to be seated.
+
+It seemed that, soon after his marriage, when he was in a flourishing
+business and had a horse and tilbury of his own, the little man had
+had one day a serious fall. That fall, to which he referred upon every
+occasion, served as an excuse for his indolence.
+
+One could not be with M. Chebe five minutes before he would say in a
+confidential tone:
+
+“You know of the accident that happened to the Duc d’Orleans?”
+
+And then he would add, tapping his little bald pate “The same thing
+happened to me in my youth.”
+
+Since that famous fall any sort of office work made him dizzy, and he
+had found himself inexorably confined to standing business. Thus, he had
+been in turn a broker in wines, in books, in truffles, in clocks, and
+in many other things beside. Unluckily, he tired of everything, never
+considered his position sufficiently exalted for a former business man
+with a tilbury, and, by gradual degrees, by dint of deeming every sort
+of occupation beneath him, he had grown old and incapable, a genuine
+idler with low tastes, a good-for-nothing.
+
+Artists are often rebuked for their oddities, for the liberties they
+take with nature, for that horror of the conventional which impels them
+to follow by-paths; but who can ever describe all the absurd fancies,
+all the idiotic eccentricities with which a bourgeois without occupation
+can succeed in filling the emptiness of his life? M. Chebe imposed upon
+himself certain rules concerning his goings and comings, and his walks
+abroad. While the Boulevard Sebastopol was being built, he went twice a
+day “to see how it was getting on.”
+
+No one knew better than he the fashionable shops and the bargains; and
+very often Madame Chebe, annoyed to see her husband’s idiotic face at
+the window while she was energetically mending the family linen, would
+rid herself of him by giving him an errand to do. “You know that place,
+on the corner of such a street, where they sell such nice cakes. They
+would be nice for our dessert.”
+
+And the husband would go out, saunter along the boulevard by the shops,
+wait for the omnibus, and pass half the day in procuring two cakes,
+worth three sous, which he would bring home in triumph, wiping his
+forehead.
+
+M. Chebe adored the summer, the Sundays, the great footraces in the dust
+at Clamart or Romainville, the excitement of holidays and the crowd. He
+was one of those who went about for a whole week before the fifteenth
+of August, gazing at the black lamps and their frames, and the
+scaffoldings. Nor did his wife complain. At all events, she no longer
+had that chronic grumbler prowling around her chair for whole days,
+with schemes for gigantic enterprises, combinations that missed fire in
+advance, lamentations concerning the past, and a fixed determination not
+to work at anything to earn money.
+
+She no longer earned anything herself, poor woman; but she knew so well
+how to save, her wonderful economy made up so completely for everything
+else, that absolute want, although a near neighbor of such impecuniosity
+as theirs, never succeeded in making its way into those three rooms,
+which were always neat and clean, or in destroying the carefully mended
+garments or the old furniture so well concealed beneath its coverings.
+
+Opposite the Chebes’ door, whose copper knob gleamed in bourgeois
+fashion upon the landing, were two other and smaller ones.
+
+On the first, a visiting-card, held in place by four nails, according to
+the custom in vogue among industrial artists, bore the name of
+
+                 RISLER
+             DESIGNER OF PATTERNS.
+
+On the other was a small square of leather, with these words in gilt
+letters:
+
+              MESDAMES DELOBELLE
+          BIRDS AND INSECTS FOR ORNAMENT.
+
+The Delobelles’ door was often open, disclosing a large room with a
+brick floor, where two women, mother and daughter, the latter almost
+a child, each as weary and as pale as the other, worked at one of the
+thousand fanciful little trades which go to make up what is called the
+‘Articles de Paris’.
+
+It was then the fashion to ornament hats and ballgowns with the lovely
+little insects from South America that have the brilliant coloring of
+jewels and reflect the light like diamonds. The Delobelles had adopted
+that specialty.
+
+A wholesale house, to which consignments were made directly from the
+Antilles, sent to them, unopened, long, light boxes from which, when
+the lid was removed, arose a faint odor, a dust of arsenic through which
+gleamed the piles of insects, impaled before being shipped, the birds
+packed closely together, their wings held in place by a strip of thin
+paper. They must all be mounted--the insects quivering upon brass wire,
+the humming-birds with their feathers ruffled; they must be cleansed and
+polished, the beak in a bright red, claw repaired with a silk thread,
+dead eyes replaced with sparkling pearls, and the insect or the bird
+restored to an appearance of life and grace. The mother prepared the
+work under her daughter’s direction; for Desiree, though she was still a
+mere girl, was endowed with exquisite taste, with a fairy-like power of
+invention, and no one could, insert two pearl eyes in those tiny heads
+or spread their lifeless wings so deftly as she. Happy or unhappy,
+Desiree always worked with the same energy. From dawn until well into
+the night the table was covered with work. At the last ray of daylight,
+when the factory bells were ringing in all the neighboring yards, Madame
+Delobelle lighted the lamp, and after a more than frugal repast they
+returned to their work. Those two indefatigable women had one object,
+one fixed idea, which prevented them from feeling the burden of enforced
+vigils. That idea was the dramatic renown of the illustrious Delobelle.
+After he had left the provincial theatres to pursue his profession
+in Paris, Delobelle waited for an intelligent manager, the ideal and
+providential manager who discovers geniuses, to seek him out and offer
+him a role suited to his talents. He might, perhaps, especially at the
+beginning, have obtained a passably good engagement at a theatre of the
+third order, but Delobelle did not choose to lower himself.
+
+He preferred to wait, to struggle, as he said! And this is how he
+awaited the struggle.
+
+In the morning in his bedroom, often in his bed, he rehearsed roles in
+his former repertory; and the Delobelle ladies trembled with emotion
+when they heard behind the partition tirades from ‘Antony’ or the
+‘Medecin des Enfants’, declaimed in a sonorous voice that blended with
+the thousand-and-one noises of the great Parisian bee-hive. Then, after
+breakfast, the actor would sally forth for the day; would go to “do his
+boulevard,” that is to say, to saunter to and fro between the Chateau
+d’Eau and the Madeline, with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, his
+hat a little on one side-always gloved, and brushed, and glossy.
+
+That question of dress was of great importance in his eyes. It was one
+of the greatest elements of success, a bait for the manager--the famous,
+intelligent manager--who never would dream of engaging a threadbare,
+shabbily dressed man.
+
+So the Delobelle ladies took good care that he lacked nothing; and you
+can imagine how many birds and insects it required to fit out a blade of
+that temper! The actor thought it the most natural thing in the world.
+
+In his view, the labors, the privations of his wife and daughter were
+not, strictly speaking, for his benefit, but for the benefit of that
+mysterious and unknown genius, whose trustee he considered himself to
+be.
+
+There was a certain analogy between the position of the Chebe family and
+that of the Delobelles. But the latter household was less depressing.
+The Chebes felt that their petty annuitant existence was fastened
+upon them forever, with no prospect of amelioration, always the
+same; whereas, in the actor’s family, hope and illusion often opened
+magnificent vistas.
+
+The Chebes were like people living in a blind alley; the Delobelles on
+a foul little street, where there was no light or air, but where a great
+boulevard might some day be laid out. And then, too, Madame Chebe no
+longer believed in her husband, whereas, by virtue of that single magic
+word, “Art!” her neighbor never had doubted hers.
+
+And yet for years and years Monsieur Delobelle had been unavailingly
+drinking vermouth with dramatic agents, absinthe with leaders of
+claques, bitters with vaudevillists, dramatists, and the famous
+what’s-his-name, author of several great dramas. Engagements did not
+always follow. So that, without once appearing on the boards, the poor
+man had progressed from jeune premier to grand premier roles, then to
+the financiers, then to the noble fathers, then to the buffoons--
+
+He stopped there!
+
+On two or three occasions his friends had obtained for him a chance to
+earn his living as manager of a club or a cafe as an inspector in great
+warehouses, at the ‘Phares de la Bastille’ or the ‘Colosse de Rhodes.’
+All that was necessary was to have good manners. Delobelle was not
+lacking in that respect, God knows! And yet every suggestion that was
+made to him the great man met with a heroic refusal.
+
+“I have no right to abandon the stage!” he would then assert.
+
+In the mouth of that poor devil, who had not set foot on the boards
+for years, it was irresistibly comical. But one lost the inclination
+to laugh when one saw his wife and his daughter swallowing particles of
+arsenic day and night, and heard them repeat emphatically as they broke
+their needles against the brass wire with which the little birds were
+mounted:
+
+“No! no! Monsieur Delobelle has no right to abandon the stage.”
+
+Happy man, whose bulging eyes, always smiling condescendingly, and
+whose habit of reigning on the stage had procured for him for life that
+exceptional position of a spoiled and admired child-king! When he left
+the house, the shopkeepers on the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, with the
+predilection of the Parisian for everything and everybody connected with
+the theatre, saluted him respectfully. He was always so well dressed!
+And then he was so kind, so obliging! When you think that every Saturday
+night, he, Ruy Blas, Antony, Raphael in the ‘Filles de Maybre,’ Andres
+in the ‘Pirates de la Savane,’ sallied forth, with a bandbox under
+his arm, to carry the week’s work of his wife and daughter to a flower
+establishment on the Rue St.-Denis!
+
+Why, even when performing such a commission as that, this devil of a
+fellow had such nobility of bearing, such native dignity, that the young
+woman whose duty it was to make up the Delobelle account was sorely
+embarrassed to hand to such an irreproachable gentleman the paltry
+stipend so laboriously earned.
+
+On those evenings, by the way, the actor did not return home to dinner.
+The women were forewarned.
+
+He always met some old comrade on the boulevard, some unlucky devil like
+himself--there are so many of them in that sacred profession!--whom he
+entertained at a restaurant or cafe. Then, with scrupulous fidelity--and
+very grateful they were to him--he would carry the rest of the money
+home, sometimes with a bouquet for his wife or a little present for
+Desiree, a nothing, a mere trifle. What would you have? Those are the
+customs of the stage. It is such a simple matter in a melodrama to toss
+a handful of louis through the window!
+
+“Ho! varlet, take this purse and hie thee hence to tell thy mistress I
+await her coming.”
+
+And so, notwithstanding their marvellous courage, and although their
+trade was quite lucrative, the Delobelles often found themselves in
+straitened circumstances, especially in the dull season of the ‘Articles
+de Paris.’
+
+Luckily the excellent Risler was at hand, always ready to accommodate
+his friends.
+
+Guillaume Risler, the third tenant on the landing, lived with his
+brother Frantz, who was fifteen years his junior. The two young Swiss,
+tall and fair, strong and ruddy, brought into the dismal, hard-working
+house glimpses of the country and of health. The elder was a draughtsman
+at the Fromont factory and was paying for the education of his brother,
+who attended Chaptal’s lectures, pending his admission to the Ecole
+Centrale.
+
+On his arrival at Paris, being sadly perplexed as to the installation of
+his little household, Guillaume had derived from his neighbors, Mesdames
+Chebe and Delobelle, advice and information which were an indispensable
+aid to that ingenuous, timid, somewhat heavy youth, embarrassed by his
+foreign accent and manner. After a brief period of neighborhood and
+mutual services, the Risler brothers formed a part of both families.
+
+On holidays places were always made for them at one table or the other,
+and it was a great satisfaction to the two exiles to find in those poor
+households, modest and straitened as they were, a taste of affection and
+family life.
+
+The wages of the designer, who was very clever at his trade, enabled
+him to be of service to the Delobelles on rent-day, and to make his
+appearance at the Chebes’ in the guise of the rich uncle, always laden
+with surprises and presents, so that the little girl, as soon as she saw
+him, would explore his pockets and climb on his knees.
+
+On Sunday he would take them all to the theatre; and almost every
+evening he would go with Messieurs Chebe and Delobelle to a brewery on
+the Rue Blondel, where he regaled them with beer and pretzels. Beer and
+pretzels were his only vice.
+
+For his own part, he knew no greater bliss than to sit before a foaming
+tankard, between his two friends, listening to their talk, and taking
+part only by a loud laugh or a shake of the head in their conversation,
+which was usually a long succession of grievances against society.
+
+A childlike shyness, and the Germanisms of speech which he never had
+laid aside in his life of absorbing toil, embarrassed him much in giving
+expression to his ideas. Moreover, his friends overawed him. They had
+in respect to him the tremendous superiority of the man who does nothing
+over the man who works; and M. Chebe, less generous than Delobelle, did
+not hesitate to make him feel it. He was very lofty with him, was M.
+Chebe! In his opinion, a man who worked, as Risler did, ten hours a day,
+was incapable, when he left his work, of expressing an intelligent idea.
+Sometimes the designer, coming home worried from the factory, would
+prepare to spend the night over some pressing work. You should have seen
+M. Chebe’s scandalized expression then!
+
+“Nobody could make me follow such a business!” he would say, expanding
+his chest, and he would add, looking at Risler with the air of a
+physician making a professional call, “Just wait till you’ve had one
+severe attack.”
+
+Delobelle was not so fierce, but he adopted a still loftier tone. The
+cedar does not see a rose at its foot. Delobelle did not see Risler at
+his feet.
+
+When, by chance, the great man deigned to notice his presence, he had a
+certain air of stooping down to him to listen, and to smile at his words
+as at a child’s; or else he would amuse himself by dazzling him with
+stories of actresses, would give him lessons in deportment and the
+addresses of outfitters, unable to understand why a man who earned so
+much money should always be dressed like an usher at a primary
+school. Honest Risler, convinced of his inferiority, would try to earn
+forgiveness by a multitude of little attentions, obliged to furnish all
+the delicacy, of course, as he was the constant benefactor.
+
+Among these three households living on the same floor, little Chebe,
+with her goings and comings, formed the bond of union.
+
+At all times of day she would slip into the workroom of the Delobelles,
+amuse herself by watching their work and looking at all the insects,
+and, being already more coquettish than playful, if an insect had lost
+a wing in its travels, or a humming-bird its necklace of down, she would
+try to make herself a headdress of the remains, to fix that brilliant
+shaft of color among the ripples of her silky hair. It made Desiree
+and her mother smile to see her stand on tiptoe in front of the old
+tarnished mirror, with affected little shrugs and grimaces. Then, when
+she had had enough of admiring herself, the child would open the door
+with all the strength of her little fingers, and would go demurely,
+holding her head perfectly straight for fear of disarranging her
+headdress, and knock at the Rislers’ door.
+
+No one was there in the daytime but Frantz the student, leaning over his
+books, doing his duty faithfully. But when Sidonie enters, farewell to
+study! Everything must be put aside to receive that lovely creature with
+the humming-bird in her hair, pretending to be a princess who had come
+to Chaptal’s school to ask his hand in marriage from the director.
+
+It was really a strange sight to see that tall, overgrown boy playing
+with that little girl of eight, humoring her caprices, adoring her as he
+yielded to her, so that later, when he fell genuinely in love with her,
+no one could have said at what time the change began.
+
+Petted as she was in those two homes, little Chebe was very fond of
+running to the window on the landing. There it was that she found her
+greatest source of entertainment, a horizon always open, a sort of
+vision of the future toward which she leaned with eager curiosity and
+without fear, for children are not subject to vertigo.
+
+Between the slated roofs sloping toward one another, the high wall
+of the factory, the tops of the plane-trees in the garden, the
+many-windowed workshops appeared to her like a promised land, the
+country of her dreams.
+
+That Fromont establishment was to her mind the highest ideal of wealth.
+
+The place it occupied in that part of the Marais, which was at certain
+hours enveloped by its smoke and its din, Risler’s enthusiasm, his
+fabulous tales concerning his employer’s wealth and goodness and
+cleverness, had aroused that childish curiosity; and such portions as
+she could see of the dwelling-houses, the carved wooden blinds, the
+circular front steps, with the garden-seats before them, a great white
+bird-house with gilt stripes glistening in the sun, the blue-lined coupe
+standing in the courtyard, were to her objects of continual admiration.
+
+She knew all the habits of the family: At what hour the bell was rung,
+when the workmen went away, the Saturday payday which kept the cashier’s
+little lamp lighted late in the evening, and the long Sunday afternoon,
+the closed workshops, the smokeless chimney, the profound silence which
+enabled her to hear Mademoiselle Claire at play in the garden, running
+about with her cousin Georges. From Risler she obtained details.
+
+“Show me the salon windows,” she would say to him, “and Claire’s room.”
+
+Risler, delighted by this extraordinary interest in his beloved factory,
+would explain to the child from their lofty position the arrangement
+of the buildings, point out the print-shop, the gilding-shop, the
+designing-room where he worked, the engine-room, above which towered
+that enormous chimney blackening all the neighboring walls with its
+corrosive smoke, and which never suspected that a young life, concealed
+beneath a neighboring roof, mingled its inmost thoughts with its loud,
+indefatigable panting.
+
+At last one day Sidonie entered that paradise of which she had
+heretofore caught only a glimpse.
+
+Madame Fromont, to whom Risler often spoke of her little neighbor’s
+beauty and intelligence, asked him to bring her to the children’s ball
+she intended to give at Christmas. At first Monsieur Chebe replied by a
+curt refusal. Even in those days, the Fromonts, whose name was always on
+Rider’s lips, irritated and humiliated him by their wealth. Moreover, it
+was to be a fancy ball, and M. Chebe--who did not sell wallpapers, not
+he!--could not afford to dress his daughter as a circus-dancer. But
+Risler insisted, declared that he would get everything himself, and at
+once set about designing a costume.
+
+It was a memorable evening.
+
+In Madame Chebe’s bedroom, littered with pieces of cloth and pins and
+small toilet articles, Desiree Delobelle superintended Sidonie’s toilet.
+The child, appearing taller because of her short skirt of red flannel
+with black stripes, stood before the mirror, erect and motionless, in
+the glittering splendor of her costume. She was charming. The waist,
+with bands of velvet laced over the white stomacher, the lovely, long
+tresses of chestnut hair escaping from a hat of plaited straw, all
+the trivial details of her Savoyard’s costume were heightened by the
+intelligent features of the child, who was quite at her ease in the
+brilliant colors of that theatrical garb.
+
+The whole assembled neighborhood uttered cries of admiration. While some
+one went in search of Delobelle, the lame girl arranged the folds of
+the skirt, the bows on the shoes, and cast a final glance over her work,
+without laying aside her needle; she, too, was excited, poor child! by
+the intoxication of that festivity to which she was not invited.
+The great man arrived. He made Sidonie rehearse two or three stately
+curtseys which he had taught her, the proper way to walk, to stand, to
+smile with her mouth slightly open, and the exact position of the little
+finger. It was truly amusing to see the precision with which the child
+went through the drill.
+
+“She has dramatic blood in her veins!” exclaimed the old actor
+enthusiastically, unable to understand why that stupid Frantz was
+strongly inclined to weep.
+
+A year after that happy evening Sidonie could have told you what flowers
+there were in the reception rooms, the color of the furniture, and
+the music they were playing as she entered the ballroom, so deep an
+impression did her enjoyment make upon her. She forgot nothing, neither
+the costumes that made an eddying whirl about her, nor the childish
+laughter, nor all the tiny steps that glided over the polished floors.
+For a moment, as she sat on the edge of a great red-silk couch, taking
+from the plate presented to her the first sherbet of her life, she
+suddenly thought of the dark stairway, of her parents’ stuffy little
+rooms, and it produced upon her mind the effect of a distant country
+which she had left forever.
+
+However, she was considered a fascinating little creature, and was much
+admired and petted. Claire Fromont, a miniature Cauchoise dressed in
+lace, presented her to her cousin Georges, a magnificent hussar who
+turned at every step to observe the effect of his sabre.
+
+“You understand, Georges, she is my friend. She is coming to play with
+us Sundays. Mamma says she may.”
+
+And, with the artless impulsiveness of a happy child, she kissed little
+Chebe with all her heart.
+
+But the time came to go. For a long time, in the filthy street where the
+snow was melting, in the dark hall, in the silent room where her mother
+awaited her, the brilliant light of the salons continued to shine before
+her dazzled eyes.
+
+“Was it very fine? Did you have a charming time?” queried Madame Chebe
+in a low tone, unfastening the buckles of the gorgeous costume, one by
+one.
+
+And Sidonie, overcome with fatigue, made no reply, but fell asleep
+standing, beginning a lovely dream which was to last throughout her
+youth and cost her many tears.
+
+Claire Fromont kept her word. Sidonie often went to play in the
+beautiful gravelled garden, and was able to see at close range the
+carved blinds and the dovecot with its threads of gold. She came to know
+all the corners and hiding-places in the great factory, and took part in
+many glorious games of hide-and-seek behind the printing-tables in the
+solitude of Sunday afternoon. On holidays a plate was laid for her at
+the children’s table.
+
+Everybody loved her, although she never exhibited much affection for any
+one. So long as she was in the midst of that luxury, she was conscious
+of softer impulses, she was happy and felt that she was embellished by
+her surroundings; but when she returned to her parents, when she saw the
+factory through the dirty panes of the window on the landing, she had an
+inexplicable feeling of regret and anger.
+
+And yet Claire Fromont treated her as a friend.
+
+Sometimes they took her to the Bois, to the Tuileries, in the famous
+blue-lined carriage, or into the country, to pass a whole week at
+Grandfather Gardinois’s chateau, at Savigny-sur-Orge. Thanks to the
+munificence of Risler, who was very proud of his little one’s success,
+she was always presentable and well dressed. Madame Chebe made it a
+point of honor, and the pretty, lame girl was always at hand to place
+her treasures of unused coquetry at her little friend’s service.
+
+But M. Chebe, who was always hostile to the Fromonts, looked frowningly
+upon this growing intimacy. The true reason was that he himself never
+was invited; but he gave other reasons, and would say to his wife:
+
+“Don’t you see that your daughter’s heart is sad when she returns from
+that house, and that she passes whole hours dreaming at the window?”
+
+But poor Madame Chebe, who had been so unhappy ever since her marriage,
+had become reckless. She declared that one should make the most of the
+present for fear of the future, should seize happiness as it passes, as
+one often has no other support and consolation in life than the memory
+of a happy childhood.
+
+For once it happened that M. Chebe was right.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. THE FALSE PEARLS
+
+After two or three years of intimacy with Claire, of sharing her
+amusements, years during which Sidonie acquired the familiarity with
+luxury and the graceful manners of the children of the wealthy, the
+friendship was suddenly broken.
+
+Cousin Georges, whose guardian M. Fromont was, had entered college some
+time before. Claire in her turn took her departure for the convent with
+the outfit of a little queen; and at that very time the Chebes were
+discussing the question of apprenticing Sidonie to some trade. They
+promised to love each other as before and to meet twice a month, on the
+Sundays that Claire was permitted to go home.
+
+Indeed, little Chebe did still go down sometimes to play with her
+friends; but as she grew older she realized more fully the distance that
+separated them, and her clothes began to seem to her very simple for
+Madame Fromont’s salon.
+
+When the three were alone, the childish friendship which made them
+equals prevented any feeling of embarrassment; but visitors came,
+girl friends from the convent, among others a tall girl, always richly
+dressed, whom her mother’s maid used to bring to play with the little
+Fromonts on Sunday.
+
+As soon as she saw her coming up the steps, resplendent and disdainful,
+Sidonie longed to go away at once. The other embarrassed her with
+awkward questions. Where did she live? What did her parents do? Had she
+a carriage?
+
+As she listened to their talk of the convent and their friends, Sidonie
+felt that they lived in a different world, a thousand miles from her
+own; and a deathly sadness seized her, especially when, on her return
+home, her mother spoke of sending her as an apprentice to Mademoiselle
+Le Mire, a friend of the Delobelles, who conducted a large false-pearl
+establishment on the Rue du Roi-Dore.
+
+Risler insisted upon the plan of having the little one serve an
+apprenticeship. “Let her learn a trade,” said the honest fellow. “Later
+I will undertake to set her up in business.”
+
+Indeed, this same Mademoiselle Le Mire spoke of retiring in a few years.
+It was an excellent opportunity.
+
+One morning, a dull day in November, her father took her to the Rue du
+Rio-Dore, to the fourth floor of an old house, even older and blacker
+than her own home.
+
+On the ground floor, at the entrance to the hall, hung a number of signs
+with gilt letters: Depot for Travelling-Bags, Plated Chains, Children’s
+Toys, Mathematical Instruments in Glass, Bouquets for Brides and
+Maids of Honor, Wild Flowers a Specialty; and above was a little dusty
+show-case, wherein pearls, yellow with age, glass grapes and cherries
+surrounded the pretentious name of Angelina Le Mire.
+
+What a horrible house!
+
+It had not even a broad landing like that of the Chebes, grimy with old
+age, but brightened by its window and the beautiful prospect presented
+by the factory. A narrow staircase, a narrow door, a succession of rooms
+with brick floors, all small and cold, and in the last an old maid
+with a false front and black thread mitts, reading a soiled copy of the
+‘Journal pour Tous,’ and apparently very much annoyed to be disturbed in
+her reading.
+
+Mademoiselle Le Mire (written in two words) received the father and
+daughter without rising, discoursed at great length of the rank she
+had lost, of her father, an old nobleman of Le Rouergue--it is most
+extraordinary how many old noblemen Le Rouergue has produced!--and of
+an unfaithful steward who had carried off their whole fortune.
+She instantly aroused the sympathies of M. Chebe, for whom decayed
+gentlefolk had an irresistible charm, and he went away overjoyed,
+promising his daughter to call for her at seven o’clock at night in
+accordance with the terms agreed upon.
+
+The apprentice was at once ushered into the still empty workroom.
+Mademoiselle Le Mire seated her in front of a great drawer filled with
+pearls, needles, and bodkins, with instalments of four-sou novels thrown
+in at random among them.
+
+It was Sidonie’s business to sort the pearls and string them in
+necklaces of equal length, which were tied together to be sold to the
+small dealers. Then the young women would soon be there and they would
+show her exactly what she would have to do, for Mademoiselle Le Mire
+(always written in two words!) did not interfere at all, but overlooked
+her business from a considerable distance, from that dark room where she
+passed her life reading newspaper novels.
+
+At nine o’clock the work-women arrived, five tall, pale-faced, faded
+girls, wretchedly dressed, but with their hair becomingly arranged,
+after the fashion of poor working-girls who go about bare-headed through
+the streets of Paris.
+
+Two or three were yawning and rubbing their eyes, saying that they were
+dead with sleep.
+
+At last they went to work beside a long table where each had her own
+drawer and her own tools. An order had been received for mourning
+jewels, and haste was essential. Sidonie, whom the forewoman instructed
+in her task in a tone of infinite superiority, began dismally to sort a
+multitude of black pearls, bits of glass, and wisps of crape.
+
+The others, paying no attention to the little girl, chatted together as
+they worked. They talked of a wedding that was to take place that very
+day at St. Gervais.
+
+“Suppose we go,” said a stout, red-haired girl, whose name was Malvina.
+“It’s to be at noon. We shall have time to go and get back again if we
+hurry.”
+
+And, at the lunch hour, the whole party rushed downstairs four steps at
+a time.
+
+Sidonie had brought her luncheon in a little basket, like a school-girl;
+with a heavy heart she sat at a corner of the table and ate alone for
+the first time in her life. Great God! what a sad and wretched thing
+life seemed to be; what a terrible revenge she would take hereafter for
+her sufferings there!
+
+At one o’clock the girls trooped noisily back, highly excited.
+
+“Did you see the white satin gown? And the veil of point d’Angleterre?
+There’s a lucky girl!”
+
+Thereupon they repeated in the workroom the remarks they had made in
+undertones in the church, leaning against the rail, throughout the
+ceremony. That question of a wealthy marriage, of beautiful clothes,
+lasted all day long; nor did it interfere with their work-far from it.
+
+These small Parisian industries, which have to do with the most trivial
+details of the toilet, keep the work-girls informed as to the fashions
+and fill their minds with thoughts of luxury and elegance. To the poor
+girls who worked on Mademoiselle Le Mire’s fourth floor, the blackened
+walls, the narrow street did not exist. They were always thinking of
+something else and passed their lives asking one another:
+
+“Malvina, if you were rich what would you do? For my part, I’d live on
+the Champs-Elysees.” And the great trees in the square, the carriages
+that wheeled about there, coquettishly slackening their pace, appeared
+momentarily before their minds, a delicious, refreshing vision.
+
+Little Chebe, in her corner, listened without speaking, industriously
+stringing her black grapes with the precocious dexterity and taste she
+had acquired in Desiree’s neighborhood. So that in the evening, when M.
+Chebe came to fetch his daughter, they praised her in the highest terms.
+
+Thereafter all her days were alike. The next day, instead of black
+pearls, she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at
+Mademoiselle Le Mire’s they worked only in what was false, in tinsel,
+and that was where little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life.
+
+For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the
+others--found that they held aloof from her. Later, as she grew older,
+she was admitted to their friendship and their confidence, but without
+ever sharing their pleasures. She was too proud to go to see weddings
+at midday; and when she heard them talking of a ball at Vauxhall or the
+‘Delices du Marais,’ or of a nice little supper at Bonvalet’s or at the
+‘Quatre Sergents de la Rochelle,’ she was always very disdainful.
+
+We looked higher than that, did we not, little Chebe?
+
+Moreover, her father called for her every evening. Sometimes, however,
+about the New Year, she was obliged to work late with the others, in
+order to complete pressing orders. In the gaslight those pale-faced
+Parisians, sorting pearls as white as themselves, of a dead, unwholesome
+whiteness, were a painful spectacle. There was the same fictitious
+glitter, the same fragility of spurious jewels. They talked of nothing
+but masked balls and theatres.
+
+“Have you seen Adele Page, in ‘Les Trois Mousquetaires?’ And Melingue?
+And Marie Laurent? Oh! Marie Laurent!”
+
+The actors’ doublets, the embroidered costumes of the queens of
+melodrama, appeared before them in the white light of the necklaces
+forming beneath their fingers.
+
+In summer the work was less pressing. It was the dull season. In the
+intense heat, when through the drawn blinds fruit-sellers could be heard
+in the street, crying their mirabelles and Queen Claudes, the workgirls
+slept heavily, their heads on the table. Or perhaps Malvina would go and
+ask Mademoiselle Le Mire for a copy of the ‘Journal pour Tous,’ and read
+aloud to the others.
+
+But little Chebe did not care for the novels. She carried one in her
+head much more interesting than all that trash.
+
+The fact is, nothing could make her forget the factory. When she set
+forth in the morning on her father’s arm, she always cast a glance in
+that direction. At that hour the works were just stirring, the chimney
+emitted its first puff of black smoke. Sidonie, as she passed, could
+hear the shouts of the workmen, the dull, heavy blows of the bars of
+the printing-press, the mighty, rhythmical hum of the machinery; and all
+those sounds of toil, blended in her memory with recollections of fetes
+and blue-lined carriages, haunted her persistently.
+
+They spoke louder than the rattle of the omnibuses, the street cries,
+the cascades in the gutters; and even in the workroom, when she was
+sorting the false pearls even at night, in her own home, when she went,
+after dinner, to breathe the fresh air at the window on the landing and
+to gaze at the dark, deserted factory, that murmur still buzzed in her
+ears, forming, as it were, a continual accompaniment to her thoughts.
+
+“The little one is tired, Madame Chebe. She needs diversion. Next Sunday
+I will take you all into the country.”
+
+These Sunday excursions, which honest Risler organized to amuse Sidonie,
+served only to sadden her still more.
+
+On those days she must rise at four o’clock in the morning; for the poor
+must pay for all their enjoyments, and there was always a ribbon to
+be ironed at the last moment, or a bit of trimming to be sewn on in
+an attempt to rejuvenate the everlasting little lilac frock with white
+stripes which Madame Chebe conscientiously lengthened every year.
+
+They would all set off together, the Chebes, the Rislers, and the
+illustrious Delobelle. Only Desiree and her mother never were of the
+party. The poor, crippled child, ashamed of her deformity, never would
+stir from her chair, and Mamma Delobelle stayed behind to keep her
+company. Moreover, neither possessed a suitable gown in which to
+show herself out-of-doors in their great man’s company; it would have
+destroyed the whole effect of his appearance.
+
+When they left the house, Sidonie would brighten up a little. Paris in
+the pink haze of a July morning, the railway stations filled with light
+dresses, the country flying past the car windows, and the healthful
+exercise, the bath in the pure air saturated with the water of the
+Seine, vivified by a bit of forest, perfumed by flowering meadows, by
+ripening grain, all combined to make her giddy for a moment. But that
+sensation was soon succeeded by disgust at such a commonplace way of
+passing her Sunday.
+
+It was always the same thing.
+
+They stopped at a refreshment booth, in close proximity to a very noisy
+and numerously attended rustic festival, for there must be an audience
+for Delobelle, who would saunter along, absorbed by his chimera, dressed
+in gray, with gray gaiters, a little hat over his ear, a light top coat
+on his arm, imagining that the stage represented a country scene in
+the suburbs of Paris, and that he was playing the part of a Parisian
+sojourning in the country.
+
+As for M. Chebe, who prided himself on being as fond of nature as
+the late Jean Jacques Rousseau, he did not appreciate it without the
+accompaniments of shooting-matches, wooden horses, sack races, and a
+profusion of dust and penny-whistles, which constituted also Madame
+Chebe’s ideal of a country life.
+
+But Sidonie had a different ideal; and those Parisian Sundays passed in
+strolling through noisy village streets depressed her beyond measure.
+Her only pleasure in those throngs was the consciousness of being stared
+at. The veriest boor’s admiration, frankly expressed aloud at her side,
+made her smile all day; for she was of those who disdain no compliment.
+
+Sometimes, leaving the Chebes and Delobelle in the midst of the fete,
+Risler would go into the fields with his brother and the “little one”
+ in search of flowers for patterns for his wall-papers. Frantz, with his
+long arms, would pull down the highest branches of a hawthorn, or would
+climb a park wall to pick a leaf of graceful shape he had spied on the
+other side. But they reaped their richest harvests on the banks of the
+stream.
+
+There they found those flexible plants, with long swaying stalks, which
+made such a lovely effect on hangings, tall, straight reeds, and the
+volubilis, whose flower, opening suddenly as if in obedience to a
+caprice, resembles a living face, some one looking at you amid the
+lovely, quivering foliage. Risler arranged his bouquets artistically,
+drawing his inspiration from the very nature of the plants, trying to
+understand thoroughly their manner of life, which can not be divined
+after the withering of one day.
+
+Then, when the bouquet was completed, tied with a broad blade of grass
+as with a ribbon, and slung over Frantz’s back, away they went. Risler,
+always engrossed in his art, looked about for subjects, for possible
+combinations, as they walked along.
+
+“Look there, little one--see that bunch of lily of the valley, with its
+white bells, among those eglantines. What do you think? Wouldn’t that be
+pretty against a sea-green or pearl-gray background?”
+
+But Sidonie cared no more for lilies of the valley than for eglantine.
+Wild flowers always seemed to her like the flowers of the poor,
+something like her lilac dress.
+
+She remembered that she had seen flowers of a different sort at the
+house of M. Gardinois, at the Chateau de Savigny, in the hothouses, on
+the balconies, and all about the gravelled courtyard bordered with
+tall urns. Those were the flowers she loved; that was her idea of the
+country!
+
+The little stations in the outskirts of Paris are so terribly crowded
+and stuffy on those Sunday evenings in summer! Such artificial
+enjoyment, such idiotic laughter, such doleful ballads, sung in whispers
+by voices that no longer have the strength to roar! That was the time
+when M. Chebe was in his element.
+
+He would elbow his way to the gate, scold about the delay of the train,
+declaim against the station-agent, the company, the government; say to
+Delobelle in a loud voice, so as to be overheard by his neighbors:
+
+“I say--suppose such a thing as this should happen in America!” Which
+remark, thanks to the expressive by-play of the illustrious actor, and
+to the superior air with which he replied, “I believe you!” gave those
+who stood near to understand that these gentlemen knew exactly what
+would happen in America in such a case. Now, they were equally and
+entirely ignorant on that subject; but upon the crowd their words made
+an impression.
+
+Sitting beside Frantz, with half of his bundle of flowers on her knees,
+Sidonie would seem to be blotted out, as it were, amid the uproar,
+during the long wait for the evening trains. From the station, lighted
+by a single lamp, she could see the black clumps of trees outside,
+lighted here and there by the last illuminations of the fete, a dark
+village street, people continually coming in, and a lantern hanging on a
+deserted pier.
+
+From time to time, on the other side of the glass doors, a train would
+rush by without stopping, with a shower of hot cinders and the roar of
+escaping steam. Thereupon a tempest of shouts and stamping would arise
+in the station, and, soaring above all the rest, the shrill treble of M.
+Chebe, shrieking in his sea-gull’s voice: “Break down the doors! break
+down the doors!”--a thing that the little man would have taken good care
+not to do himself, as he had an abject fear of gendarmes. In a moment
+the storm would abate. The tired women, their hair disarranged by the
+wind, would fall asleep on the benches. There were torn and ragged
+dresses, low-necked white gowns, covered with dust.
+
+The air they breathed consisted mainly of dust. It lay upon their
+clothes, rose at every step, obscured the light of the lamp, vexed one’s
+eyes, and raised a sort of cloud before the tired faces. The cars which
+they entered at last, after hours of waiting, were saturated with it
+also. Sidonie would open the window, and look out at the dark fields, an
+endless line of shadow. Then, like innumerable stars, the first lanterns
+of the outer boulevards appeared near the fortifications.
+
+So ended the ghastly day of rest of all those poor creatures. The sight
+of Paris brought back to each one’s mind the thought of the morrow’s
+toil. Dismal as her Sunday had been, Sidonie began to regret that it
+had passed. She thought of the rich, to whom all the days of their lives
+were days of rest; and vaguely, as in a dream, the long park avenues of
+which she had caught glimpses during the day appeared to her thronged
+with those happy ones of earth, strolling on the fine gravel, while
+outside the gate, in the dust of the highroad, the poor man’s Sunday
+hurried swiftly by, having hardly time to pause a moment to look and
+envy.
+
+Such was little Chebe’s life from thirteen to seventeen.
+
+The years passed, but did not bring with them the slightest change.
+Madame Chebe’s cashmere was a little more threadbare, the little lilac
+frock had undergone a few additional repairs, and that was all. But, as
+Sidonie grew older, Frantz, now become a young man, acquired a habit of
+gazing at her silently with a melting expression, of paying her loving
+attentions that were visible to everybody, and were unnoticed by none
+save the girl herself.
+
+Indeed, nothing aroused the interest of little Chebe. In the work-room
+she performed her task regularly, silently, without the slightest
+thought of the future or of saving. All that she did seemed to be done
+as if she were waiting for something.
+
+Frantz, on the other hand, had been working for some time with
+extraordinary energy, the ardor of those who see something at the end of
+their efforts; so that, at the age of twenty-four, he graduated second
+in his class from the Ecole Centrale, as an engineer.
+
+On that evening Risler had taken the Chebe family to the Gymnase, and
+throughout the evening he and Madame Chebe had been making signs and
+winking at each other behind the children’s backs. And when they left
+the theatre Madame Chebe solemnly placed Sidonie’s arm in Frantz’s, as
+if she would say to the lovelorn youth, “Now settle matters--here is
+your chance.”
+
+Thereupon the poor lover tried to settle matters.
+
+It is a long walk from the Gymnase to the Marais. After a very few
+steps the brilliancy of the boulevard is left behind, the streets become
+darker and darker, the passers more and more rare. Frantz began by
+talking of the play. He was very fond of comedies of that sort, in which
+there was plenty of sentiment.
+
+“And you, Sidonie?”
+
+“Oh! as for me, Frantz, you know that so long as there are fine
+costumes--”
+
+In truth she thought of nothing else at the theatre. She was not one
+of those sentimental creatures; a la Madame Bovary, who return from the
+play with love-phrases ready-made, a conventional ideal. No! the theatre
+simply made her long madly for luxury and fine raiment; she brought away
+from it nothing but new methods of arranging the hair, and patterns of
+gowns. The new, exaggerated toilettes of the actresses, their gait,
+even the spurious elegance of their speech, which seemed to her of the
+highest distinction, and with it all the tawdry magnificence of the
+gilding and the lights, the gaudy placard at the door, the long line of
+carriages, and all the somewhat unwholesome excitement that springs up
+about a popular play; that was what she loved, that was what absorbed
+her thoughts.
+
+“How well they acted their love-scene!” continued the lover.
+
+And, as he uttered that suggestive phrase, he bent fondly toward a
+little face surrounded by a white woollen hood, from which the hair
+escaped in rebellious curls.
+
+Sidonie sighed:
+
+“Oh! yes, the love-scene. The actress wore beautiful diamonds.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence. Poor Frantz had much difficulty in
+explaining himself. The words he sought would not come, and then, too,
+he was afraid. He fixed the time mentally when he would speak:
+
+“When we have passed the Porte Saint-Denis--when we have left the
+boulevard.”
+
+But when the time arrived, Sidonie began to talk of such indifferent
+matters that his declaration froze on his lips, or else it was stopped
+by a passing carriage, which enabled their elders to overtake them.
+
+At last, in the Marais, he suddenly took courage:
+
+“Listen to me, Sidonie--I love you!”
+
+That night the Delobelles had sat up very late.
+
+It was the habit of those brave-hearted women to make their working-day
+as long as possible, to prolong it so far into the night that their lamp
+was among the last to be extinguished on the quiet Rue de Braque. They
+always sat up until the great man returned home, and kept a dainty
+little supper warm for him in the ashes on the hearth.
+
+In the days when he was an actor there was some reason for that custom;
+actors, being obliged to dine early and very sparingly, have a terrible
+gnawing at their vitals when they leave the theatre, and usually eat
+when they go home. Delobelle had not acted for a long time; but having,
+as he said, no right to abandon the stage, he kept his mania alive by
+clinging to a number of the strolling player’s habits, and the supper on
+returning home was one of them, as was his habit of delaying his return
+until the last footlight in the boulevard theatres was extinguished. To
+retire without supping, at the hour when all other artists supped, would
+have been to abdicate, to abandon the struggle, and he would not abandon
+it, sacre bleu!
+
+On the evening in question the actor had not yet come in and the women
+were waiting for him, talking as they worked, and with great animation,
+notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. During the whole evening they
+had done nothing but talk of Frantz, of his success, of the future that
+lay before him.
+
+“Now,” said Mamma Delobelle, “the only thing he needs is to find a good
+little wife.”
+
+That was Desiree’s opinion, too. That was all that was lacking now to
+Frantz’s happiness, a good little wife, active and brave and accustomed
+to work, who would forget everything for him. And if Desiree spoke with
+great confidence, it was because she was intimately acquainted with the
+woman who was so well adapted to Frantz Risler’s needs. She was only a
+year younger than he, just enough to make her younger than her husband
+and a mother to him at the same time.
+
+Pretty?
+
+No, not exactly, but attractive rather than ugly, notwithstanding her
+infirmity, for she was lame, poor child! And then she was clever and
+bright, and so loving! No one but Desiree knew how fondly that little
+woman loved Frantz, and how she had thought of him night and day for
+years. He had not noticed it himself, but seemed to have eyes for nobody
+but Sidonie, a gamine. But no matter! Silent love is so eloquent, such
+a mighty power lies hid in restrained feelings. Who knows? Perhaps some
+day or other:
+
+And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those
+long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many
+in her invalid’s easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one
+of those wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and
+smiling, leaning on Frantz’s arm with all the confidence of a beloved
+wife. As her fingers followed her thought, the little bird she had in
+her hand at the moment, smoothing his ruffled wings, looked as if he
+too were of the party and were about to fly far, far away, as joyous and
+light of heart as she.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open.
+
+“I do not disturb you?” said a triumphant voice.
+
+The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head.
+
+“Ah! it’s Monsieur Frantz. Pray come in, Monsieur Frantz. We’re waiting
+for father, as you see. These brigands of artists always stay out so
+late! Take a seat--you shall have supper with him.”
+
+“Oh! no, thank you,” replied Frantz, whose lips were still pale from
+the emotion he had undergone, “I can’t stop. I saw a light and I just
+stepped in to tell you--to tell you some great news that will make you
+very happy, because I know that you love me--”
+
+“Great heavens, what is it?”
+
+“Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be
+married.”
+
+“There! didn’t I say that all he needed was a good little wife,”
+ exclaimed Mamma Delobelle, rising and throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+Desiree had not the strength to utter a word. She bent still lower
+over her work, and as Frantz’s eyes were fixed exclusively upon his
+happiness, as Mamma Delobelle did nothing but look at the clock to see
+whether her great man would return soon, no one noticed the lame girl’s
+emotion, nor her pallor, nor the convulsive trembling of the little bird
+that lay in her hands with its head thrown back, like a bird with its
+death-wound.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. THE GLOW-WORMS OF SAVIGNY
+
+
+“SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE.
+
+“DEAR SMONIE:--We were sitting at table yesterday in the great
+dining-room which you remember, with the door wide open leading to the
+terrace, where the flowers are all in bloom. I was a little bored. Dear
+grandpapa had been cross all the morning, and poor mamma dared not say
+a word, being afraid of those frowning eyebrows which have always
+laid down the law for her. I was thinking what a pity it was to be so
+entirely alone, in the middle of the summer, in such a lovely spot, and
+that I should be very glad, now that I have left the convent, and am
+destined to pass whole seasons in the country, to have as in the old
+day, some one to run about the woods and paths with me.
+
+“To be sure, Georges comes occasionally, but he always arrives very
+late, just in time for dinner, and is off again with my father in the
+morning before I am awake. And then he is a serious-minded man now,
+is Monsieur Georges. He works at the factory, and business cares often
+bring frowns to his brow.
+
+“I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa
+turned abruptly to me:
+
+“‘What has become of your little friend Sidonie? I should be glad to
+have her here for a time.’
+
+“You can imagine my delight. What happiness to meet again, to renew the
+pleasant friendship that was broken off by the fault of the events of
+life rather than by our own! How many things we shall have to tell
+each other! You, who alone had the knack of driving the frowns from my
+terrible grandpapa’s brow, will bring us gayety, and I assure you we
+need it.
+
+“This lovely Savigny is so lonely! For instance, sometimes in the
+morning I choose to be a little coquettish. I dress myself, I make
+myself beautiful with my hair in curls and put on a pretty gown; I walk
+through all the paths, and suddenly I realize that I have taken all this
+trouble for the swans and ducks, my dog Kiss, and the cows, who do not
+even turn to look at me when I pass. Thereupon, in my wrath, I hurry
+home, put on a thick gown and busy myself on the farm, in the servants’
+quarters, everywhere. And really, I am beginning to believe that ennui
+has perfected me, and that I shall make an excellent housekeeper.
+
+“Luckily the hunting season will soon be here, and I rely upon that
+for a little amusement. In the first place, Georges and father, both
+enthusiastic sportsmen, will come oftener. And then you will be here,
+you know. For you will reply at once that you will come, won’t you?
+Monsieur Risler said not long ago that you were not well. The air of
+Savigny will do you worlds of good.
+
+“Everybody here expects you. And I am dying with impatience.
+
+               “CLAIRE.”
+
+Her letter written, Claire Fromont donned a large straw hat for the
+first days of August were warm and glorious--and went herself to drop
+it in the little box from which the postman collected the mail from the
+chateau every morning.
+
+It was on the edge of the park, at a turn in the road. She paused a
+moment to look at the trees by the roadside, at the neighboring meadows
+sleeping in the bright sunlight. Over yonder the reapers were gathering
+the last sheaves. Farther on they were ploughing. But all the melancholy
+of the silent toil had vanished, so far as the girl was concerned, so
+delighted was she at the thought of seeing her friend once more.
+
+No breeze came from the hills in the distance, no voice from the trees,
+to warn her by a presentiment, to prevent her from sending that fatal
+letter. And immediately upon her return she gave her attention to the
+preparation of a pretty bedroom for Sidonie adjoining her own.
+
+The letter did its errand faithfully. From the little green,
+vine-embowered gate of the chateau it found its way to Paris, and
+arrived that same evening, with its Savigny postmark and impregnated
+with the odor of the country, at the fifth-floor apartment on the Rue de
+Braque.
+
+What an event that was! They read it again and again; and for a whole
+week, until Sidonie’s departure, it lay on the mantel-shelf beside
+Madame Chebe’s treasures, the clock under a glass globe and the Empire
+cups. To Sidonie it was like a wonderful romance filled with tales of
+enchantment and promises, which she read without opening it, merely
+by gazing at the white envelope whereon Claire Fromont’s monogram was
+engraved in relief.
+
+Little she thought of marriage now. The important question was, What
+clothes should she wear at the chateau? She must give her whole mind to
+that, to cutting and planning, trying on dresses, devising new ways of
+arranging her hair. Poor Frantz! How heavy his heart was made by these
+preparations! That visit to Savigny, which he had tried vainly to
+oppose, would cause a still further postponement of their wedding, which
+Sidonie-why, he did not know--persisted in putting off from day to day.
+He could not go to see her; and when she was once there, in the midst of
+festivities and pleasures, who could say how long she would remain?
+
+The lover in his despair always went to the Delobelles to confide his
+sorrows, but he never noticed how quickly Desiree rose as soon as he
+entered, to make room for him by her side at the work-table, and how she
+at once sat down again, with cheeks as red as fire and shining eyes.
+
+For some days past they had ceased to work at birds and insects for
+ornament. The mother and daughter were hemming pink flounces destined
+for Sidonie’s frock, and the little cripple never had plied her needle
+with such good heart.
+
+In truth little Desiree was not Delobelle’s daughter to no purpose.
+
+She inherited her father’s faculty of retaining his illusions, of hoping
+on to the end and even beyond.
+
+While Frantz was dilating upon his woe, Desire was thinking that, when
+Sidonie was gone, he would come every day, if it were only to talk about
+the absent one; that she would have him there by her side, that they
+would sit up together waiting for “father,” and that, perhaps, some
+evening, as he sat looking at her, he would discover the difference
+between the woman who loves you and the one who simply allows herself to
+be loved.
+
+Thereupon the thought that every stitch taken in the frock tended
+to hasten the departure which she anticipated with such impatience
+imparted extraordinary activity to her needle, and the unhappy lover
+ruefully watched the flounces and ruffles piling up about her, like
+little pink, white-capped waves.
+
+When the pink frock was finished, Mademoiselle Chebe started for
+Savigny.
+
+The chateau of M. Gardinois was built in the valley of the Orge, on the
+bank of that capriciously lovely stream, with its windmills, its little
+islands, its dams, and its broad lawns that end at its shores.
+
+The chateau, an old Louis-Quinze structure, low in reality, although
+made to appear high by a pointed roof, had a most depressing aspect,
+suggestive of aristocratic antiquity; broad steps, balconies with rusty
+balustrades, old urns marred by time, wherein the flowers stood out
+vividly against the reddish stone. As far as the eye could see, the
+walls stretched away, decayed and crumbling, descending gradually toward
+the stream. The chateau overlooked them, with its high, slated roofs,
+the farmhouse, with its red tiles, and the superb park, with its
+lindens, ash-trees, poplars and chestnuts growing confusedly together
+in a dense black mass, cut here and there by the arched openings of the
+paths.
+
+But the charm of the old place was the water, which enlivened its
+silence and gave character to its beautiful views. There were at
+Savigny, to say nothing of the river, many springs, fountains, and
+ponds, in which the sun sank to rest in all his glory; and they formed a
+suitable setting for that venerable mansion, green and mossy as it was,
+and slightly worn away, like a stone on the edge of a brook.
+
+Unluckily, at Savigny, as in most of those gorgeous Parisian summer
+palaces, which the parvenus in commerce and speculation have made their
+prey, the chatelains were not in harmony with the chateau.
+
+Since he had purchased his chateau, old Gardinois had done nothing but
+injure the beauty of the beautiful property chance had placed in
+his hands; cut down trees “for the view,” filled his park with rough
+obstructions to keep out trespassers, and reserved all his solicitude
+for a magnificent kitchen-garden, which, as it produced fruit and
+vegetables in abundance, seemed to him more like his own part of the
+country--the land of the peasant.
+
+As for the great salons, where the panels with paintings of famous
+subjects were fading in the autumn fogs, as for the ponds overrun with
+water-lilies, the grottoes, the stone bridges, he cared for them only
+because of the admiration of visitors, and because of such elements was
+composed that thing which so flattered his vanity as an ex-dealer in
+cattle--a chateau!
+
+Being already old, unable to hunt or fish, he passed his time
+superintending the most trivial details of that large property. The
+grain for the hens, the price of the last load of the second crop of
+hay, the number of bales of straw stored in a magnificent circular
+granary, furnished him with matter for scolding for a whole day; and
+certain it is that, when one gazed from a distance at that lovely estate
+of Savigny, the chateau on the hillside, the river, like a mirror,
+flowing at its feet, the high terraces shaded by ivy, the supporting
+wall of the park following the majestic slope of the ground, one never
+would have suspected the proprietor’s niggardliness and meanness of
+spirit.
+
+In the idleness consequent upon his wealth, M. Gardinois, being greatly
+bored in Paris, lived at Savigny throughout the year, and the Fromonts
+lived with him during the summer.
+
+Madame Fromont was a mild, dull woman, whom her father’s brutal
+despotism had early molded to passive obedience for life. She maintained
+the same attitude with her husband, whose constant kindness and
+indulgence never had succeeded in triumphing over that humiliated,
+taciturn nature, indifferent to everything, and, in some sense,
+irresponsible. Having passed her life with no knowledge of business, she
+had become rich without knowing it and without the slightest desire
+to take advantage of it. Her fine apartments in Paris, her father’s
+magnificent chateau, made her uncomfortable. She occupied as small
+a place as possible in both, filling her life with a single passion,
+order--a fantastic, abnormal sort of order, which consisted in brushing,
+wiping, dusting, and polishing the mirrors, the gilding and the
+door-knobs, with her own hands, from morning till night.
+
+When she had nothing else to clean, the strange woman would attack her
+rings, her watch-chain, her brooches, scrubbing the cameos and pearls,
+and, by dint of polishing the combination of her own name and her
+husband’s, she had effaced all the letters of both. Her fixed idea
+followed her to Savigny. She picked up dead branches in the paths,
+scratched the moss from the benches with the end of her umbrella, and
+would have liked to dust the leaves and sweep down the old trees; and
+often, when in the train, she looked with envy at the little villas
+standing in a line along the track, white and clean, with their gleaming
+utensils, the pewter ball, and the little oblong gardens, which resemble
+drawers in a bureau. Those were her ideal of a country-house.
+
+M. Fromont, who came only occasionally and was always absorbed by his
+business affairs, enjoyed Savigny little more than she. Claire alone
+felt really at home in that lovely park. She was familiar with its
+smallest shrub. Being obliged to provide her own amusements, like all
+only children, she had become attached to certain walks, watched the
+flowers bloom, had her favorite path, her favorite tree, her favorite
+bench for reading. The dinner-bell always surprised her far away in the
+park. She would come to the table, out of breath but happy, flushed with
+the fresh air. The shadow of the hornbeams, stealing over that youthful
+brow, had imprinted a sort of gentle melancholy there, and the deep,
+dark green of the ponds, crossed by vague rays, was reflected in her
+eyes.
+
+Those lovely surroundings had in very truth shielded her from the
+vulgarity and the abjectness of the persons about her. M. Gardinois
+might deplore in her presence, for hours at a time, the perversity of
+tradesmen and servants, or make an estimate of what was being stolen
+from him each month, each week, every day, every minute; Madame Fromont
+might enumerate her grievances against the mice, the maggots, dust and
+dampness, all desperately bent upon destroying her property, and engaged
+in a conspiracy against her wardrobes; not a word of their foolish talk
+remained in Claire’s mind. A run around the lawn, an hour’s reading on
+the river-bank, restored the tranquillity of that noble and intensely
+active mind.
+
+Her grandfather looked upon her as a strange being, altogether out of
+place in his family. As a child she annoyed him with her great, honest
+eyes, her straightforwardness on all occasions, and also because he
+did not find in her a second edition of his own passive and submissive
+daughter.
+
+“That child will be a proud chit and an original, like her father,” he
+would say in his ugly moods.
+
+How much better he liked that little Chebe girl who used to come now and
+then and play in the avenues at Savigny! In her, at least, he detected
+the strain of the common people like himself, with a sprinkling of
+ambition and envy, suggested even in those early days by a certain
+little smile at the corner of the mouth. Moreover, the child exhibited
+an ingenuous amazement and admiration in presence of his wealth, which
+flattered his parvenu pride; and sometimes, when he teased her, she
+would break out with the droll phrases of a Paris gamine, slang redolent
+of the faubourgs, seasoned by her pretty, piquant face, inclined to
+pallor, which not even superficiality could deprive of its distinction.
+So he never had forgotten her.
+
+On this occasion above all, when Sidonie arrived at Savigny after her
+long absence, with her fluffy hair, her graceful figure, her bright,
+mobile face, the whole effect emphasized by mannerisms suggestive of the
+shop-girl, she produced a decided sensation. Old Gardinois, wondering
+greatly to see a tall young woman in place of the child he was expecting
+to see, considered her prettier and, above all, better dressed than
+Claire.
+
+It was a fact that, when Mademoiselle Chebe had left the train and was
+seated in the great wagonette from the chateau, her appearance was not
+bad; but she lacked those details that constituted her friend’s chief
+beauty and charm--a distinguished carriage, a contempt for poses, and,
+more than all else, mental tranquillity. Her prettiness was not unlike
+her gowns, of inexpensive materials, but cut according to the style of
+the day-rags, if you will, but rags of which fashion, that ridiculous
+but charming fairy, had regulated the color, the trimming, and the
+shape. Paris has pretty faces made expressly for costumes of that sort,
+very easy to dress becomingly, for the very reason that they belong to
+no type, and Mademoiselle Sidonie’s face was one of these.
+
+What bliss was hers when the carriage entered the long avenue, bordered
+with velvety grass and primeval elms, and at the end Savigny awaiting
+her with its great gate wide open!
+
+And how thoroughly at ease she felt amid all those refinements of
+wealth! How perfectly that sort of life suited her! It seemed to her
+that she never had known any other.
+
+Suddenly, in the midst of her intoxication, arrived a letter from
+Frantz, which brought her back to the realities of her life, to
+her wretched fate as the future wife of a government clerk, which
+transported her, whether she would or no, to the mean little apartment
+they would occupy some day at the top of some dismal house, whose heavy
+atmosphere, dense with privation, she seemed already to breathe.
+
+Should she break her betrothal promise?
+
+She certainly could do it, as she had given no other pledge than her
+word. But when he had left her, who could say that she would not wish
+him back?
+
+In that little brain, turned by ambition, the strangest ideas chased one
+another. Sometimes, while Grandfather Gardinois, who had laid aside in
+her honor his old-fashioned hunting-jackets and swanskin waistcoats, was
+jesting with her, amusing himself by contradicting her in order to
+draw out a sharp reply, she would gaze steadily, coldly into his eyes,
+without replying. Ah! if only he were ten years younger! But the thought
+of becoming Madame Gardinois did not long occupy her. A new personage, a
+new hope came into her life.
+
+After Sidonie’s arrival, Georges Fromont, who was seldom seen at Savigny
+except on Sundays, adopted the habit of coming to dinner almost every
+day.
+
+He was a tall, slender, pale youth, of refined appearance. Having no
+father or mother, he had been brought up by his uncle, M. Fromont,
+and was looked upon by him to succeed him in business, and probably
+to become Claire’s husband. That ready-made future did not arouse any
+enthusiasm in Georges. In the first place business bored him. As for
+his cousin, the intimate good-fellowship of an education in common and
+mutual confidence existed between them, but nothing more, at least on
+his side.
+
+With Sidonie, on the contrary, he was exceedingly embarrassed and
+shy, and at the same time desirous of producing an effect--a totally
+different man, in short. She had just the spurious charm, a little free,
+which was calculated to attract a superficial nature, and it was not
+long before she discovered the impression that she produced upon him.
+
+When the two girls were walking together in the park, it was always
+Sidonie who remembered that it was time for the train from Paris to
+arrive. They would go together to the gate to meet the travellers, and
+Georges’s first glance was always for Mademoiselle Chebe, who remained a
+little behind her friend, but with the poses and airs that go halfway to
+meet the eyes. That manoeuvring between them lasted some time. They did
+not mention love, but all the words, all the smiles they exchanged were
+full of silent avowals.
+
+One cloudy and threatening summer evening, when the two friends had left
+the table as soon as dinner was at an end and were walking in the long,
+shady avenue, Georges joined them. They were talking upon indifferent
+subjects, crunching the gravel beneath their idling footsteps, when
+Madame Fromont’s voice, from the chateau, called Claire away. Georges
+and Sidonie were left alone. They continued to walk along the avenue,
+guided by the uncertain whiteness of the path, without speaking of
+drawing nearer to each other.
+
+A warm wind rustled among the leaves. The ruffled surface of the pond
+lapped softly against the arches of the little bridge; and the blossoms
+of the acacias and lindens, detached by the breeze, whirled about in
+circles, perfuming the electricity-laden air. They felt themselves
+surrounded by an atmosphere of storm, vibrant and penetrating. Dazzling
+flashes of heat passed before their troubled eyes, like those that
+played along the horizon.
+
+“Oh! what lovely glow-worms!” exclaimed Sidonie, embarrassed by the
+oppressive silence broken by so many mysterious sounds.
+
+On the edge of the greensward a blade of grass here and there was
+illuminated by a tiny, green, flickering light. She stooped to lift one
+on her glove. Georges knelt close beside her; and as they leaned down,
+their hair and cheeks touching, they gazed at each other for a moment by
+the light of the glow-worms. How weird and fascinating she seemed to him
+in that green light, which shone upon her face and died away in the
+fine network of her waving hair! He put his arm around her waist, and
+suddenly, feeling that she abandoned herself to him, he clasped her in a
+long, passionate embrace.
+
+“What are you looking for?” asked Claire, suddenly coming up in the
+shadow behind them.
+
+Taken by surprise, and with a choking sensation in his throat, Georges
+trembled so that he could not reply. Sidonie, on the other hand, rose
+with the utmost coolness, and said as she shook out her skirt:
+
+“The glow-worms. See how many of them there are tonight. And how they
+sparkle.”
+
+Her eyes also sparkled with extraordinary brilliancy.
+
+“The storm makes them, I suppose,” murmured Georges, still trembling.
+
+The storm was indeed near. At brief intervals great clouds of leaves and
+dust whirled from one end of the avenue to the other. They walked a few
+steps farther, then all three returned to the house. The young women
+took their work, Georges tried to read a newspaper, while Madame Fromont
+polished her rings and M. Gardinois and his son-in-law played billiards
+in the adjoining room.
+
+How long that evening seemed to Sidonie! She had but one wish, to be
+alone-alone with her thoughts.
+
+But, in the silence of her little bedroom, when she had put out
+her light, which interferes with dreams by casting too bright an
+illumination upon reality, what schemes, what transports of delight!
+Georges loved her, Georges Fromont, the heir of the factory! They would
+marry; she would be rich. For in that mercenary little heart the first
+kiss of love had awakened no ideas save those of ambition and a life of
+luxury.
+
+To assure herself that her lover was sincere, she tried to recall the
+scene under the trees to its most trifling details, the expression of
+his eyes, the warmth of his embrace, the vows uttered brokenly, lips
+to lips, it that weird light shed by the glow-worms, which one solemn
+moment had fixed forever in her heart.
+
+Oh! the glow-worms of Savigny!
+
+All night long they twinkled like stars before her closed eyes. The park
+was full of them, to the farthest limits of its darkest paths. There
+were clusters of them all along the lawns, on the trees, in the
+shrubbery. The fine gravel of the avenues, the waves of the river,
+seemed to emit green sparks, and all those microscopic flashes formed a
+sort of holiday illumination in which Savigny seemed to be enveloped in
+her honor, to celebrate the betrothal of Georges and Sidonie.
+
+When she rose the next day, her plan was formed. Georges loved her; that
+was certain. Did he contemplate marrying her? She had a suspicion that
+he did not, the clever minx! But that did not frighten her. She felt
+strong enough to triumph over that childish nature, at once weak and
+passionate. She had only to resist him, and that is exactly what she
+did.
+
+For some days she was cold and indifferent, wilfully blind and devoid of
+memory. He tried to speak to her, to renew the blissful moment, but she
+avoided him, always placing some one between them.
+
+Then he wrote to her.
+
+He carried his notes himself to a hollow in a rock near a clear spring
+called “The Phantom,” which was in the outskirts of the park, sheltered
+by a thatched roof. Sidonie thought that a charming episode. In the
+evening she must invent some story, a pretext of some sort for going
+to “The Phantom” alone. The shadow of the trees across the path, the
+mystery of the night, the rapid walk, the excitement, made her heart
+beat deliciously. She would find the letter saturated with dew, with the
+intense cold of the spring, and so white in the moonlight that she would
+hide it quickly for fear of being surprised.
+
+And then, when she was alone, what joy to open it, to decipher those
+magic characters, those words of love which swam before her eyes,
+surrounded by dazzling blue and yellow circles, as if she were reading
+her letter in the bright sunlight.
+
+“I love you! Love me!” wrote Georges in every conceivable phrase.
+
+At first she did not reply; but when she felt that he was fairly caught,
+entirely in her power, she declared herself concisely:
+
+“I never will love any one but my husband.”
+
+Ah! she was a true woman already, was little Chebe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. HOW LITTLE CHEBE’S STORY ENDED
+
+Meanwhile September arrived. The hunting season brought together a large,
+noisy, vulgar party at the chateau. There were long dinners at which the
+wealthy bourgeois lingered slothfully and wearily, prone to fall asleep
+like peasants. They went in carriages to meet the returning hunters in
+the cool air of the autumn evening. The mist arose from the fields, from
+which the crops had been gathered; and while the frightened game flew
+along the stubble with plaintive cries, the darkness seemed to emerge
+from the forests whose dark masses increased in size, spreading out over
+the fields.
+
+The carriage lamps were lighted, the hoods raised, and they drove
+quickly homeward with the fresh air blowing in their faces. The
+dining-hall, brilliantly illuminated, was filled with gayety and
+laughter.
+
+Claire Fromont, embarrassed by the vulgarity of those about her,
+hardly spoke at all. Sidonie was at her brightest. The drive had given
+animation to her pale complexion and Parisian eyes. She knew how to
+laugh, understood a little too much, perhaps, and seemed to the male
+guests the only woman in the party. Her success completed Georges’s
+intoxication; but as his advances became more pronounced, she showed
+more and more reserve. Thereupon he determined that she should be his
+wife. He swore it to himself, with the exaggerated emphasis of weak
+characters, who seem always to combat beforehand the difficulties to
+which they know that they must yield some day.
+
+It was the happiest moment of little Chebe’s life. Even aside from
+any ambitious project, her coquettish, false nature found a strange
+fascination in this intrigue, carried on mysteriously amid banquets and
+merry-makings.
+
+No one about them suspected anything. Claire was at that healthy and
+delightful period of youth when the mind, only partly open, clings to
+the things it knows with blind confidence, in complete ignorance of
+treachery and falsehood. M. Fromont thought of nothing but his business.
+His wife polished her jewels with frenzied energy. Only old Gardinois
+and his little, gimlet-like eyes were to be feared; but Sidonie
+entertained him, and even if he had discovered anything, he was not the
+man to interfere with her future.
+
+Her hour of triumph was near, when a sudden, unforeseen disaster blasted
+her hopes.
+
+One Sunday morning M. Fromont was brought back fatally wounded from a
+hunting expedition. A bullet intended for a deer had pierced his temple.
+The chateau was turned upside-down.
+
+All the hunters, among them the unknown bungler that had fired the fatal
+shot, started in haste for Paris. Claire, frantic with grief, entered
+the room where her father lay on his deathbed, there to remain; and
+Risler, being advised of the catastrophe, came to take Sidonie home.
+
+On the night before her departure she had a final meeting with Georges
+at The Phantom,--a farewell meeting, painful and stealthy, and made
+solemn by the proximity of death. They vowed, however, to love each
+other always; they agreed upon a method of writing to each other. Then
+they parted.
+
+It was a sad journey home.
+
+Sidonie returned abruptly to her every-day life, escorted by the
+despairing grief of Risler, to whom his dear master’s death was an
+irreparable loss. On her arrival, she was compelled to describe her
+visit to the smallest detail; discuss the inmates of the chateau, the
+guests, the entertainments, the dinners, and the final catastrophe.
+What torture for her, when, absorbed as she was by a single, unchanging
+thought, she had so much need of silence and solitude! But there was
+something even more terrible than that.
+
+On the first day after her return Frantz resumed his former place; and
+the glances with which he followed her, the words he addressed to her
+alone, seemed to her exasperating beyond endurance.
+
+Despite all his shyness and distrust of himself, the poor fellow
+believed that he had some rights as an accepted and impatient lover,
+and little Chebe was obliged to emerge from her dreams to reply to that
+creditor, and to postpone once more the maturity of his claim.
+
+A day came, however, when indecision ceased to be possible. She had
+promised to marry Frantz when he had obtained a good situation; and
+now an engineer’s berth in the South, at the smelting-furnaces of Grand
+Combe, was offered to him. That was sufficient for the support of a
+modest establishment.
+
+There was no way of avoiding the question. She must either keep her
+promise or invent an excuse for breaking it. But what excuse could she
+invent?
+
+In that pressing emergency, she thought of Desiree. Although the lame
+little girl had never confided in her, she knew of her great love for
+Frantz. Long ago she had detected it, with her coquette’s eyes, bright
+and changing mirrors, which reflected all the thoughts of others without
+betraying any of her own. It may be that the thought that another woman
+loved her betrothed had made Frantz’s love more endurable to her at
+first; and, just as we place statues on tombstones to make them appear
+less sad, Desiree’s pretty, little, pale face at the threshold of that
+uninviting future had made it seem less forbidding to her.
+
+Now it provided--her with a simple and honorable pretext for freeing
+herself from her promise.
+
+“No! I tell you, mamma,” she said to Madame Chebe one day, “I never will
+consent to make a friend like her unhappy. I should suffer too much from
+remorse,--poor Desiree! Haven’t you noticed how badly she looks since I
+came home; what a beseeching way she has of looking at me? No, I won’t
+cause her that sorrow; I won’t take away her Frantz.”
+
+Even while she admired her daughter’s generous spirit, Madame Chebe
+looked upon that as a rather exaggerated sacrifice, and remonstrated
+with her.
+
+“Take care, my child; we aren’t rich. A husband like Frantz doesn’t turn
+up every day.”
+
+“Very well! then I won’t marry at all,” declared Sidonie flatly, and,
+deeming her pretext an excellent one, she clung persistently to it.
+Nothing could shake her determination, neither the tears shed by Frantz,
+who was exasperated by her refusal to fulfil her promise, enveloped as
+it was in vague reasons which she would not even explain to him, nor the
+entreaties of Risler, in whose ear Madame Chebe had mysteriously mumbled
+her daughter’s reasons, and who in spite of everything could not but
+admire such a sacrifice.
+
+“Don’t revile her, I tell you! She’s an angel!” he said to his brother,
+striving to soothe him.
+
+“Ah! yes, she is an angel,” assented Madame Chebe with a sigh, so that
+the poor betrayed lover had not even the right to complain. Driven to
+despair, he determined to leave Paris, and as Grand Combe seemed too
+near in his frenzied longing for flight, he asked and obtained an
+appointment as overseer on the Suez Canal at Ismailia. He went away
+without knowing, or caring to know aught of, Desiree’s love; and yet,
+when he went to bid her farewell, the dear little cripple looked up into
+his face with her shy, pretty eyes, in which were plainly written the
+words:
+
+“I love you, if she does not.”
+
+But Frantz Risler did not know how to read what was written in those
+eyes.
+
+Fortunately, hearts that are accustomed to suffer have an infinite store
+of patience. When her friend had gone, the lame girl, with her charming
+morsel of illusion, inherited from her father and refined by her
+feminine nature, returned bravely to her work, saying to herself:
+
+“I will wait for him.”
+
+And thereafter she spread the wings of her birds to their fullest
+extent, as if they were all going, one after another, to Ismailia in
+Egypt. And that was a long distance!
+
+Before sailing from Marseilles, young Risler wrote Sidonie a farewell
+letter, at once laughable and touching, wherein, mingling the most
+technical details with the most heartrending adieux, the unhappy
+engineer declared that he was about to set sail, with a broken heart,
+on the transport Sahib, “a sailing-ship and steamship combined,
+with engines of fifteen-hundred-horse power,” as if he hoped that so
+considerable a capacity would make an impression on his ungrateful
+betrothed, and cause her ceaseless remorse. But Sidonie had very
+different matters on her mind.
+
+She was beginning to be disturbed by Georges’s silence. Since she left
+Savigny she had heard from him only once. All her letters were left
+unanswered. To be sure, she knew through Risler that Georges was very
+busy, and that his uncle’s death had thrown the management of the
+factory upon him, imposing upon him a responsibility that was beyond his
+strength. But to abandon her without a word!
+
+From the window on the landing, where she had resumed her silent
+observations--for she had so arranged matters as not to return to
+Mademoiselle Le Mire--little Chebe tried to distinguish her lover,
+watched him as he went to and fro across the yards and among the
+buildings; and in the afternoon, when it was time for the train to
+start for Savigny, she saw him enter his carriage to go to his aunt and
+cousin, who were passing the early months of their period of mourning at
+the grandfather’s chateau in the country.
+
+All this excited and alarmed her; and the proximity of the factory
+rendered Georges’s avoidance of her even more apparent. To think that
+by raising her voice a little she could make him turn toward the place
+where she stood! To think that they were separated only by a wall! And
+yet, at that moment they were very far apart.
+
+Do you remember, little Chebe, that unhappy winter evening when the
+excellent Risler rushed into your parents’ room with an extraordinary
+expression of countenance, exclaiming, “Great news!”?
+
+Great news, indeed! Georges Fromont had just informed him that, in
+accordance with his uncle’s last wishes, he was to marry his cousin
+Claire, and that, as he was certainly unequal to the task of carrying on
+the business alone, he had resolved to take him, Risler, for a partner,
+under the firm name of FROMONT JEUNE AND RISLER AINE.
+
+How did you succeed, little Chebe, in maintaining your self-possession
+when you learned that the factory had eluded your grasp and that another
+woman had taken your place? What a terrible evening!--Madame Chebe sat
+by the table mending; M. Chebe before the fire drying his clothes, which
+were wet through by his having walked a long distance in the rain. Oh!
+that miserable room, overflowing with gloom and ennui! The lamp gave a
+dim light. The supper, hastily prepared, had left in the room the odor
+of the poor man’s kitchen. And Risler, intoxicated with joy, talking
+with increasing animation, laid great plans!
+
+All these things tore your heart, and made the treachery still
+more horrible by the contrast between the riches that eluded your
+outstretched hand and the ignoble mediocrity in which you were doomed to
+pass your life.
+
+Sidonie was seriously ill for a long while. As she lay in bed, whenever
+the window-panes rattled behind the curtains, the unhappy creature
+fancied that Georges’s wedding-coaches were driving through the
+street; and she had paroxysms of nervous excitement, without words and
+inexplicable, as if a fever of wrath were consuming her.
+
+At last, time and youthful strength, her mother’s care, and, more than
+all, the attentions of Desiree, who now knew of the sacrifice her friend
+had made for her, triumphed over the disease. But for a long while
+Sidonie was very weak, oppressed by a deadly melancholy, by a constant
+longing to weep, which played havoc with her nervous system.
+
+Sometimes she talked of travelling, of leaving Paris. At other times
+she insisted that she must enter a convent. Her friends were sorely
+perplexed, and strove to discover the cause of that singular state of
+mind, which was even more alarming than her illness; when she suddenly
+confessed to her mother the secret of her melancholy.
+
+She loved the elder Risler! She never had dared to whisper it; but it
+was he whom she had always loved and not Frantz.
+
+This news was a surprise to everybody, to Risler most of all; but little
+Chebe was so pretty, her eyes were so soft when she glanced at him, that
+the honest fellow instantly became as fond of her as a fool! Indeed,
+it may be that love had lain in his heart for a long time without his
+realizing it.
+
+And that is how it happened that, on the evening of her wedding-day,
+young Madame Risler, in her white wedding-dress, gazed with a smile of
+triumph at the window on the landing which had been the narrow setting
+of ten years of her life. That haughty smile, in which there was a touch
+of profound pity and of scorn as well, such scorn as a parvenu feels for
+his poor beginnings, was evidently addressed to the poor sickly child
+whom she fancied she saw up at that window, in the depths of the past
+and the darkness. It seemed to say to Claire, pointing at the factory:
+
+“What do you say to this little Chebe? She is here at last, you see!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. NOON--THE MARAIS IS BREAKFASTING.
+
+Sitting near the door, on a stone which once served as a horse-block for
+equestrians, Risler watches with a smile the exit from the factory.
+He never loses his enjoyment of the outspoken esteem of all these
+good people whom he knew when he was insignificant and humble like
+themselves. The “Good-day, Monsieur Risler,” uttered by so many
+different voices, all in the same affectionate tone, warms his heart.
+The children accost him without fear, the long-bearded designers,
+half-workmen, half-artists, shake hands with him as they pass, and
+address him familiarly as “thou.” Perhaps there is a little too much
+familiarity in all this, for the worthy man has not yet begun to realize
+the prestige and authority of his new station; and there was some one
+who considered this free-and-easy manner very humiliating. But that some
+one can not see him at this moment, and the master takes advantage of
+the fact to bestow a hearty greeting upon the old bookkeeper, Sigismond,
+who comes out last of all, erect and red-faced, imprisoned in a high
+collar and bareheaded--whatever the weather--for fear of apoplexy.
+
+He and Risler are fellow-countrymen. They have for each other a profound
+esteem, dating from their first employment at the factory, from that
+time, long, long ago, when they breakfasted together at the little
+creamery on the corner, to which Sigismond Planus goes alone now and
+selects his refreshment for the day from the slate hanging on the wall.
+
+But stand aside! The carriage of Fromont Jeune drives through the
+gateway. He has been out on business all the morning; and the partners,
+as they walk toward the pretty little house in which they both live at
+the end of the garden, discuss matters of business in a friendly way.
+
+“I have been at Prochasson’s,” says Fromont. “They showed me some new
+patterns, pretty ones too, I assure you. We must be on our guard. They
+are dangerous rivals.”
+
+But Risler is not at all anxious. He is strong in his talent, his
+experience; and then--but this is strictly confidential--he is on the
+track of a wonderful invention, an improved printing-press, something
+that--but we shall see. Still talking, they enter the garden, which is
+as carefully kept as a public park, with round-topped acacias almost as
+old as the buildings, and magnificent ivies that hide the high, black
+walls.
+
+Beside Fromont jeune, Risler Aine has the appearance of a clerk making
+his report to his employer. At every step he stops to speak, for his
+gait is heavy, his mind works slowly, and words have much difficulty in
+finding their way to his lips. Oh, if he could see the little flushed
+face up yonder, behind the window on the second floor, watching
+everything so attentively!
+
+Madame Risler is waiting for her husband to come to breakfast, and waxes
+impatient over the good man’s moderation. She motions to him with her
+hand:
+
+“Come, come!” but Risler does not notice it. His attention is engrossed
+by the little Fromont, daughter of Claire and Georges, who is taking a
+sun-bath, blooming like a flower amid her lace in her nurse’s arms. How
+pretty she is! “She is your very picture, Madame Chorche.”
+
+“Do you think so, my dear Risler? Why, everybody says she looks like her
+father.”
+
+“Yes, a little. But--”
+
+And there they all stand, the father and mother, Risler and the nurse,
+gravely seeking resemblances in that miniature model of a human being,
+who stares at them out of her little eyes, blinking with the noise
+and glare. Sidonie, at her open window, leans out to see what they are
+doing, and why her husband does not come up.
+
+At that moment Risler has taken the tiny creature in his arms, the whole
+fascinating bundle of white draperies and light ribbons, and is trying
+to make it laugh and crow with baby-talk and gestures worthy of a
+grandfather. How old he looks, poor man! His tall body, which he
+contorts for the child’s amusement, his hoarse voice, which becomes a
+low growl when he tries to soften it, are absurd and ridiculous.
+
+Above, the wife taps the floor with her foot and mutters between her
+teeth:
+
+“The idiot!”
+
+At last, weary of waiting, she sends a servant to tell Monsieur that
+breakfast is served; but the game is so far advanced that Monsieur does
+not see how he can go away, how he can interrupt these explosions of
+laughter and little bird-like cries. He succeeds at last, however,
+in giving the child back to its nurse, and enters the hall, laughing
+heartily. He is laughing still when he enters the dining-room; but a
+glance from his wife stops him short.
+
+Sidonie is seated at table before the chafing-dish, already filled. Her
+martyr-like attitude suggests a determination to be cross.
+
+“Oh! there you are. It’s very lucky!”
+
+Risler took his seat, a little ashamed.
+
+“What would you have, my love? That child is so--”
+
+“I have asked you before now not to speak to me in that way. It isn’t
+good form.”
+
+“What, not when we’re alone?”
+
+“Bah! you will never learn to adapt yourself to our new fortune. And
+what is the result? No one in this place treats me with any respect.
+Pere Achille hardly touches his hat to me when I pass his lodge. To be
+sure, I’m not a Fromont, and I haven’t a carriage.”
+
+“Come, come, little one, you know perfectly well that you can use Madame
+Chorche’s coupe. She always says it is at our disposal.”
+
+“How many times must I tell you that I don’t choose to be under any
+obligation to that woman?”
+
+“O Sidonie”
+
+“Oh! yes, I know, it’s all understood. Madame Fromont is the good Lord
+himself. Every one is forbidden to touch her. And I must make up my
+mind to be a nobody in my own house, to allow myself to be humiliated,
+trampled under foot.”
+
+“Come, come, little one--”
+
+Poor Risler tries to interpose, to say a word in favor of his dear
+Madame “Chorche.” But he has no tact. This is the worst possible method
+of effecting a reconciliation; and Sidonie at once bursts forth:
+
+“I tell you that that woman, with all her calm airs, is proud and
+spiteful. In the first place, she detests me, I know that. So long as I
+was poor little Sidonie and she could toss me her broken dolls and old
+clothes, it was all right, but now that I am my own mistress as well
+as she, it vexes her and humiliates her. Madame gives me advice with
+a lofty air, and criticises what I do. I did wrong to have a maid. Of
+course! Wasn’t I in the habit of waiting on myself? She never loses a
+chance to wound me. When I call on her on Wednesdays, you should hear
+the tone in which she asks me, before everybody, how ‘dear Madame Chebe’
+is. Oh! yes. I’m a Chebe and she’s a Fromont. One’s as good as the
+other, in my opinion. My grandfather was a druggist. What was hers? A
+peasant who got rich by money-lending. I’ll tell her so one of these
+days, if she shows me too much of her pride; and I’ll tell her, too,
+that their little imp, although they don’t suspect it, looks just like
+that old Pere Gardinois, and heaven knows he isn’t handsome.”
+
+“Oh!” exclaims Risler, unable to find words to reply.
+
+“Oh! yes, of course! I advise you to admire their child. She’s always
+ill. She cries all night like a little cat. It keeps me awake. And
+afterward, through the day, I have mamma’s piano and her scales--tra, la
+la la! If the music were only worth listening to!”
+
+Risler has taken the wise course. He does not say a word until he sees
+that she is beginning to calm down a little, when he completes the
+soothing process with compliments.
+
+“How pretty we are to-day! Are we going out soon to make some calls,
+eh?”
+
+He resorts to this mode of address to avoid the more familiar form,
+which is so offensive to her.
+
+“No, I am not going to make calls,” Sidonie replies with a certain
+pride. “On the contrary, I expect to receive them. This is my day.”
+
+In response to her husband’s astounded, bewildered expression she
+continues:
+
+“Why, yes, this is my day. Madame Fromont has one; I can have one also,
+I fancy.”
+
+“Of course, of course,” said honest Risler, looking about with some
+little uneasiness. “So that’s why I saw so many flowers everywhere, on
+the landing and in the drawing-room.”
+
+“Yes, my maid went down to the garden this morning. Did I do wrong? Oh!
+you don’t say so, but I’m sure you think I did wrong. ‘Dame’! I thought
+the flowers in the garden belonged to us as much as to the Fromonts.”
+
+“Certainly they do--but you--it would have been better perhaps--”
+
+“To ask leave? That’s it-to humble myself again for a few paltry
+chrysanthemums and two or three bits of green. Besides, I didn’t
+make any secret of taking the flowers; and when she comes up a little
+later--”
+
+“Is she coming? Ah! that’s very kind of her.”
+
+Sidonie turned upon him indignantly.
+
+“What’s that? Kind of her? Upon my word, if she doesn’t come, it would
+be the last straw. When I go every Wednesday to be bored to death in her
+salon with a crowd of affected, simpering women!”
+
+She did not say that those same Wednesdays of Madame Fromont’s were very
+useful to her, that they were like a weekly journal of fashion, one of
+those composite little publications in which you are told how to enter
+and to leave a room, how to bow, how to place flowers in a jardiniere
+and cigars in a case, to say nothing of the engravings, the procession
+of graceful, faultlessly attired men and women, and the names of the
+best modistes. Nor did Sidonie add that she had entreated all those
+friends of Claire’s, of whom she spoke so scornfully, to come to see her
+on her own day, and that the day was selected by them.
+
+Will they come? Will Madame Fromont Jeune insult Madame Risler Aine
+by absenting herself on her first Friday? The thought makes her almost
+feverish with anxiety.
+
+“For heaven’s sake, hurry!” she says again and again. “Good heavens! how
+long you are at your, breakfast!”
+
+It is a fact that it is one of honest Risler’s ways to eat slowly, and
+to light his pipe at the table while he sips his coffee. To-day he must
+renounce these cherished habits, must leave the pipe in its case because
+of the smoke, and, as soon as he has swallowed the last mouthful, run
+hastily and dress, for his wife insists that he must come up during the
+afternoon and pay his respects to the ladies.
+
+What a sensation in the factory when they see Risler Aine come in, on a
+week-day, in a black frock-coat and white cravat!
+
+“Are you going to a wedding, pray?” cries Sigismond, the cashier, behind
+his grating.
+
+And Risler, not without a feeling of pride, replies:
+
+“This is my wife’s reception day!”
+
+Soon everybody in the place knows that it is Sidonie’s day; and Pere
+Achille, who takes care of the garden, is not very well pleased to find
+that the branches of the winter laurels by the gate are broken.
+
+Before taking his seat at the table upon which he draws, in the bright
+light from the tall windows, Risler has taken off his fine frock-coat,
+which embarrasses him, and has turned up his clean shirt-sleeves; but
+the idea that his wife is expecting company preoccupies and disturbs
+him; and from time to time he puts on his coat and goes up to her.
+
+“Has no one come?” he asks timidly.
+
+“No, Monsieur, no one.”
+
+In the beautiful red drawing-room--for they have a drawing-room in red
+damask, with a console between the windows and a pretty table in the
+centre of the light-flowered carpet--Sidonie has established herself in
+the attitude of a woman holding a reception, a circle of chairs of
+many shapes around her. Here and there are books, reviews, a little
+work-basket in the shape of a gamebag, with silk tassels, a bunch of
+violets in a glass vase, and green plants in the jardinieres. Everything
+is arranged exactly as in the Fromonts’ apartments on the floor below;
+but the taste, that invisible line which separates the distinguished
+from the vulgar, is not yet refined. You would say it was a passable
+copy of a pretty genre picture. The hostess’s attire, even, is too new;
+she looks more as if she were making a call than as if she were at home.
+In Risler’s eyes everything is superb, beyond reproach; he is preparing
+to say so as he enters the salon, but, in face of his wife’s wrathful
+glance, he checks himself in terror.
+
+“You see, it’s four o’clock,” she says, pointing to the clock with an
+angry gesture. “No one will come. But I take it especially ill of Claire
+not to come up. She is at home--I am sure of it--I can hear her.”
+
+Indeed, ever since noon, Sidonie has listened intently to the slightest
+sounds on the floor below, the child’s crying, the closing of doors.
+Risler attempts to go down again in order to avoid a renewal of the
+conversation at breakfast; but his wife will not allow him to do so. The
+very least he can do is to stay with her when everybody else abandons
+her, and so he remains there, at a loss what to say, rooted to the
+spot, like those people who dare not move during a storm for fear of
+attracting the lightning. Sidonie moves excitedly about, going in and
+out of the salon, changing the position of a chair, putting it back
+again, looking at herself as she passes the mirror, and ringing for her
+maid to send her to ask Pere Achille if no one has inquired for her.
+That Pere Achille is such a spiteful creature! Perhaps when people have
+come, he has said that she was out.
+
+But no, the concierge has not seen any one.
+
+Silence and consternation. Sidonie is standing at the window on the
+left, Risler at the one on the right. From there they can see the little
+garden, where the darkness is gathering, and the black smoke which the
+chimney emits beneath the lowering clouds. Sigismond’s window is the
+first to show a light on the ground floor; the cashier trims his lamp
+himself with painstaking care, and his tall shadow passes in front
+of the flame and bends double behind the grating. Sidonie’s wrath is
+diverted a moment by these familiar details.
+
+Suddenly a small coupe drives into the garden and stops in front of
+the door. At last some one is coming. In that pretty whirl of silk and
+flowers and jet and flounces and furs, as it runs quickly up the step,
+Sidonie has recognized one of the most fashionable frequenters of the
+Fromont salon, the wife of a wealthy dealer in bronzes. What an honor
+to receive a call from such an one! Quick, quick! the family takes
+its position, Monsieur in front of the hearth, Madame in an easychair,
+carelessly turning the leaves of a magazine. Wasted pose! The fair
+caller did not come to see Sidonie; she has stopped at the floor below.
+
+Ah! if Madame Georges could hear what her neighbor says of her and her
+friends!
+
+At that moment the door opens and “Mademoiselle Planus” is announced.
+She is the cashier’s sister, a poor old maid, humble and modest, who
+has made it her duty to make this call upon the wife of her brother’s
+employer, and who is amazed at the warm welcome she receives. She is
+surrounded and made much of. “How kind of you to come! Draw up to the
+fire.” They overwhelm her with attentions and show great interest in
+her slightest word. Honest Risler’s smiles are as warm as his thanks.
+Sidonie herself displays all her fascinations, overjoyed to exhibit
+herself in her glory to one who was her equal in the old days, and to
+reflect that the other, in the room below, must hear that she has had
+callers. So she makes as much noise as possible, moving chairs, pushing
+the table around; and when the lady takes her leave, dazzled, enchanted,
+bewildered, she escorts her to the landing with a great rustling of
+flounces, and calls to her in a very loud voice, leaning over the rail,
+that she is at home every Friday. “You understand, every Friday.”
+
+Now it is dark. The two great lamps in the salon are lighted. In the
+adjoining room they hear the servant laying the table. It is all over.
+Madame Fromont Jeune will not come.
+
+Sidonie is pale with rage.
+
+“Just fancy, that minx can’t come up eighteen steps! No doubt Madame
+thinks we’re not grand enough for her. Ah! but I’ll have my revenge.”
+
+As she pours forth her wrath in unjust words, her voice becomes coarse,
+takes on the intonations of the faubourg, an accent of the common people
+which betrays the ex-apprentice of Mademoiselle Le Mire.
+
+Risler is unlucky enough to make a remark.
+
+“Who knows? Perhaps the child is ill.”
+
+She turns upon him in a fury, as if she would like to bite him.
+
+“Will you hold your tongue about that brat? After all, it’s your fault
+that this has happened to me. You don’t know how to make people treat me
+with respect.”
+
+And as she closed the door of her bedroom violently, making the globes
+on the lamps tremble, as well as all the knick-knacks on the etageres,
+Risler, left alone, stands motionless in the centre of the salon,
+looking with an air of consternation at his white cuffs, his broad
+patent-leather shoes, and mutters mechanically:
+
+“My wife’s reception day!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE TRUE PEARL AND THE FALSE
+
+“What can be the matter? What have I done to her?” Claire Fromont very
+often wondered when she thought of Sidonie.
+
+She was entirely ignorant of what had formerly taken place between her
+friend and Georges at Savigny. Her own life was so upright, her mind
+so pure, that it was impossible for her to divine the jealous,
+mean-spirited ambition that had grown up by her side within the past
+fifteen years. And yet the enigmatical expression in that pretty face
+as it smiled upon her gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness which
+she could not understand. An affectation of politeness, strange enough
+between friends, was suddenly succeeded by an ill-dissembled anger, a
+cold, stinging tone, in presence of which Claire was as perplexed as
+by a difficult problem. Sometimes, too, a singular presentiment, the
+ill-defined intuition of a great misfortune, was mingled with her
+uneasiness; for all women have in some degree a kind of second sight,
+and, even in the most innocent, ignorance of evil is suddenly illumined
+by visions of extraordinary lucidity.
+
+From time to time, as the result of a conversation somewhat longer
+than usual, or of one of those unexpected meetings when faces taken by
+surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen, Madame Fromont reflected
+seriously concerning this strange little Sidonie; but the active, urgent
+duties of life, with its accompaniment of affections and preoccupations,
+left her no time for dwelling upon such trifles.
+
+To all women comes a time when they encounter such sudden windings in
+the road that their whole horizon changes and all their points of view
+become transformed.
+
+Had Claire been a young girl, the falling away of that friendship bit by
+bit, as if torn from her by an unkindly hand, would have been a source
+of great regret to her. But she had lost her father, the object of her
+greatest, her only youthful affection; then she had married. The
+child had come, with its thrice welcome demands upon her every moment.
+Moreover, she had with her her mother, almost in her dotage, still
+stupefied by her husband’s tragic death. In a life so fully occupied,
+Sidonie’s caprices received but little attention; and it had hardly
+occurred to Claire Fromont to be surprised at her marriage to Risler.
+He was clearly too old for her; but, after all, what difference did it
+make, if they loved each other?
+
+As for being vexed because little Chebe had attained that lofty
+position, had become almost her equal, her superior nature was incapable
+of such pettiness. On the contrary, she would have been glad with all
+her heart to know that that young wife, whose home was so near her
+own, who lived the same life, so to speak, and had been her playmate
+in childhood, was happy and highly esteemed. Being most kindly disposed
+toward her, she tried to teach her, to instruct her in the ways of
+society, as one might instruct an attractive provincial, who fell but
+little short of being altogether charming.
+
+Advice is not readily accepted by one pretty young woman from another.
+When Madame Fromont gave a grand dinner-party, she took Madame Risler to
+her bedroom, and said to her, smiling frankly in order not to vex her:
+“You have put on too many jewels, my dear. And then, you know, with a
+high dress one doesn’t wear flowers in the hair.” Sidonie blushed, and
+thanked her friend, but wrote down an additional grievance against her
+in the bottom of her heart.
+
+In Claire’s circle her welcome was decidedly cold. The Faubourg
+Saint-Germain has its pretensions; but do not imagine that the
+Marais has none! Those wives and daughters of mechanics, of wealthy
+manufacturers, knew little Chebe’s story; indeed, they would have
+guessed it simply by her manner of making her appearance and by her
+demeanor among them.
+
+Sidonie’s efforts were unavailing. She retained the manners of a
+shop-girl. Her slightly artificial amiability, sometimes too humble, was
+as unpleasant as the spurious elegance of the shop; and her disdainful
+attitudes recalled the superb airs of the head saleswomen in the great
+dry-goods establishments, arrayed in black silk gowns, which they take
+off in the dressing-room when they go away at night--who stare with an
+imposing air, from the vantage-point of their mountains of curls, at the
+poor creatures who venture to discuss prices.
+
+She felt that she was being examined and criticised, and her modesty was
+compelled to place itself upon a war footing. Of the names mentioned
+in her presence, the amusements, the entertainments, the books of which
+they talked to her, she knew nothing. Claire did her best to help her,
+to keep her on the surface, with a friendly hand always outstretched;
+but many of these ladies thought Sidonie pretty; that was enough to make
+them bear her a grudge for seeking admission to their circle. Others,
+proud of their husbands’ standing and of their wealth, could not invent
+enough unspoken affronts and patronizing phrases to humiliate the little
+parvenue.
+
+Sidonie included them all in a single phrase: “Claire’s friends--that is
+to say, my enemies!” But she was seriously incensed against but one.
+
+The two partners had no suspicion of what was taking place between their
+wives. Risler, continually engrossed in his press, sometimes remained
+at his draughting-table until midnight. Fromont passed his days abroad,
+lunched at his club, was almost never at the factory. He had his reasons
+for that.
+
+Sidonie’s proximity disturbed him. His capricious passion for her, that
+passion that he had sacrificed to his uncle’s last wishes, recurred too
+often to his memory with all the regret one feels for the irreparable;
+and, conscious that he was weak, he fled. His was a pliable nature,
+without sustaining purpose, intelligent enough to appreciate his
+failings, too weak to guide itself. On the evening of Risler’s
+wedding--he had been married but a few months himself--he had
+experienced anew, in that woman’s presence, all the emotion of the
+stormy evening at Savigny. Thereafter, without self-examination, he
+avoided seeing her again or speaking with her. Unfortunately, as they
+lived in the same house, as their wives saw each other ten times a
+day, chance sometimes brought them together; and this strange thing
+happened--that the husband, wishing to remain virtuous, deserted his
+home altogether and sought distraction elsewhere.
+
+Claire was not astonished that it was so. She had become accustomed,
+during her father’s lifetime, to the constant comings and goings of a
+business life; and during her husband’s absences, zealously performing
+her duties as wife and mother, she invented long tasks, occupations of
+all sorts, walks for the child, prolonged, peaceful tarryings in the
+sunlight, from which she would return home, overjoyed with the little
+one’s progress, deeply impressed with the gleeful enjoyment of all
+infants in the fresh air, but with a touch of their radiance in the
+depths of her serious eyes.
+
+Sidonie also went out a great deal. It often happened, toward night,
+that Georges’s carriage, driving through the gateway, would compel
+Madame Risler to step hastily aside as she was returning in a gorgeous
+costume from a triumphal promenade. The boulevard, the shop-windows, the
+purchases, made after long deliberation as if to enjoy to the full the
+pleasure of purchasing, detained her very late. They would exchange a
+bow, a cold glance at the foot of the staircase; and Georges would hurry
+into his apartments, as into a place of refuge, concealing beneath a
+flood of caresses, bestowed upon the child his wife held out to him, the
+sudden emotion that had seized him.
+
+Sidonie, for her part, seemed to have forgotten everything, and to have
+retained no other feeling but contempt for that weak, cowardly creature.
+Moreover, she had many other things to think about.
+
+Her husband had just had a piano placed in her red salon, between the
+windows.
+
+After long hesitation she had decided to learn to sing, thinking that
+it was rather late to begin to play the piano; and twice a week Madame
+Dobson, a pretty, sentimental blonde, came to give her lessons from
+twelve o’clock to one. In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and
+o-oo, persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows
+open, gave the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school.
+
+And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises,
+an inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings,
+with everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real
+woman. But her ambition confined itself to a superficial aspect of
+things.
+
+“Claire Fromont plays the piano; I will sing. She is considered a
+refined and distinguished woman, and I intend that people shall say the
+same of me.”
+
+Without a thought of improving her education, Sidonie passed her life
+running about among milliners and dressmakers. “What are people going
+to wear this winter?” was her cry. She was attracted by the gorgeous
+displays in the shop-windows, by everything that caught the eye of the
+passers-by.
+
+The one thing that Sidonie envied Claire more than all else was the
+child, the luxurious plaything, beribboned from the curtains of its
+cradle to its nurse’s cap. She did not think of the sweet, maternal
+duties, demanding patience and self-abnegation, of the long rockings
+when sleep would not come, of the laughing awakenings sparkling with
+fresh water. No! she saw in the child naught but the daily walk. It is
+such a pretty sight, the little bundle of finery, with floating ribbons
+and long feathers, that follows young mothers through the crowded
+streets.
+
+When she wanted company she had only her parents or her husband. She
+preferred to go out alone. The excellent Risler had such an absurd way
+of showing his love for her, playing with her as if she were a doll,
+pinching her chin and her cheek, capering about her, crying, “Hou! hou!”
+ or staring at her with his great, soft eyes like an affectionate and
+grateful dog. That senseless love, which made of her a toy, a
+mantel ornament, made her ashamed. As for her parents, they were an
+embarrassment to her in presence of the people she wished to know, and
+immediately after her marriage she almost got rid of them by hiring a
+little house for them at Montrouge. That step had cut short the frequent
+invasions of Monsieur Chebe and his long frock-coat, and the endless
+visits of good Madame Chebe, in whom the return of comfortable
+circumstances had revived former habits of gossip and of indolence.
+
+Sidonie would have been very glad to rid herself of the Delobelles in
+the same way, for their proximity annoyed her. But the Marais was a
+central location for the old actor, because the boulevard theatres were
+so near; then, too, Desiree, like all sedentary persons, clung to the
+familiar outlook, and her gloomy courtyard, dark at four o’clock in
+winter, seemed to her like a friend, like a familiar face which the sun
+lighted up at times as if it were smiling at her. As she was unable
+to get rid of them, Sidonie had adopted the course of ceasing to visit
+them.
+
+In truth, her life would have been lonely and depressing enough, had
+it not been for the distractions which Claire Fromont procured for her.
+Each time added fuel to her wrath. She would say to herself:
+
+“Must everything come to me through her?”
+
+And when, just at dinner-time, a box at the theatre or an invitation
+for the evening was sent to her from the floor below, while she was
+dressing, overjoyed at the opportunity to exhibit herself, she thought
+of nothing but crushing her rival. But such opportunities became more
+rare as Claire’s time was more and more engrossed by her child. When
+Grandfather Gardinois came to Paris, however, he never failed to bring
+the two families together. The old peasant’s gayety, for its freer
+expansion, needed little Sidonie, who did not take alarm at his
+jests. He would take them all four to dine at Philippe’s, his favorite
+restaurant, where he knew all the patrons, the waiters and the steward,
+would spend a lot of money, and then take them to a reserved box at the
+Opera-Comique or the Palais-Royal.
+
+At the theatre he laughed uproariously, talked familiarly with the
+box-openers, as he did with the waiters at Philippe’s, loudly demanded
+footstools for the ladies, and when the performance was over insisted
+on having the topcoats and fur wraps of his party first of all, as if he
+were the only three-million parvenu in the audience.
+
+For these somewhat vulgar entertainments, from which her husband usually
+excused himself, Claire, with her usual tact, dressed very plainly and
+attracted no attention. Sidonie, on the contrary, in all her finery, in
+full view of the boxes, laughed with all her heart at the grandfather’s
+anecdotes, happy to have descended from the second or third gallery, her
+usual place in the old days, to that lovely proscenium box, adorned with
+mirrors, with a velvet rail that seemed made expressly for her light
+gloves, her ivory opera-glass, and her spangled fan. The tawdry glitter
+of the theatre, the red and gold of the hangings, were genuine splendor
+to her. She bloomed among them like a pretty paper flower in a filigree
+jardiniere.
+
+One evening, at the performance of a successful play at the
+Palais-Royal, among all the noted women who were present, painted
+celebrities wearing microscopic hats and armed with huge fans, their
+rouge-besmeared faces standing out from the shadow of the boxes in the
+gaudy setting of their gowns, Sidonie’s behavior, her toilette, the
+peculiarities of her laugh and her expression attracted much attention.
+All the opera-glasses in the hall, guided by the magnetic current that
+is so powerful under the great chandeliers, were turned one by one upon
+the box in which she sat. Claire soon became embarrassed, and modestly
+insisted upon changing places with her husband, who, unluckily, had
+accompanied them that evening.
+
+Georges, youthful and elegant, sitting beside Sidonie, seemed
+her natural companion, while Risler Allie, always so placid and
+self-effacing, seemed in his proper place beside Claire Fromont, who in
+her dark clothes suggested the respectable woman incog. at the Bal de
+l’Opera.
+
+Upon leaving the theatre each of the partners offered his arm to his
+neighbor. A box-opener, speaking to Sidonie, referred to Georges as
+“your husband,” and the little woman beamed with delight.
+
+“Your husband!”
+
+That simple phrase was enough to upset her and set in motion a multitude
+of evil currents in the depths of her heart. As they passed through the
+corridors and the foyer, she watched Risler and Madame “Chorche” walking
+in front of them. Claire’s refinement of manner seemed to her to be
+vulgarized and annihilated by Risler’s shuffling gait. “How ugly he must
+make me look when we are walking together!” she said to herself. And her
+heart beat fast as she thought what a charming, happy, admired couple
+they would have made, she and this Georges Fromont, whose arm was
+trembling beneath her own.
+
+Thereupon, when the blue-lined carriage drove up to the door of the
+theatre, she began to reflect, for the first time, that, when all was
+said, Claire had stolen her place and that she would be justified in
+trying to recover it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. THE BREWERY ON THE RUE BLONDEL
+
+After his marriage Risler had given up the brewery. Sidonie would have
+been glad to have him leave the house in the evening for a fashionable
+club, a resort of wealthy, well-dressed men; but the idea of his
+returning, amid clouds of pipe-smoke, to his friends of earlier days,
+Sigismond, Delobelle, and her own father, humiliated her and made her
+unhappy. So he ceased to frequent the place; and that was something of
+a sacrifice. It was almost a glimpse of his native country, that brewery
+situated in a remote corner of Paris. The infrequent carriages, the
+high, barred windows of the ground floors, the odor of fresh drugs, of
+pharmaceutical preparations, imparted to that narrow little Rue Blondel
+a vague resemblance to certain streets in Basle or Zurich.
+
+The brewery was managed by a Swiss and crowded with men of that
+nationality. When the door was opened, through the smoke-laden
+atmosphere, dense with the accents of the North, one had a vision of
+a vast, low room with hams hanging from the rafters, casks of beer
+standing in a row, the floor ankle-deep with sawdust, and on the counter
+great salad-bowls filled with potatoes as red as chestnuts, and baskets
+of pretzels fresh from the oven, their golden knots sprinkled with white
+salt.
+
+For twenty years Risler had had his pipe there, a long pipe marked with
+his name in the rack reserved for the regular customers. He had also
+his table, at which he was always joined by several discreet, quiet
+compatriots, who listened admiringly, but without comprehending them,
+to the endless harangues of Chebe and Delobelle. When Risler ceased his
+visits to the brewery, the two last-named worthies likewise turned their
+backs upon it, for several excellent reasons. In the first place, M.
+Chebe now lived a considerable distance away. Thanks to the generosity
+of his children, the dream of his whole life was realized at last.
+
+“When I am rich,” the little man used to say in his cheerless rooms
+in the Marais, “I will have a house of my own, at the gates of Paris,
+almost in the country, a little garden which I will plant and water
+myself. That will be better for my health than all the excitement of the
+capital.”
+
+Well, he had his house now, but he did not enjoy himself in it. It was
+at Montrouge, on the road that runs around the city. “A small chalet,
+with garden,” said the advertisement, printed on a placard which gave an
+almost exact idea of the dimensions of the property. The papers were new
+and of rustic design, the paint perfectly fresh; a water-butt planted
+beside a vine-clad arbor played the part of a pond. In addition to all
+these advantages, only a hedge separated this paradise from another
+“chalet with garden” of precisely the same description, occupied by
+Sigismond Planus the cashier, and his sister. To Madame Chebe that was
+a most precious circumstance. When the good woman was bored, she would
+take a stock of knitting and darning and go and sit in the old maid’s
+arbor, dazzling her with the tale of her past splendors. Unluckily, her
+husband had not the same source of distraction.
+
+However, everything went well at first. It was midsummer, and M. Chebe,
+always in his shirt-sleeves, was busily employed in getting settled.
+Each nail to be driven in the house was the subject of leisurely
+reflections, of endless discussions. It was the same with the garden.
+He had determined at first to make an English garden of it, lawns always
+green, winding paths shaded by shrubbery. But the trouble of it was that
+it took so long for the shrubbery to grow.
+
+“I have a mind to make an orchard of it,” said the impatient little man.
+
+And thenceforth he dreamed of nothing but vegetables, long lines of
+beans, and peach-trees against the wall. He dug for whole mornings,
+knitting his brows in a preoccupied way and wiping his forehead
+ostentatiously before his wife, so that she would say:
+
+“For heaven’s sake, do rest a bit--you’re killing yourself.”
+
+The result was that the garden was a mixture: flowers and fruit, park
+and kitchen garden; and whenever he went into Paris M. Chebe was careful
+to decorate his buttonhole with a rose from his rose-bushes.
+
+While the fine weather lasted, the good people did not weary of admiring
+the sunsets behind the fortifications, the long days, the bracing
+country air. Sometimes, in the evening, when the windows were open,
+they sang duets; and in presence of the stars in heaven, which began to
+twinkle simultaneously with the lanterns on the railway around the city,
+Ferdinand would become poetical. But when the rain came and he could not
+go out, what misery! Madame Chebe, a thorough Parisian, sighed for
+the narrow streets of the Marais, her expeditions to the market of
+Blancs-Manteaux, and to the shops of the quarter.
+
+As she sat by the window, her usual place for sewing and observation,
+she would gaze at the damp little garden, where the volubilis and the
+nasturtiums, stripped of their blossoms, were dropping away from the
+lattices with an air of exhaustion, at the long, straight line of the
+grassy slope of the fortifications, still fresh and green, and, a
+little farther on, at the corner of a street, the office of the Paris
+omnibuses, with all the points of their route inscribed in enticing
+letters on the green walls. Whenever one of the omnibuses lumbered away
+on its journey, she followed it with her eyes, as a government clerk at
+Cayenne or Noumea gazes after the steamer about to return to France; she
+made the trip with it, knew just where it would stop, at what point it
+would lurch around a corner, grazing the shop-windows with its wheels.
+
+As a prisoner, M. Chebe became a terrible trial. He could not work in
+the garden. On Sundays the fortifications were deserted; he could no
+longer strut about among the workingmen’s families dining on the grass,
+and pass from group to group in a neighborly way, his feet encased
+in embroidered slippers, with the authoritative demeanor of a wealthy
+landowner of the vicinity. This he missed more than anything else,
+consumed as he was by the desire to make people think about him. So
+that, having nothing to do, having no one to pose before, no one to
+listen to his schemes, his stories, the anecdote of the accident to the
+Duc d’Orleans--a similar accident had happened to him in his youth,
+you remember--the unfortunate Ferdinand overwhelmed his wife with
+reproaches.
+
+“Your daughter banishes us--your daughter is ashamed of us!”
+
+She heard nothing but that “Your daughter--your daughter--your
+daughter!” For, in his anger with Sidonie, he denied her, throwing
+upon his wife the whole responsibility for that monstrous and unnatural
+child. It was a genuine relief for poor Madame Chebe when her husband
+took an omnibus at the office to go and hunt up Delobelle--whose hours
+for lounging were always at his disposal--and pour into his bosom all
+his rancor against his son-in-law and his daughter.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle also bore Risler a grudge, and freely said of
+him: “He is a dastard.”
+
+The great man had hoped to form an integral part of the new household,
+to be the organizer of festivities, the ‘arbiter elegantiarum’. Instead
+of which, Sidonie received him very coldly, and Risler no longer even
+took him to the brewery. However, the actor did not complain too loud,
+and whenever he met his friend he overwhelmed him with attentions and
+flattery; for he had need of him.
+
+Weary of awaiting the discerning manager, seeing that the engagement he
+had longed for so many years did not come, it had occurred to Delobelle
+to purchase a theatre and manage it himself. He counted upon Risler for
+the funds. Opportunely enough, a small theatre on the boulevard happened
+to be for sale, as a result of the failure of its manager. Delobelle
+mentioned it to Risler, at first very vaguely, in a wholly hypothetical
+form--“There would be a good chance to make a fine stroke.” Risler
+listened with his usual phlegm, saying, “Indeed, it would be a good
+thing for you.” And to a more direct suggestion, not daring to answer,
+“No,” he took refuge behind such phrases as “I will see”--“Perhaps
+later”--“I don’t say no”--and finally uttered the unlucky words “I must
+see the estimates.”
+
+For a whole week the actor had delved away at plans and figures, seated
+between his wife and daughter, who watched him in admiration, and
+intoxicated themselves with this latest dream. The people in the house
+said, “Monsieur Delobelle is going to buy a theatre.” On the boulevard,
+in the actors’ cafes, nothing was talked of but this transaction.
+Delobelle did not conceal the fact that he had found some one to
+advance the funds; the result being that he was surrounded by a crowd
+of unemployed actors, old comrades who tapped him familiarly on the
+shoulder and recalled themselves to his recollection--“You know, old
+boy.” He promised engagements, breakfasted at the cafe, wrote letters
+there, greeted those who entered with the tips of his fingers, held very
+animated conversations in corners; and already two threadbare authors
+had read to him a drama in seven tableaux, which was “exactly what he
+wanted” for his opening piece. He talked about “my theatre!” and his
+letters were addressed, “Monsieur Delobelle, Manager.”
+
+When he had composed his prospectus and made his estimates, he went to
+the factory to see Risler, who, being very busy, made an appointment to
+meet him in the Rue Blondel; and that same evening, Delobelle, being the
+first to arrive at the brewery, established himself at their old table,
+ordered a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited. He waited a long
+while, with his eye on the door, trembling with impatience. Whenever any
+one entered, the actor turned his head. He had spread his papers on
+the table, and pretended to be reading them, with animated gestures and
+movements of the head and lips.
+
+It was a magnificent opportunity, unique in its way. He already fancied
+himself acting--for that was the main point--acting, in a theatre of his
+own, roles written expressly for him, to suit his talents, in which he
+would produce all the effect of--
+
+Suddenly the door opened, and M. Chebe made his appearance amid the
+pipe-smoke. He was as surprised and annoyed to find Delobelle there as
+Delobelle himself was by his coming. He had written to his son-in-law
+that morning that he wished to speak with him on a matter of very
+serious importance, and that he would meet him at the brewery. It was an
+affair of honor, entirely between themselves, from man to man. The real
+fact concerning this affair of honor was that M. Chebe had given notice
+of his intention to leave the little house at Montrouge, and had hired
+a shop with an entresol in the Rue du Mail, in the midst of a business
+district. A shop? Yes, indeed! And now he was a little alarmed regarding
+his hasty step, anxious to know how his son-in-law would take it,
+especially as the shop cost much more than the Montrouge house, and
+there were some repairs to be made at the outset. As he had long
+been acquainted with his son-in-law’s kindness of heart, M. Chebe had
+determined to appeal to him at once, hoping to lead him into his game
+and throw upon him the responsibility for this domestic change. Instead
+of Risler he found Delobelle.
+
+They looked askance at each other, with an unfriendly eye, like two
+dogs meeting beside the same dish. Each divined for whom the other was
+waiting, and they did not try to deceive each other.
+
+“Isn’t my son-in-law here?” asked M. Chebe, eying the documents spread
+over the table, and emphasizing the words “my son-in-law,” to indicate
+that Risler belonged to him and to nobody else.
+
+“I am waiting for him,” Delobelle replied, gathering up his papers.
+
+He pressed his lips together, as he added with a dignified, mysterious,
+but always theatrical air:
+
+“It is a matter of very great importance.”
+
+“So is mine,” declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a
+porcupine’s quills.
+
+As he spoke, he took his seat on the bench beside Delobelle, ordered a
+pitcher and two glasses as the former had done, then sat erect with his
+hands in his pockets and his back against the wall, waiting in his turn.
+The two empty glasses in front of them, intended for the same absentee,
+seemed to be hurling defiance at each other.
+
+But Risler did not come.
+
+The two men, drinking in silence, lost their patience and fidgeted about
+on the bench, each hoping that the other would tire of waiting.
+
+At last their ill-humor overflowed, and naturally poor Risler received
+the whole flood.
+
+“What an outrage to keep a man of my years waiting so long!” began M.
+Chebe, who never mentioned his great age except upon such occasions.
+
+“I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us,” replied M.
+Delobelle.
+
+And the other:
+
+“No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner.”
+
+“And such company!” scornfully exclaimed the illustrious actor, in whose
+mind bitter memories were awakened.
+
+“The fact is--” continued M. Chebe.
+
+They drew closer to each other and talked. The hearts of both were full
+in respect to Sidonie and Risler. They opened the flood-gates. That
+Risler, with all his good-nature, was an egotist pure and simple, a
+parvenu. They laughed at his accent and his bearing, they mimicked
+certain of his peculiarities. Then they talked about his household,
+and, lowering their voices, they became confidential, laughed familiarly
+together, were friends once more.
+
+M. Chebe went very far: “Let him beware! he has been foolish enough to
+send the father and mother away from their daughter; if anything happens
+to her, he can’t blame us. A girl who hasn’t her parents’ example before
+her eyes, you understand--”
+
+“Certainly--certainly,” said Delobelle; “especially as Sidonie has
+become a great flirt. However, what can you expect? He will get no more
+than he deserves. No man of his age ought to--Hush! here he is!”
+
+Risler had entered the room, and was walking toward them, distributing
+hand-shakes all along the benches.
+
+There was a moment of embarrassment between the three friends. Risler
+excused himself as well as he could. He had been detained at home;
+Sidonie had company--Delobelle touched M. Chebe’s foot under the
+table--and, as he spoke, the poor man, decidedly perplexed by the two
+empty glasses that awaited him, wondered in front of which of the two he
+ought to take his seat.
+
+Delobelle was generous.
+
+“You have business together, Messieurs; do not let me disturb you.”
+
+He added in a low tone, winking at Risler:
+
+“I have the papers.”
+
+“The papers?” echoed Risler, in a bewildered tone.
+
+“The estimates,” whispered the actor.
+
+Thereupon, with a great show of discretion, he withdrew within himself,
+and resumed the reading of his documents, his head in his hands and his
+fingers in his ears.
+
+The two others conversed by his side, first in undertones, then louder,
+for M. Chebe’s shrill, piercing voice could not long be subdued.--He
+wasn’t old enough to be buried, deuce take it!--He should have died of
+ennui at Montrouge.--What he must have was the bustle and life of the
+Rue de Mail or the Rue du Sentier--of the business districts.
+
+“Yes, but a shop? Why a shop?” Risler timidly ventured to ask.
+
+“Why a shop?--why a shop?” repeated M. Chebe, red as an Easter egg, and
+raising his voice to its highest pitch. “Why, because I’m a merchant,
+Monsieur Risler, a merchant and son of a merchant. Oh! I see what you’re
+coming at. I have no business. But whose fault is it? If the people who
+shut me up at Montrouge, at the gates of Bicetre, like a paralytic, had
+had the good sense to furnish me with the money to start in business--”
+
+At that point Risler succeeded in silencing him, and thereafter
+only snatches of the conversation could be heard: “a more convenient
+shop--high ceilings--better air--future plans--enormous business--I will
+speak when the time comes--many people will be astonished.”
+
+As he caught these fragments of sentences, Delobelle became more and
+more absorbed in his estimates, presenting the eloquent back of the man
+who is not listening. Risler, sorely perplexed, slowly sipped his beer
+from time to time to keep himself, in countenance.
+
+At last, when M. Chebe had grown calm, and with good reason, his
+son-in-law turned with a smile to the illustrious Delobelle, and met the
+stern, impassive glance which seemed to say, “Well! what of me?”
+
+“Ah! Mon Dieu!--that is true,” thought the poor fellow.
+
+Changing at once his chair and his glass, he took his seat opposite the
+actor. But M. Chebe had not Delobelle’s courtesy. Instead of discreetly
+moving away, he took his glass and joined the others, so that the great
+man, unwilling to speak before him, solemnly replaced his documents in
+his pocket a second time, saying to Risler:
+
+“We will talk this over later.”
+
+Very much later, in truth, for M. Chebe had reflected:
+
+“My son-in-law is so good-natured! If I leave him with this swindler,
+who knows what he may get out of him?”
+
+And he remained on guard. The actor was furious. It was impossible to
+postpone the matter to some other day, for Risler told them that he was
+going the next day to spend the next month at Savigny.
+
+“A month at Savigny!” exclaimed M. Chebe, incensed at the thought of his
+son-in-law escaping him. “How about business?”
+
+“Oh! I shall come to Paris every day with Georges. Monsieur Gardinois is
+very anxious to see his little Sidonie.”
+
+M. Chebe shook his head. He considered it very imprudent. Business is
+business. A man ought to be on the spot, always on the spot, in the
+breach. Who could say?--the factory might take fire in the night. And he
+repeated sententiously: “The eye of the master, my dear fellow, the eye
+of the master,” while the actor--who was little better pleased by this
+intended departure--opened his great eyes; giving them an expression at
+once cunning and authoritative, the veritable expression of the eye of
+the master.
+
+At last, about midnight, the last Montrouge omnibus bore away the
+tyrannical father-in-law, and Delobelle was able to speak.
+
+“Let us first look at the prospectus,” he said, preferring not to attack
+the question of figures at once; and with his eyeglasses on his nose, he
+began, in a declamatory tone, always upon the stage: “When one considers
+coolly the decrepitude which dramatic art has reached in France, when
+one measures the distance that separates the stage of Moliere--”
+
+There were several pages like that. Risler listened, puffing at his
+pipe, afraid to stir, for the reader looked at him every moment over his
+eyeglasses, to watch the effect of his phrases. Unfortunately, right
+in the middle of the prospectus, the cafe closed. The lights were
+extinguished; they must go.--And the estimates?--It was agreed that they
+should read them as they walked along. They stopped at every gaslight.
+The actor displayed his figures. So much for the hall, so much for
+the lighting, so much for poor-rates, so much for the actors. On that
+question of the actors he was firm.
+
+“The best point about the affair,” he said, “is that we shall have
+no leading man to pay. Our leading man will be Bibi.” (When Delobelle
+mentioned himself, he commonly called himself Bibi.) “A leading man is
+paid twenty thousand francs, and as we have none to pay, it’s just as
+if you put twenty thousand francs in your pocket. Tell me, isn’t that
+true?”
+
+Risler did not reply. He had the constrained manner, the wandering eyes
+of the man whose thoughts are elsewhere. The reading of the estimates
+being concluded, Delobelle, dismayed to find that they were drawing
+near the corner of the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes, put the question
+squarely. Would Risler advance the money, yes or no?
+
+“Well!--no,” said Risler, inspired by heroic courage, which he owed
+principally to the proximity of the factory and to the thought that the
+welfare of his family was at stake.
+
+Delobelle was astounded. He had believed that the business was as good
+as done, and he stared at his companion, intensely agitated, his eyes as
+big as saucers, and rolling his papers in his hand.
+
+“No,” Risler continued, “I can’t do what you ask, for this reason.”
+
+Thereupon the worthy man, slowly, with his usual heaviness of speech,
+explained that he was not rich. Although a partner in a wealthy house,
+he had no available funds. Georges and he drew a certain sum from the
+concern each month; then, when they struck a balance at the end of the
+year they divided the profits. It had cost him a good deal to begin
+housekeeping: all his savings. It was still four months before the
+inventory. Where was he to obtain the 30,000 francs to be paid down at
+once for the theatre? And then, beyond all that, the affair could not be
+successful.
+
+“Why, it must succeed. Bibi will be there!” As he spoke, poor Bibi drew
+himself up to his full height; but Risler was determined, and all Bibi’s
+arguments met the same refusal--“Later, in two or three years, I don’t
+say something may not be done.”
+
+The actor fought for a long time, yielding his ground inch by inch. He
+proposed revising his estimates. The thing might be done cheaper. “It
+would still be too dear for me,” Risler interrupted. “My name doesn’t
+belong to me. It is a part of the firm. I have no right to pledge it.
+Imagine my going into bankruptcy!” His voice trembled as he uttered the
+word.
+
+“But if everything is in my name,” said Delobelle, who had no
+superstition. He tried everything, invoked the sacred interests of
+art, went so far as to mention the fascinating actresses whose alluring
+glances--Risler laughed aloud.
+
+“Come, come, you rascal! What’s that you’re saying? You forget that
+we’re both married men, and that it is very late and our wives
+are expecting us. No ill-will, eh?--This is not a refusal, you
+understand.--By the way, come and see me after the inventory. We will
+talk it over again. Ah! there’s Pere Achille putting out his gas.--I
+must go in. Good-night.”
+
+It was after one o’clock when the actor returned home. The two women
+were waiting for him, working as usual, but with a sort of feverish
+activity which was strange to them. Every moment the great scissors that
+Mamma Delobelle used to cut the brass wire were seized with strange fits
+of trembling, and Desiree’s little fingers, as she mounted an insect,
+moved so fast that it made one dizzy to watch them. Even the long
+feathers of the little birds scattered about on the table before her
+seemed more brilliant, more richly colored, than on other days. It was
+because a lovely visitor named Hope had called upon them that evening.
+She had made the tremendous effort required to climb five dark flights
+of stairs, and had opened the door of the little room to cast a luminous
+glance therein. However much you may have been deceived in life, those
+magic gleams always dazzle you.
+
+“Oh! if your father could only succeed!” said Mamma Delobelle from time
+to time, as if to sum up a whole world of happy thoughts to which her
+reverie abandoned itself.
+
+“He will succeed, mamma, never fear. Monsieur Risler is so kind, I will
+answer for him. And Sidonie is very fond of us, too, although since she
+was married she does seem to neglect her old friends a little. But we
+must make allowance for the difference in our positions. Besides, I
+never shall forget what she did for me.”
+
+And, at the thought of what Sidonie had done for her, the little
+cripple applied herself with even more feverish energy to her work. Her
+electrified fingers moved with redoubled swiftness. You would have
+said that they were running after some fleeing, elusive thing, like
+happiness, for example, or the love of some one who loves you not.
+
+“What was it that she did for you?” her mother would naturally have
+asked her; but at that moment she was only slightly interested in what
+her daughter said. She was thinking exclusively of her great man.
+
+“No! do you think so, my dear? Just suppose your father should have a
+theatre of his own and act again as in former days. You don’t remember;
+you were too small then. But he had tremendous success, no end of
+recalls. One night, at Alencon, the subscribers to the theatre gave
+him a gold wreath. Ah! he was a brilliant man in those days, so
+lighthearted, so glad to be alive. Those who see him now don’t know him,
+poor man, misfortune has changed him so. Oh, well! I feel sure that all
+that’s necessary is a little success to make him young and happy again.
+And then there’s money to be made managing theatres. The manager at
+Nantes had a carriage. Can you imagine us with a carriage? Can you
+imagine it, I say? That’s what would be good for you. You could go out,
+leave your armchair once in a while. Your father would take us into
+the country. You would see the water and the trees you have had such a
+longing to see.”
+
+“Oh! the trees,” murmured the pale little recluse, trembling from head
+to foot.
+
+At that moment the street door of the house was closed violently, and M.
+Delobelle’s measured step echoed in the vestibule. There was a moment of
+speechless, breathless anguish. The women dared not look at each other,
+and mamma’s great scissors trembled so that they cut the wire crooked.
+
+The poor devil had unquestionably received a terrible blow. His
+illusions crushed, the humiliation of a refusal, the jests of his
+comrades, the bill at the cafe where he had breakfasted on credit during
+the whole period of his managership, a bill which must be paid--all
+these things occurred to him in the silence and gloom of the five
+flights he had to climb. His heart was torn. Even so, the actor’s nature
+was so strong in him that he deemed it his duty to envelop his distress,
+genuine as it was, in a conventional tragic mask.
+
+As he entered, he paused, cast an ominous glance around the work-room,
+at the table covered with work, his little supper waiting for him in
+a corner, and the two dear, anxious faces looking up at him with
+glistening eyes. He stood a full minute without speaking--and you know
+how long a minute’s silence seems on the stage; then he took three steps
+forward, sank upon a low chair beside the table, and exclaimed in a
+hissing voice:
+
+“Ah! I am accursed!”
+
+At the same time he dealt the table such a terrible blow with his fist
+that the “birds and insects for ornament” flew to the four corners of
+the room. His terrified wife rose and timidly approached him, while
+Desiree half rose in her armchair with an expression of nervous agony
+that distorted all her features.
+
+Lolling in his chair, his arms hanging despondently by his sides, his
+head on his chest, the actor soliloquized--a fragmentary soliloquy,
+interrupted by sighs and dramatic hiccoughs, overflowing with
+imprecations against the pitiless, selfish bourgeois, those monsters to
+whom the artist gives his flesh and blood for food and drink.
+
+Then he reviewed his whole theatrical life, his early triumphs, the
+golden wreath from the subscribers at Alencon, his marriage to this
+“sainted woman,” and he pointed to the poor creature who stood by his
+side, with tears streaming from her eyes, and trembling lips, nodding
+her head dotingly at every word her husband said.
+
+In very truth, a person who never had heard of the illustrious Delobelle
+could have told his history in detail after that long monologue. He
+recalled his arrival in Paris, his humiliations, his privations. Alas!
+he was not the one who had known privation. One had but to look at his
+full, rotund face beside the thin, drawn faces of the two women. But the
+actor did not look so closely.
+
+“Oh!” he said, continuing to intoxicate himself with declamatory
+phrases, “oh! to have struggled so long. For ten years, fifteen years,
+have I struggled on, supported by these devoted creatures, fed by them.”
+
+“Papa, papa, hush,” cried Desiree, clasping her hands.
+
+“Yes, fed by them, I say--and I do not blush for it. For I accept all
+this devotion in the name of sacred art. But this is too much. Too much
+has been put upon me. I renounce the stage!”
+
+“Oh! my dear, what is that you say?” cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to
+his side.
+
+“No, leave me. I have reached the end of my strength. They have slain
+the artist in me. It is all over. I renounce the stage.”
+
+If you had seen the two women throw their arms about him then, implore
+him to struggle on, prove to him that he had no right to give up, you
+could not have restrained your tears. But Delobelle resisted.
+
+He yielded at last, however, and promised to continue the fight a little
+while, since it was their wish; but it required many an entreaty and
+caress to carry the point.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. AT SAVIGNY
+
+It was a great misfortune, that sojourn of the two families at Savigny
+for a month.
+
+After an interval of two years Georges and Sidonie found themselves
+side by side once more on the old estate, too old not to be always like
+itself, where the stones, the ponds, the trees, always the same, seemed
+to cast derision upon all that changes and passes away. A renewal of
+intercourse under such circumstances must have been disastrous to two
+natures that were not of a very different stamp, and far more virtuous
+than those two.
+
+As for Claire, she never had been so happy; Savigny never had seemed so
+lovely to her. What joy to walk with her child over the greensward where
+she herself had walked as a child; to sit, a young mother, upon the
+shaded seats from which her own mother had looked on at her childish
+games years before; to go, leaning on Georges’s arm, to seek out the
+nooks where they had played together. She felt a tranquil contentment,
+the overflowing happiness of placid lives which enjoy their bliss in
+silence; and all day long her skirts swept along the paths, guided by
+the tiny footsteps of the child, her cries and her demands upon her
+mother’s care.
+
+Sidonie seldom took part in these maternal promenades. She said that
+the chatter of children tired her, and therein she agreed with old
+Gardinois, who seized upon any pretext to annoy his granddaughter.
+He believed that he accomplished that object by devoting himself
+exclusively to Sidonie, and arranging even more entertainments for her
+than on her former visit. The carriages that had been shut up in the
+carriage-house for two years, and were dusted once a week because
+the spiders spun their webs on the silk cushions, were placed at her
+disposal. The horses were harnessed three times a day, and the gate was
+continually turning on its hinges. Everybody in the house followed this
+impulse of worldliness. The gardener paid more attention to his flowers
+because Madame Risler selected the finest ones to wear in her hair at
+dinner. And then there were calls to be made. Luncheon parties were
+given, gatherings at which Madame Fromont Jeune presided, but at which
+Sidonie, with her lively manners, shone supreme. Indeed, Claire often
+left her a clear field. The child had its hours for sleeping and riding
+out, with which no amusements could interfere. The mother was compelled
+to remain away, and it often happened that she was unable to go with
+Sidonie to meet the partners when they came from Paris at night.
+
+“You will make my excuses,” she would say, as the went up to her room.
+
+Madame Risler was triumphant. A picture of elegant indolence, she would
+drive away behind the galloping horses, unconscious of the swiftness of
+their pace, without a thought in her mind.
+
+Other carriages were always waiting at the station. Two or three times
+she heard some one near her whisper, “That is Madame Fromont Jeune,”
+ and, indeed, it was a simple matter for people to make the mistake,
+seeing the three return together from the station, Sidonie sitting
+beside Georges on the back seat, laughing and talking with him, and
+Risler facing them, smiling contentedly with his broad hands spread flat
+upon his knees, but evidently feeling a little out of place in that fine
+carriage. The thought that she was taken for Madame Fromont made her
+very proud, and she became a little more accustomed to it every day. On
+their arrival at the chateau, the two families separated until dinner;
+but, in the presence of his wife sitting tranquilly beside the sleeping
+child, Georges Fromont, too young to be absorbed by the joys of
+domesticity, was continually thinking of the brilliant Sidonie, whose
+voice he could hear pouring forth triumphant roulades under the trees in
+the garden.
+
+While the whole chateau was thus transformed in obedience to the whims
+of a young woman, old Gardinois continued to lead the narrow life of
+a discontented, idle, impotent ‘parvenu’. The most successful means of
+distraction he had discovered was espionage. The goings and comings of
+his servants, the remarks that were made about him in the kitchen,
+the basket of fruit and vegetables brought every morning from the
+kitchen-garden to the pantry, were objects of continual investigation.
+
+For the purposes of this constant spying upon his household, he made
+use of a stone bench set in the gravel behind an enormous Paulownia.
+He would sit there whole days at a time, neither reading nor thinking,
+simply watching to see who went in or out. For the night he had invented
+something different. In the great vestibule at the main entrance, which
+opened upon the front steps with their array of bright flowers, he had
+caused an opening to be made leading to his bedroom on the floor above.
+An acoustic tube of an improved type was supposed to convey to his
+ears every sound on the ground floor, even to the conversation of the
+servants taking the air on the steps.
+
+Unluckily, the instrument was so powerful that it exaggerated all the
+noises, confused them and prolonged them, and the powerful, regular
+ticking of a great clock, the cries of a paroquet kept in one of the
+lower rooms, the clucking of a hen in search of a lost kernel of corn,
+were all Monsieur Gardinois could hear when he applied his ear to the
+tube. As for voices, they reached him in the form of a confused buzzing,
+like the muttering of a crowd, in which it was impossible to distinguish
+anything. He had nothing to show for the expense of the apparatus, and
+he concealed his wonderful tube in a fold of his bed-curtains.
+
+One night Gardinois, who had fallen asleep, was awakened suddenly by
+the creaking of a door. It was an extraordinary thing at that hour. The
+whole house hold was asleep. Nothing could be heard save the footsteps
+of the watch-dogs on the sand, or their scratching at the foot of a
+tree in which an owl was screeching. An excellent opportunity to use
+his listening-tube! Upon putting it to his ear, M. Gardinois was assured
+that he had made no mistake. The sounds continued. One door was opened,
+then another. The bolt of the front door was thrown back with an
+effort. But neither Pyramus nor Thisbe, not even Kiss, the formidable
+Newfoundland, had made a sign. He rose softly to see who those strange
+burglars could be, who were leaving the house instead of entering it;
+and this is what he saw through the slats of his blind:
+
+A tall, slender young man, with Georges’s figure and carriage,
+arm-in-arm with a woman in a lace mantilla. They stopped first at the
+bench by the Paulownia, which was in full bloom.
+
+It was a superb moonlight night. The moon, silvering the treetops, made
+numberless flakes of light amid the dense foliage. The terraces, white
+with moonbeams, where the Newfoundlands in their curly coats went to
+and fro, watching the night butterflies, the smooth, deep waters of
+the ponds, all shone with a mute, calm brilliance, as if reflected in
+a silver mirror. Here and there glow-worms twinkled on the edges of the
+greensward.
+
+The two promenaders remained for a moment beneath the shade of the
+Paulownia, sitting silent on the bench, lost in the dense darkness which
+the moon makes where its rays do not reach. Suddenly they appeared in
+the bright light, wrapped in a languishing embrace; then walked slowly
+across the main avenue, and disappeared among the trees.
+
+“I was sure of it!” said old Gardinois, recognizing them. Indeed, what
+need had he to recognize them? Did not the silence of the dogs, the
+aspect of the sleeping house, tell him more clearly than anything else
+could, what species of impudent crime, unknown and unpunished, haunted
+the avenues in his park by night? Be that as it may, the old peasant
+was overjoyed by his discovery. He returned to bed without a
+light, chuckling to himself, and in the little cabinet filled with
+hunting-implements, whence he had watched them, thinking at first that
+he had to do with burglars, the moon’s rays shone upon naught save the
+fowling-pieces hanging on the wall and the boxes of cartridges of all
+sizes.
+
+Sidonie and Georges had taken up the thread of their love at the corner
+of the same avenue. The year that had passed, marked by hesitation, by
+vague struggles, by fruitless resistance, seemed to have been only a
+preparation for their meeting. And it must be said that, when once the
+fatal step was taken, they were surprised at nothing so much as the
+fact that they had postponed it so long. Georges Fromont especially was
+seized by a mad passion. He was false to his wife, his best friend; he
+was false to Risler, his partner, the faithful companion of his every
+hour.
+
+He felt a constant renewal, a sort of overflow of remorse, wherein his
+passion was intensified by the magnitude of his sin. Sidonie became his
+one engrossing thought, and he discovered that until then he had not
+lived. As for her, her love was made up of vanity and spite. The thing
+that she relished above all else was Claire’s degradation in her eyes.
+Ah! if she could only have said to her, “Your husband loves me--he is
+false to you with me,” her pleasure would have been even greater. As for
+Risler, in her view he richly deserved what had happened to him. In her
+old apprentice’s jargon, in which she still thought, even if she did not
+speak it, the poor man was only “an old fool,” whom she had taken as a
+stepping-stone to fortune. “An old fool” is made to be deceived!
+
+During the day Savigny belonged to Claire, to the child who ran about
+upon the gravel, laughing at the birds and the clouds, and who grew
+apace. The mother and child had for their own the daylight, the paths
+filled with sunbeams. But the blue nights were given over to sin, to
+that sin firmly installed in the chateau, which spoke in undertones,
+crept noiselessly behind the closed blinds, and in face of which
+the sleeping house became dumb and blind, and resumed its stony
+impassibility, as if it were ashamed to see and hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. SIGISMOND PLANUS TREMBLES FOR HIS CASH-BOX.
+
+
+“Carriage, my dear Chorche?--I--have a carriage? What for?”
+
+“I assure you, my dear Risler, that it is quite essential for you. Our
+business, our relations, are extending every day; the coupe is no longer
+enough for us. Besides, it doesn’t look well to see one of the partners
+always in his carriage and the other on foot. Believe me, it is a
+necessary outlay, and of course it will go into the general expenses of
+the firm. Come, resign yourself to the inevitable.”
+
+It was genuine resignation. It seemed to Risler as if he were stealing
+something in taking the money for such an unheard-of luxury as a
+carriage; however, he ended by yielding to Georges’s persistent
+representations, thinking as he did so:
+
+“This will make Sidonie very happy!”
+
+The poor fellow had no suspicion that Sidonie herself, a month before,
+had selected at Binder’s the coupe which Georges insisted upon giving
+her, and which was to be charged to expense account in order not to
+alarm the husband.
+
+Honest Risler was so plainly created to be deceived. His inborn
+uprightness, the implicit confidence in men and things, which was the
+foundation of his transparent nature, had been intensified of late
+by preoccupation resulting from his pursuit of the Risler Press,
+an invention destined to revolutionize the wall-paper industry and
+representing in his eyes his contribution to the partnership assets.
+When he laid aside his drawings and left his little work-room on the
+first floor, his face invariably wore the absorbed look of the man who
+has his life on one side, his anxieties on another. What a delight it
+was to him, therefore, to find his home always tranquil, his wife always
+in good humor, becomingly dressed and smiling.
+
+Without undertaking to explain the change to himself, he recognized
+that for some time past the “little one” had not been as before in her
+treatment of him. She allowed him to resume his old habits: the pipe at
+dessert, the little nap after dinner, the appointments at the brewery
+with Chebe and Delobelle. Their apartments also were transformed,
+embellished.
+
+A grand piano by a famous maker made its appearance in the salon in
+place of the old one, and Madame Dobson, the singing-teacher, came no
+longer twice a week, but every day, music-roll in hand.
+
+Of a curious type was that young woman of American extraction, with hair
+of an acid blond, like lemon-pulp, over a bold forehead and metallic
+blue eyes. As her husband would not allow her to go on the stage, she
+gave lessons, and sang in some bourgeois salons. As a result of living
+in the artificial world of compositions for voice and piano, she had
+contracted a species of sentimental frenzy.
+
+She was romance itself. In her mouth the words “love” and “passion”
+ seemed to have eighty syllables, she uttered them with so much
+expression. Oh, expression! That was what Mistress Dobson placed before
+everything, and what she tried, and tried in vain, to impart to her
+pupil.
+
+‘Ay Chiquita,’ upon which Paris fed for several seasons, was then at the
+height of its popularity. Sidonie studied it conscientiously, and all
+the morning she could be heard singing:
+
+          “On dit que tu te maries,
+          Tu sais que j’en puis mourir.”
+
+          [They say that thou’rt to marry
+          Thou know’st that I may die.]
+
+“Mouri-i-i-i-i-r!” the expressive Madame Dobson would interpose, while
+her hands wandered feebly over the piano-keys; and die she would,
+raising her light blue eyes to the ceiling and wildly throwing back her
+head. Sidonie never could accomplish it. Her mischievous eyes, her
+lips, crimson with fulness of life, were not made for such AEolian-harp
+sentimentalities. The refrains of Offenbach or Herve, interspersed with
+unexpected notes, in which one resorts to expressive gestures for aid,
+to a motion of the head or the body, would have suited her better; but
+she dared not admit it to her sentimental instructress. By the way,
+although she had been made to sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le
+Mire’s, her voice was still fresh and not unpleasing.
+
+Having no social connections, she came gradually to make a friend of her
+singing-mistress. She would keep her to breakfast, take her to drive in
+the new coupe and to assist in her purchases of gowns and jewels. Madame
+Dobson’s sentimental and sympathetic tone led one to repose confidence
+in her. Her continual repinings seemed too long to attract other
+repinings. Sidonie told her of Georges, of their relations, attempting
+to palliate her offence by blaming the cruelty of her parents in
+marrying her by force to a man much older than herself. Madame Dobson at
+once showed a disposition to assist them; not that the little woman was
+venal, but she had a passion for passion, a taste for romantic intrigue.
+As she was unhappy in her own home, married to a dentist who beat her,
+all husbands were monsters in her eyes, and poor Risler especially
+seemed to her a horrible tyrant whom his wife was quite justified in
+hating and deceiving.
+
+She was an active confidant and a very useful one. Two or three times a
+week she would bring tickets for a box at the Opera or the Italiens, or
+some one of the little theatres which enjoy a temporary vogue, and cause
+all Paris to go from one end of Paris to the other for a season. In
+Risler’s eyes the tickets came from Madame Dobson; she had as many as
+she chose to the theatres where operas were given. The poor wretch had
+no suspicion that one of those boxes for an important “first night” had
+often cost his partner ten or fifteen Louis.
+
+In the evening, when his wife went away, always splendidly attired, he
+would gaze admiringly at her, having no suspicion of the cost of her
+costumes, certainly none of the man who paid for them, and would await
+her return at his table by the fire, busy with his drawings, free from
+care, and happy to be able to say to himself, “What a good time she is
+having!”
+
+On the floor below, at the Fromonts’, the same comedy was being played,
+but with a transposition of parts. There it was the young wife who sat
+by the fire. Every evening, half an hour after Sidonie’s departure, the
+great gate swung open to give passage to the Fromont coupe conveying
+Monsieur to his club. What would you have? Business has its demands. All
+the great deals are arranged at the club, around the bouillotte table,
+and a man must go there or suffer the penalty of seeing his business
+fall off. Claire innocently believed it all. When her husband had gone,
+she felt sad for a moment. She would have liked so much to keep him with
+her or to go out leaning on his arm, to seek enjoyment with him. But the
+sight of the child, cooing in front of the fire and kicking her little
+pink feet while she was being undressed, speedily soothed the mother.
+Then the eloquent word “business,” the merchant’s reason of state, was
+always at hand to help her to resign herself.
+
+Georges and Sidonie met at the theatre. Their feeling at first when they
+were together was one of satisfied vanity. People stared at them a
+great deal. She was really pretty now, and her irregular but attractive
+features, which required the aid of all the eccentricities of the
+prevailing style in order to produce their full effect, adapted
+themselves to them so perfectly that you would have said they were
+invented expressly for her. In a few moments they went away, and Madame
+Dobson was left alone in the box. They had hired a small suite on the
+Avenue Gabriel, near the ‘rond-point’ of the Champs Elysees--the
+dream of the young women at the Le Mire establishment--two luxuriously
+furnished, quiet rooms, where the silence of the wealthy quarter,
+disturbed only by passing carriages, formed a blissful surrounding for
+their love.
+
+Little by little, when she had become accustomed to her sin, she
+conceived the most audacious whims. From her old working-days she had
+retained in the depths of her memory the names of public balls, of
+famous restaurants, where she was eager to go now, just as she
+took pleasure in causing the doors to be thrown open for her at the
+establishments of the great dressmakers, whose signs only she had known
+in her earlier days. For what she sought above all else in this liaison
+was revenge for the sorrows and humiliations of her youth. Nothing
+delighted her so much, for example, when returning from an evening
+drive in the Bois, as a supper at the Cafe Anglais with the sounds of
+luxurious vice around her. From these repeated excursions she brought
+back peculiarities of speech and behavior, equivocal songs, and a
+style of dress that imported into the bourgeois atmosphere of the old
+commercial house an accurate reproduction of the most advanced type of
+the Paris cocotte of that period.
+
+At the factory they began to suspect something. The women of the people,
+even the poorest, are so quick at picking a costume to pieces! When
+Madame Risler went out, about three o’clock, fifty pairs of sharp,
+envious eyes, lying in ambush at the windows of the polishing-shop,
+watched her pass, penetrating to the lowest depths of her guilty
+conscience through her black velvet dolman and her cuirass of sparkling
+jet.
+
+Although she did not suspect it, all the secrets of that mad brain were
+flying about her like the ribbons that played upon her bare neck; and
+her daintily-shod feet, in their bronzed boots with ten buttons, told
+the story of all sorts of clandestine expeditions, of the carpeted
+stairways they ascended at night on their way to supper, and the warm
+fur robes in which they were wrapped when the coupe made the circuit of
+the lake in the darkness dotted with lanterns.
+
+The work-women laughed sneeringly and whispered:
+
+“Just look at that Tata Bebelle! A fine way to dress to go out. She
+don’t rig herself up like that to go to mass, that’s sure! To think that
+it ain’t three years since she used to start for the shop every morning
+in an old waterproof, and two sous’ worth of roasted chestnuts in her
+pockets to keep her fingers warm. Now she rides in her carriage.”
+
+And amid the talc dust and the roaring of the stoves, red-hot in winter
+and summer alike, more than one poor girl reflected on the caprice of
+chance in absolutely transforming a woman’s existence, and began to
+dream vaguely of a magnificent future which might perhaps be in store
+for herself without her suspecting it.
+
+In everybody’s opinion Risler was a dishonored husband. Two
+assistants in the printing-room--faithful patrons of the Folies
+Dramatiques--declared that they had seen Madame Risler several times at
+their theatre, accompanied by some escort who kept out of sight at the
+rear of the box. Pere Achille, too, told of amazing things. That Sidonie
+had a lover, that she had several lovers, in fact, no one entertained a
+doubt. But no one had as yet thought of Fromont jeune.
+
+And yet she showed no prudence whatever in her relations with him. On
+the contrary, she seemed to make a parade of them; it may be that that
+was what saved them. How many times she accosted him boldly on the
+steps to agree upon a rendezvous for the evening! How many times she
+had amused herself in making him shudder by looking into his eyes before
+every one! When the first confusion had passed, Georges was grateful
+to her for these exhibitions of audacity, which he attributed to the
+intensity of her passion. He was mistaken.
+
+What she would have liked, although she did not admit it to herself,
+would have been to have Claire see them, to have her draw aside the
+curtain at her window, to have her conceive a suspicion of what was
+passing. She needed that in order to be perfectly happy: that her rival
+should be unhappy. But her wish was ungratified; Claire Fromont noticed
+nothing and lived, as did Risler, in imperturbable serenity.
+
+Only Sigismond, the old cashier, was really ill at ease. And yet he was
+not thinking of Sidonie when, with his pen behind his ear, he paused a
+moment in his work and gazed fixedly through his grating at the drenched
+soil of the little garden. He was thinking solely of his master, of
+Monsieur “Chorche,” who was drawing a great deal of money now for his
+current expenses and sowing confusion in all his books. Every time
+it was some new excuse. He would come to the little wicket with an
+unconcerned air:
+
+“Have you a little money, my good Planus? I was worsted again at
+bouillotte last night, and I don’t want to send to the bank for such a
+trifle.”
+
+Sigismond Planus would open his cash-box, with an air of regret, to get
+the sum requested, and he would remember with terror a certain day when
+Monsieur Georges, then only twenty years old, had confessed to his uncle
+that he owed several thousand francs in gambling debts. The elder man
+thereupon conceived a violent antipathy for the club and contempt for
+all its members. A rich tradesman who was a member happened to come to
+the factory one day, and Sigismond said to him with brutal frankness:
+
+“The devil take your ‘Cercle du Chateau d’Eau!’ Monsieur Georges has
+left more than thirty thousand francs there in two months.”
+
+The other began to laugh.
+
+“Why, you’re greatly mistaken, Pere Planus--it’s at least three months
+since we have seen your master.”
+
+The cashier did not pursue the conversation; but a terrible thought took
+up its abode in his mind, and he turned it over and over all day long.
+
+If Georges did not go to the club, where did he pass his evenings? Where
+did he spend so much money?
+
+There was evidently a woman at the bottom of the affair.
+
+As soon as that idea occurred to him, Sigismond Planus began to tremble
+seriously for his cash-box. That old bear from the canton of Berne,
+a confirmed bachelor, had a terrible dread of women in general and
+Parisian women in particular. He deemed it his duty, first of all, in
+order to set his conscience at rest, to warn Risler. He did it at first
+in rather a vague way.
+
+“Monsieur Georges is spending a great deal of money,” he said to him one
+day.
+
+Risler exhibited no surprise.
+
+“What do you expect me to do, my old Sigismond? It is his right.”
+
+And the honest fellow meant what he said. In his eyes Fromont jeune
+was the absolute master of the establishment. It would have been a fine
+thing, and no mistake, for him, an ex-draughtsman, to venture to
+make any comments. The cashier dared say no more until the day when a
+messenger came from a great shawl-house with a bill for six thousand
+francs for a cashmere shawl.
+
+He went to Georges in his office.
+
+“Shall I pay it, Monsieur?”
+
+Georges Fromont was a little annoyed. Sidonie had forgotten to tell him
+of this latest purchase; she used no ceremony with him now.
+
+“Pay it, pay it, Pere Planus,” he said, with a shade of embarrassment,
+and added: “Charge it to the account of Fromont jeune. It is a
+commission intrusted to me by a friend.”
+
+That evening, as Sigismond was lighting his little lamp, he saw Risler
+crossing the garden, and tapped on the window to call him.
+
+“It’s a woman,” he said, under his breath. “I have the proof of it now.”
+
+As he uttered the awful words “a woman” his voice shook with alarm and
+was drowned in the great uproar of the factory. The sounds of the
+work in progress had a sinister meaning to the unhappy cashier at that
+moment. It seemed to him as if all the whirring machinery, the great
+chimney pouring forth its clouds of smoke, the noise of the workmen at
+their different tasks--as if all this tumult and bustle and fatigue
+were for the benefit of a mysterious little being, dressed in velvet and
+adorned with jewels.
+
+Risler laughed at him and refused to believe him. He had long been
+acquainted with his compatriot’s mania for detecting in everything the
+pernicious influence of woman. And yet Planus’s words sometimes recurred
+to his thoughts, especially in the evening when Sidonie, after all the
+commotion attendant upon the completion of her toilette, went away to
+the theatre with Madame Dobson, leaving the apartment empty as soon as
+her long train had swept across the threshold. Candles burning in front
+of the mirrors, divers little toilette articles scattered about and
+thrown aside, told of extravagant caprices and a reckless expenditure of
+money. Risler thought nothing of all that; but, when he heard Georges’s
+carriage rolling through the courtyard, he had a feeling of discomfort
+at the thought of Madame Fromont passing her evenings entirely alone.
+Poor woman! Suppose what Planus said were true!
+
+Suppose Georges really had a second establishment! Oh, it would be
+frightful!
+
+Thereupon, instead of beginning to work, he would go softly downstairs
+and ask if Madame were visible, deeming it his duty to keep her company.
+
+The little girl was always in bed, but the little cap, the blue shoes,
+were still lying in front of the fire. Claire was either reading or
+working, with her silent mother beside her, always rubbing or dusting
+with feverish energy, exhausting herself by blowing on the case of her
+watch, and nervously taking the same thing up and putting it down again
+ten times in succession, with the obstinate persistence of mania.
+Nor was honest Risler a very entertaining companion; but that did not
+prevent the young woman from welcoming him kindly. She knew all that was
+said about Sidonie in the factory; and although she did not believe half
+of it, the sight of the poor man, whom his wife left alone so often,
+moved her heart to pity. Mutual compassion formed the basis of that
+placid friendship, and nothing could be more touching than these two
+deserted ones, one pitying the other and each trying to divert the
+other’s thoughts.
+
+Seated at the small, brightly lighted table in the centre of the salon,
+Risler would gradually yield to the influence of the warmth of the
+fire and the harmony of his surroundings. He found there articles of
+furniture with which he had been familiar for twenty years, the portrait
+of his former employer; and his dear Madame Chorche, bending over some
+little piece of needle work at his side, seemed to him even younger and
+more lovable among all those old souvenirs. From time to time she would
+rise to go and look at the child sleeping in the adjoining room, whose
+soft breathing they could hear in the intervals of silence. Without
+fully realizing it, Risler felt more comfortable and warmer there than
+in his own apartment; for on certain days those attractive rooms, where
+the doors were forever being thrown open for hurried exits or returns,
+gave him the impression of a hall without doors or windows, open to
+the four winds. His rooms were a camping-ground; this was a home. A
+care-taking hand caused order and refinement to reign everywhere. The
+chairs seemed to be talking together in undertones, the fire burned with
+a delightful sound, and Mademoiselle Fromont’s little cap retained
+in every bow of its blue ribbons suggestions of sweet smiles and baby
+glances.
+
+And while Claire was thinking that such an excellent man deserved a
+better companion in life, Risler, watching the calm and lovely face
+turned toward him, the intelligent, kindly eyes, asked himself who
+the hussy could be for whom Georges Fromont neglected such an adorable
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. THE INVENTORY
+
+The house in which old Planus lived at Montrouge adjoined the one which
+the Chebes had occupied for some time. There was the same ground floor
+with three windows, and a single floor above, the same garden with its
+latticework fence, the same borders of green box. There the old cashier
+lived with his sister. He took the first omnibus that left the office in
+the morning, returned at dinner-time, and on Sundays remained at home,
+tending his flowers and his poultry. The old maid was his housekeeper
+and did all the cooking and sewing. A happier couple never lived.
+
+Celibates both, they were bound together by an equal hatred of marriage.
+The sister abhorred all men, the brother looked upon all women with
+suspicion; but they adored each other, each considering the other an
+exception to the general perversity of the sex.
+
+In speaking of him she always said: “Monsieur Planus, my brother!”--and
+he, with the same affectionate solemnity, interspersed all his sentences
+with “Mademoiselle Planus, my sister!” To those two retiring and
+innocent creatures, Paris, of which they knew nothing, although they
+visited it every day, was a den of monsters of two varieties, bent upon
+doing one another the utmost possible injury; and whenever, amid the
+gossip of the quarter, a conjugal drama came to their ears, each of
+them, beset by his or her own idea, blamed a different culprit.
+
+“It is the husband’s fault,” would be the verdict of “Mademoiselle
+Planus, my sister.”
+
+“It is the wife’s fault,” “Monsieur Planus, my brother,” would reply.
+
+“Oh! the men--”
+
+“Oh! the women--”
+
+That was their one never-failing subject of discussion in those rare
+hours of idleness which old Sigismond set aside in his busy day, which
+was as carefully ruled off as his account-books. For some time past
+the discussions between the brother and sister had been marked by
+extraordinary animation. They were deeply interested in what was taking
+place at the factory. The sister was full of pity for Madame Fromont
+and considered her husband’s conduct altogether outrageous; as for
+Sigismond, he could find no words bitter enough for the unknown trollop
+who sent bills for six-thousand-franc shawls to be paid from his
+cashbox. In his eyes, the honor and fair fame of the old house he had
+served since his youth were at stake.
+
+“What will become of us?” he repeated again and again. “Oh! these
+women--”
+
+One day Mademoiselle Planus sat by the fire with her knitting, waiting
+for her brother.
+
+The table had been laid for half an hour, and the old lady was beginning
+to be worried by such unheard-of tardiness, when Sigismond entered with
+a most distressed face, and without a word, which was contrary to all
+his habits.
+
+He waited until the door was shut tight, then said in a low voice, in
+response to his sister’s disturbed and questioning expression:
+
+“I have some news. I know who the woman is who is doing her best to ruin
+us.”
+
+Lowering his voice still more, after glancing about at the silent
+walls of their little dining-room, he uttered a name so unexpected that
+Mademoiselle Planus made him repeat it.
+
+“Is it possible?”
+
+“It is the truth.”
+
+And, despite his grief, he had almost a triumphant air.
+
+His old sister could not believe it. Such a refined, polite person, who
+had received her with so much cordiality!--How could any one imagine
+such a thing?
+
+“I have proofs,” said Sigismond Planus.
+
+Thereupon he told her how Pere Achille had met Sidonie and Georges
+one night at eleven o’clock, just as they entered a small furnished
+lodging-house in the Montmartre quarter; and he was a man who never
+lied. They had known him for a long while. Besides, others had met them.
+Nothing else was talked about at the factory. Risler alone suspected
+nothing.
+
+“But it is your duty to tell him,” declared Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+The cashier’s face assumed a grave expression.
+
+“It is a very delicate matter. In the first place, who knows whether
+he would believe me? There are blind men so blind that--And then, by
+interfering between the two partners, I risk the loss of my place. Oh!
+the women--the women! When I think how happy Risler might have been.
+When I sent for him to come to Paris with his brother, he hadn’t a sou;
+and to-day he is at the head of one of the first houses in Paris. Do
+you suppose that he would be content with that? Oh! no, of course not!
+Monsieur must marry. As if any one needed to marry! And, worse yet, he
+marries a Parisian woman, one of those frowsy-haired chits that are the
+ruin of an honest house, when he had at his hand a fine girl, of almost
+his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you
+might say!”
+
+“Mademoiselle Planus, my sister,” to whose physical structure he
+alluded, had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, “Oh! the men, the
+men!” but she was silent. It was a very delicate question, and perhaps,
+if Risler had chosen in time, he might have been the only one.
+
+Old Sigismond continued:
+
+“And this is what we have come to. For three months the leading
+wall-paper factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that
+good-for-nothing. You should see how the money flies. All day long I do
+nothing but open my wicket to meet Monsieur Georges’s calls. He always
+applies to me, because at his banker’s too much notice would be taken of
+it, whereas in our office money comes and goes, comes in and goes out.
+But look out for the inventory! We shall have some pretty figures to
+show at the end of the year. The worst part of the whole business is
+that Risler won’t listen to anything. I have warned him several times:
+‘Look out, Monsieur Georges is making a fool of himself for some woman.’
+He either turns away with a shrug, or else he tells me that it is none
+of his business and that Fromont Jeune is the master. Upon my word, one
+would almost think--one would almost think--”
+
+The cashier did not finish his sentence; but his silence was pregnant
+with unspoken thoughts.
+
+The old maid was appalled; but, like most women under such
+circumstances, instead of seeking a remedy for the evil, she wandered
+off into a maze of regrets, conjectures, and retrospective lamentations.
+What a misfortune that they had not known it sooner when they had the
+Chebes for neighbors. Madame Chebe was such an honorable woman. They
+might have put the matter before her so that she would keep an eye on
+Sidonie and talk seriously to her.
+
+“Indeed, that’s a good idea,” Sigismond interrupted. “You must go to
+the Rue du Mail and tell her parents. I thought at first of writing to
+little Frantz. He always had a great deal of influence over his brother,
+and he’s the only person on earth who could say certain things to him.
+But Frantz is so far away. And then it would be such a terrible thing to
+do. I can’t help pitying that unlucky Risler, though. No! the best way
+is to tell Madame Chebe. Will you undertake to do it, sister?”
+
+It was a dangerous commission. Mademoiselle Planus made some objections,
+but she never had been able to resist her brother’s wishes, and the
+desire to be of service to their old friend Risler assisted materially
+in persuading her.
+
+Thanks to his son-in-law’s kindness, M. Chebe had succeeded in
+gratifying his latest whim. For three months past he had been living
+at his famous warehouse on the Rue du Mail, and a great sensation was
+created in the quarter by that shop without merchandise, the shutters
+of which were taken down in the morning and put up again at night, as
+in wholesale houses. Shelves had been placed all around the walls, there
+was a new counter, a safe, a huge pair of scales. In a word, M. Chebe
+possessed all the requisites of a business of some sort, but did not
+know as yet just what business he would choose.
+
+He pondered the subject all day as he walked to and fro across the shop,
+encumbered with several large pieces of bedroom furniture which they had
+been unable to get into the back room; he pondered it, too, as he stood
+on his doorstep, with his pen behind his ear, and feasted his eyes
+delightedly on the hurly-burly of Parisian commerce. The clerks who
+passed with their packages of samples under their arms, the vans of the
+express companies, the omnibuses, the porters, the wheelbarrows, the
+great bales of merchandise at the neighboring doors, the packages of
+rich stuffs and trimmings which were dragged in the mud before being
+consigned to those underground regions, those dark holes stuffed with
+treasures, where the fortune of business lies in embryo--all these
+things delighted M. Chebe.
+
+He amused himself guessing at the contents of the bales and was first at
+the fray when some passer-by received a heavy package upon his feet,
+or the horses attached to a dray, spirited and restive, made the long
+vehicle standing across the street an obstacle to circulation. He had,
+moreover, the thousand-and-one distractions of the petty tradesman
+without customers, the heavy showers, the accidents, the thefts, the
+disputes.
+
+At the end of the day M. Chebe, dazed, bewildered, worn out by the labor
+of other people, would stretch himself out in his easy-chair and say to
+his wife, as he wiped his forehead:
+
+“That’s the kind of life I need--an active life.”
+
+Madame Chebe would smile softly without replying. Accustomed as she
+was to all her husband’s whims, she had made herself as comfortable
+as possible in a back room with an outlook upon a dark yard, consoling
+herself with reflections on the former prosperity of her parents and her
+daughter’s wealth; and, being always neatly dressed, she had succeeded
+already in acquiring the respect of neighbors and tradesmen.
+
+She asked nothing more than not to be confounded with the wives of
+workingmen, often less poor than herself, and to be allowed to retain,
+in spite of everything, a petty bourgeois superiority. That was her
+constant thought; and so the back room in which she lived, and where
+it was dark at three in the afternoon, was resplendent with order and
+cleanliness. During the day the bed became a couch, an old shawl did
+duty as a tablecloth, the fireplace, hidden by a screen, served as a
+pantry, and the meals were cooked in modest retirement on a stove no
+larger than a foot-warmer. A tranquil life--that was the dream of the
+poor woman, who was continually tormented by the whims of an uncongenial
+companion.
+
+In the early days of his tenancy, M. Chebe had caused these words to be
+inscribed in letters a foot long on the fresh paint of his shop-front:
+
+          COMMISSION--EXPORTATION
+
+No specifications. His neighbors sold tulle, broadcloth, linen; he was
+inclined to sell everything, but could not make up his mind just what.
+With what arguments did his indecision lead him to favor Madame Chebe as
+they sat together in the evening!
+
+“I don’t know anything about linen; but when you come to broadcloth,
+I understand that. Only, if I go into broadcloths I must have a man to
+travel; for the best kinds come from Sedan and Elbeuf. I say nothing
+about calicoes; summer is the time for them. As for tulle, that’s out of
+the question; the season is too far advanced.”
+
+He usually brought his discourse to a close with the words:
+
+“The night will bring counsel--let us go to bed.”
+
+And to bed he would go, to his wife’s great relief.
+
+After three or four months of this life, M. Chebe began to tire of it.
+The pains in the head, the dizzy fits gradually returned. The quarter
+was noisy and unhealthy: besides, business was at a standstill. Nothing
+was to be done in any line, broadcloths, tissues, or anything else.
+
+It was just at the period of this new crisis that “Mademoiselle Planus,
+my sister,” called to speak about Sidonie.
+
+The old maid had said to herself on the way, “I must break it gently.”
+ But, like all shy people, she relieved herself of her burden in the
+first words she spoke after entering the house.
+
+It was a stunning blow. When she heard the accusation made against her
+daughter, Madame Chebe rose in indignation. No one could ever make her
+believe such a thing. Her poor Sidonie was the victim of an infamous
+slander.
+
+M. Chebe, for his part, adopted a very lofty tone, with significant
+phrases and motions of the head, taking everything to himself as was his
+custom. How could any one suppose that his child, a Chebe, the daughter
+of an honorable business man known for thirty years on the street, was
+capable of Nonsense!
+
+Mademoiselle Planus insisted. It was a painful thing to her to be
+considered a gossip, a hawker of unsavory stories. But they had
+incontestable proofs. It was no longer a secret to anybody.
+
+“And even suppose it were true,” cried M. Chebe, furious at her
+persistence. “Is it for us to worry about it? Our daughter is married.
+She lives a long way from her parents. It is for her husband, who is
+much older than she, to advise and guide her. Does he so much as think
+of doing it?”
+
+Upon that the little man began to inveigh against his son-in-law, that
+cold-blooded Swiss, who passed his life in his office devising
+machines, refused to accompany his wife into society, and preferred his
+old-bachelor habits, his pipe and his brewery, to everything else.
+
+You should have seen the air of aristocratic disdain with which M. Chebe
+pronounced the word “brewery!” And yet almost every evening he went
+there to meet Risler, and overwhelmed him with reproaches if he once
+failed to appear at the rendezvous.
+
+Behind all this verbiage the merchant of the Rue du
+Mail--“Commission-Exportation”--had a very definite idea. He wished to
+give up his shop, to retire from business, and for some time he had been
+thinking of going to see Sidonie, in order to interest her in his new
+schemes. That was not the time, therefore, to make disagreeable scenes,
+to prate about paternal authority and conjugal honor. As for Madame
+Chebe, being somewhat less confident than before of her daughter’s
+virtue, she took refuge in the most profound silence. The poor
+woman wished that she were deaf and blind--that she never had known
+Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+Like all persons who have been very unhappy, she loved a benumbed
+existence with a semblance of tranquillity, and ignorance seemed to her
+preferable to everything. As if life were not sad enough, good heavens!
+And then, after all, Sidonie had always been a good girl; why should she
+not be a good woman?
+
+Night was falling. M. Chebe rose gravely to close the shutters of the
+shop and light a gas-jet which illumined the bare walls, the empty,
+polished shelves, and the whole extraordinary place, which reminded
+one strongly of the day following a failure. With his lips closed
+disdainfully, in his determination to remain silent, he seemed to say to
+the old lady, “Night has come--it is time for you to go home.” And all
+the while they could hear Madame Chebe sobbing in the back room, as she
+went to and fro preparing supper.
+
+Mademoiselle Planus got no further satisfaction from her visit.
+
+“Well?” queried old Sigismond, who was impatiently awaiting her return.
+
+“They wouldn’t believe me, and politely showed me the door.”
+
+She had tears in her eyes at the thought of her humiliation.
+
+The old man’s face flushed, and he said in a grave voice, taking his
+sister’s hand:
+
+“Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, I ask your pardon for having made you
+take this step; but the honor of the house of Fromont was at stake.”
+
+From that moment Sigismond became more and more depressed. His cash-box
+no longer seemed to him safe or secure. Even when Fromont Jeune did not
+ask him for money, he was afraid, and he summed up all his apprehensions
+in four words which came continually to his lips when talking with his
+sister:
+
+“I ha no gonfidence,” he would say, in his hoarse Swiss patois.
+
+Thinking always of his cash-box, he dreamed sometimes that it had broken
+apart at all the joints, and insisted on remaining open, no matter how
+much he turned the key; or else that a high wind had scattered all the
+papers, notes, cheques, and bills, and that he ran after them all over
+the factory, tiring himself out in the attempt to pick them up.
+
+In the daytime, as he sat behind his grating in the silence of his
+office, he imagined that a little white mouse had eaten its way through
+the bottom of the box and was gnawing and destroying all its contents,
+growing plumper and prettier as the work of destruction went on.
+
+So that, when Sidonie appeared on the steps about the middle of the
+afternoon, in her pretty Parisian plumage, old Sigismond shuddered with
+rage. In his eyes it was the ruin of the house that stood there, ruin in
+a magnificent costume, with its little coupe at the door, and the placid
+bearing of a happy coquette.
+
+Madame Risler had no suspicion that, at that window on the ground
+floor, sat an untiring foe who watched her slightest movements, the most
+trivial details of her life, the going and coming of her music-teacher,
+the arrival of the fashionable dressmaker in the morning, all the boxes
+that were brought to the house, and the laced cap of the employe of the
+Magasin du Louvre, whose heavy wagon stopped at the gate with a jingling
+of bells, like a diligence drawn by stout horses which were dragging the
+house of Fromont to bankruptcy at break-neck speed.
+
+Sigismond counted the packages, weighed them with his eye as they
+passed, and gazed inquisitively into Risler’s apartments through the
+open windows. The carpets that were shaken with a great noise, the
+jardinieres that were brought into the sunlight filled with fragile,
+unseasonable flowers, rare and expensive, the gorgeous hangings--none of
+these things escaped his notice.
+
+The new acquisitions of the household stared him in the face, reminding
+him of some request for a large amount.
+
+But the one thing that he studied more carefully than all else was
+Risler’s countenance.
+
+In his view that woman was in a fair way to change his friend, the
+best, the most upright of men, into a shameless villain. There was no
+possibility of doubt that Risler knew of his dishonor, and submitted to
+it. He was paid to keep quiet.
+
+Certainly there was something monstrous in such a supposition. But it
+is the tendency of innocent natures, when they are made acquainted with
+evil for the first time, to go at once too far, beyond reason. When he
+was once convinced of the treachery of Georges and Sidonie, Risler’s
+degradation seemed to the cashier less impossible of comprehension. On
+what other theory could his indifference, in the face of his partner’s
+heavy expenditures, be explained?
+
+The excellent Sigismond, in his narrow, stereotyped honesty, could
+not understand the delicacy of Risler’s heart. At the same time, the
+methodical bookkeeper’s habit of thought and his clear-sightedness
+in business were a thousand leagues from that absent-minded, flighty
+character, half-artist, half-inventor. He judged him by himself, having
+no conception of the condition of a man with the disease of invention,
+absorbed by a fixed idea. Such men are somnambulists. They look, but do
+not see, their eyes being turned within.
+
+It was Sigismond’s belief that Risler did see. That belief made the
+old cashier very unhappy. He began by staring at his friend whenever
+he entered the counting-room; then, discouraged by his immovable
+indifference, which he believed to be wilful and premeditated, covering
+his face like a mask, he adopted the plan of turning away and fumbling
+among his papers to avoid those false glances, and keeping his eyes
+fixed on the garden paths or the interlaced wires of the grating when
+he spoke to him. Even his words were confused and distorted, like his
+glances. No one could say positively to whom he was talking.
+
+No more friendly smiles, no more reminiscences as they turned over the
+leaves of the cash-book together.
+
+“This was the year you came to the factory. Your first increase of pay.
+Do you remember? We dined at Douix’s that day. And then the Cafe des
+Aveugles in the evening, eh? What a debauch!”
+
+At last Risler noticed the strange coolness that had sprung up between
+Sigismond and himself. He mentioned it to his wife.
+
+For some time past she had felt that antipathy prowling about her.
+Sometimes, as she crossed the courtyard, she was oppressed, as it were,
+by malevolent glances which caused her to turn nervously toward the old
+cashier’s corner. This estrangement between the friends alarmed her,
+and she very quickly determined to put her husband on his guard against
+Planus’s unpleasant remarks.
+
+“Don’t you see that he is jealous of you, of your position? A man who
+was once his equal, now his superior, he can’t stand that. But why
+bother one’s head about all these spiteful creatures? Why, I am
+surrounded by them here.”
+
+Risler looked at her with wide-open eyes:--“You?”
+
+“Why, yes, it is easy enough to see that all these people detest me.
+They bear little Chebe a grudge because she has become Madame Risler
+Aine. Heaven only knows all the outrageous things that are said about
+me! And your cashier doesn’t keep his tongue in his pocket, I assure
+you. What a spiteful fellow he is!”
+
+These few words had their effect. Risler, indignant, but too proud
+to complain, met coldness with coldness. Those two honest men, each
+intensely distrustful of the other, could no longer meet without a
+painful sensation, so that, after a while, Risler ceased to go to the
+counting-room at all. It was not difficult for him, as Fromont Jeune had
+charge of all financial matters. His month’s allowance was carried to
+him on the thirtieth of each month. This arrangement afforded Sidonie
+and Georges additional facilities, and opportunity for all sorts of
+underhand dealing.
+
+She thereupon turned her attention to the completion of her programme of
+a life of luxury. She lacked a country house. In her heart she detested
+the trees, the fields, the country roads that cover you with dust. “The
+most dismal things on earth,” she used to say. But Claire Fromont passed
+the summer at Savigny. As soon as the first fine days arrived, the
+trunks were packed and the curtains taken down on the floor below; and
+a great furniture van, with the little girl’s blue bassinet rocking
+on top, set off for the grandfather’s chateau. Then, one morning, the
+mother, grandmother, child, and nurse, a medley of white gowns and light
+veils, would drive away behind two fast horses toward the sunny lawns
+and the pleasant shade of the avenues.
+
+At that season Paris was ugly, depopulated; and although Sidonie loved
+it even in the summer, which heats it like a furnace, it troubled her
+to think that all the fashion and wealth of Paris were driving by the
+seashore under their light umbrellas, and would make their outing an
+excuse for a thousand new inventions, for original styles of the most
+risque sort, which would permit one to show that one has a pretty ankle
+and long, curly chestnut hair of one’s own.
+
+The seashore bathing resorts! She could not think of them; Risler could
+not leave Paris.
+
+How about buying a country house? They had not the means. To be sure,
+there was the lover, who would have asked nothing better than to
+gratify this latest whim; but a country house cannot be concealed like a
+bracelet or a shawl. The husband must be induced to accept it. That was
+not an easy matter; however, they might venture to try it with Risler.
+
+To pave the way, she talked to him incessantly about a little nook in
+the country, not too expensive, very near Paris. Risler listened with
+a smile. He thought of the high grass, of the orchard filled with fine
+fruit-trees, being already tormented by the longing to possess which
+comes with wealth; but, as he was prudent, he said:
+
+“We will see, we will see. Let us wait till the end of the year.”
+
+The end of the year, that is to say, the striking of the balance-sheet.
+
+The balance-sheet! That is the magic word. All through the year we go
+on and on in the eddying whirl of business. Money comes and goes,
+circulates, attracts other money, vanishes; and the fortune of the firm,
+like a slippery, gleaming snake, always in motion, expands, contracts,
+diminishes, or increases, and it is impossible to know our condition
+until there comes a moment of rest. Not until the inventory shall
+we know the truth, and whether the year, which seems to have been
+prosperous, has really been so.
+
+The account of stock is usually taken late in December, between
+Christmas and New Year’s Day. As it requires much extra labor to prepare
+it, everybody works far into the night. The whole establishment is
+alert. The lamps remain lighted in the offices long after the doors are
+closed, and seem to share in the festal atmosphere peculiar to that
+last week of the year, when so many windows are illuminated for family
+gatherings. Every one, even to the least important ‘employe’ of the
+firm, is interested in the results of the inventory. The increases of
+salary, the New Year’s presents, depend upon those blessed figures. And
+so, while the vast interests of a wealthy house are trembling in the
+balance, the wives and children and aged parents of the clerks, in their
+fifth-floor tenements or poor apartments in the suburbs, talk of nothing
+but the inventory, the results of which will make themselves felt
+either by a greatly increased need of economy or by some purchase, long
+postponed, which the New Year’s gift will make possible at last.
+
+On the premises of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, Sigismond Planus is
+the god of the establishment at that season, and his little office a
+sanctuary where all the clerks perform their devotions. In the silence
+of the sleeping factory, the heavy pages of the great books rustle as
+they are turned, and names called aloud cause search to be made in other
+books. Pens scratch. The old cashier, surrounded by his lieutenants, has
+a businesslike, awe-inspiring air. From time to time Fromont Jeune, on
+the point of going out in his carriage, looks in for a moment, with a
+cigar in his mouth, neatly gloved and ready for the street. He walks
+slowly, on tiptoe, puts his face to the grating:
+
+“Well!--are you getting on all right?”
+
+Sigismond gives a grunt, and the young master takes his leave, afraid to
+ask any further questions. He knows from the cashier’s expression that
+the showing will be a bad one.
+
+In truth, since the days of the Revolution, when there was fighting in
+the very courtyard of the factory, so pitiable an inventory never
+had been seen in the Fromont establishment. Receipts and expenditures
+balanced each other. The general expense account had eaten up
+everything, and, furthermore, Fromont Jeune was indebted to the firm
+in a large sum. You should have seen old Planus’s air of consternation
+when, on the 31st of December, he went up to Georges’s office to make
+report of his labors.
+
+Georges took a very cheerful view of the matter. Everything would go
+better next year. And to restore the cashier’s good humor he gave him
+an extraordinary bonus of a thousand francs, instead of the five hundred
+his uncle used always to give. Everybody felt the effects of that
+generous impulse, and, in the universal satisfaction, the deplorable
+results of the yearly accounting were very soon forgotten. As for
+Risler, Georges chose to take it upon himself to inform him as to the
+situation.
+
+When he entered his partner’s little closet, which was lighted from
+above by a window in the ceiling, so that the light fell directly upon
+the subject of the inventor’s meditations, Fromont hesitated a moment,
+filled with shame and remorse for what he was about to do.
+
+The other, when he heard the door, turned joyfully toward his partner.
+
+“Chorche, Chorche, my dear fellow--I have got it, our press. There are
+still a few little things to think out. But no matter! I am sure now
+of my invention: you will see--you will see! Ah! the Prochassons can
+experiment all they choose. With the Risler Press we will crush all
+rivalry.”
+
+“Bravo, my comrade!” replied Fromont Jeune. “So much for the future; but
+you don’t seem to think about the present. What about this inventory?”
+
+“Ah, yes! to be sure. I had forgotten all about it. It isn’t very
+satisfactory, is it?”
+
+He said that because of the somewhat disturbed and embarrassed
+expression on Georges’s face.
+
+“Why, yes, on the contrary, it is very satisfactory indeed,” was the
+reply. “We have every reason to be satisfied, especially as this is our
+first year together. We have forty thousand francs each for our share of
+the profits; and as I thought you might need a little money to give your
+wife a New Year’s present--”
+
+Ashamed to meet the eyes of the honest man whose confidence he was
+betraying, Fromont jeune placed a bundle of cheques and notes on the
+table.
+
+Risler was deeply moved for a moment. So much money at one time for him!
+His mind dwelt upon the generosity of these Fromonts, who had made him
+what he was; then he thought of his little Sidonie, of the longing which
+she had so often expressed and which he would now be able to gratify.
+
+With tears in his eyes and a happy smile on his lips, he held out both
+hands to his partner.
+
+“I am very happy! I am very happy!”
+
+That was his favorite phrase on great occasions. Then he pointed to the
+bundles of bank notes spread out before him in the narrow bands which
+are used to confine those fugitive documents, always ready to fly away.
+
+“Do you know what that is?” he said to Georges, with an air of triumph.
+“That is Sidonie’s house in the country!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. A LETTER
+
+
+   “TO M. FRANTZ RISLER,
+
+   “Engineer of the Compagnie Francaise,
+   “Ismailia, Egypt.
+
+   “Frantz, my boy, it is old Sigismond who is writing to you. If I
+   knew better how to put my ideas on paper, I should have a very long
+   story to tell you. But this infernal French is too hard, and
+   Sigismond Planus is good for nothing away from his figures. So I
+   will come to the point at once.
+
+   “Affairs in your brother’s house are not as they should be. That
+   woman is false to him with his partner. She has made her husband a
+   laughing-stock, and if this goes on she will cause him to be looked
+   upon as a rascal. Frantz, my boy, you must come home at once. You
+   are the only one who can speak to Risler and open his eyes about
+   that little Sidonie. He would not believe any of us. Ask leave of
+   absence at once, and come.
+
+   “I know that you have your bread to earn out there, and your future
+   to assure; but a man of honor should think more of the name his
+   parents gave him than of anything else. And I tell you that if you
+   do not come at once, a time will come when the name of Risler will
+   be so overwhelmed with shame that you will not dare to bear it.
+
+                  “SIGISMOND PLANUS,
+                       “Cashier.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGE
+
+Those persons who live always in doors, confined by work or infirmity to
+a chair by the window, take a deep interest in the people who pass, just
+as they make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls, roofs,
+and windows.
+
+Nailed to their place, they live in the life of the streets; and the
+busy men and women who pass within their range of vision, sometimes
+every day at the same hour, do not suspect that they serve as the
+mainspring of other lives, that interested eyes watch for their coming
+and miss them if they happen to go to their destination by another road.
+
+The Delobelles, left to themselves all day, indulged in this sort of
+silent observation. Their window was narrow, and the mother, whose eyes
+were beginning to weaken as the result of hard usage, sat near the light
+against the drawn muslin curtain; her daughter’s large armchair was
+a little farther away. She announced the approach of their daily
+passers-by. It was a diversion, a subject of conversation; and the long
+hours of toil seemed shorter, marked off by the regular appearance
+of people who were as busy as they. There were two little sisters, a
+gentleman in a gray overcoat, a child who was taken to school and taken
+home again, and an old government clerk with a wooden leg, whose step on
+the sidewalk had a sinister sound.
+
+They hardly ever saw him; he passed after dark, but they heard him, and
+the sound always struck the little cripple’s ears like a harsh echo
+of her own mournful thoughts. All these street friends unconsciously
+occupied a large place in the lives of the two women. If it rained, they
+would say:
+
+“They will get wet. I wonder whether the child got home before the
+shower.” And when the season changed, when the March sun inundated the
+sidewalks or the December snow covered them with its white mantle and
+its patches of black mud, the appearance of a new garment on one of
+their friends caused the two recluses to say to themselves, “It is
+summer,” or, “winter has come.”
+
+Now, on a certain evening in May, one of those soft, luminous evenings
+when life flows forth from the houses into the street through the open
+windows, Desiree and her mother were busily at work with needles and
+fingers, exhausting the daylight to its last ray, before lighting the
+lamp. They could hear the shouts of children playing in the yards, the
+muffled notes of pianos, and the voice of a street peddler, drawing his
+half-empty wagon. One could smell the springtime in the air, a vague
+odor of hyacinth and lilac.
+
+Mamma Delobelle had laid aside her work, and, before closing the window,
+leaned upon the sill listening to all these noises of a great toiling
+city, taking delight in walking through the streets when its day’s work
+was ended. From time to time she spoke to her daughter, without turning
+her head.
+
+“Ah! there’s Monsieur Sigismond. How early he leaves the factory
+to-night! It may be because the days are lengthening so fast, but I
+don’t think it can be seven o’clock. Who can that man be with the old
+cashier?--What a funny thing!--One would say--Why, yes!--One would say
+it was Monsieur Frantz. But that isn’t possible. Monsieur Frantz is a
+long way from here at this moment; and then he had no beard. That man
+looks like him all the same! Just look, my dear.”
+
+But “my dear” does not leave her chair; she does not even stir. With
+her eyes staring into vacancy, her needle in the air, arrested in its
+pretty, industrious movement, she has gone away to the blue country,
+that wonderful country whither one may go at will, without thought of
+any infirmity. The name “Frantz,” uttered mechanically by her mother,
+because of a chance resemblance, represented to her a whole lifetime
+of illusions, of fervent hopes, ephemeral as the flush that rose to her
+cheeks when, on returning home at night, he used to come and chat with
+her a moment. How far away that was already! To think that he used to
+live in the little room near hers, that they used to hear his step on
+the stairs and the noise made by his table when he dragged it to the
+window to draw! What sorrow and what happiness she used to feel when he
+talked to her of Sidonie, sitting on the low chair at her knees, while
+she mounted her birds and her insects.
+
+As she worked, she used to cheer and comfort him, for Sidonie had caused
+poor Frantz many little griefs before the last great one. His tone when
+he spoke of Sidonie, the sparkle in his eyes when he thought of her,
+fascinated Desiree in spite of everything, so that when he went away
+in despair, he left behind him a love even greater than that he carried
+with him--a love which the unchanging room, the sedentary, stagnant
+life, kept intact with all its bitter perfume, whereas his would
+gradually fade away and vanish in the fresh air of the outer world.
+
+It grows darker and darker. A great wave of melancholy envelops the poor
+girl with the falling darkness of that balmy evening. The blissful gleam
+from the past dies away as the last glimmer of daylight vanishes in the
+narrow recess of the window, where her mother still stands leaning on
+the sill.
+
+Suddenly the door opens. Some one is there whose features can not be
+distinguished. Who can it be? The Delobelles never receive calls. The
+mother, who has turned her head, thinks at first that some one has come
+from the shop to get the week’s work.
+
+“My husband has just gone to your place, Monsieur. We have nothing here.
+Monsieur Delobelle has taken everything.”
+
+The man comes forward without speaking, and as he approaches the window
+his features can be distinguished. He is a tall, solidly built fellow
+with a bronzed face, a thick, red beard, and a deep voice, and is a
+little slow of speech.
+
+“Ah! so you don’t know me, Mamma Delobelle?”
+
+“Oh! I knew you at once, Monsieur Frantz,” said Desiree, very calmly, in
+a cold, sedate tone.
+
+“Merciful heavens! it’s Monsieur Frantz.”
+
+Quickly Mamma Delobelle runs to the lamp, lights it, and closes the
+window.
+
+“What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?” How coolly she says it, the
+little rascal! “I knew you at once.” Ah, the little iceberg! She will
+always be the same.
+
+A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her
+hand as it lies in Frantz’s is white and cold.
+
+She seems to him improved, even more refined than before. He seems to
+her superb, as always, with a melancholy, weary expression in the depths
+of his eyes, which makes him more of a man than when he went away.
+
+His weariness is due to his hurried journey, undertaken immediately on
+his receipt of Sigismond’s letter. Spurred on by the word dishonor, he
+had started instantly, without awaiting his leave of absence, risking
+his place and his future prospects; and, hurrying from steamships to
+railways, he had not stopped until he reached Paris. Reason enough for
+being weary, especially when one has travelled in eager haste to reach
+one’s destination, and when one’s mind has been continually beset by
+impatient thoughts, making the journey ten times over in incessant doubt
+and fear and perplexity.
+
+His melancholy began further back. It began on the day when the woman he
+loved refused to marry him, to become, six months later, the wife of his
+brother; two terrible blows in close succession, the second even more
+painful than the first. It is true that, before entering into that
+marriage, Risler had written to him to ask his permission to be happy,
+and had written in such touching, affectionate terms that the violence
+of the blow was somewhat diminished; and then, in due time, life in a
+strange country, hard work, and long journeys had softened his grief.
+Now only a vast background of melancholy remains; unless, indeed, the
+hatred and wrath by which he is animated at this moment against the
+woman who is dishonoring his brother may be a remnant of his former
+love.
+
+But no! Frantz Risler thinks only of avenging the honor of the Rislers.
+He comes not as a lover, but as a judge; and Sidonie may well look to
+herself.
+
+The judge had gone straight to the factory on leaving the train, relying
+upon the surprise, the unexpectedness, of his arrival to disclose to him
+at a glance what was taking place.
+
+Unluckily he had found no one. The blinds of the little house at the
+foot of the garden had been closed for two weeks. Pere Achille informed
+him that the ladies were at their respective country seats where the
+partners joined them every evening.
+
+Fromont Jeune had left the factory very early; Risler Aine had just
+gone. Frantz decided to speak to old Sigismond. But it was Saturday, the
+regular pay-day, and he must needs wait until the long line of workmen,
+extending from Achille’s lodge to the cashier’s grated window, had
+gradually dispersed.
+
+Although very impatient and very depressed, the excellent youth, who had
+lived the life of a Paris workingman from his childhood, felt a thrill
+of pleasure at finding himself once more in the midst of the animated
+scenes peculiar to that time and place. Upon all those faces, honest or
+vicious, was an expression of satisfaction that the week was at an end.
+You felt that, so far as they were concerned, Sunday began at seven
+o’clock Saturday evening, in front of the cashier’s little lamp.
+
+One must have lived among workingmen to realize the full charm of that
+one day’s rest and its solemnity. Many of these poor creatures, bound
+fast to unhealthful trades, await the coming of the blessed Sunday like
+a puff of refreshing air, essential to their health and their life. What
+an overflow of spirits, therefore, what a pressing need of noisy mirth!
+It seems as if the oppression of the week’s labor vanishes with the
+steam from the machinery, as it escapes in a hissing cloud of vapor over
+the gutters.
+
+One by one the workmen moved away from the grating, counting the
+money that glistened in their black hands. There were disappointments,
+mutterings, remonstrances, hours missed, money drawn in advance; and
+above the tinkling of coins, Sigismond’s voice could be heard, calm
+and relentless, defending the interests of his employers with a zeal
+amounting to ferocity.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all the dramas of pay-day, the false accents
+and the true. He knew that one man’s wages were expended for his family,
+to pay the baker and the druggist, or for his children’s schooling.
+
+Another wanted his money for the wine-shop or for something even worse.
+And the melancholy, downcast shadows passing to and fro in front of the
+factory gateway--he knew what they were waiting for--that they were
+all on the watch for a father or a husband, to hurry him home with
+complaining or coaxing words.
+
+Oh! the barefooted children, the tiny creatures wrapped in old shawls,
+the shabby women, whose tear-stained faces were as white as the linen
+caps that surmounted them.
+
+Oh! the lurking vice that prowls about on pay-day, the candles that
+are lighted in the depths of dark alleys, the dirty windows of the
+wine-shops where the thousand-and-one poisonous concoctions of alcohol
+display their alluring colors.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all these forms of misery; but never had they
+seemed to him so depressing, so harrowing as on that evening.
+
+When the last man was paid, Sigismond came out of his office. The two
+friends recognized each other and embraced; and in the silence of the
+factory, at rest for twenty-four hours and deathly still in all its
+empty buildings, the cashier explained to Frantz the state of affairs.
+He described Sidonie’s conduct, her mad extravagance, the total wreck
+of the family honor. The Rislers had bought a country house at Asnieres,
+formerly the property of an actress, and had set up a sumptuous
+establishment there. They had horses and carriages, and led a luxurious,
+gay life. The thing that especially disturbed honest Sigismond was the
+self restraint of Fromont jeune. For some time he had drawn almost no
+money from the strong-box, and yet Sidonie was spending more than ever.
+
+“I haf no gonfidence!” said the unhappy cashier, shaking his head, “I
+haf no gonfidence!”
+
+Lowering his voice he added:
+
+“But your brother, my little Frantz, your brother? Who can explain his
+actions? He goes about through it all with his eyes in the air,
+his hands in his pockets, his mind on his famous invention, which
+unfortunately doesn’t move fast. Look here! do you want me to give you
+my opinion?--He’s either a knave or a fool.”
+
+They were walking up and down the little garden as they talked, stopping
+for a moment, then resuming their walk. Frantz felt as if he were living
+in a horrible dream. The rapid journey, the sudden change of scene and
+climate, the ceaseless flow of Sigismond’s words, the new idea that
+he had to form of Risler and Sidonie--the same Sidonie he had loved so
+dearly--all these things bewildered him and almost drove him mad.
+
+It was late. Night was falling. Sigismond proposed to him to go to
+Montrouge for the night; he declined on the plea of fatigue, and when he
+was left alone in the Marais, at that dismal and uncertain hour when
+the daylight has faded and the gas is still unlighted, he walked
+instinctively toward his old quarters on the Rue de Braque.
+
+At the hall door hung a placard: Bachelor’s Chamber to let.
+
+It was the same room in which he had lived so long with his brother. He
+recognized the map fastened to the wall by four pins, the window on
+the landing, and the Delobelles’ little sign: ‘Birds and Insects for
+Ornament.’
+
+Their door was ajar; he had only to push it a little in order to enter
+the room.
+
+Certainly there was not in all Paris a surer refuge for him, a spot
+better fitted to welcome and console his perturbed spirit, than that
+hard-working familiar fireside. In his present agitation and perplexity
+it was like the harbor with its smooth, deep water, the sunny, peaceful
+quay, where the women work while awaiting their husbands and fathers,
+though the wind howls and the sea rages. More than all else, although he
+did not realize that it was so, it was a network of steadfast affection,
+that miraculous love-kindness which makes another’s love precious to us
+even when we do not love that other.
+
+That dear little iceberg of a Desiree loved him so dearly. Her eyes
+sparkled so even when talking of the most indifferent things with him.
+As objects dipped in phosphorus shine with equal splendor, so the most
+trivial words she said illuminated her pretty, radiant face. What a
+blissful rest it was for him after Sigismond’s brutal disclosures!
+
+They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was
+setting the table.
+
+“You will dine with us, won’t you, Monsieur Frantz? Father has gone to
+take back the work; but he will surely come home to dinner.”
+
+He will surely come home to dinner!
+
+The good woman said it with a certain pride.
+
+In fact, since the failure of his managerial scheme, the illustrious
+Delobelle no longer took his meals abroad, even on the evenings when he
+went to collect the weekly earnings. The unlucky manager had eaten so
+many meals on credit at his restaurant that he dared not go there again.
+By way of compensation, he never failed, on Saturday, to bring home with
+him two or three unexpected, famished guests--“old comrades”--“unlucky
+devils.” So it happened that, on the evening in question, he appeared
+upon the stage escorting a financier from the Metz theatre and a comique
+from the theatre at Angers, both waiting for an engagement.
+
+The comique, closely shaven, wrinkled, shrivelled by the heat from the
+footlights, looked like an old street-arab; the financier wore cloth
+shoes, and no linen, so far as could be seen.
+
+“Frantz!--my Frantz!” cried the old strolling player in a melodramatic
+voice, clutching the air convulsively with his hands. After a long and
+energetic embrace he presented his guests to one another.
+
+“Monsieur Robricart, of the theatre at Metz.
+
+“Monsieur Chaudezon, of the theatre at Angers.
+
+“Frantz Risler, engineer.”
+
+In Delobelle’s mouth that word “engineer” assumed vast proportions!
+
+Desiree pouted prettily when she saw her father’s friends. It would have
+been so nice to be by themselves on a day like to-day. But the great man
+snapped his fingers at the thought. He had enough to do to unload his
+pockets. First of all, he produced a superb pie “for the ladies,” he
+said, forgetting that he adored pie. A lobster next made its appearance,
+then an Arles sausage, marrons glaces and cherries, the first of the
+season!
+
+While the financier enthusiastically pulled up the collar of his
+invisible shirt, while the comique exclaimed “gnouf! gnouf!” with a
+gesture forgotten by Parisians for ten years, Desiree thought with
+dismay of the enormous hole that impromptu banquet would make in the
+paltry earnings of the week, and Mamma Delobelle, full of business,
+upset the whole buffet in order to find a sufficient number of plates.
+
+It was a very lively meal. The two actors ate voraciously, to the great
+delight of Delobelle, who talked over with them old memories of their
+days of strolling. Fancy a collection of odds and ends of scenery,
+extinct lanterns, and mouldy, crumbling stage properties.
+
+In a sort of vulgar, meaningless, familiar slang, they recalled their
+innumerable triumphs; for all three of them, according to their own
+stories, had been applauded, laden with laurel-wreaths, and carried in
+triumph by whole cities.
+
+While they talked they ate as actors usually eat, sitting with their
+faces turned three-fourths toward the audience, with the unnatural haste
+of stage guests at a pasteboard supper, alternating words and mouthfuls,
+seeking to produce an effect by their manner of putting down a glass
+or moving a chair, and expressing interest, amazement, joy, terror,
+surprise, with the aid of a skilfully handled knife and fork. Madame
+Delobelle listened to them with a smiling face.
+
+One can not be an actor’s wife for thirty years without becoming
+somewhat accustomed to these peculiar mannerisms.
+
+But one little corner of the table was separated from the rest of the
+party as by a cloud which intercepted the absurd remarks, the
+hoarse laughter, the boasting. Frantz and Desiree talked together in
+undertones, hearing naught of what was said around them. Things that
+happened in their childhood, anecdotes of the neighborhood, a whole
+ill-defined past which derived its only value from the mutual memories
+evoked, from the spark that glowed in the eyes of both-those were the
+themes of their pleasant chat.
+
+Suddenly the cloud was torn aside, and Delobelle’s terrible voice
+interrupted the dialogue.
+
+“Have you not seen your brother?” he asked, in order to avoid the
+appearance of neglecting him too much. “And you have not seen his wife,
+either? Ah! you will find her a Madame. Such toilettes, my dear fellow,
+and such chic! I assure you. They have a genuine chateau at Asnieres.
+The Chebes are there also. Ah! my old friend, they have all left us
+behind. They are rich, they look down on old friends. Never a word,
+never a call. For my part, you understand, I snap my fingers at them,
+but it really wounds these ladies.”
+
+“Oh, papa!” said Desiree hastily, “you know very well that we are too
+fond of Sidonie to be offended with her.”
+
+The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist.
+
+“Why, then, you do wrong. You ought to be offended with people who seek
+always to wound and humiliate you.”
+
+He still had upon his mind the refusal to furnish funds for his
+theatrical project, and he made no secret of his wrath.
+
+“If you knew,” he said to Frantz, “if you knew how money is being
+squandered over yonder! It is a great pity. And nothing substantial,
+nothing sensible. I who speak to you, asked your brother for a paltry
+sum to assure my future and himself a handsome profit. He flatly
+refused. Parbleu! Madame requires too much. She rides, goes to the races
+in her carriage, and drives her husband at the same rate as her little
+phaeton on the quay at Asnieres. Between you and me, I don’t think that
+our good friend Risler is very happy. That woman makes him believe black
+is white.”
+
+The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the
+financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional
+grimaces, ‘ha-has!’ and ‘hum-hums!’ and all the usual pantomime
+expressive of thoughts too deep for words.
+
+Frantz was struck dumb. Do what he would, the horrible certainty
+assailed him on all sides. Sigismond had spoken in accordance with his
+nature, Delobelle with his. The result was the same.
+
+Fortunately the dinner was drawing near its close. The three actors
+left the table and betook themselves to the brewery on the Rue Blondel.
+Frantz remained with the two women.
+
+As he sat beside her, gentle and affectionate in manner, Desiree was
+suddenly conscious of a great outflow of gratitude to Sidonie. She said
+to herself that, after all, it was to her generosity that she owed this
+semblance of happiness, and that thought gave her courage to defend her
+former friend.
+
+“You see, Monsieur Frantz, you mustn’t believe all my father told you
+about your sister-in-law. Dear papa! he always exaggerates a little. For
+my own part, I am very sure that Sidonie is incapable of all the evil
+she is accused of. I am sure that her heart has remained the same; and
+that she is still fond of her friends, although she does neglect them a
+little. Such is life, you know. Friends drift apart without meaning to.
+Isn’t that true, Monsieur Frantz?”
+
+Oh! how pretty she was in his eyes, while she talked in that strain. He
+never had taken so much notice of the refined features, the aristocratic
+pallor of her complexion; and when he left her that evening, deeply
+touched by the warmth she had displayed in defending Sidonie, by all the
+charming feminine excuses she put forward for her friend’s silence
+and neglect, Frantz Risler reflected, with a feeling of selfish and
+ingenuous pleasure, that the child had loved him once, and that perhaps
+she loved him still, and kept for him in the bottom of her heart that
+warm, sheltered spot to which we turn as to the sanctuary when life has
+wounded us.
+
+All night long in his old room, lulled by the imaginary movement of the
+vessel, by the murmur of the waves and the howling of the wind which
+follow long sea voyages, he dreamed of his youthful days, of little
+Chebe and Desiree Delobelle, of their games, their labors, and of the
+Ecole Centrale, whose great, gloomy buildings were sleeping near at
+hand, in the dark streets of the Marais.
+
+And when daylight came, and the sun shining in at his bare window vexed
+his eyes and brought him back to a realization of the duty that lay
+before him and to the anxieties of the day, he dreamed that it was time
+to go to the School, and that his brother, before going down to the
+factory, opened the door and called to him:
+
+“Come, lazybones! Come!”
+
+That dear, loving voice, too natural, too real for a dream, made him
+open his eyes without more ado.
+
+Risler was standing by his bed, watching his awakening with a charming
+smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
+from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more,
+he could find nothing better to say than, “I am very happy, I am very
+happy!”
+
+Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the
+factory to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his
+press. Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that
+his brother was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de
+Braque, and he had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little
+vexed that he had not been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had
+defrauded him of the first evening. His regret on that account came to
+the surface every moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in
+which everything that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted
+by innumerable questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of
+affection and joy. Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and
+the pleasure it had given him to be in their old room once more.
+
+“All right, all right,” said Risler, “but I sha’n’t let you alone
+now--you are coming to Asnieres at once. I give myself leave of absence
+today. All thought of work is out of the question now that you have
+come, you understand. Ah! won’t the little one be surprised and glad! We
+talk about you so often! What joy! what joy!”
+
+The poor fellow fairly beamed with happiness; he, the silent man,
+chattered like a magpie, gazed admiringly at his Frantz and remarked
+upon his growth. The pupil of the Ecole Centrale had had a fine physique
+when he went away, but his features had acquired greater firmness,
+his shoulders were broader, and it was a far cry from the tall,
+studious-looking boy who had left Paris two years before, for Ismailia,
+to this handsome, bronzed corsair, with his serious yet winning face.
+
+While Risler was gazing at him, Frantz, on his side, was closely
+scrutinizing his brother, and, finding him the same as always, as
+ingenuous, as loving, and as absent-minded as times, he said to himself:
+
+“No! it is not possible--he has not ceased to be an honest man.”
+
+Thereupon, as he reflected upon what people had dared to imagine, all
+his wrath turned against that hypocritical, vicious woman, who deceived
+her husband so impudently and with such absolute impunity that she
+succeeded in causing him to be considered her confederate. Oh! what a
+terrible reckoning he proposed to have with her; how pitilessly he would
+talk to her!
+
+“I forbid you, Madame--understand what I say--I forbid you to dishonor
+my brother!”
+
+He was thinking of that all the way, as he watched the still leafless
+trees glide along the embankment of the Saint-Germain railway. Sitting
+opposite him, Risler chattered, chattered without pause. He talked about
+the factory, about their business. They had gained forty thousand francs
+each the last year; but it would be a different matter when the Press
+was at work. “A rotary press, my little Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal,
+capable of printing a pattern in twelve to fifteen colors at a single
+turn of the wheel--red on pink, dark green on light green, without the
+least running together or absorption, without a line lapping over its
+neighbor, without any danger of one shade destroying or overshadowing
+another. Do you understand that, little brother? A machine that is an
+artist like a man. It means a revolution in the wallpaper trade.”
+
+“But,” queried Frantz with some anxiety, “have you invented this Press
+of yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?”
+
+“Invented!--perfected! To-morrow I will show you all my plans. I have
+also invented an automatic crane for hanging the paper on the rods
+in the drying-room. Next week I intend to take up my quarters in
+the factory, up in the garret, and have my first machine made there
+secretly, under my own eyes. In three months the patents must be taken
+out and the Press must be at work. You’ll see, my little Frantz, it will
+make us all rich-you can imagine how glad I shall be to be able to make
+up to these Fromonts for a little of what they have done for me. Ah!
+upon my word, the Lord has been too good to me.”
+
+Thereupon he began to enumerate all his blessings. Sidonie was the best
+of women, a little love of a wife, who conferred much honor upon him.
+They had a charming home. They went into society, very select society.
+The little one sang like a nightingale, thanks to Madame Dobson’s
+expressive method. By the way, this Madame Dobson was another most
+excellent creature. There was just one thing that disturbed poor Risler,
+that was his incomprehensible misunderstanding with Sigismond. Perhaps
+Frantz could help him to clear up that mystery.
+
+“Oh! yes, I will help you, brother,” replied Frantz through his clenched
+teeth; and an angry flush rose to his brow at the idea that any one
+could have suspected the open-heartedness, the loyalty, that were
+displayed before him in all their artless spontaneity. Luckily he, the
+judge, had arrived; and he proposed to restore everything to its proper
+place.
+
+Meanwhile, they were drawing near the house at Asnieres. Frantz had
+noticed at a distance a fanciful little turreted affair, glistening with
+a new blue slate roof. It seemed to him to have been built expressly for
+Sidonie, a fitting cage for that capricious, gaudy-plumaged bird.
+
+It was a chalet with two stories, whose bright mirrors and pink-lined
+curtains could be seen from the railway, shining resplendent at the far
+end of a green lawn, where an enormous pewter ball was suspended.
+
+The river was near at hand, still wearing its Parisian aspect, filled
+with chains, bathing establishments, great barges, and multitudes
+of little, skiffs, with a layer of coal dust on their pretentious,
+freshly-painted names, tied to the pier and rocking to the slightest
+motion of the water. From her windows Sidonie could see the restaurants
+on the beach, silent through the week, but filled to overflowing on
+Sunday with a motley, noisy crowd, whose shouts of laughter, mingled
+with the dull splash of oars, came from both banks to meet in midstream
+in that current of vague murmurs, shouts, calls, laughter, and singing
+that floats without ceasing up and down the Seine on holidays for a
+distance of ten miles.
+
+During the week she saw shabbily-dressed idlers sauntering along the
+shore, men in broad-brimmed straw hats and flannel shirts, women who sat
+on the worn grass of the sloping bank, doing nothing, with the dreamy
+eyes of a cow at pasture. All the peddlers, hand-organs, harpists;
+travelling jugglers, stopped there as at a quarantine station. The quay
+was crowded with them, and as they approached, the windows in the
+little houses near by were always thrown open, disclosing white
+dressing-jackets, half-buttoned, heads of dishevelled hair, and an
+occasional pipe, all watching these paltry strolling shows, as if with
+a sigh of regret for Paris, so near at hand. It was a hideous and
+depressing sight.
+
+The grass, which had hardly begun to grow, was already turning yellow
+beneath the feet of the crowd. The dust was black; and yet, every
+Thursday, the cocotte aristocracy passed through on the way to the
+Casino, with a great show of rickety carriages and borrowed postilions.
+All these things gave pleasure to that fanatical Parisian, Sidonie; and
+then, too, in her childhood, she had heard a great deal about Asnieres
+from the illustrious Delobelle, who would have liked to have, like so
+many of his profession, a little villa in those latitudes, a cozy nook
+in the country to which to return by the midnight train, after the play
+is done.
+
+All these dreams of little Chebe, Sidonie Risler had realized.
+
+The brothers went to the gate opening on the quay, in which the key was
+usually left. They entered, making their way among trees and shrubs of
+recent growth. Here and there the billiard-room, the gardener’s lodge, a
+little greenhouse, made their appearance, like the pieces of one of
+the Swiss chalets we give to children to play with; all very light and
+fragile, hardly more than resting on the ground, as if ready to fly away
+at the slightest breath of bankruptcy or caprice: the villa of a cocotte
+or a pawnbroker.
+
+Frantz looked about in some bewilderment. In the distance, opening on a
+porch surrounded by vases of flowers, was the salon with its long blinds
+raised. An American easy-chair, folding-chairs, a small table from which
+the coffee had not been removed, could be seen near the door. Within
+they heard a succession of loud chords on the piano and the murmur of
+low voices.
+
+“I tell you Sidonie will be surprised,” said honest Risler, walking
+softly on the gravel; “she doesn’t expect me until tonight. She and
+Madame Dobson are practising together at this moment.”
+
+Pushing the door open suddenly, he cried from the threshold in his loud,
+good-natured voice:
+
+“Guess whom I’ve brought.”
+
+Madame Dobson, who was sitting alone at the piano, jumped up from her
+stool, and at the farther end of the grand salon Georges and Sidonie
+rose hastily behind the exotic plants that reared their heads above a
+table, of whose delicate, slender lines they seemed a prolongation.
+
+“Ah! how you frightened me!” said Sidonie, running to meet Risler.
+
+The flounces of her white peignoir, through which blue ribbons were
+drawn, like little patches of blue sky among the clouds, rolled
+in billows over the carpet, and, having already recovered from her
+embarrassment, she stood very straight, with an affable expression and
+her everlasting little smile, as she kissed her husband and offered her
+forehead to Frantz, saying:
+
+“Good morning, brother.”
+
+Risler left them confronting each other, and went up to Fromont Jeune,
+whom he was greatly surprised to find there.
+
+“What, Chorche, you here? I supposed you were at Savigny.”
+
+“Yes, to be sure, but--I came--I thought you stayed at Asnieres Sundays.
+I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business.”
+
+Thereupon, entangling himself in his words, he began to talk hurriedly
+of an important order. Sidonie had disappeared after exchanging a few
+unmeaning words with the impassive Frantz. Madame Dobson continued
+her tremolos on the soft pedal, like those which accompany critical
+situations at the theatre.
+
+In very truth, the situation at that moment was decidedly strained.
+But Risler’s good-humor banished all constraint. He apologized to his
+partner for not being at home, and insisted upon showing Frantz the
+house. They went from the salon to the stable, from the stable to the
+carriage-house, the servants’ quarters, and the conservatory. Everything
+was new, brilliant, gleaming, too small, and inconvenient.
+
+“But,” said Risler, with a certain pride, “it cost a heap of money!”
+
+He persisted in compelling admiration of Sidonie’s purchase even to its
+smallest details, exhibited the gas and water fixtures on every
+floor, the improved system of bells, the garden seats, the English
+billiard-table, the hydropathic arrangements, and accompanied his
+exposition with outbursts of gratitude to Fromont Jeune, who, by taking
+him into partnership, had literally placed a fortune in his hands.
+
+At each new effusion on Risler’s part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly,
+ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz’s face.
+
+The breakfast was lacking in gayety.
+
+Madame Dobson talked almost without interruption, overjoyed to be
+swimming in the shallows of a romantic love-affair. Knowing, or rather
+believing that she knew her friend’s story from beginning to end, she
+understood the lowering wrath of Frantz, a former lover furious at
+finding his place filled, and the anxiety of Georges, due to the
+appearance of a rival; and she encouraged one with a glance, consoled
+the other with a smile, admired Sidonie’s tranquil demeanor, and
+reserved all her contempt for that abominable Risler, the vulgar,
+uncivilized tyrant. She made an effort to prevent any of those horrible
+periods of silence, when the clashing knives and forks mark time in such
+an absurd and embarrassing way.
+
+As soon as breakfast was at an end Fromont Jeune announced that he must
+return to Savigny. Risler did not venture to detain him, thinking that
+his dear Madame Chorche would pass her Sunday all alone; and so, without
+an opportunity to say a word to his mistress, the lover went away in
+the bright sunlight to take an afternoon train, still attended by the
+husband, who insisted upon escorting him to the station.
+
+Madame Dobson sat for a moment with Frantz and Sidonie under a little
+arbor which a climbing vine studded with pink buds; then, realizing
+that she was in the way, she returned to the salon, and as before, while
+Georges was there, began to play and sing softly and with expression.
+In the silent garden, that muffled music, gliding between the branches,
+seemed like the cooing of birds before the storm.
+
+At last they were alone. Under the lattice of the arbor, still bare and
+leafless, the May sun shone too bright. Sidonie shaded her eyes with
+her hand as she watched the people passing on the quay. Frantz likewise
+looked out, but in another direction; and both of them, affecting to be
+entirely independent of each other, turned at the same instant with the
+same gesture and moved by the same thought.
+
+“I have something to say to you,” he said, just as she opened her mouth.
+
+“And I to you,” she replied gravely; “but come in here; we shall be more
+comfortable.”
+
+And they entered together a little summer-house at the foot of the
+garden.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. EXPLANATION
+
+By slow degrees Sidonie sank to her former level, yes, even lower. From
+the rich, well-considered bourgeoise to which her marriage had raised
+her, she descended the ladder to the rank of a mere toy. 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 employees 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.”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 4.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. THE DAY OF RECKONING
+
+The great clock of Saint-Gervais struck one in the morning. It was so
+cold that the fine snow, flying through the air, hardened as it fell,
+covering the pavements with a slippery, white blanket.
+
+Risler, wrapped in his cloak, was hastening home from the brewery
+through the deserted streets of the Marais. He had been celebrating, in
+company with his two faithful borrowers, Chebe and Delobelle, his first
+moment of leisure, the end of that almost endless period of seclusion
+during which he had been superintending the manufacture of his press,
+with all the searchings, the joys, and the disappointments of the
+inventor. It had been long, very long. At the last moment he had
+discovered a defect. The crane did not work well; and he had had to
+revise his plans and drawings. At last, on that very day, the new
+machine had been tried. Everything had succeeded to his heart’s desire.
+The worthy man was triumphant. It seemed to him that he had paid a debt,
+by giving the house of Fromont the benefit of a new machine, which would
+lessen the labor, shorten the hours of the workmen, and at the same time
+double the profits and the reputation of the factory. He indulged in
+beautiful dreams as he plodded along. His footsteps rang out proudly,
+emphasized by the resolute and happy trend of his thoughts.
+
+Quickening his pace, he reached the corner of Rue des
+Vieilles-Haudriettes. A long line of carriages was standing in front of
+the factory, and the light of their lanterns in the street, the shadows
+of the drivers seeking shelter from the snow in the corners and angles
+that those old buildings have retained despite the straightening of the
+sidewalks, gave an animated aspect to that deserted, silent quarter.
+
+“Yes, yes! to be sure,” thought the honest fellow, “we have a ball at
+our house.” He remembered that Sidonie was giving a grand musical and
+dancing party, which she had excused him from attending, by the way,
+knowing that he was very busy.
+
+Shadows passed and repassed behind the fluttering veil of the curtains;
+the orchestra seemed to follow the movements of those stealthy
+apparitions with the rising and falling of its muffled notes. The
+guests were dancing. Risler let his eyes rest for a moment on that
+phantasmagoria of the ball, and fancied that he recognized Sidonie’s
+shadow in a small room adjoining the salon.
+
+She was standing erect in her magnificent costume, in the attitude of
+a pretty woman before her mirror. A shorter shadow behind her, Madame
+Dobson doubtless, was repairing some accident to the costume, re-tieing
+the knot of a ribbon tied about her neck, its long ends floating down to
+the flounces of the train. It was all very indistinct, but the woman’s
+graceful figure was recognizable in those faintly traced outlines, and
+Risler tarried long admiring her.
+
+The contrast on the first floor was most striking. There was no light
+visible, with the exception of a little lamp shining through the lilac
+hangings of the bedroom. Risler noticed that circumstance, and as the
+little girl had been ailing a few days before, he felt anxious about
+her, remembering Madame Georges’s strange agitation when she passed him
+so hurriedly in the afternoon; and he retraced his steps as far as Pere
+Achille’s lodge to inquire.
+
+The lodge was full. Coachmen were warming themselves around the stove,
+chatting and laughing amid the smoke from their pipes. When Risler
+appeared there was profound silence, a cunning, inquisitive, significant
+silence. They had evidently been speaking of him.
+
+“Is the Fromont child still sick?” he asked.
+
+“No, not the child, Monsieur.”
+
+“Monsieur Georges sick?”
+
+“Yes, he was taken when he came home to-night. I went right off to
+get the doctor. He said that it wouldn’t amount to anything--that all
+Monsieur needed was rest.”
+
+As Risler closed the door Pere Achille added, under his breath, with the
+half-fearful, half-audacious insolence of an inferior, who would like to
+be listened to and yet not distinctly heard:
+
+“Ah! ‘dame’, they’re not making such a show on the first floor as they
+are on the second.”
+
+This is what had happened.
+
+Fromont jeune, on returning home during the evening, had found his
+wife with such a changed, heartbroken face, that he at once divined a
+catastrophe. But he had become so accustomed in the past two years to
+sin with impunity that it did not for one moment occur to him that his
+wife could have been informed of his conduct. Claire, for her part, to
+avoid humiliating him, was generous enough to speak only of Savigny.
+
+“Grandpapa refused,” she said.
+
+The miserable man turned frightfully pale.
+
+“I am lost--I am lost!” he muttered two or three times in the wild
+accents of fever; and his sleepless nights, a last terrible scene which
+he had had with Sidonie, trying to induce her not to give this party
+on the eve of his downfall, M. Gardinois’ refusal, all these maddening
+things which followed so closely on one another’s heels and had agitated
+him terribly, culminated in a genuine nervous attack. Claire took pity
+on him, put him to bed, and established herself by his side; but her
+voice had lost that affectionate intonation which soothes and persuades.
+There was in her gestures, in the way in which she arranged the pillow
+under the patient’s head and prepared a quieting draught, a strange
+indifference, listlessness.
+
+“But I have ruined you!” Georges said from time to time, as if to rouse
+her from that apathy which made him uncomfortable. She replied with a
+proud, disdainful gesture. Ah! if he had done only that to her!
+
+At last, however, his nerves became calmer, the fever subsided, and he
+fell asleep.
+
+She remained to attend to his wants.
+
+“It is my duty,” she said to herself.
+
+Her duty. She had reached that point with the man whom she had adored so
+blindly, with the hope of a long and happy life together.
+
+At that moment the ball in Sidonie’s apartments began to become very
+animated. The ceiling trembled rhythmically, for Madame had had all the
+carpets removed from her salons for the greater comfort of the dancers.
+Sometimes, too, the sound of voices reached Claire’s ears in waves,
+and frequent tumultuous applause, from which one could divine the great
+number of the guests, the crowded condition of the rooms.
+
+Claire was lost in thought. She did not waste time in regrets, in
+fruitless lamentations. She knew that life was inflexible and that
+all the arguments in the world will not arrest the cruel logic of its
+inevitable progress. She did not ask herself how that man had succeeded
+in deceiving her so long--how he could have sacrificed the honor and
+happiness of his family for a mere caprice. That was the fact, and all
+her reflections could not wipe it out, could not repair the irreparable.
+The subject that engrossed her thoughts was the future. A new existence
+was unfolding before her eyes, dark, cruel, full of privation and toil;
+and, strangely enough, the prospect of ruin, instead of terrifying her,
+restored all her courage. The idea of the change of abode made
+necessary by the economy they would be obliged to practise, of work made
+compulsory for Georges and perhaps for herself, infused an indefinable
+energy into the distressing calmness of her despair. What a heavy burden
+of souls she would have with her three children: her mother, her child,
+and her husband! The feeling of responsibility prevented her giving way
+too much to her misfortune, to the wreck of her love; and in proportion
+as she forgot herself in the thought of the weak creatures she had to
+protect she realized more fully the meaning of the word “sacrifice,” so
+vague on careless lips, so serious when it becomes a rule of life.
+
+Such were the poor woman’s thoughts during that sad vigil, a vigil of
+arms and tears, while she was preparing her forces for the great battle.
+Such was the scene lighted by the modest little lamp which Risler had
+seen from below, like a star fallen from the radiant chandeliers of the
+ballroom.
+
+Reassured by Pere Achille’s reply, the honest fellow thought of going
+up to his bedroom, avoiding the festivities and the guests, for whom he
+cared little.
+
+On such occasions he used a small servants’ staircase communicating with
+the counting-room. So he walked through the many-windowed workshops,
+which the moon, reflected by the snow, made as light as at noonday. He
+breathed the atmosphere of the day of toil, a hot, stifling atmosphere,
+heavy with the odor of boiled talc and varnish. The papers spread out
+on the dryers formed long, rustling paths. On all sides tools were lying
+about, and blouses hanging here and there ready for the morrow. Risler
+never walked through the shops without a feeling of pleasure.
+
+Suddenly he spied a light in Planus’s office, at the end of that long
+line of deserted rooms. The old cashier was still at work, at one
+o’clock in the morning! That was really most extraordinary.
+
+Risler’s first impulse was to retrace his steps. In fact, since his
+unaccountable falling-out with Sigismond, since the cashier had adopted
+that attitude of cold silence toward him, he had avoided meeting him.
+His wounded friendship had always led him to shun an explanation; he had
+a sort of pride in not asking Planus why he bore him ill-will. But, on
+that evening, Risler felt so strongly the need of cordial sympathy, of
+pouring out his heart to some one, and then it was such an excellent
+opportunity for a tete-a-tete with his former friend, that he did not
+try to avoid him but boldly entered the counting-room.
+
+The cashier was sitting there, motionless, among heaps of papers and
+great books, which he had been turning over, some of which had fallen to
+the floor. At the sound of his employer’s footsteps he did not even lift
+his eyes. He had recognized Risler’s step. The latter, somewhat abashed,
+hesitated a moment; then, impelled by one of those secret springs which
+we have within us and which guide us, despite ourselves, in the path of
+our destiny, he walked straight to the cashier’s grating.
+
+“Sigismond,” he said in a grave voice.
+
+The old man raised his head and displayed a shrunken face down which two
+great tears were rolling, the first perhaps that that animate column of
+figures had ever shed in his life.
+
+“You are weeping, old man? What troubles you?”
+
+And honest Risler, deeply touched, held out his hand to his friend, who
+hastily withdrew his. That movement of repulsion was so instinctive, so
+brutal, that all Risler’s emotion changed to indignation.
+
+He drew himself up with stern dignity.
+
+“I offer you my hand, Sigismond Planus!” he said.
+
+“And I refuse to take it,” said Planus, rising.
+
+There was a terrible pause, during which they heard the muffled music
+of the orchestra upstairs and the noise of the ball, the dull, wearing
+noise of floors shaken by the rhythmic movement of the dance.
+
+“Why do you refuse to take my hand?” demanded Risler simply, while the
+grating upon which he leaned trembled with a metallic quiver.
+
+Sigismond was facing him, with both hands on his desk, as if to
+emphasize and drive home what he was about to say in reply.
+
+“Why? Because you have ruined the house; because in a few hours a
+messenger from the Bank will come and stand where you are, to collect a
+hundred thousand francs; and because, thanks to you, I haven’t a sou in
+the cash-box--that’s the reason why!”
+
+Risler was stupefied.
+
+“I have ruined the house--I?”
+
+“Worse than that, Monsieur. You have allowed it to be ruined by your
+wife, and you have arranged with her to benefit by our ruin and your
+dishonor. Oh! I can see your game well enough. The money your wife has
+wormed out of the wretched Fromont, the house at Asnieres, the diamonds
+and all the rest is invested in her name, of course, out of reach of
+disaster; and of course you can retire from business now.”
+
+“Oh--oh!” exclaimed Risler in a faint voice, a restrained voice rather,
+that was insufficient for the multitude of thoughts it strove to
+express; and as he stammered helplessly he drew the grating toward him
+with such force that he broke off a piece of it. Then he staggered, fell
+to the floor, and lay there motionless, speechless, retaining only, in
+what little life was still left in him, the firm determination not to
+die until he had justified himself. That determination must have been
+very powerful; for while his temples throbbed madly, hammered by the
+blood that turned his face purple, while his ears were ringing and
+his glazed eyes seemed already turned toward the terrible unknown, the
+unhappy man muttered to himself in a thick voice, like the voice of a
+shipwrecked man speaking with his mouth full of water in a howling gale:
+“I must live! I must live!”
+
+When he recovered consciousness, he was sitting on the cushioned bench
+on which the workmen sat huddled together on pay-day, his cloak on the
+floor, his cravat untied, his shirt open at the neck, cut by Sigismond’s
+knife. Luckily for him, he had cut his hands when he tore the grating
+apart; the blood had flowed freely, and that accident was enough to
+avert an attack of apoplexy. On opening his eyes, he saw on either side
+old Sigismond and Madame Georges, whom the cashier had summoned in his
+distress. As soon as Risler could speak, he said to her in a choking
+voice:
+
+“Is this true, Madame Chorche--is this true that he just told me?”
+
+She had not the courage to deceive him, so she turned her eyes away.
+
+“So,” continued the poor fellow, “so the house is ruined, and I--”
+
+“No, Risler, my friend. No, not you.”
+
+“My wife, was it not? Oh! it is horrible! This is how I have paid my
+debt of gratitude to you. But you, Madame Chorche, you could not have
+believed that I was a party to this infamy?”
+
+“No, my friend, no; be calm. I know that you are the most honorable man
+on earth.”
+
+He looked at her a moment, with trembling lips and clasped hands, for
+there was something child-like in all the manifestations of that artless
+nature.
+
+“Oh! Madame Chorche, Madame Chorche,” he murmured. “When I think that I
+am the one who has ruined you.”
+
+In the terrible blow which overwhelmed him, and by which his heart,
+overflowing with love for Sidonie, was most deeply wounded, he refused
+to see anything but the financial disaster to the house of Fromont,
+caused by his blind devotion to his wife. Suddenly he stood erect.
+
+“Come,” he said, “let us not give way to emotion. We must see about
+settling our accounts.”
+
+Madame Fromont was frightened.
+
+“Risler, Risler--where are you going?”
+
+She thought that he was going up to Georges’ room.
+
+Risler understood her and smiled in superb disdain.
+
+“Never fear, Madame. Monsieur Georges can sleep in peace. I have
+something more urgent to do than avenge my honor as a husband. Wait for
+me here. I will come back.”
+
+He darted toward the narrow staircase; and Claire, relying upon his
+word, remained with Planus during one of those supreme moments of
+uncertainty which seem interminable because of all the conjectures with
+which they are thronged.
+
+A few moments later the sound of hurried steps, the rustling of silk
+filled the dark and narrow staircase. Sidonie appeared first, in ball
+costume, gorgeously arrayed and so pale that the jewels that glistened
+everywhere on her dead-white flesh seemed more alive than she, as if
+they were scattered over the cold marble of a statue. The breathlessness
+due to dancing, the trembling of intense excitement and her rapid
+descent, caused her to shake from head to foot, and her floating
+ribbons, her ruffles, her flowers, her rich and fashionable attire
+drooped tragically about her. Risler followed her, laden with
+jewel-cases, caskets, and papers. Upon reaching his apartments he
+had pounced upon his wife’s desk, seized everything valuable that it
+contained, jewels, certificates, title-deeds of the house at Asnieres;
+then, standing in the doorway, he had shouted into the ballroom:
+
+“Madame Risler!”
+
+She had run quickly to him, and that brief scene had in no wise
+disturbed the guests, then at the height of the evening’s enjoyment.
+When she saw her husband standing in front of the desk, the drawers
+broken open and overturned on the carpet with the multitude of trifles
+they contained, she realized that something terrible was taking place.
+
+“Come at once,” said Risler; “I know all.”
+
+She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her
+by the arm with such force that Frantz’s words came to her mind: “It
+will kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first.” As she was afraid
+of death, she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had
+not even the strength to lie.
+
+“Where are we going?” she asked, in a low voice.
+
+Risler did not answer. She had only time to throw over her shoulders,
+with the care for herself that never failed her, a light tulle veil,
+and he dragged her, pushed her, rather, down the stairs leading to the
+counting-room, which he descended at the same time, his steps close upon
+hers, fearing that his prey would escape.
+
+“There!” he said, as he entered the room. “We have stolen, we make
+restitution. Look, Planus, you can raise money with all this stuff.” And
+he placed on the cashier’s desk all the fashionable plunder with which
+his arms were filled--feminine trinkets, trivial aids to coquetry,
+stamped papers.
+
+Then he turned to his wife:
+
+“Take off your jewels! Come, be quick.”
+
+She complied slowly, opened reluctantly the clasps of bracelets and
+buckles, and above all the superb fastening of her diamond necklace on
+which the initial of her name-a gleaming S-resembled a sleeping serpent,
+imprisoned in a circle of gold. Risler, thinking that she was too slow,
+ruthlessly broke, the fragile fastenings. Luxury shrieked beneath his
+fingers, as if it were being whipped.
+
+“Now it is my turn,” he said; “I too must give up everything. Here is my
+portfolio. What else have I? What else have I?”
+
+He searched his pockets feverishly.
+
+“Ah! my watch. With the chain it will bring four-thousand francs. My
+rings, my wedding-ring. Everything goes into the cash-box, everything.
+We have a hundred thousand francs to pay this morning. As soon as it is
+daylight we must go to work, sell out and pay our debts. I know some one
+who wants the house at Asnieres. That can be settled at once.”
+
+He alone spoke and acted. Sigismond and Madame Georges watched him
+without speaking. As for Sidonie, she seemed unconscious, lifeless.
+The cold air blowing from the garden through the little door, which
+was opened at the time of Risler’s swoon, made her shiver, and she
+mechanically drew the folds of her scarf around her shoulders, her eyes
+fixed on vacancy, her thoughts wandering. Did she not hear the violins
+of her ball, which reached their ears in the intervals of silence, like
+bursts of savage irony, with the heavy thud of the dancers shaking the
+floors? An iron hand, falling upon her, aroused her abruptly from her
+torpor. Risler had taken her by the arm, and, leading her before his
+partner’s wife, he said:
+
+“Down on your knees!”
+
+Madame Fromont drew back, remonstrating:
+
+“No, no, Risler, not that.”
+
+“It must be,” said the implacable Risler. “Restitution, reparation!
+Down on your knees then, wretched woman!” And with irresistible force he
+threw Sidonie at Claire’s feet; then, still holding her arm;
+
+“You will repeat after me, word for word, what I say: Madame--”
+
+Sidonie, half dead with fear, repeated faintly: “Madame--”
+
+“A whole lifetime of humility and submission--”
+
+“A whole lifetime of humil--No, I can not!” she exclaimed, springing to
+her feet with the agility of a deer; and, wresting herself from Risler’s
+grasp, through that open door which had tempted her from the beginning
+of this horrible scene, luring her out into the darkness of the night to
+the liberty obtainable by flight, she rushed from the house, braving the
+falling snow and the wind that stung her bare shoulders.
+
+“Stop her, stop her!--Risler, Planus, I implore you! In pity’s name do
+not let her go in this way,” cried Claire.
+
+Planus stepped toward the door.
+
+Risler detained him.
+
+“I forbid you to stir! I ask your pardon, Madame, but we have more
+important matters than this to consider. Madame Risler concerns us no
+longer. We have to save the honor of the house of Fromont, which alone
+is at stake, which alone fills my thoughts at this moment.”
+
+Sigismond put out his hand.
+
+“You are a noble man, Risler. Forgive me for having suspected you.”
+
+Risler pretended not to hear him.
+
+“A hundred thousand francs to pay, you say? How much is there left in
+the strong-box?”
+
+He sat bravely down behind the gratin, looking over the books
+of account, the certificates of stock in the funds, opening the
+jewel-cases, estimating with Planus, whose father had been a jeweller,
+the value of all those diamonds, which he had once so admired on his
+wife, having no suspicion of their real value.
+
+Meanwhile Claire, trembling from head to foot, looked out through the
+window at the little garden, white with snow, where Sidonie’s footsteps
+were already effaced by the fast-falling flakes, as if to bear witness
+that that precipitate departure was without hope of return.
+
+Up-stairs they were still dancing. The mistress of the house was
+supposed to be busy with the preparations for supper, while she was
+flying, bare-headed, forcing back sobs and shrieks of rage.
+
+Where was she going? She had started off like a mad woman, running
+across the garden and the courtyard of the factory, and under the dark
+arches, where the cruel, freezing wind blew in eddying circles. Pere
+Achille did not recognize her; he had seen so many shadows wrapped in
+white pass his lodge that night.
+
+The young woman’s first thought was to join the tenor Cazaboni, whom
+at the last she had not dared to invite to her ball; but he lived at
+Montmartre, and that was very far away for her to go, in that garb; and
+then, would he be at home? Her parents would take her in, doubtless; but
+she could already hear Madame Chebe’s lamentations and the little man’s
+sermon under three heads. Thereupon she thought of Delobelle, her old
+Delobelle. In the downfall of all her splendors she remembered the man
+who had first initiated her into fashionable life, who had given her
+lessons in dancing and deportment when she was a little girl, laughed at
+her pretty ways, and taught her to look upon herself as beautiful before
+any one had ever told her that she was so. Something told her that that
+fallen star would take her part against all others. She entered one of
+the carriages standing at the gate and ordered the driver to take her to
+the actor’s lodgings on the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
+
+For some time past Mamma Delobelle had been making straw hats for
+export-a dismal trade if ever there was one, which brought in barely two
+francs fifty for twelve hours’ work.
+
+And Delobelle continued to grow fat in the same degree that his “sainted
+wife” grew thin. At the very moment when some one knocked hurriedly at
+his door he had just discovered a fragrant soup ‘au fromage’, which
+had been kept hot in the ashes on the hearth. The actor, who had been
+witnessing at Beaumarchais some dark-browed melodrama drenched with gore
+even to the illustrated headlines of its poster, was startled by that
+knock at such an advanced hour.
+
+“Who is there?” he asked in some alarm.
+
+“It is I, Sidonie. Open the door quickly.”
+
+She entered the room, shivering all over, and, throwing aside her wrap,
+went close to the stove where the fire was almost extinct. She began to
+talk at once, to pour out the wrath that had been stifling her for an
+hour, and while she was describing the scene in the factory, lowering
+her voice because of Madame Delobelle, who was asleep close by, the
+magnificence of her costume in that poor, bare, fifth floor, the
+dazzling whiteness of her disordered finery amid the heaps of coarse
+hats and the wisps of straw strewn about the room, all combined to
+produce the effect of a veritable drama, of one of those terrible
+upheavals of life when rank, feelings, fortunes are suddenly jumbled
+together.
+
+“Oh! I never shall return home. It is all over. Free--I am free!”
+
+“But who could have betrayed you to your husband?” asked the actor.
+
+“It was Frantz! I am sure it was Frantz. He wouldn’t have believed it
+from anybody else. Only last evening a letter came from Egypt. Oh!
+how he treated me before that woman! To force me to kneel! But I’ll be
+revenged. Luckily I took something to revenge myself with before I came
+away.”
+
+And the smile of former days played about the corners of her pale lips.
+
+The old strolling player listened to it all with deep interest.
+Notwithstanding his compassion for that poor devil of a Risler, and
+for Sidonie herself, for that matter, who seemed to him, in theatrical
+parlance, “a beautiful culprit,” he could not help viewing the affair
+from a purely scenic standpoint, and finally cried out, carried away by
+his hobby:
+
+“What a first-class situation for a fifth act!”
+
+She did not bear him. Absorbed by some evil thought, which made her
+smile in anticipation, she stretched out to the fire her dainty shoes,
+saturated with snow, and her openwork stockings.
+
+“Well, what do you propose to do now?” Delobelle asked after a pause.
+
+“Stay here till daylight and get a little rest. Then I will see.”
+
+“I have no bed to offer you, my poor girl. Mamma Delobelle has gone to
+bed.”
+
+“Don’t you worry about me, my dear Delobelle. I’ll sleep in that
+armchair. I won’t be in your way, I tell you!”
+
+The actor heaved a sigh.
+
+“Ah! yes, that armchair. It was our poor Zizi’s. She sat up many a night
+in it, when work was pressing. Ah, me! those who leave this world are
+much the happiest.”
+
+He had always at hand such selfish, comforting maxims. He had no sooner
+uttered that one than he discovered with dismay that his soup would soon
+be stone-cold. Sidonie noticed his movement.
+
+“Why, you were just eating your supper, weren’t you? Pray go on.”
+
+“‘Dame’! yes, what would you have? It’s part of the trade, of the hard
+existence we fellows have. For you see, my girl, I stand firm. I haven’t
+given up. I never will give up.”
+
+What still remained of Desiree’s soul in that wretched household in
+which she had lived twenty years must have shuddered at that terrible
+declaration. He never would give up!
+
+“No matter what people may say,” continued Delobelle, “it’s the noblest
+profession in the world. You are free; you depend upon nobody. Devoted
+to the service of glory and the public! Ah! I know what I would do in
+your place. As if you were born to live with all those bourgeois--the
+devil! What you need is the artistic life, the fever of success, the
+unexpected, intense emotion.”
+
+As he spoke he took his seat, tucked his napkin in his neck, and helped
+himself to a great plateful of soup.
+
+“To say nothing of the fact that your triumphs as a pretty woman would
+in no wise interfere with your triumph as an actress. By the way, do you
+know, you must take a few lessons in elocution. With your voice, your
+intelligence, your charms, you would have a magnificent prospect.”
+
+Then he added abruptly, as if to initiate her into the joys of the
+dramatic art:
+
+“But it occurs to me that perhaps you have not supped! Excitement makes
+one hungry; sit there, and take this soup. I am sure that you haven’t
+eaten soup ‘au fromage’ for a long while.”
+
+He turned the closet topsy-turvy to find her a spoon and a napkin; and
+she took her seat opposite him, assisting him and laughing a little at
+the difficulties attending her entertainment. She was less pale already,
+and there was a pretty sparkle in her eyes, composed of the tears of a
+moment before and the present gayety.
+
+The strolling actress! All her happiness in life was lost forever:
+honor, family, wealth. She was driven from her house, stripped,
+dishonored. She had undergone all possible humiliations and disasters.
+That did not prevent her supping with a wonderful appetite and joyously
+holding her own under Delobelle’s jocose remarks concerning her vocation
+and her future triumphs. She felt light-hearted and happy, fairly
+embarked for the land of Bohemia, her true country. What more would
+happen to her? Of how many ups and downs was her new, unforeseen, and
+whimsical existence to consist? She thought about that as she fell
+asleep in Desiree’s great easy-chair; but she thought of her revenge,
+too--her cherished revenge which she held in her hand, all ready for
+use, and so unerring, so fierce!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. THE NEW EMPLOYEE OF THE HOUSE OF FROMONT
+
+It was broad daylight when Fromont Jeune awoke. All night long, between
+the drama that was being enacted below him and the festivity in joyous
+progress above, he slept with clenched fists, the deep sleep of complete
+prostration like that of a condemned man on the eve of his execution or
+of a defeated General on the night following his disaster; a sleep from
+which one would wish never to awake, and in which, in the absence of all
+sensation, one has a foretaste of death.
+
+The bright light streaming through his curtains, made more dazzling
+by the deep snow with which the garden and the surrounding roofs were
+covered, recalled him to the consciousness of things as they were. He
+felt a shock throughout his whole being, and, even before his mind
+began to work, that vague impression of melancholy which misfortunes,
+momentarily forgotten, leave in their place. All the familiar noises of
+the factory, the dull throbbing of the machinery, were in full activity.
+So the world still existed! and by slow degrees the idea of his own
+responsibility awoke in him.
+
+“To-day is the day,” he said to himself, with an involuntary movement
+toward the dark side of the room, as if he longed to bury himself anew
+in his long sleep.
+
+The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the
+Angelus.
+
+“Noon! Already! How I have slept!”
+
+He felt some little remorse and a great sense of relief at the thought
+that the drama of settling-day had passed off without him. What had they
+done downstairs? Why did they not call him?
+
+He rose, drew the curtains aside, and saw Risler and Sigismond talking
+together in the garden. And it was so long since they had spoken to each
+other! What in heaven’s name had happened? When he was ready to go down
+he found Claire at the door of his room.
+
+“You must not go out,” she said.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Stay here. I will explain it to you.”
+
+“But what’s the matter? Did any one come from the Bank?”
+
+“Yes, they came--the notes are paid.”
+
+“Paid?”
+
+“Risler obtained the money. He has been rushing about with Planus since
+early morning. It seems that his wife had superb jewels. The diamond
+necklace alone brought twenty thousand francs. He has also sold their
+house at Asnieres with all it contained; but as time was required to
+record the deed, Planus and his sister advanced the money.”
+
+She turned away from him as she spoke. He, on his side, hung his head to
+avoid her glance.
+
+“Risler is an honorable man,” she continued, “and when he learned from
+whom his wife received all her magnificent things--”
+
+“What!” exclaimed Georges in dismay. “He knows?”
+
+“All,” Claire replied, lowering her voice.
+
+The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly:
+
+“Why, then--you?”
+
+“Oh! I knew it all before Risler. Remember, that when I came home last
+night, I told you I had heard very cruel things down at Savigny, and
+that I would have given ten years of my life not to have taken that
+journey.”
+
+“Claire!”
+
+Moved by a mighty outburst of affection, he stepped toward his wife; but
+her face was so cold, so sad, so resolute, her despair was so plainly
+written in the stern indifference of her whole bearing, that he dared
+not take her in his arms as he longed to do, but simply murmured under
+his breath:
+
+“Forgive!--forgive!”
+
+“You must think me strangely calm,” said the brave woman; “but I shed
+all my tears yesterday. You may have thought that I was weeping over our
+ruin; you were mistaken. While one is young and strong as we are, such
+cowardly conduct is not permissible. We are armed against want and can
+fight it face to face. No, I was weeping for our departed happiness,
+for you, for the madness that led you to throw away your only, your true
+friend.”
+
+She was lovely, lovelier than Sidonie had ever been, as she spoke thus,
+enveloped by a pure light which seemed to fall upon her from a great
+height, like the radiance of a fathomless, cloudless sky; whereas the
+other’s irregular features had always seemed to owe their brilliancy,
+their saucy, insolent charm to the false glamour of the footlights
+in some cheap theatre. The touch of statuesque immobility formerly
+noticeable in Claire’s face was vivified by anxiety, by doubt, by all
+the torture of passion; and like those gold ingots which have their full
+value only when the Mint has placed its stamp upon them, those beautiful
+features stamped with the effigy of sorrow had acquired since the
+preceding day an ineffaceable expression which perfected their beauty.
+
+Georges gazed at her in admiration. She seemed to him more alive, more
+womanly, and worthy of adoration because of their separation and all
+the obstacles that he now knew to stand between them. Remorse, despair,
+shame entered his heart simultaneously with this new love, and he would
+have fallen on his knees before her.
+
+“No, no, do not kneel,” said Claire; “if you knew of what you remind me,
+if you knew what a lying face, distorted with hatred, I saw at my feet
+last night!”
+
+“Ah! but I am not lying,” replied Georges with a shudder. “Claire, I
+implore you, in the name of our child--”
+
+At that moment some one knocked at the door.
+
+“Rise, I beg of you! You see that life has claims upon us,” she said in
+a low voice and with a bitter smile; then she asked what was wanted.
+
+Monsieur Risler had sent for Monsieur to come down to the office.
+
+“Very well,” she said; “say that he will come.”
+
+Georges approached the door, but she stopped him.
+
+“No, let me go. He must not see you yet.”
+
+“But--”
+
+“I wish you to stay here. You have no idea of the indignation and wrath
+of that poor man, whom you have deceived. If you had seen him last
+night, crushing his wife’s wrists!”
+
+As she said it she looked him in the face with a curiosity most cruel to
+herself; but Georges did not wince, and replied simply:
+
+“My life belongs to him.”
+
+“It belongs to me, too; and I do not wish you to go down. There has been
+scandal enough in my father’s house. Remember that the whole factory is
+aware of what is going on. Every one is watching us, spying upon us. It
+required all the authority of the foremen to keep the men busy to-day,
+to compel them to keep their inquisitive looks on their work.”
+
+“But I shall seem to be hiding.”
+
+“And suppose it were so! That is just like a man. They do not recoil
+from the worst crimes: betraying a wife, betraying a friend; but the
+thought that they may be accused of being afraid touches them more
+keenly than anything. Moreover, listen to what I say. Sidonie has gone;
+she has gone forever; and if you leave this house I shall think that you
+have gone to join her.”
+
+“Very well, I will stay,” said Georges. “I will do whatever you wish.”
+
+Claire descended into Planus’ office.
+
+To see Risler striding to and fro, with his hands behind his back, as
+calm as usual, no one would ever have suspected all that had taken place
+in his life since the night before. As for Sigismond, he was fairly
+beaming, for he saw nothing in it all beyond the fact that the notes had
+been paid at maturity and that the honor of the firm was safe.
+
+When Madame Fromont appeared, Risler smiled sadly and shook his head.
+
+“I thought that you would prefer to come down in his place; but you are
+not the one with whom I have to deal. It is absolutely necessary that I
+should see Georges and talk with him. We have paid the notes that
+fell due this morning; the crisis has passed; but we must come to an
+understanding about many matters.”
+
+“Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer.”
+
+“Why, Madame Chorche, there’s not a minute to lose. Oh! I suspect that
+you fear I may give way to an outbreak of anger. Have no fear--let him
+have no fear. You know what I told you, that the honor of the house
+of Fromont is to be assured before my own. I have endangered it by my
+fault. First of all, I must repair the evil I have done or allowed to be
+done.”
+
+“Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I
+know it well.”
+
+“Oh! Madame, if you could see him! he’s a saint,” said poor Sigismond,
+who, not daring to speak to his friend, was determined at all events to
+express his remorse.
+
+“But aren’t you afraid?” continued Claire. “Human endurance has its
+limits. It may be that in presence of the man who has injured you so--”
+
+Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and
+said:
+
+“You dear creature, who speak of nothing but the injury done to me! Do
+you not know that I hate him as bitterly for his falseness to you? But
+nothing of that sort has any existence for me at this moment. You see
+in me simply a business man who wishes to have an understanding with
+his partner for the good of the firm. So let him come down without the
+slightest fear, and if you dread any outbreak on my part, stay here with
+us. I shall need only to look at my old master’s daughter to be reminded
+of my promise and my duty.”
+
+“I trust you, my friend,” said Claire; and she went up to bring her
+husband.
+
+The first minute of the interview was terrible. Georges was deeply
+moved, humiliated, pale as death. He would have preferred a hundred
+times over to be looking into the barrel of that man’s pistol at
+twenty paces, awaiting his fire, instead of appearing before him as an
+unpunished culprit and being compelled to confine his feelings within
+the commonplace limits of a business conversation.
+
+Risler pretended not to look at him, and continued to pace the floor as
+he talked:
+
+“Our house is passing through a terrible crisis. We have averted the
+disaster for to-day; but this is not the last of our obligations. That
+cursed invention has kept my mind away from the business for a long
+while. Luckily, I am free now, and able to attend to it. But you must
+give your attention to it as well. The workmen and clerks have followed
+the example of their employers to some extent. Indeed, they have become
+extremely negligent and indifferent. This morning, for the first time in
+a year, they began work at the proper time. I expect that you will
+make it your business to change all that. As for me, I shall work at my
+drawings again. Our patterns are old-fashioned. We must have new ones
+for the new machines. I have great confidence in our presses. The
+experiments have succeeded beyond my hopes. We unquestionably have
+in them a means of building up our business. I didn’t tell you sooner
+because I wished to surprise you; but we have no more surprises for each
+other, have we, Georges?”
+
+There was such a stinging note of irony in his voice that Claire
+shuddered, fearing an outbreak; but he continued, in his natural tone.
+
+“Yes, I think I can promise that in six months the Risler Press will
+begin to show magnificent results. But those six months will be very
+hard to live through. We must limit ourselves, cut down our expenses,
+save in every way that we can. We have five draughtsmen now; hereafter
+we will have but two. I will undertake to make the absence of the others
+of no consequence by working at night myself. Furthermore, beginning
+with this month, I abandon my interest in the firm. I will take my
+salary as foreman as I took it before, and nothing more.”
+
+Fromont attempted to speak, but a gesture from his wife restrained him,
+and Risler continued:
+
+“I am no longer your partner, Georges. I am once more the clerk that I
+never should have ceased to be. From this day our partnership articles
+are cancelled. I insist upon it, you understand; I insist upon it. We
+will remain in that relation to each other until the house is out of
+difficulty and I can--But what I shall do then concerns me alone. This
+is what I wanted to say to you, Georges. You must give your attention
+to the factory diligently; you must show yourself, make it felt that you
+are master now, and I believe there will turn out to be, among all our
+misfortunes, some that can be retrieved.”
+
+During the silence that followed, they heard the sound of wheels in the
+garden, and two great furniture vans stopped at the door.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said Risler, “but I must leave you a moment. Those
+are the vans from the public auction rooms; they have come to take away
+my furniture from upstairs.”
+
+“What! you are going to sell your furniture too?” asked Madame Fromont.
+
+“Certainly--to the last piece. I am simply giving it back to the firm.
+It belongs to it.”
+
+“But that is impossible,” said Georges. “I can not allow that.”
+
+Risler turned upon him indignantly.
+
+“What’s that? What is it that you can’t allow?”
+
+Claire checked him with an imploring gesture.
+
+“True--true!” he muttered; and he hurried from the room to escape the
+sudden temptation to give vent to all that was in his heart.
+
+The second floor was deserted. The servants, who had been paid and
+dismissed in the morning, had abandoned the apartments to the disorder
+of the day following a ball; and they wore the aspect peculiar to places
+where a drama has been enacted, and which are left in suspense, as it
+were, between the events that have happened and those that are still
+to happen. The open doors, the rugs lying in heaps in the corners, the
+salvers laden with glasses, the preparations for the supper, the table
+still set and untouched, the dust from the dancing on all the furniture,
+its odor mingled with the fumes of punch, of withered flowers, of
+rice-powder--all these details attracted Risler’s notice as he entered.
+
+In the disordered salon the piano was open, the bacchanal from ‘Orphee
+aux Enfers’ on the music-shelf, and the gaudy hangings surrounding that
+scene of desolation, the chairs overturned, as if in fear, reminded one
+of the saloon of a wrecked packet-boat, of one of those ghostly nights
+of watching when one is suddenly informed, in the midst of a fete at
+sea, that the ship has sprung a leak, that she is taking in water in
+every part.
+
+The men began to remove the furniture. Risler watched them at work
+with an indifferent air, as if he were in a stranger’s house. That
+magnificence which had once made him so happy and proud inspired in him
+now an insurmountable disgust. But, when he entered his wife’s bedroom,
+he was conscious of a vague emotion.
+
+It was a large room, hung with blue satin under white lace. A veritable
+cocotte’s nest. There were torn and rumpled tulle ruffles lying about,
+bows, and artificial flowers. The wax candles around the mirror had
+burned down to the end and cracked the candlesticks; and the bed, with
+its lace flounces and valances, its great curtains raised and drawn
+back, untouched in the general confusion, seemed like the bed of a
+corpse, a state bed on which no one would ever sleep again.
+
+Risler’s first feeling upon entering the room was one of mad
+indignation, a longing to fall upon the things before him, to tear and
+rend and shatter everything. Nothing, you see, resembles a woman so much
+as her bedroom. Even when she is absent, her image still smiles in
+the mirrors that have reflected it. A little something of her, of her
+favorite perfume, remains in everything she has touched. Her attitudes
+are reproduced in the cushions of her couch, and one can follow her
+goings and comings between the mirror and the toilette table in the
+pattern of the carpet. The one thing above all others in that room that
+recalled Sidonie was an ‘etagere’ covered with childish toys, petty,
+trivial knickknacks, microscopic fans, dolls’ tea-sets, gilded shoes,
+little shepherds and shepherdesses facing one another, exchanging cold,
+gleaming, porcelain glances. That ‘etagere’ was Sidonie’s very soul,
+and her thoughts, always commonplace, petty, vain, and empty, resembled
+those gewgaws. Yes, in very truth, if Risler, while he held her in his
+grasp last night, had in his frenzy broken that fragile little head, a
+whole world of ‘etagere’ ornaments would have come from it in place of a
+brain.
+
+The poor man was thinking sadly of all these things amid the ringing of
+hammers and the heavy footsteps of the furniture-movers, when he heard
+an interloping, authoritative step behind him, and Monsieur Chebe
+appeared, little Monsieur Chebe, flushed and breathless, with flames
+darting from his eyes. He assumed, as always, a very high tone with his
+son-in-law.
+
+“What does this mean? What is this I hear? Ah! so you’re moving, are
+you?”
+
+“I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe--I am selling out.”
+
+The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish.
+
+“You are selling out? What are you selling, pray?”
+
+“I am selling everything,” said Risler in a hollow voice, without even
+looking at him.
+
+“Come, come, son-in-law, be reasonable. God knows I don’t say that
+Sidonie’s conduct--But, for my part, I know nothing about it. I never
+wanted to know anything. Only I must remind you of your dignity. People
+wash their dirty linen in private, deuce take it! They don’t make
+spectacles of themselves as you’ve been doing ever since morning. Just
+see everybody at the workshop windows; and on the porch, too! Why,
+you’re the talk of the quarter, my dear fellow.”
+
+“So much the better. The dishonor was public, the reparation must be
+public, too.”
+
+This apparent coolness, this indifference to all his observations,
+exasperated Monsieur Chebe. He suddenly changed his tactics, and
+adopted, in addressing his son-in-law, the serious, peremptory tone
+which one uses with children or lunatics.
+
+“Well, I say that you haven’t any right to take anything away from
+here. I remonstrate formally, with all my strength as a man, with all
+my authority as a father. Do you suppose I am going to let you drive
+my child into the street. No, indeed! Oh! no, indeed! Enough of such
+nonsense as that! Nothing more shall go out of these rooms.”
+
+And Monsieur Chebe, having closed the door, planted himself in front of
+it with a heroic gesture. Deuce take it! his own interest was at stake
+in the matter. The fact was that when his child was once in the gutter
+he ran great risk of not having a feather bed to sleep on himself. He
+was superb in that attitude of an indignant father, but he did not keep
+it long. Two hands, two vises, seized his wrists, and he found himself
+in the middle of the room, leaving the doorway clear for the workmen.
+
+“Chebe, my boy, just listen,” said Risler, leaning over him. “I am
+at the end of my forbearance. Since this morning I have been making
+superhuman efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now
+to make my anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls! I
+am quite capable of killing some one. Come! Be off at once!--”
+
+There was such an intonation in his son-in-law’s voice, and the way that
+son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe
+was fully convinced. He even stammered an apology. Certainly Risler had
+good reason for acting as he had. All honorable people would be on his
+side. And he backed toward the door as he spoke. When he reached it, he
+inquired timidly if Madame Chebe’s little allowance would be continued.
+
+“Yes,” was Risler’s reply, “but never go beyond it, for my position here
+is not what it was. I am no longer a partner in the house.”
+
+Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
+expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
+happened to him--exactly like that of the Duc d’Orleans, you know--was
+not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
+observation. Surely some one had changed his son-in-law. Was this really
+Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word and talked
+of nothing less than killing people?
+
+He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
+stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.
+
+When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them
+for the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus’s office to
+hand it to Madame Georges.
+
+“You can let the apartment,” he said, “it will be so much added to the
+income of the factory.”
+
+“But you, my friend?”
+
+“Oh! I don’t need much. An iron bed up under the eaves. That’s all a
+clerk needs. For, I repeat, I am nothing but a clerk from this time on.
+A useful clerk, by the way, faithful and courageous, of whom you will
+have no occasion to complain, I promise you.”
+
+Georges, who was going over the books with Planus, was so affected
+at hearing the poor fellow talk in that strain that he left his seat
+precipitately. He was suffocated by his sobs. Claire, too, was deeply
+moved; she went to the new clerk of the house of Fromont and said to
+him:
+
+“Risler, I thank you in my father’s name.”
+
+At that moment Pere Achille appeared with the mail.
+
+Risler took the pile of letters, opened them tranquilly one by one, and
+passed them over to Sigismond.
+
+“Here’s an order for Lyon. Why wasn’t it answered at Saint-Etienne?”
+
+He plunged with all his energy into these details, and he brought to
+them a keen intelligence, due to the constant straining of the mind
+toward peace and forgetfulness.
+
+Suddenly, among those huge envelopes, stamped with the names of business
+houses, the paper of which and the manner of folding suggested the
+office and hasty despatch, he discovered one smaller one, carefully
+sealed, and hidden so cunningly between the others that at first he
+did not notice it. He recognized instantly that long, fine, firm
+writing,--To Monsieur Risler--Personal. It was Sidonie’s writing!
+When he saw it he felt the same sensation he had felt in the bedroom
+upstairs.
+
+All his love, all the hot wrath of the betrayed husband poured back
+into his heart with the frantic force that makes assassins. What was she
+writing to him? What lie had she invented now? He was about to open the
+letter; then he paused. He realized that, if he should read that,
+it would be all over with his courage; so he leaned over to the old
+cashier, and said in an undertone:
+
+“Sigismond, old friend, will you do me a favor?”
+
+“I should think so!” said the worthy man enthusiastically. He was so
+delighted to hear his friend speak to him in the kindly voice of the old
+days.
+
+“Here’s a letter someone has written me which I don’t wish to read now.
+I am sure it would interfere with my thinking and living. You must keep
+it for me, and this with it.”
+
+He took from his pocket a little package carefully tied, and handed it
+to him through the grating.
+
+“That is all I have left of the past, all I have left of that woman.
+I have determined not to see her, nor anything that reminds me of her,
+until my task here is concluded, and concluded satisfactorily,--I need
+all my intelligence, you understand. You will pay the Chebes’ allowance.
+If she herself should ask for anything, you will give her what she
+needs. But you will never mention my name. And you will keep this
+package safe for me until I ask you for it.”
+
+Sigismond locked the letter and the package in a secret drawer of
+his desk with other valuable papers. Risler returned at once to his
+correspondence; but all the time he had before his eyes the slender
+English letters traced by a little hand which he had so often and so
+ardently pressed to his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. CAFE CHANTANT
+
+What a rare, what a conscientious clerk did that new employe of the
+house of Fromont prove himself!
+
+Every day his lamp was the first to appear at, and the last to disappear
+from, the windows of the factory. A little room had been arranged for
+him under the eaves, exactly like the one he had formerly occupied with
+Frantz, a veritable Trappist’s cell, furnished with an iron cot and a
+white wooden table, that stood under his brother’s portrait. He led the
+same busy, regular, quiet life as in those old days.
+
+He worked constantly, and had his meals brought from the same little
+creamery. But, alas! the disappearance forever of youth and hope
+deprived those memories of all their charm. Luckily he still had Frantz
+and Madame “Chorche,” the only two human beings of whom he could think
+without a feeling of sadness. Madame “Chorche” was always at hand,
+always trying to minister to his comfort, to console him; and Frantz
+wrote to him often, without mentioning Sidonie, by the way. Risler
+supposed that some one had told Frantz of the disaster that had befallen
+him, and he too avoided all allusion to the subject in his letters.
+“Oh! when I can send for him to come home!” That was his dream, his sole
+ambition: to restore the factory and recall his brother.
+
+Meanwhile the days succeeded one another, always the same to him in the
+restless activity of business and the heartrending loneliness of his
+grief. Every morning he walked through the workshops, where the profound
+respect he inspired and his stern, silent countenance had reestablished
+the orderly conditions that had been temporarily disturbed. In the
+beginning there had been much gossip, and various explanations of
+Sidonie’s departure had been made. Some said that she had eloped with
+a lover, others that Risler had turned her out. The one fact that upset
+all conjectures was the attitude of the two partners toward each other,
+apparently as unconstrained as before. Sometimes, however, when they
+were talking together in the office, with no one by, Risler would
+suddenly start convulsively, as a vision of the crime passed before his
+eyes.
+
+Then he would feel a mad longing to spring upon the villain, seize him
+by the throat, strangle him without mercy; but the thought of
+Madame “Chorche” was always there to restrain him. Should he be less
+courageous, less master of himself than that young wife? Neither Claire,
+nor Fromont, nor anybody else suspected what was in his mind. They could
+barely detect a severity, an inflexibility in his conduct, which were
+not habitual with him. Risler awed the workmen now; and those of them
+upon whom his white hair, blanched in one night, his drawn, prematurely
+old features did not impose respect, quailed before his strange glance-a
+glance from eyes of a bluish-black like the color of a gun-barrel.
+Whereas he had always been very kind and affable with the workmen, he
+had become pitilessly severe in regard to the slightest infraction of
+the rules. It seemed as if he were taking vengeance upon himself for
+some indulgence in the past, blind, culpable indulgence, for which he
+blamed himself.
+
+Surely he was a marvellous employe, was this new officer in the house of
+Fromont.
+
+Thanks to him, the factory bell, notwithstanding the quavering of its
+old, cracked voice, had very soon resumed its authority; and the man who
+guided the whole establishment denied himself the slightest recreation.
+Sober as an apprentice, he left three-fourths of his salary with Planus
+for the Chebes’ allowance, but he never asked any questions about them.
+Punctually on the last day of the month the little man appeared to
+collect his little income, stiff and formal in his dealings with
+Sigismond, as became an annuitant on duty. Madame Chebe had tried to
+obtain an interview with her son-in-law, whom she pitied and loved; but
+the mere appearance of her palm-leaf shawl on the steps put Sidonie’s
+husband to flight.
+
+In truth, the courage with which he armed himself was more apparent than
+real. The memory of his wife never left him. What had become of her?
+What was she doing? He was almost angry with Planus for never mentioning
+her. That letter, above all things, that letter which he had had the
+courage not to open, disturbed him. He thought of it continually. Ah!
+had he dared, how he would have liked to ask Sigismond for it!
+
+One day the temptation was too strong. He was alone in the office. The
+old cashier had gone out to luncheon, leaving the key in his drawer, a
+most extraordinary thing. Risler could not resist. He opened the
+drawer, moved the papers, and searched for his letter. It was not there.
+Sigismond must have put it away even more carefully, perhaps with a
+foreboding of what actually happened. In his heart Risler was not sorry
+for his disappointment; for he well knew that, had he found the letter,
+it would have been the end of the resigned and busy life which he
+imposed upon himself with so much difficulty.
+
+Through the week it was all very well. Life was endurable, absorbed by
+the innumerable duties of the factory, and so fatiguing that, when night
+came, Risler fell on his bed like a lifeless mass. But Sunday was long
+and sad. The silence of the deserted yards and workshops opened a far
+wider field to his thoughts. He tried to busy himself, but he missed
+the encouragement of the others’ work. He alone was busy in that great,
+empty factory whose very breath was arrested. The locked doors, the
+closed blinds, the hoarse voice of Pere Achille playing with his dog
+in the deserted courtyard, all spoke of solitude. And the whole
+neighborhood also produced the same effect. In the streets, which seemed
+wider because of their emptiness, and where the passers-by were few
+and silent, the bells ringing for vespers had a melancholy sound,
+and sometimes an echo of the din of Paris, rumbling wheels, a belated
+hand-organ, the click of a toy-peddler’s clappers, broke the silence, as
+if to make it even more noticeable.
+
+Risler would try to invent new combinations of flowers and leaves, and,
+while he handled his pencil, his thoughts, not finding sufficient food
+there, would escape him, would fly back to his past happiness, to his
+hopeless misfortunes, would suffer martyrdom, and then, on returning,
+would ask the poor somnambulist, still seated at his table: “What have
+you done in my absence?” Alas! he had done nothing.
+
+Oh! the long, heartbreaking, cruel Sundays! Consider that, mingled with
+all these perplexities in his mind, was the superstitious reverence
+of the common people for holy days, for the twenty-four hours of rest,
+wherein one recovers strength and courage. If he had gone out, the sight
+of a workingman with his wife and child would have made him weep, but
+his monastic seclusion gave him other forms of suffering, the despair
+of recluses, their terrible outbreaks of rebellion when the god to whom
+they have consecrated themselves does not respond to their sacrifices.
+Now, Risler’s god was work, and as he no longer found comfort or
+serenity therein, he no longer believed in it, but cursed it.
+
+Often in those hours of mental struggle the door of the draughting-room
+would open gently and Claire Fromont would appear. The poor man’s
+loneliness throughout those long Sunday afternoons filled her with
+compassion, and she would come with her little girl to keep him
+company, knowing by experience how contagious is the sweet joyousness of
+children. The little one, who could now walk alone, would slip from
+her mother’s arms to run to her friend. Risler would hear the little,
+hurrying steps. He would feel the light breath behind him, and instantly
+he would be conscious of a soothing, rejuvenating influence. She would
+throw her plump little arms around his neck with affectionate warmth,
+with her artless, causeless laugh, and a kiss from that little mouth
+which never had lied. Claire Fromont, standing in the doorway, would
+smile as she looked at them.
+
+“Risler, my friend,” she would say, “you must come down into the garden
+a while,--you work too hard. You will be ill.”
+
+“No, no, Madame,--on the contrary, work is what saves me. It keeps me
+from thinking.”
+
+Then, after a long pause, she would continue:
+
+“Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget.”
+
+Risler would shake his head.
+
+“Forget? Is that possible? There are some things beyond one’s strength.
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets.”
+
+The child almost always succeeded in dragging him down to the garden.
+He must play ball, or in the sand, with her; but her playfellow’s
+awkwardness and lack of enthusiasm soon impressed the little girl. Then
+she would become very sedate, contenting herself with walking gravely
+between the hedges of box, with her hand in her friend’s. After a moment
+Risler would entirely forget that she was there; but, although he did
+not realize it, the warmth of that little hand in his had a magnetic,
+softening effect upon his diseased mind.
+
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets!
+
+Poor Claire herself knew something about it; for she had never
+forgotten, notwithstanding her great courage and the conception she
+had formed of her duty. To her, as to Risler; her surroundings were a
+constant reminder of her sufferings. The objects amid which she lived
+pitilessly reopened the wound that was ready to close. The staircase,
+the garden, the courtyard, all those dumb witnesses of her husband’s
+sin, assumed on certain days an implacable expression. Even the careful
+precaution her husband took to spare her painful reminders, the way in
+which he called attention to the fact that he no longer went out in the
+evening, and took pains to tell her where he had been during the
+day, served only to remind her the more forcibly of his wrong-doing.
+Sometimes she longed to ask him to forbear,--to say to him: “Do not
+protest too much.” Faith was shattered within her, and the horrible
+agony of the priest who doubts, and seeks at the same time to remain
+faithful to his vows, betrayed itself in her bitter smile, her cold,
+uncomplaining gentleness.
+
+Georges was wofully unhappy. He loved his wife now. The nobility of her
+character had conquered him. There was admiration in his love, and--why
+not say it?--Claire’s sorrow filled the place of the coquetry which was
+contrary to her nature, the lack of which had always been a defect in
+her husband’s eyes. He was one of that strange type of men who love to
+make conquests. Sidonie, capricious and cold as she was, responded to
+that whim of his heart. After parting from her with a tender farewell,
+he found her indifferent and forgetful the next day, and that continual
+need of wooing her back to him took the place of genuine passion.
+Serenity in love bored him as a voyage without storms wearies a sailor.
+On this occasion he had been very near shipwreck with his wife, and the
+danger had not passed even yet. He knew that Claire was alienated
+from him and devoted entirely to the child, the only link between them
+thenceforth. Their separation made her seem lovelier, more desirable,
+and he exercised all his powers of fascination to recapture her. He
+knew how hard a task it would be, and that he had no ordinary, frivolous
+nature to deal with. But he did not despair. Sometimes a vague gleam in
+the depths of the mild and apparently impassive glance with which she
+watched his efforts, bade him hope.
+
+As for Sidonie, he no longer thought of her. Let no one be astonished at
+that abrupt mental rupture. Those two superficial beings had nothing to
+attach them securely to each other. Georges was incapable of receiving
+lasting impressions unless they were continually renewed; Sidonie, for
+her part, had no power to inspire any noble or durable sentiment. It was
+one of those intrigues between a cocotte and a coxcomb, compounded of
+vanity and of wounded self-love, which inspire neither devotion nor
+constancy, but tragic adventures, duels, suicides which are rarely
+fatal, and which end in a radical cure. Perhaps, had he seen her again,
+he might have had a relapse of his disease; but the impetus of flight
+had carried Sidonie away so swiftly and so far that her return was
+impossible. At all events, it was a relief for him to be able to live
+without lying; and the new life he was leading, a life of hard work
+and self-denial, with the goal of success in the distance, was not
+distasteful to him. Luckily; for the courage and determination of both
+partners were none too much to put the house on its feet once more.
+
+The poor house of Fromont had sprung leaks on all sides. So Pere Planus
+still had wretched nights, haunted by the nightmare of notes maturing
+and the ominous vision of the little blue man. But, by strict economy,
+they always succeeded in paying.
+
+Soon four Risler Presses were definitively set up and used in the work
+of the factory. People began to take a deep interest in them and in
+the wall-paper trade. Lyons, Caen, Rixbeim, the great centres of the
+industry, were much disturbed concerning that marvellous “rotary and
+dodecagonal” machine. One fine day the Prochassons appeared, and offered
+three hundred thousand francs simply for an interest in the patent
+rights.
+
+“What shall we do?” Fromont Jeune asked Risler Aine.
+
+The latter shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+
+“Decide for yourself. It doesn’t concern me. I am only an employe.”
+
+The words, spoken coldly, without anger, fell heavily upon Fromont’s
+bewildered joy, and reminded him of the gravity of a situation which he
+was always on the point of forgetting.
+
+But when he was alone with his dear Madame “Chorche,” Risler advised her
+not to accept the Prochassons’ offer.
+
+“Wait,--don’t be in a hurry. Later you will have a better offer.”
+
+He spoke only of them in that affair in which his own share was so
+glorious. She felt that he was preparing to cut himself adrift from
+their future.
+
+Meanwhile orders came pouring in and accumulated on their hands. The
+quality of the paper, the reduced price because of the improved methods
+of manufacture, made competition impossible. There was no doubt that a
+colossal fortune was in store for the house of Fromont. The factory had
+resumed its former flourishing aspect and its loud, business-like hum.
+Intensely alive were all the great buildings and the hundreds of workmen
+who filled them. Pere Planus never raised his nose from his desk; one
+could see him from the little garden, leaning over his great ledgers,
+jotting down in magnificently molded figures the profits of the Risler
+press.
+
+Risler still worked as before, without change or rest. The return of
+prosperity brought no alteration in his secluded habits, and from the
+highest window on the topmost floor of the house he listened to the
+ceaseless roar of his machines. He was no less gloomy, no less silent.
+One day, however, it became known at the factory that the press, a
+specimen of which had been sent to the great Exposition at Manchester,
+had received the gold medal, whereby its success was definitely
+established. Madame Georges called Risler into the garden at the
+luncheon hour, wishing to be the first to tell him the good news.
+
+For the moment a proud smile relaxed his prematurely old, gloomy
+features. His inventor’s vanity, his pride in his renown, above all, the
+idea of repairing thus magnificently the wrong done to the family by his
+wife, gave him a moment of true happiness. He pressed Claire’s hands and
+murmured, as in the old days:
+
+“I am very happy! I am very happy!”
+
+But what a difference in tone! He said it without enthusiasm,
+hopelessly, with the satisfaction of a task accomplished, and nothing
+more.
+
+The bell rang for the workmen to return, and Risler went calmly upstairs
+to resume his work as on other days.
+
+In a moment he came down again. In spite of all, that news had excited
+him more than he cared to show. He wandered about the garden, prowled
+around the counting-room, smiling sadly at Pere Planus through the
+window.
+
+“What ails him?” the old cashier wondered. “What does he want of me?”
+
+At last, when night came and it was time to close the office, Risler
+summoned courage to go and speak to him.
+
+“Planus, my old friend, I should like--”
+
+He hesitated a moment.
+
+“I should like you to give me the--letter, you know, the little letter
+and the package.”
+
+Sigismond stared at him in amazement. In his innocence, he had imagined
+that Risler never thought of Sidonie, that he had entirely forgotten
+her.
+
+“What--you want--?”
+
+“Ah! I have well earned it; I can think of myself a little now. I have
+thought enough of others.”
+
+“You are right,” said Planus. “Well, this is what we’ll do. The letter
+and package are at my house at Montrouge. If you choose, we will go
+and dine together at the Palais-Royal, as in the good old times. I will
+stand treat. We’ll water your medal with a bottle of wine; something
+choice! Then we’ll go to the house together. You can get your trinkets,
+and if it’s too late for you to go home, Mademoiselle Planus, my sister,
+shall make up a bed for you, and you shall pass the night with us. We
+are very comfortable there--it’s in the country. To-morrow morning at
+seven o’clock we’ll come back to the factory by the first omnibus. Come,
+old fellow, give me this pleasure. If you don’t, I shall think you still
+bear your old Sigismond a grudge.”
+
+Risler accepted. He cared little about celebrating the award of his
+medal, but he desired to gain a few hours before opening the little
+letter he had at last earned the right to read.
+
+He must dress. That was quite a serious matter, for he had lived in a
+workman’s jacket during the past six months. And what an event in the
+factory! Madame Fromont was informed at once.
+
+“Madame, Madame! Monsieur Risler is going out!”
+
+Claire looked at him from her window, and that tall form, bowed by
+sorrow, leaning on Sigismond’s arm, aroused in her a profound, unusual
+emotion which she remembered ever after.
+
+In the street people bowed to Risler with great interest. Even their
+greetings warmed his heart. He was so much in need of kindness! But the
+noise of vehicles made him a little dizzy.
+
+“My head is spinning,” he said to Planus:
+
+“Lean hard on me, old fellow-don’t be afraid.”
+
+And honest Planus drew himself up, escorting his friend with the
+artless, unconventional pride of a peasant of the South bearing aloft
+his village saint.
+
+At last they arrived at the Palais-Royal.
+
+The garden was full of people. They had come to hear the music, and were
+trying to find seats amid clouds of dust and the scraping of chairs. The
+two friends hurried into the restaurant to avoid all that turmoil. They
+established themselves in one of the large salons on the first floor,
+whence they could see the green trees, the promenaders, and the water
+spurting from the fountain between the two melancholy flower-gardens.
+To Sigismond it was the ideal of luxury, that restaurant, with gilding
+everywhere, around the mirrors, in the chandelier and even on the
+figured wallpaper. The white napkin, the roll, the menu of a table
+d’hote dinner filled his soul with joy. “We are comfortable here, aren’t
+we?” he said to Risler.
+
+And he exclaimed at each of the courses of that banquet at two francs
+fifty, and insisted on filling his friend’s plate.
+
+“Eat that--it’s good.”
+
+The other, notwithstanding his desire to do honor to the fete, seemed
+preoccupied and gazed out-of-doors.
+
+“Do you remember, Sigismond?” he said, after a pause.
+
+The old cashier, engrossed in his memories of long ago, of Risler’s
+first employment at the factory, replied:
+
+“I should think I do remember--listen! The first time we dined together
+at the Palais-Royal was in February, ‘forty-six, the year we put in the
+planches-plates at the factory.”
+
+Risler shook his head.
+
+“Oh! no--I mean three years ago. It was in that room just opposite that
+we dined on that memorable evening.”
+
+And he pointed to the great windows of the salon of Cafe Vefour,
+gleaming in the rays of the setting sun like the chandeliers at a
+wedding feast.
+
+“Ah! yes, true,” murmured Sigismond, abashed. What an unlucky idea of
+his to bring his friend to a place that recalled such painful things!
+
+Risler, not wishing to cast a gloom upon their banquet, abruptly raised
+his glass.
+
+“Come! here’s your health, my old comrade.”
+
+He tried to change the subject. But a moment later he himself led the
+conversation back to it again, and asked Sigismond, in an undertone, as
+if he were ashamed:
+
+“Have you seen her?”
+
+“Your wife? No, never.”
+
+“She hasn’t written again?”
+
+“No--never again.”
+
+“But you must have heard of her. What has she been doing these six
+months? Does she live with her parents?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Risler turned pale.
+
+He hoped that Sidonie would have returned to her mother, that she would
+have worked, as he had worked, to forget and atone. He had often thought
+that he would arrange his life according to what he should learn of
+her when he should have the right to speak of her; and in one of those
+far-off visions of the future, which have the vagueness of a dream, he
+sometimes fancied himself living in exile with the Chebes in an unknown
+land, where nothing would remind him of his past shame. It was not a
+definite plan, to be sure; but the thought lived in the depths of his
+mind like a hope, caused by the need that all human creatures feel of
+finding their lost happiness.
+
+“Is she in Paris?” he asked, after a few moments’ reflection.
+
+“No. She went away three months ago. No one knows where she has gone.”
+
+Sigismond did not add that she had gone with her Cazaboni, whose name
+she now bore, that they were making the circuit of the provincial cities
+together, that her mother was in despair, never saw her, and heard
+of her only through Delobelle. Sigismond did not deem it his duty to
+mention all that, and after his last words he held his peace.
+
+Risler, for his part, dared ask no further questions.
+
+While they sat there, facing each other, both embarrassed by the long
+silence, the military band began to play under the trees in the garden.
+They played one of those Italian operatic overtures which seem to have
+been written expressly for public open-air resorts; the swiftly-flowing
+notes, as they rise into the air, blend with the call of the swallows
+and the silvery plash of the fountain. The blaring brass brings out in
+bold relief the mild warmth of the closing hours of those summer days,
+so long and enervating in Paris; it seems as if one could hear nothing
+else. The distant rumbling of wheels, the cries of children playing, the
+footsteps of the promenaders are wafted away in those resonant, gushing,
+refreshing waves of melody, as useful to the people of Paris as the
+daily watering of their streets. On all sides the faded flowers, the
+trees white with dust, the faces made pale and wan by the heat, all the
+sorrows, all the miseries of a great city, sitting dreamily, with bowed
+head, on the benches in the garden, feel its comforting, refreshing
+influence. The air is stirred, renewed by those strains that traverse
+it, filling it with harmony.
+
+Poor Risler felt as if the tension upon all his nerves were relaxed.
+
+“A little music does one good,” he said, with glistening eyes. “My heart
+is heavy, old fellow,” he added, in a lower tone; “if you knew--”
+
+They sat without speaking, their elbows resting on the window-sill,
+while their coffee was served.
+
+Then the music ceased, the garden became deserted. The light that had
+loitered in the corners crept upward to the roofs, cast its last rays
+upon the highest windowpanes, followed by the birds, the swallows, which
+saluted the close of day with a farewell chirp from the gutter where
+they were huddled together.
+
+“Now, where shall we go?” said Planus, as they left the restaurant.
+
+“Wherever you wish.”
+
+On the first floor of a building on the Rue Montpensier, close at hand,
+was a cafe chantant, where many people entered.
+
+“Suppose we go in,” said Planus, desirous of banishing his friend’s
+melancholy at any cost, “the beer is excellent.”
+
+Risler assented to the suggestion; he had not tasted beer for six
+months.
+
+It was a former restaurant transformed into a concert-hall. There were
+three large rooms, separated by gilded pillars, the partitions having
+been removed; the decoration was in the Moorish style, bright red, pale
+blue, with little crescents and turbans for ornament.
+
+Although it was still early, the place was full; and even before
+entering one had a feeling of suffocation, simply from seeing the crowds
+of people sitting around the tables, and at the farther end, half-hidden
+by the rows of pillars, a group of white-robed women on a raised
+platform, in the heat and glare of the gas.
+
+Our two friends had much difficulty in finding seats, and had to be
+content with a place behind a pillar whence they could see only half of
+the platform, then occupied by a superb person in black coat and yellow
+gloves, curled and waxed and oiled, who was singing in a vibrating
+voice--
+
+          Mes beaux lions aux crins dores,
+          Du sang des troupeaux alteres,
+          Halte la!--Je fais sentinello!
+
+          [My proud lions with golden manes
+          Who thirst for the blood of my flocks,
+          Stand back!--I am on guard!]
+
+The audience--small tradesmen of the quarter with their wives and
+daughters-seemed highly enthusiastic: especially the women. He
+represented so perfectly the ideal of the shopkeeper imagination, that
+magnificent shepherd of the desert, who addressed lions with such an
+air of authority and tended his flocks in full evening dress. And
+so, despite their bourgeois bearing, their modest costumes and their
+expressionless shop-girl smiles, all those women, made up their little
+mouths to be caught by the hook of sentiment, and cast languishing
+glances upon the singer. It was truly comical to see that glance at the
+platform suddenly change and become contemptuous and fierce as it fell
+upon the husband, the poor husband tranquilly drinking a glass of beer
+opposite his wife: “You would never be capable of doing sentry duty
+in the very teeth of lions, and in a black coat too, and with yellow
+gloves!”
+
+And the husband’s eye seemed to reply:
+
+“Ah! ‘dame’, yes, he’s quite a dashing buck, that fellow.”
+
+Being decidedly indifferent to heroism of that stamp, Risler and
+Sigismond were drinking their beer without paying much attention to the
+music, when, at the end of the song, amid the applause and cries and
+uproar that followed it, Pere Planus uttered an exclamation:
+
+“Why, that is odd; one would say--but no, I’m not mistaken. It is he,
+it’s Delobelle!”
+
+It was, in fact, the illustrious actor, whom he had discovered in the
+front row near the platform. His gray head was turned partly away from
+them. He was leaning carelessly against a pillar, hat in hand, in his
+grand make-up as leading man: dazzlingly white linen, hair curled with
+the tongs, black coat with a camellia in the buttonhole, like the
+ribbon of an order. He glanced at the crowd from time to time with a
+patronizing air: but his eyes were most frequently turned toward the
+platform, with encouraging little gestures and smiles and pretended
+applause, addressed to some one whom Pere Planus could not see from his
+seat.
+
+There was nothing very extraordinary in the presence of the illustrious
+Delobelle at a cafe concert, as he spent all his evenings away from
+home; and yet the old cashier felt vaguely disturbed, especially when he
+discovered in the same row a blue cape and a pair of steely eyes. It was
+Madame Dobson, the sentimental singing-teacher. The conjunction of those
+two faces amid the pipe-smoke and the confusion of the crowd, produced
+upon Sigismond the effect of two ghosts evoked by a bad dream. He was
+afraid for his friend, without knowing exactly why; and suddenly it
+occurred to him to take him away.
+
+“Let us go, Risler. The heat here is enough to kill one.”
+
+Just as they rose--for Risler was no more desirous to stay than to
+go--the orchestra, consisting of a piano and several violins, began a
+peculiar refrain. There was a flutter of curiosity throughout the room,
+and cries of “Hush! hush! sit down!”
+
+They were obliged to resume their seats. Risler, too, was beginning to
+be disturbed.
+
+“I know that tune,” he said to himself. “Where have I heard it?”
+
+A thunder of applause and an exclamation from Planus made him raise his
+eyes.
+
+“Come, come, let us go,” said the cashier, trying to lead him away.
+
+But it was too late.
+
+Risler had already seen his wife come forward to the front of the stage
+and curtsey to the audience with a ballet-dancer’s smile.
+
+She wore a white gown, as on the night of the ball; but her whole
+costume was much less rich and shockingly immodest.
+
+The dress was barely caught together at the shoulders; her hair floated
+in a blond mist low over her eyes, and around her neck was a necklace of
+pearls too large to be real, alternated with bits of tinsel. Delobelle
+was right: the Bohemian life was better suited to her. Her beauty
+had gained an indefinably reckless expression, which was its most
+characteristic feature, and made her a perfect type of the woman who
+has escaped from all restraint, placed herself at the mercy of every
+accident, and is descending stage by stage to the lowest depths of the
+Parisian hell, from which nothing is powerful enough to lift her and
+restore her to the pure air and the light.
+
+And how perfectly at ease she seemed in her strolling life! With what
+self-possession she walked to the front of the stage! Ah! could she have
+seen the desperate, terrible glance fixed upon her down there in
+the hall, concealed behind a pillar, her smile would have lost
+that equivocal placidity, her voice would have sought in vain those
+wheedling, languorous tones in which she warbled the only song Madame
+Dobson had ever been able to teach her:
+
+          Pauv’ pitit Mamz’elle Zizi,
+          C’est l’amou, l’amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li.
+
+Risler had risen, in spite of Planus’s efforts. “Sit down! sit down!”
+ the people shouted. The wretched man heard nothing. He was staring at
+his wife.
+
+          C’est l’amou, l’amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li,
+
+Sidonie repeated affectedly.
+
+For a moment he wondered whether he should not leap on the platform
+and kill her. Red flames shot before his eyes, and he was blinded with
+frenzy.
+
+Then, suddenly, shame and disgust seized upon him and he rushed from
+the hall, overturning chairs and tables, pursued by the terror and
+imprecations of all those scandalized bourgeois.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. SIDONIE’S VENGEANCE
+
+Never had Sigismond Planus returned home so late without giving his
+sister warning, during the twenty years and more that he had lived at
+Montrouge. Consequently Mademoiselle Planus was greatly worried. Living
+in community of ideas and of everything else with her brother, having
+but one mind for herself and for him, the old maid had felt for several
+months the rebound of all the cashier’s anxiety and indignation; and
+the effect was still noticeable in her tendency to tremble and
+become agitated on slight provocation. At the slightest tardiness on
+Sigismond’s part, she would think:
+
+“Ah! mon Dieu! If only nothing has happened at the factory!”
+
+That is the reason why on the evening in question, when the hens and
+chickens were all asleep on their perches, and the dinner had been
+removed untouched, Mademoiselle Planus was sitting in the little
+ground-floor living-room, waiting, in great agitation.
+
+At last, about eleven o’clock, some one rang. A timid, melancholy ring,
+in no wise resembling Sigismond’s vigorous pull.
+
+“Is it you, Monsieur Planus?” queried the old lady from behind the door.
+
+It was he; but he was not alone. A tall, bent old man accompanied him,
+and, as they entered, bade her good-evening in a slow, hesitating voice.
+Not till then did Mademoiselle Planus recognize Risler Aine, whom she
+had not seen since the days of the New Year’s calls, that is to say,
+some time before the dramas at the factory. She could hardly restrain an
+exclamation of pity; but the grave taciturnity of the two men told her
+that she must be silent.
+
+“Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, you will put clean sheets on my bed.
+Our friend Risler does us the honor to pass the night with us.”
+
+The sister hastened away to prepare the bedroom with an almost
+affectionate zeal; for, as we know, beside “Monsieur Planus, my
+brother,” Risler was the only man excepted from the general reprobation
+in which she enveloped the whole male sex.
+
+Upon leaving the cafe concert, Sidonie’s husband had had a moment of
+frantic excitement. He leaned on Planus’s arm, every nerve in his body
+strained to the utmost. At that moment he had no thought of going to
+Montrouge to get the letter and the package.
+
+“Leave me--go away,” he said to Sigismond. “I must be alone.”
+
+But the other knew better than to abandon him thus to his despair.
+Unnoticed by Risler, he led him away from the factory, and as his
+affectionate heart suggested to the old cashier what he had best say to
+his friend, he talked to him all the time of Frantz, his little Frantz
+whom he loved so dearly.
+
+“That was genuine affection, genuine and trustworthy. No treachery to
+fear with such hearts as that!”
+
+While they talked they left behind them the noisy streets of the centre
+of Paris. They walked along the quays, skirted the Jardin des Plantes,
+plunged into Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Risler followed where the other
+led. Sigismond’s words did him so much good!
+
+In due time they came to the Bievre, bordered at that point with
+tanneries whose tall drying-houses with open sides were outlined in blue
+against the sky; and then the ill-defined plains of Montsouris, vast
+tracts of land scorched and stripped of vegetation by the fiery breath
+that Paris exhales around its daily toil, like a monstrous dragon, whose
+breath of flame and smoke suffers no vegetation within its range.
+
+From Montsouris to the fortifications of Montrouge is but a step. When
+they had reached that point, Planus had no great difficulty in taking
+his friend home with him. He thought, and justly, that his tranquil
+fireside, the spectacle of a placid, fraternal, devoted affection, would
+give the wretched man’s heart a sort of foretaste of the happiness that
+was in store for him with his brother Frantz. And, in truth, the charm
+of the little household began to work as soon as they arrived.
+
+“Yes, yes, you are right, old fellow,” said Risler, pacing the floor of
+the living-room, “I mustn’t think of that woman any more. She’s like
+a dead woman to me now. I have nobody left in the world but my little
+Frantz; I don’t know yet whether I shall send for him to come home, or
+go out and join him; the one thing that is certain is that we are going
+to stay together. Ah! I longed so to have a son! Now I have found one.
+I want no other. When I think that for a moment I had an idea of killing
+myself! Nonsense! it would make Madame What-d’ye-call-her, yonder, too
+happy. On the contrary, I mean to live--to live with my Frantz, and for
+him, and for nothing else.”
+
+“Bravo!” said Sigismond, “that’s the way I like to hear you talk.”
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus came to say that the room was ready.
+
+Risler apologized for the trouble he was causing them.
+
+“You are so comfortable, so happy here. Really, it’s too bad to burden
+you with my melancholy.”
+
+“Ah! my old friend, you can arrange just such happiness as ours for
+yourself,” said honest Sigismond with beaming face. “I have my sister,
+you have your brother. What do we lack?”
+
+Risler smiled vaguely. He fancied himself already installed with Frantz
+in a quiet little quakerish house like that.
+
+Decidedly, that was an excellent idea of Pere Planus.
+
+“Come to bed,” he said triumphantly. “We’ll go and show you your room.”
+
+Sigismond Planus’s bedroom was on the ground floor, a large room simply
+but neatly furnished; with muslin curtains at the windows and the bed,
+and little squares of carpet on the polished floor, in front of the
+chairs. The dowager Madame Fromont herself could have found nothing to
+say as to the orderly and cleanly aspect of the place. On a shelf or
+two against the wall were a few books: Manual of Fishing, The Perfect
+Country Housewife, Bayeme’s Book-keeping. That was the whole of the
+intellectual equipment of the room.
+
+Pere Planus glanced proudly around. The glass of water was in its place
+on the walnut table, the box of razors on the dressing-case.
+
+“You see, Risler. Here is everything you need. And if you should want
+anything else, the keys are in all the drawers--you have only to turn
+them. Just see what a beautiful view you get from here. It’s a little
+dark just now, but when you wake up in the morning you’ll see; it is
+magnificent.”
+
+He opened the widow. Great drops of rain were beginning to fall, and
+lightning flashes rending the darkness disclosed the long, silent
+line of the fortifications, with telegraph poles at intervals, or the
+frowning door of a casemate. Now and then the footsteps of a patrol
+making the rounds, the clash of muskets or swords, reminded them that
+they were within the military zone.
+
+That was the outlook so vaunted by Planus--a melancholy outlook if ever
+there were one.
+
+“And now good-night. Sleep well!”
+
+But, as the old cashier was leaving the room, his friend called him
+back:
+
+“Sigismond.”
+
+“Here!” said Sigismond, and he waited.
+
+Risler blushed slightly and moved his lips like a man who is about to
+speak; then, with a mighty effort, he said:
+
+“No, no-nothing. Good-night, old man.”
+
+In the dining-room the brother and sister talked together a long while
+in low tones. Planus described the terrible occurrence of the evening,
+the meeting with Sidonie; and you can imagine the--“Oh! these
+women!” and “Oh! these men?” At last, when they had locked the little
+garden-door, Mademoiselle Planus went up to her room, and Sigismond made
+himself as comfortable as possible in a small cabinet adjoining.
+
+About midnight the cashier was aroused by his sister calling him in a
+terrified whisper:
+
+“Monsieur Planus, my brother?”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“Did you hear?”
+
+“No. What?”
+
+“Oh! it was awful. Something like a deep sigh, but so loud and so sad!
+It came from the room below.”
+
+They listened. Without, the rain was falling in torrents, with the
+dreary rustling of leaves that makes the country seem so lonely.
+
+“That is only the wind,” said Planus.
+
+“I am sure not. Hush! Listen!”
+
+Amid the tumult of the storm, they heard a wailing sound, like a sob, in
+which a name was pronounced with difficulty:
+
+“Frantz! Frantz!”
+
+It was terrible and pitiful.
+
+When Christ on the Cross sent up to heaven His despairing cry: ‘Eli,
+eli, lama sabachthani’, they who heard him must have felt the same
+species of superstitious terror that suddenly seized upon Mademoiselle
+Planus.
+
+“I am afraid!” she whispered; “suppose you go and look--”
+
+“No, no, we will let him alone. He is thinking of his brother. Poor
+fellow! It’s the very thought of all others that will do him the most
+good.”
+
+And the old cashier went to sleep again.
+
+The next morning he woke as usual when the drums beat the reveille
+in the fortifications; for the little family, surrounded by barracks,
+regulated its life by the military calls. The sister had already risen
+and was feeding the poultry. When she saw Sigismond she came to him in
+agitation.
+
+“It is very strange,” she said, “I hear nothing stirring in Monsieur
+Risler’s room. But the window is wide open.”
+
+Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend’s door.
+
+“Risler! Risler!”
+
+He called in great anxiety:
+
+“Risler, are you there? Are you asleep?”
+
+There was no reply. He opened the door.
+
+The room was cold. It was evident that the damp air had been blowing
+in all night through the open window. At the first glance at the
+bed, Sigismond thought: “He hasn’t been in bed”--for the clothes were
+undisturbed and the condition of the room, even in the most trivial
+details, revealed an agitated vigil: the still smoking lamp, which he
+had neglected to extinguish, the carafe, drained to the last drop by
+the fever of sleeplessness; but the thing that filled the cashier with
+dismay was to find the bureau drawer wide open in which he had carefully
+bestowed the letter and package entrusted to him by his friend.
+
+The letter was no longer there. The package lay on the table, open,
+revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen. With her high-necked
+frock, her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed
+pose of an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle
+Le Mire’s apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day.
+And that was the reason why Risler had kept that photograph, as a
+souvenir, not of his wife, but of the “little one.”
+
+Sigismond was in great dismay.
+
+“This is my fault,” he said to himself. “I ought to have taken away the
+keys. But who would have supposed that he was still thinking of her? He
+had sworn so many times that that woman no longer existed for him.”
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation
+written on her face.
+
+“Monsieur Risler has gone!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Gone? Why, wasn’t the garden-gate locked?”
+
+“He must have climbed over the wall. You can see his footprints.”
+
+They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure.
+
+“It was the letter!” thought Planus.
+
+Evidently that letter from his wife must have made some extraordinary
+revelation to Risler; and, in order not to disturb his hosts, he had
+made his escape noiselessly through the window, like a burglar. Why?
+With what aim in view?
+
+“You will see, sister,” said poor Planus, as he dressed with all haste,
+“you will see that that hussy has played him still another trick.” And
+when his sister tried to encourage him, he recurred to his favorite
+refrain:
+
+“I haf no gonfidence!”
+
+As soon as he was dressed, he darted out of the house.
+
+Risler’s footprints could be distinguished on the wet ground as far as
+the gate of the little garden. He must have gone before daylight, for
+the beds of vegetables and flowers were trampled down at random by deep
+footprints with long spaces between; there were marks of heels on the
+garden-wall and the mortar was crumbled slightly on top. The brother and
+sister went out on the road skirting the fortifications. There it was
+impossible to follow the footprints. They could tell nothing more than
+that Risler had gone in the direction of the Orleans road.
+
+“After all,” Mademoiselle Planus ventured to say, “we are very foolish
+to torment ourselves about him; perhaps he has simply gone back to the
+factory.”
+
+Sigismond shook his head. Ah! if he had said all that he thought!
+
+“Return to the house, sister. I will go and see.”
+
+And with the old “I haf no gonfidence” he rushed away like a hurricane,
+his white mane standing even more erect than usual.
+
+At that hour, on the road near the fortifications, was an endless
+procession of soldiers and market-gardeners, guard-mounting, officers’
+horses out for exercise, sutlers with their paraphernalia, all the
+bustle and activity that is seen in the morning in the neighborhood
+of forts. Planus was striding along amid the tumult, when suddenly he
+stopped. At the foot of the bank, on the left, in front of a small,
+square building, with the inscription.
+
+               CITY OF PARIS,
+            ENTRANCE TO THE QUARRIES,
+
+On the rough plaster, he saw a crowd assembled, and soldiers’ and
+custom-house officers’ uniforms, mingled with the shabby, dirty blouses
+of barracks-loafers. The old man instinctively approached. A customs
+officer, seated on the stone step below a round postern with iron bars,
+was talking with many gestures, as if he were acting out his narrative.
+
+“He was where I am,” he said. “He had hanged himself sitting, by pulling
+with all his strength on the rope! It’s clear that he had made up his
+mind to die, for he had a razor in his pocket that he would have used in
+case the rope had broken.”
+
+A voice in the crowd exclaimed: “Poor devil!” Then another, a tremulous
+voice, choking with emotion, asked timidly:
+
+“Is it quite certain that he’s dead?”
+
+Everybody looked at Planus and began to laugh.
+
+“Well, here’s a greenhorn,” said the officer. “Don’t I tell you that
+he was all blue this morning, when we cut him down to take him to the
+chasseurs’ barracks!”
+
+The barracks were not far away; and yet Sigismond Planus had the
+greatest difficulty in the world in dragging himself so far. In vain
+did he say to himself that suicides are of frequent occurrence in Paris,
+especially in those regions; that not a day passes that a dead body
+is not found somewhere along that line of fortifications, as upon
+the shores of a tempestuous sea,--he could not escape the terrible
+presentiment that had oppressed his heart since early morning.
+
+“Ah! you have come to see the man that hanged himself,” said the
+quartermaster-sergeant at the door of the barracks. “See! there he is.”
+
+The body had been laid on a table supported by trestles in a sort of
+shed. A cavalry cloak that had been thrown over it covered it from head
+to foot, and fell in the shroud-like folds which all draperies assume
+that come in contact with the rigidity of death. A group of officers
+and several soldiers in duck trousers were looking on at a distance,
+whispering as if in a church; and an assistant-surgeon was writing a
+report of the death on a high window-ledge. To him Sigismond spoke.
+
+“I should like very much to see him,” he said softly.
+
+“Go and look.”
+
+He walked to the table, hesitated a minute, then, summoning courage,
+uncovered a swollen face, a tall, motionless body in its rain-soaked
+garments.
+
+“She has killed you at last, my old comrade!” murmured Planus, and fell
+on his knees, sobbing bitterly.
+
+The officers had come forward, gazing curiously at the body, which was
+left uncovered.
+
+“Look, surgeon,” said one of them. “His hand is closed, as if he were
+holding something in it.”
+
+“That is true,” the surgeon replied, drawing nearer. “That sometimes
+happens in the last convulsions.
+
+“You remember at Solferino, Commandant Bordy held his little daughter’s
+miniature in his hand like that? We had much difficulty in taking it
+from him.”
+
+As he spoke he tried to open the poor, tightly-closed dead hand.
+
+“Look!” said he, “it is a letter that he is holding so tight.”
+
+He was about to read it; but one of the officers took it from his hands
+and passed it to Sigismond, who was still kneeling.
+
+“Here, Monsieur. Perhaps you will find in this some last wish to be
+carried out.”
+
+Sigismond Planus rose. As the light in the room was dim, he walked with
+faltering step to the window, and read, his eyes filled with tears:
+
+“Well, yes, I love you, I love you, more than ever and forever! What
+is the use of struggling and fighting against fate? Our sin is stronger
+than we...”
+
+It was the letter which Frantz had written to his sister-in-law a year
+before, and which Sidonie had sent to her husband on the day following
+their terrible scene, to revenge herself on him and his brother at the
+same time.
+
+Risler could have survived his wife’s treachery, but that of his brother
+had killed him.
+
+When Sigismond understood, he was petrified with horror. He stood
+there, with the letter in his hand, gazing mechanically through the open
+window.
+
+The clock struck six.
+
+Yonder, over Paris, whose dull roar they could hear although they could
+not see the city, a cloud of smoke arose, heavy and hot, moving slowly
+upward, with a fringe of red and black around its edges, like the
+powder-smoke on a field of battle. Little by little, steeples, white
+buildings, a gilded cupola, emerged from the mist, and burst forth in a
+splendid awakening.
+
+Then the thousands of tall factory chimneys, towering above that sea of
+clustered roofs, began with one accord to exhale their quivering vapor,
+with the energy of a steamer about to sail. Life was beginning anew.
+Forward, ye wheels of time! And so much the worse for him who lags
+behind!
+
+Thereupon old Planus gave way to a terrible outburst of wrath.
+
+“Ah! harlot-harlot!” he cried, shaking his fist; and no one could say
+whether he was addressing the woman or the city of Paris.
+
+
+     ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     A man may forgive, but he never forgets
+     Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered
+     Affectation of indifference
+     Always smiling condescendingly
+     Charm of that one day’s rest and its solemnity
+     Clashing knives and forks mark time
+     Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!
+     Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
+     Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+     Exaggerated dramatic pantomime
+     Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen
+     He fixed the time mentally when he would speak
+     Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away
+     Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs
+     No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were
+     Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous
+     She was of those who disdain no compliment
+     Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter
+     Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works
+     Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings
+     The poor must pay for all their enjoyments
+     The groom isn’t handsome, but the bride’s as pretty as a picture
+     Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come
+     Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
+     Word “sacrifice,” so vague on careless lips
+     Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg’s Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Fromont and Risler, by Alphonse Daudet
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    pre     { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+Project Gutenberg's Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fromont and Risler, Complete
+
+Author: Alphonse Daudet
+
+Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3980]
+Last Updated: August 23, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROMONT AND RISLER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <h1>
+      FROMONT AND RISLER
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Alphonse Daudet
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ALPHONSE DAUDET </a><br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>FROMONT AND RISLER</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>A WEDDING-PARTY AT THE CAFE VEFOUR
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>LITTLE CHEBE&rsquo;S STORY
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>THE FALSE PEARLS
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>THE GLOW-WORMS OF
+        SAVIGNY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>HOW LITTLE
+        CHEBE&rsquo;S STORY ENDED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>NOON&mdash;THE
+        MARAIS IS BREAKFASTING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> <b>BOOK 2.</b>
+        </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>THE TRUE PEARL
+        AND THE FALSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>THE
+        BREWERY ON THE RUE BLONDEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER
+        IX. </a>AT SAVIGNY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>SIGISMOND
+        PLANUS TREMBLES FOR HIS CASH-BOX <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011">
+        CHAPTER XI. </a>THE INVENTORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012">
+        CHAPTER XII. </a>A LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER
+        XIII. </a>THE JUDGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> <b>BOOK 3.</b>
+        </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>EXPLANATION
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>POOR LITTLE
+        MAM&rsquo;ZELLE ZIZI <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE
+        WAITING-ROOM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>AN
+        ITEM OF NEWS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>SHE
+        PROMISED NOT TO TRY AGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER
+        XIX. </a>APPROACHING CLOUDS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER
+        XX. </a>REVELATIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> <b>BOOK 4.</b>
+        </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>THE DAY OF
+        RECKONING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>THE NEW
+        EMPLOYEE OF THE HOUSE OF FROMONT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023">
+        CHAPTER XXIII. </a>CAFE CHANTANT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024">
+        CHAPTER XXIV. </a>SIDONIE&rsquo;S VENGEANCE <br /><br />
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      ALPHONSE DAUDET
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio representing
+      Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that school, and by
+      private friendship, no less than by a common profession of faith, was one
+      of them. But the students of the future, while recognizing an obvious
+      affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to find Daudet&rsquo;s name
+      conjoined with theirs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School. But, above all, he was
+      an impressionist. All that can be observed&mdash;the individual picture,
+      scene, character&mdash;Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all
+      his novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing
+      firmness of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of
+      the sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
+      Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to. Feverish as his method
+      of writing was&mdash;true to his Southern character he took endless pains
+      to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from beginning
+      to end. He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and it is from
+      this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth and the taste
+      of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and women. In the
+      earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to episode or from
+      scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner of the Goncourts.
+      But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the same school, but not
+      of the same family. Zola is methodical, Daudet spontaneous. Zola works
+      with documents, Daudet from the living fact. Zola is objective, Daudet
+      with equal scope and fearlessness shows more personal feeling and hence
+      more delicacy. And in style also Zola is vast, architectural; Daudet
+      slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive. And finally, in their
+      philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of vice and wrong, but Daudet
+      wins a love for what is good and true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840. His father had
+      been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
+      child, lost his property. Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
+      post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais. In November, 1857, he settled
+      in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest. The
+      autobiography, &lsquo;Le Petit Chose&rsquo; (1868), gives graphic details about this
+      period. His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
+      Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread. He had
+      secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the Corps
+      Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the &lsquo;Figaro&rsquo;,
+      when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers. Returning, he married
+      toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose literary talent
+      comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own. After the death of the Duc
+      de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to literature and
+      published &lsquo;Lettres de mon Moulin&rsquo; (1868), which also made his name
+      favorably known. He now turned from fiction to the drama, and it was not
+      until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his vocation as a
+      novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris and the
+      humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without souring it.
+      Daudet&rsquo;s genial satire, &lsquo;Tartarin de Tarascon&rsquo;, appeared in 1872; but with
+      the Parisian romance &lsquo;Fromont jeune et Risler aine&rsquo;, crowned by the
+      Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost rank of French
+      novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts it, &ldquo;the dawn of
+      his popularity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
+      translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with natural
+      pride. The book must be read to be appreciated. &ldquo;Risler, a self-made,
+      honest man, raises himself socially into a society against the corruptness
+      of which he has no defence and from which he escapes only by suicide.
+      Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and heartless woman;
+      Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic simplicity of
+      Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Success followed now after success. &lsquo;Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
+      Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L&rsquo;Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
+      (1884); Tartarin sur des Alces (1886); L&rsquo;Immortel (1888); Port Tarascon
+      (1890); Rose et Ninette (1892); La petite Parvisse (1895); and Soutien de
+      Famille (1899)&rsquo;; such is the long list of the great life-artist. In Le
+      Nabab we find obvious traces of Daudet&rsquo;s visits to Algiers and
+      Corsica-Mora is the Duc de Morny. Sapho is the most concentrated of his
+      novels, with never a divergence, never a break, in its development. And of
+      the theme&mdash;legitimate marriage contra common-law&mdash;what need be
+      said except that he handled it in a manner most acceptable to the
+      aesthetic and least offensive to the moral sense?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      L&rsquo;Immortel is a satire springing from personal reasons; L&rsquo;Evangeliste and
+      Rose et Ninette&mdash;the latter on the divorce problem&mdash;may be
+      classed as clever novels; but had Daudet never written more than &lsquo;Fromont
+      et Risler&rsquo;, &lsquo;Tartarin sur les Alces&rsquo;, and &lsquo;Port Tarascon&rsquo;, these would
+      keep him in lasting remembrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We must not omit to mention also many &lsquo;contes&rsquo; and his &lsquo;Trente ans de
+      Paris (A travers ma vie et mes livres), Souvenirs d&rsquo;un Homme de lettres
+      (1888), and Notes sur la Vie (1899)&rsquo;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    LECONTE DE LISLE
+                  de l&rsquo;Academie Francaise.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      FROMONT AND RISLER
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 1.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I. A WEDDING-PARTY AT THE CAFE VEFOUR
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;Madame Chebe!&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boy&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the twentieth time that day that the good Risler had said that he
+      was happy, and always with the same emotional and contented manner, in the
+      same low, deep voice-the voice that is held in check by emotion and does
+      not speak too loud for fear of suddenly breaking into violent tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not for the world would Risler have wept at that moment&mdash;imagine a
+      newly-made husband giving way to tears in the midst of the
+      wedding-festival! And yet he had a strong inclination to do so. His
+      happiness stifled him, held him by the throat, prevented the words from
+      coming forth. All that he could do was to murmur from time to time, with a
+      slight trembling of the lips, &ldquo;I am happy; I am happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, he had reason to be happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since early morning the poor man had fancied that he was being whirled
+      along in one of those magnificent dreams from which one fears lest he may
+      awake suddenly with blinded eyes; but it seemed to him as if this dream
+      would never end. It had begun at five o&rsquo;clock in the morning, and at ten
+      o&rsquo;clock at night, exactly ten o&rsquo;clock by Vefour&rsquo;s clock, he was still
+      dreaming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How many things had happened during that day, and how vividly he
+      remembered the most trivial details.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw himself, at daybreak, striding up and down his bachelor quarters,
+      delight mingled with impatience, clean-shaven, his coat on, and two pairs
+      of white gloves in his pocket. Then there were the wedding-coaches, and in
+      the foremost one&mdash;the one with white horses, white reins, and a
+      yellow damask lining&mdash;the bride, in her finery, floated by like a
+      cloud. Then the procession into the church, two by two, the white veil in
+      advance, ethereal, and dazzling to behold. The organ, the verger, the
+      cure&rsquo;s sermon, the tapers casting their light upon jewels and spring
+      gowns, and the throng of people in the sacristy, the tiny white cloud
+      swallowed up, surrounded, embraced, while the bridegroom distributed
+      hand-shakes among all the leading tradesmen of Paris, who had assembled to
+      do him honor. And the grand crash from the organ at the close, made more
+      solemn by the fact that the church door was thrown wide open, so that the
+      whole street took part in the family ceremony&mdash;the music passing
+      through the vestibule at the same time with the procession&mdash;the
+      exclamations of the crowd, and a burnisher in an ample lute-string apron
+      remarking in a loud voice, &ldquo;The groom isn&rsquo;t handsome, but the bride&rsquo;s as
+      pretty as a picture.&rdquo; That is the kind of thing that makes you proud when
+      you happen to be the bridegroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the breakfast at the factory, in a workroom adorned with hangings
+      and flowers; the drive in the Bois&mdash;a concession to the wishes of his
+      mother-in-law, Madame Chebe, who, being the petty Parisian bourgeoise that
+      she was, would not have deemed her daughter legally married without a
+      drive around the lake and a visit to the Cascade. Then the return for
+      dinner, as the lamps were being lighted along the boulevard, where people
+      turned to look after the wedding-party, a typical well-to-do bourgeois
+      wedding-party, as it drove up to the grand entrance at Vefour&rsquo;s with all
+      the style the livery horses could command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler had reached that point in his dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now the worthy man, dazed with fatigue and well-being, glanced vaguely
+      about that huge table of twenty-four covers, curved in the shape of a
+      horseshoe at the ends, and surrounded by smiling, familiar faces, wherein
+      he seemed to see his happiness reflected in every eye. The dinner was
+      drawing near its close. The wave of private conversation flowed around the
+      table. Faces were turned toward one another, black sleeves stole behind
+      waists adorned with bunches of asclepias, a childish face laughed over a
+      fruit ice, and the dessert at the level of the guests&rsquo; lips encompassed
+      the cloth with animation, bright colors, and light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, yes! Risler was very happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Except his brother Frantz, everybody he loved was there. First of all,
+      sitting opposite him, was Sidonie&mdash;yesterday little Sidonie, to-day
+      his wife. For the ceremony of dinner she had laid aside her veil; she had
+      emerged from her cloud. Now, above the smooth, white silk gown, appeared a
+      pretty face of a less lustrous and softer white, and the crown of
+      hair-beneath that other crown so carefully bestowed&mdash;would have told
+      you of a tendency to rebel against life, of little feathers fluttering for
+      an opportunity to fly away. But husbands do not see such things as those.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next to Sidonie and Frantz, the person whom Risler loved best in the world
+      was Madame Georges Fromont, whom he called &ldquo;Madame Chorche,&rdquo; the wife of
+      his partner and the daughter of the late Fromont, his former employer and
+      his god. He had placed her beside him, and in his manner of speaking to
+      her one could read affection and deference. She was a very young woman, of
+      about the same age as Sidonie, but of a more regular, quiet and placid
+      type of beauty. She talked little, being out of her element in that
+      conglomerate assemblage; but she tried to appear affable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Risler&rsquo;s other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride&rsquo;s mother, radiant and
+      gorgeous in her green satin gown, which gleamed like a shield. Ever since
+      the morning the good woman&rsquo;s every thought had been as brilliant as that
+      robe of emblematic hue. At every moment she said to herself: &ldquo;My daughter
+      is marrying Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, of Rue des Vieilles
+      Haudriettes!&rdquo; For, in her mind, it was not Risler alone whom her daughter
+      took for her husband, but the whole sign of the establishment, illustrious
+      in the commercial annals of Paris; and whenever she mentally announced
+      that glorious event, Madame Chebe sat more erect than ever, stretching the
+      silk of the bodice until it almost cracked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a contrast to the attitude of Monsieur Chebe, who was seated at a
+      short distance. In different households, as a general rule, the same
+      causes produce altogether different results. That little man, with the
+      high forehead of a visionary, as inflated and hollow as a ball, was as
+      fierce in appearance as his wife was radiant. That was nothing unusual, by
+      the way, for Monsieur Chebe was in a frenzy the whole year long. On this
+      particular evening, however, he did not wear his customary woe-begone,
+      lack-lustre expression, nor the full-skirted coat, with the pockets
+      sticking out behind, filled to repletion with samples of oil, wine,
+      truffles, or vinegar, according as he happened to be dealing in one or the
+      other of those articles. His black coat, new and magnificent, made a
+      fitting pendant to the green gown; but unfortunately his thoughts were of
+      the color of his coat. Why had they not seated him beside the bride, as
+      was his right? Why had they given his seat to young Fromont? And there was
+      old Gardinois, the Fromonts&rsquo; grandfather, what business had he by
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s side? Ah! that was how it was to be! Everything for the Fromonts
+      and nothing for the Chebes! And yet people are amazed that there are such
+      things as revolutions!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Luckily the little man had by his side, to vent his anger upon, his friend
+      Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who listened to him with his serene and
+      majestic holiday countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strangely enough, the bride herself had something of that same expression.
+      On that pretty and youthful face, which happiness enlivened without making
+      glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupation; and, at times,
+      the corners of her lips quivered with a smile, as if she were talking to
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With that same little smile she replied to the somewhat pronounced
+      pleasantries of Grandfather Gardinois, who sat by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This Sidonie, on my word!&rdquo; said the good man, with a laugh. &ldquo;When I think
+      that not two months ago she was talking about going into a convent. We all
+      know what sort of convents such minxes as she go to! As the saying is in
+      our province: The Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And everybody at the table laughed heartily at the rustic jests of the old
+      Berrichon peasant, whose colossal fortune filled the place of manliness,
+      of education, of kindness of heart, but not of wit; for he had plenty of
+      that, the rascal&mdash;more than all his bourgeois fellow-guests together.
+      Among the very rare persons who inspired a sympathetic feeling in his
+      breast, little Chebe, whom he had known as an urchin, appealed
+      particularly to him; and she, for her part, having become rich too
+      recently not to venerate wealth, talked to her right-hand neighbor with a
+      very perceptible air of respect and coquetry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With her left-hand-neighbor, on the contrary, Georges Fromont, her
+      husband&rsquo;s partner, she exhibited the utmost reserve. Their conversation
+      was restricted to the ordinary courtesies of the table; indeed there was a
+      sort of affectation of indifference between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly there was that little commotion among the guests which indicates
+      that they are about to rise: the rustling of silk, the moving of chairs,
+      the last words of conversations, the completion of a laugh, and in that
+      half-silence Madame Chebe, who had become communicative, observed in a
+      very loud tone to a provincial cousin, who was gazing in an ecstasy of
+      admiration at the newly made bride&rsquo;s reserved and tranquil demeanor, as
+      she stood with her arm in Monsieur Gardinois&rsquo;s:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see that child, cousin&mdash;well, no one has ever been able to find
+      out what her thoughts were.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the whole party rose and repaired to the grand salon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the guests invited for the ball were arriving and mingling with the
+      dinner-guests, while the orchestra was tuning up, while the cavaliers,
+      eyeglass in position, strutted before the impatient, white-gowned damsels,
+      the bridegroom, awed by so great a throng, had taken refuge with his
+      friend Planus&mdash;Sigismond Planus, cashier of the house of Fromont for
+      thirty years&mdash;in that little gallery decorated with flowers and hung
+      with a paper representing shrubbery and clambering vines, which forms a
+      sort of background of artificial verdure to Vefour&rsquo;s gilded salons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sigismond, old friend&mdash;I am very happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Sigismond too was happy; but Risler did not give him time to say so.
+      Now that he was no longer in dread of weeping before his guests, all the
+      joy in his heart overflowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think of it, my friend!&mdash;It&rsquo;s so extraordinary that a young
+      girl like Sidonie would consent to marry me. For you know I&rsquo;m not
+      handsome. I didn&rsquo;t need to have that impudent creature tell me so this
+      morning to know it. And then I&rsquo;m forty-two&mdash;and she such a dear
+      little thing! There were so many others she might have chosen, among the
+      youngest and the richest, to say nothing of my poor Frantz, who loved her
+      so. But, no, she preferred her old Risler. And it came about so strangely.
+      For a long time I noticed that she was sad, greatly changed. I felt sure
+      there was some disappointment in love at the bottom of it. Her mother and
+      I looked about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be.
+      One morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, &lsquo;You are the
+      man she loves, my dear friend!&rsquo;&mdash;And I was the man&mdash;I was the
+      man! Bless my soul! Whoever would have suspected such a thing? And to
+      think that in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune&mdash;a
+      partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie&mdash;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple
+      whirled into the small salon. They were Risler&rsquo;s bride and his partner,
+      Georges Fromont. Equally young and attractive, they were talking in
+      undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You lie!&rdquo; said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the other, paler than she, replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not lie. It was my uncle who insisted upon this marriage. He was
+      dying&mdash;you had gone away. I dared not say no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How pretty she is! How well they dance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked
+      quickly to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! You here? What are you doing? They are looking everywhere for you.
+      Why aren&rsquo;t you in there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she spoke she retied his cravat with a pretty, impatient gesture. That
+      enchanted Risler, who smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his eye, too
+      overjoyed at feeling the touch of that little gloved hand on his neck, to
+      notice that she was trembling to the ends of her slender fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me your arm,&rdquo; she said to him, and they returned together to the
+      salons. The white bridal gown with its long train made the badly cut,
+      awkwardly worn black coat appear even more uncouth; but a coat can not be
+      retied like a cravat; she must needs take it as it was. As they passed
+      along, returning the salutations of all the guests who were so eager to
+      smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of satisfied
+      vanity. Unhappily it did not last. In a corner of the room sat a young and
+      attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who looked on at the
+      dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of a first maternity.
+      As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the corner where she sat
+      and compelled Sidonie to sit beside her. Needless to say that it was
+      Madame &ldquo;Chorche.&rdquo; To whom else would he have spoken with such affectionate
+      respect? In what other hand than hers could he have placed his little
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s, saying: &ldquo;You will love her dearly, won&rsquo;t you? You are so good.
+      She needs your advice, your knowledge of the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, my dear Risler,&rdquo; Madame Georges replied, &ldquo;Sidonie and I are old
+      friends. We have reason to be fond of each other still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And her calm, straightforward glance strove unsuccessfully to meet that of
+      her old friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With his ignorance of women, and his habit of treating Sidonie as a child,
+      Risler continued in the same tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take her for your model, little one. There are not two people in the
+      world like Madame Chorche. She has her poor father&rsquo;s heart. A true
+      Fromont!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed without replying, while an
+      imperceptible shudder ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the topmost
+      bit of orange-blossom in her crown. But honest Risler saw nothing. The
+      excitement, the dancing, the music, the flowers, the lights made him
+      drunk, made him mad. He believed that every one breathed the same
+      atmosphere of bliss beyond compare which enveloped him. He had no
+      perception of the rivalries, the petty hatreds that met and passed one
+      another above all those bejewelled foreheads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not notice Delobelle, standing with his elbow on the mantel, one
+      hand in the armhole of his waistcoat and his hat upon his hip, weary of
+      his eternal attitudinizing, while the hours slipped by and no one thought
+      of utilizing his talents. He did not notice M. Chebe, who was prowling
+      darkly between the two doors, more incensed than ever against the
+      Fromonts. Oh! those Fromonts!&mdash;How large a place they filled at that
+      wedding! They were all there with their wives, their children, their
+      friends, their friends&rsquo; friends. One would have said that one of
+      themselves was being married. Who had a word to say of the Rislers or the
+      Chebes? Why, he&mdash;he, the father, had not even been presented!&mdash;And
+      the little man&rsquo;s rage was redoubled by the attitude of Madame Chebe,
+      smiling maternally upon one and all in her scarab-hued dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Furthermore, there were at this, as at almost all wedding-parties, two
+      distinct currents which came together but without mingling. One of the two
+      soon gave place to the other. The Fromonts, who irritated Monsieur Chebe
+      so much and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president of the
+      Chamber of Commerce, the syndic of the solicitors, a famous
+      chocolate-manufacturer and member of the Corps Legislatif, and the old
+      millionaire Gardinois, all retired shortly after midnight. Georges Fromont
+      and his wife entered their carriage behind them. Only the Risler and Chebe
+      party remained, and the festivity at once changed its aspect, becoming
+      more uproarious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The illustrious Delobelle, disgusted to see that no one called upon him
+      for anything, decided to call upon himself for something, and began in a
+      voice as resonant as a gong the monologue from Ruy Blas: &ldquo;Good appetite,
+      Messieurs!&rdquo; while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with chocolate
+      and glasses of punch. Inexpensive little costumes were displayed upon the
+      benches, overjoyed to produce their due effect at last; and here and there
+      divers young shop-clerks, consumed with conceit, amused themselves by
+      venturing upon a quadrille.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bride had long wished to take her leave. At last she disappeared with
+      Risler and Madame Chebe. As for Monsieur Chebe, who had recovered all his
+      importance, it was impossible to induce him to go. Some one must be there
+      to do the honors, deuce take it! And I assure you that the little man
+      assumed the responsibility! He was flushed, lively, frolicsome, noisy,
+      almost seditious. On the floor below he could be heard talking politics
+      with Vefour&rsquo;s headwaiter, and making most audacious statements.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the deserted streets the wedding-carriage, the tired coachman
+      holding the white reins somewhat loosely, rolled heavily toward the
+      Marais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Chebe talked continuously, enumerating all the splendors of that
+      memorable day, rhapsodizing especially over the dinner, the commonplace
+      menu of which had been to her the highest display of magnificence. Sidonie
+      mused in the darkness of the carriage, and Risler, sitting opposite her,
+      even though he no longer said, &ldquo;I am very happy,&rdquo; continued to think it
+      with all his heart. Once he tried to take possession of a little white
+      hand that rested against the closed window, but it was hastily withdrawn,
+      and he sat there without moving, lost in mute admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drove through the Halles and the Rue de Rambuteau, thronged with
+      kitchen-gardeners&rsquo; wagons; and, near the end of the Rue des
+      Francs-Bourgeois, they turned the corner of the Archives into the Rue de
+      Braque. There they stopped first, and Madame Chebe alighted at her door,
+      which was too narrow for the magnificent green silk frock, so that it
+      vanished in the hall with rustlings of revolt and with all its folds
+      muttering. A few minutes later, a tall, massive portal on the Rue des
+      Vieilles-Haudriettes, bearing on the escutcheon that betrayed the former
+      family mansion, beneath half-effaced armorial bearings, a sign in blue
+      letters, Wall Papers, was thrown wide open to allow the wedding-carriage
+      to pass through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the bride, hitherto motionless and like one asleep, seemed to
+      wake suddenly, and if all the lights in the vast buildings, workshops or
+      storehouses, which surrounded the courtyard, had not been extinguished,
+      Risler might have seen that pretty, enigmatical face suddenly lighted by a
+      smile of triumph. The wheels revolved less noisily on the fine gravel of a
+      garden, and soon stopped before the stoop of a small house of two floors.
+      It was there that the young Fromonts lived, and Risler and his wife were
+      to take up their abode on the floor above. The house had an aristocratic
+      air. Flourishing commerce avenged itself therein for the dismal street and
+      the out-of-the-way quarter. There was a carpet on the stairway leading to
+      their apartment, and on all sides shone the gleaming whiteness of marble,
+      the reflection of mirrors and of polished copper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Risler was parading his delight through all the rooms of the new
+      apartment, Sidonie remained alone in her bedroom. By the light of the
+      little blue lamp hanging from the ceiling, she glanced first of all at the
+      mirror, which gave back her reflection from head to foot, at all her
+      luxurious surroundings, so unfamiliar to her; then, instead of going to
+      bed, she opened the window and stood leaning against the sill, motionless
+      as a statue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The night was clear and warm. She could see distinctly the whole factory,
+      its innumerable unshaded windows, its glistening panes, its tall chimney
+      losing itself in the depths of the sky, and nearer at hand the lovely
+      little garden against the ancient wall of the former mansion. All about
+      were gloomy, miserable roofs and squalid streets. Suddenly she started.
+      Yonder, in the darkest, the ugliest of all those attics crowding so
+      closely together, leaning against one another, as if overweighted with
+      misery, a fifth-floor window stood wide open, showing only darkness
+      within. She recognized it at once. It was the window of the landing on
+      which her parents lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The window on the landing!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How many things the mere name recalled! How many hours, how many days she
+      had passed there, leaning on that damp sill, without rail or balcony,
+      looking toward the factory. At that moment she fancied that she could see
+      up yonder little Chebe&rsquo;s ragged person, and in the frame made by that poor
+      window, her whole child life, her deplorable youth as a Parisian street
+      arab, passed before her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II. LITTLE CHEBE&rsquo;S STORY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In Paris the common landing is like an additional room, an enlargement of
+      their abodes, to poor families confined in their too small apartments.
+      They go there to get a breath of air in summer, and there the women talk
+      and the children play.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When little Chebe made too much noise in the house, her mother would say
+      to her: &ldquo;There there! you bother me, go and play on the landing.&rdquo; And the
+      child would go quickly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This landing, on the upper floor of an old house in which space had not
+      been spared, formed a sort of large lobby, with a high ceiling, guarded on
+      the staircase side by a wrought-iron rail, lighted by a large window which
+      looked out upon roofs, courtyards, and other windows, and, farther away,
+      upon the garden of the Fromont factory, which was like a green oasis among
+      the huge old walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing very cheerful about it, but the child liked it much
+      better than her own home. Their rooms were dismal, especially when it
+      rained and Ferdinand did not go out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With his brain always smoking with new ideas, which unfortunately never
+      came to anything, Ferdinand Chebe was one of those slothful,
+      project-devising bourgeois of when there are so many in Paris. His wife,
+      whom he had dazzled at first, had soon detected his utter insignificance,
+      and had ended by enduring patiently and with unchanged demeanor his
+      continual dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the dot of eighty thousand francs which she had brought him, and which
+      he had squandered in his absurd schemes, only a small annuity remained,
+      which still gave them a position of some importance in the eyes of their
+      neighbors, as did Madame Chebe&rsquo;s cashmere, which had been rescued from
+      every wreck, her wedding laces and two diamond studs, very tiny and very
+      modest, which Sidonie sometimes begged her mother to show her, as they lay
+      in the drawer of the bureau, in an old-fashioned white velvet case, on
+      which the jeweller&rsquo;s name, in gilt letters, thirty years old, was
+      gradually fading. That was the only bit of luxury in that poor annuitant&rsquo;s
+      abode.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a very long time M. Chebe had sought a place which would enable him to
+      eke out their slender income. But he sought it only in what he called
+      standing business, his health forbidding any occupation that required him
+      to be seated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed that, soon after his marriage, when he was in a flourishing
+      business and had a horse and tilbury of his own, the little man had had
+      one day a serious fall. That fall, to which he referred upon every
+      occasion, served as an excuse for his indolence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One could not be with M. Chebe five minutes before he would say in a
+      confidential tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know of the accident that happened to the Duc d&rsquo;Orleans?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he would add, tapping his little bald pate &ldquo;The same thing
+      happened to me in my youth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Since that famous fall any sort of office work made him dizzy, and he had
+      found himself inexorably confined to standing business. Thus, he had been
+      in turn a broker in wines, in books, in truffles, in clocks, and in many
+      other things beside. Unluckily, he tired of everything, never considered
+      his position sufficiently exalted for a former business man with a
+      tilbury, and, by gradual degrees, by dint of deeming every sort of
+      occupation beneath him, he had grown old and incapable, a genuine idler
+      with low tastes, a good-for-nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Artists are often rebuked for their oddities, for the liberties they take
+      with nature, for that horror of the conventional which impels them to
+      follow by-paths; but who can ever describe all the absurd fancies, all the
+      idiotic eccentricities with which a bourgeois without occupation can
+      succeed in filling the emptiness of his life? M. Chebe imposed upon
+      himself certain rules concerning his goings and comings, and his walks
+      abroad. While the Boulevard Sebastopol was being built, he went twice a
+      day &ldquo;to see how it was getting on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No one knew better than he the fashionable shops and the bargains; and
+      very often Madame Chebe, annoyed to see her husband&rsquo;s idiotic face at the
+      window while she was energetically mending the family linen, would rid
+      herself of him by giving him an errand to do. &ldquo;You know that place, on the
+      corner of such a street, where they sell such nice cakes. They would be
+      nice for our dessert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the husband would go out, saunter along the boulevard by the shops,
+      wait for the omnibus, and pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth
+      three sous, which he would bring home in triumph, wiping his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Chebe adored the summer, the Sundays, the great footraces in the dust
+      at Clamart or Romainville, the excitement of holidays and the crowd. He
+      was one of those who went about for a whole week before the fifteenth of
+      August, gazing at the black lamps and their frames, and the scaffoldings.
+      Nor did his wife complain. At all events, she no longer had that chronic
+      grumbler prowling around her chair for whole days, with schemes for
+      gigantic enterprises, combinations that missed fire in advance,
+      lamentations concerning the past, and a fixed determination not to work at
+      anything to earn money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She no longer earned anything herself, poor woman; but she knew so well
+      how to save, her wonderful economy made up so completely for everything
+      else, that absolute want, although a near neighbor of such impecuniosity
+      as theirs, never succeeded in making its way into those three rooms, which
+      were always neat and clean, or in destroying the carefully mended garments
+      or the old furniture so well concealed beneath its coverings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opposite the Chebes&rsquo; door, whose copper knob gleamed in bourgeois fashion
+      upon the landing, were two other and smaller ones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the first, a visiting-card, held in place by four nails, according to
+      the custom in vogue among industrial artists, bore the name of
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                 RISLER
+             DESIGNER OF PATTERNS.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      On the other was a small square of leather, with these words in gilt
+      letters:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+              MESDAMES DELOBELLE
+          BIRDS AND INSECTS FOR ORNAMENT.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The Delobelles&rsquo; door was often open, disclosing a large room with a brick
+      floor, where two women, mother and daughter, the latter almost a child,
+      each as weary and as pale as the other, worked at one of the thousand
+      fanciful little trades which go to make up what is called the &lsquo;Articles de
+      Paris&rsquo;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was then the fashion to ornament hats and ballgowns with the lovely
+      little insects from South America that have the brilliant coloring of
+      jewels and reflect the light like diamonds. The Delobelles had adopted
+      that specialty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A wholesale house, to which consignments were made directly from the
+      Antilles, sent to them, unopened, long, light boxes from which, when the
+      lid was removed, arose a faint odor, a dust of arsenic through which
+      gleamed the piles of insects, impaled before being shipped, the birds
+      packed closely together, their wings held in place by a strip of thin
+      paper. They must all be mounted&mdash;the insects quivering upon brass
+      wire, the humming-birds with their feathers ruffled; they must be cleansed
+      and polished, the beak in a bright red, claw repaired with a silk thread,
+      dead eyes replaced with sparkling pearls, and the insect or the bird
+      restored to an appearance of life and grace. The mother prepared the work
+      under her daughter&rsquo;s direction; for Desiree, though she was still a mere
+      girl, was endowed with exquisite taste, with a fairy-like power of
+      invention, and no one could, insert two pearl eyes in those tiny heads or
+      spread their lifeless wings so deftly as she. Happy or unhappy, Desiree
+      always worked with the same energy. From dawn until well into the night
+      the table was covered with work. At the last ray of daylight, when the
+      factory bells were ringing in all the neighboring yards, Madame Delobelle
+      lighted the lamp, and after a more than frugal repast they returned to
+      their work. Those two indefatigable women had one object, one fixed idea,
+      which prevented them from feeling the burden of enforced vigils. That idea
+      was the dramatic renown of the illustrious Delobelle. After he had left
+      the provincial theatres to pursue his profession in Paris, Delobelle
+      waited for an intelligent manager, the ideal and providential manager who
+      discovers geniuses, to seek him out and offer him a role suited to his
+      talents. He might, perhaps, especially at the beginning, have obtained a
+      passably good engagement at a theatre of the third order, but Delobelle
+      did not choose to lower himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He preferred to wait, to struggle, as he said! And this is how he awaited
+      the struggle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the morning in his bedroom, often in his bed, he rehearsed roles in his
+      former repertory; and the Delobelle ladies trembled with emotion when they
+      heard behind the partition tirades from &lsquo;Antony&rsquo; or the &lsquo;Medecin des
+      Enfants&rsquo;, declaimed in a sonorous voice that blended with the
+      thousand-and-one noises of the great Parisian bee-hive. Then, after
+      breakfast, the actor would sally forth for the day; would go to &ldquo;do his
+      boulevard,&rdquo; that is to say, to saunter to and fro between the Chateau
+      d&rsquo;Eau and the Madeline, with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, his
+      hat a little on one side-always gloved, and brushed, and glossy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That question of dress was of great importance in his eyes. It was one of
+      the greatest elements of success, a bait for the manager&mdash;the famous,
+      intelligent manager&mdash;who never would dream of engaging a threadbare,
+      shabbily dressed man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the Delobelle ladies took good care that he lacked nothing; and you can
+      imagine how many birds and insects it required to fit out a blade of that
+      temper! The actor thought it the most natural thing in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his view, the labors, the privations of his wife and daughter were not,
+      strictly speaking, for his benefit, but for the benefit of that mysterious
+      and unknown genius, whose trustee he considered himself to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a certain analogy between the position of the Chebe family and
+      that of the Delobelles. But the latter household was less depressing. The
+      Chebes felt that their petty annuitant existence was fastened upon them
+      forever, with no prospect of amelioration, always the same; whereas, in
+      the actor&rsquo;s family, hope and illusion often opened magnificent vistas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Chebes were like people living in a blind alley; the Delobelles on a
+      foul little street, where there was no light or air, but where a great
+      boulevard might some day be laid out. And then, too, Madame Chebe no
+      longer believed in her husband, whereas, by virtue of that single magic
+      word, &ldquo;Art!&rdquo; her neighbor never had doubted hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet for years and years Monsieur Delobelle had been unavailingly
+      drinking vermouth with dramatic agents, absinthe with leaders of claques,
+      bitters with vaudevillists, dramatists, and the famous what&rsquo;s-his-name,
+      author of several great dramas. Engagements did not always follow. So
+      that, without once appearing on the boards, the poor man had progressed
+      from jeune premier to grand premier roles, then to the financiers, then to
+      the noble fathers, then to the buffoons&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped there!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On two or three occasions his friends had obtained for him a chance to
+      earn his living as manager of a club or a cafe as an inspector in great
+      warehouses, at the &lsquo;Phares de la Bastille&rsquo; or the &lsquo;Colosse de Rhodes.&rsquo; All
+      that was necessary was to have good manners. Delobelle was not lacking in
+      that respect, God knows! And yet every suggestion that was made to him the
+      great man met with a heroic refusal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no right to abandon the stage!&rdquo; he would then assert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the mouth of that poor devil, who had not set foot on the boards for
+      years, it was irresistibly comical. But one lost the inclination to laugh
+      when one saw his wife and his daughter swallowing particles of arsenic day
+      and night, and heard them repeat emphatically as they broke their needles
+      against the brass wire with which the little birds were mounted:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! no! Monsieur Delobelle has no right to abandon the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Happy man, whose bulging eyes, always smiling condescendingly, and whose
+      habit of reigning on the stage had procured for him for life that
+      exceptional position of a spoiled and admired child-king! When he left the
+      house, the shopkeepers on the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, with the
+      predilection of the Parisian for everything and everybody connected with
+      the theatre, saluted him respectfully. He was always so well dressed! And
+      then he was so kind, so obliging! When you think that every Saturday
+      night, he, Ruy Blas, Antony, Raphael in the &lsquo;Filles de Maybre,&rsquo; Andres in
+      the &lsquo;Pirates de la Savane,&rsquo; sallied forth, with a bandbox under his arm,
+      to carry the week&rsquo;s work of his wife and daughter to a flower
+      establishment on the Rue St.-Denis!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why, even when performing such a commission as that, this devil of a
+      fellow had such nobility of bearing, such native dignity, that the young
+      woman whose duty it was to make up the Delobelle account was sorely
+      embarrassed to hand to such an irreproachable gentleman the paltry stipend
+      so laboriously earned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On those evenings, by the way, the actor did not return home to dinner.
+      The women were forewarned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He always met some old comrade on the boulevard, some unlucky devil like
+      himself&mdash;there are so many of them in that sacred profession!&mdash;whom
+      he entertained at a restaurant or cafe. Then, with scrupulous fidelity&mdash;and
+      very grateful they were to him&mdash;he would carry the rest of the money
+      home, sometimes with a bouquet for his wife or a little present for
+      Desiree, a nothing, a mere trifle. What would you have? Those are the
+      customs of the stage. It is such a simple matter in a melodrama to toss a
+      handful of louis through the window!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ho! varlet, take this purse and hie thee hence to tell thy mistress I
+      await her coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so, notwithstanding their marvellous courage, and although their trade
+      was quite lucrative, the Delobelles often found themselves in straitened
+      circumstances, especially in the dull season of the &lsquo;Articles de Paris.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Luckily the excellent Risler was at hand, always ready to accommodate his
+      friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Guillaume Risler, the third tenant on the landing, lived with his brother
+      Frantz, who was fifteen years his junior. The two young Swiss, tall and
+      fair, strong and ruddy, brought into the dismal, hard-working house
+      glimpses of the country and of health. The elder was a draughtsman at the
+      Fromont factory and was paying for the education of his brother, who
+      attended Chaptal&rsquo;s lectures, pending his admission to the Ecole Centrale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On his arrival at Paris, being sadly perplexed as to the installation of
+      his little household, Guillaume had derived from his neighbors, Mesdames
+      Chebe and Delobelle, advice and information which were an indispensable
+      aid to that ingenuous, timid, somewhat heavy youth, embarrassed by his
+      foreign accent and manner. After a brief period of neighborhood and mutual
+      services, the Risler brothers formed a part of both families.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On holidays places were always made for them at one table or the other,
+      and it was a great satisfaction to the two exiles to find in those poor
+      households, modest and straitened as they were, a taste of affection and
+      family life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wages of the designer, who was very clever at his trade, enabled him
+      to be of service to the Delobelles on rent-day, and to make his appearance
+      at the Chebes&rsquo; in the guise of the rich uncle, always laden with surprises
+      and presents, so that the little girl, as soon as she saw him, would
+      explore his pockets and climb on his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Sunday he would take them all to the theatre; and almost every evening
+      he would go with Messieurs Chebe and Delobelle to a brewery on the Rue
+      Blondel, where he regaled them with beer and pretzels. Beer and pretzels
+      were his only vice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For his own part, he knew no greater bliss than to sit before a foaming
+      tankard, between his two friends, listening to their talk, and taking part
+      only by a loud laugh or a shake of the head in their conversation, which
+      was usually a long succession of grievances against society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A childlike shyness, and the Germanisms of speech which he never had laid
+      aside in his life of absorbing toil, embarrassed him much in giving
+      expression to his ideas. Moreover, his friends overawed him. They had in
+      respect to him the tremendous superiority of the man who does nothing over
+      the man who works; and M. Chebe, less generous than Delobelle, did not
+      hesitate to make him feel it. He was very lofty with him, was M. Chebe! In
+      his opinion, a man who worked, as Risler did, ten hours a day, was
+      incapable, when he left his work, of expressing an intelligent idea.
+      Sometimes the designer, coming home worried from the factory, would
+      prepare to spend the night over some pressing work. You should have seen
+      M. Chebe&rsquo;s scandalized expression then!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody could make me follow such a business!&rdquo; he would say, expanding his
+      chest, and he would add, looking at Risler with the air of a physician
+      making a professional call, &ldquo;Just wait till you&rsquo;ve had one severe attack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Delobelle was not so fierce, but he adopted a still loftier tone. The
+      cedar does not see a rose at its foot. Delobelle did not see Risler at his
+      feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, by chance, the great man deigned to notice his presence, he had a
+      certain air of stooping down to him to listen, and to smile at his words
+      as at a child&rsquo;s; or else he would amuse himself by dazzling him with
+      stories of actresses, would give him lessons in deportment and the
+      addresses of outfitters, unable to understand why a man who earned so much
+      money should always be dressed like an usher at a primary school. Honest
+      Risler, convinced of his inferiority, would try to earn forgiveness by a
+      multitude of little attentions, obliged to furnish all the delicacy, of
+      course, as he was the constant benefactor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among these three households living on the same floor, little Chebe, with
+      her goings and comings, formed the bond of union.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At all times of day she would slip into the workroom of the Delobelles,
+      amuse herself by watching their work and looking at all the insects, and,
+      being already more coquettish than playful, if an insect had lost a wing
+      in its travels, or a humming-bird its necklace of down, she would try to
+      make herself a headdress of the remains, to fix that brilliant shaft of
+      color among the ripples of her silky hair. It made Desiree and her mother
+      smile to see her stand on tiptoe in front of the old tarnished mirror,
+      with affected little shrugs and grimaces. Then, when she had had enough of
+      admiring herself, the child would open the door with all the strength of
+      her little fingers, and would go demurely, holding her head perfectly
+      straight for fear of disarranging her headdress, and knock at the Rislers&rsquo; 
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one was there in the daytime but Frantz the student, leaning over his
+      books, doing his duty faithfully. But when Sidonie enters, farewell to
+      study! Everything must be put aside to receive that lovely creature with
+      the humming-bird in her hair, pretending to be a princess who had come to
+      Chaptal&rsquo;s school to ask his hand in marriage from the director.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was really a strange sight to see that tall, overgrown boy playing with
+      that little girl of eight, humoring her caprices, adoring her as he
+      yielded to her, so that later, when he fell genuinely in love with her, no
+      one could have said at what time the change began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Petted as she was in those two homes, little Chebe was very fond of
+      running to the window on the landing. There it was that she found her
+      greatest source of entertainment, a horizon always open, a sort of vision
+      of the future toward which she leaned with eager curiosity and without
+      fear, for children are not subject to vertigo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between the slated roofs sloping toward one another, the high wall of the
+      factory, the tops of the plane-trees in the garden, the many-windowed
+      workshops appeared to her like a promised land, the country of her dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That Fromont establishment was to her mind the highest ideal of wealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The place it occupied in that part of the Marais, which was at certain
+      hours enveloped by its smoke and its din, Risler&rsquo;s enthusiasm, his
+      fabulous tales concerning his employer&rsquo;s wealth and goodness and
+      cleverness, had aroused that childish curiosity; and such portions as she
+      could see of the dwelling-houses, the carved wooden blinds, the circular
+      front steps, with the garden-seats before them, a great white bird-house
+      with gilt stripes glistening in the sun, the blue-lined coupe standing in
+      the courtyard, were to her objects of continual admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew all the habits of the family: At what hour the bell was rung,
+      when the workmen went away, the Saturday payday which kept the cashier&rsquo;s
+      little lamp lighted late in the evening, and the long Sunday afternoon,
+      the closed workshops, the smokeless chimney, the profound silence which
+      enabled her to hear Mademoiselle Claire at play in the garden, running
+      about with her cousin Georges. From Risler she obtained details.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show me the salon windows,&rdquo; she would say to him, &ldquo;and Claire&rsquo;s room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler, delighted by this extraordinary interest in his beloved factory,
+      would explain to the child from their lofty position the arrangement of
+      the buildings, point out the print-shop, the gilding-shop, the
+      designing-room where he worked, the engine-room, above which towered that
+      enormous chimney blackening all the neighboring walls with its corrosive
+      smoke, and which never suspected that a young life, concealed beneath a
+      neighboring roof, mingled its inmost thoughts with its loud, indefatigable
+      panting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last one day Sidonie entered that paradise of which she had heretofore
+      caught only a glimpse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Fromont, to whom Risler often spoke of her little neighbor&rsquo;s beauty
+      and intelligence, asked him to bring her to the children&rsquo;s ball she
+      intended to give at Christmas. At first Monsieur Chebe replied by a curt
+      refusal. Even in those days, the Fromonts, whose name was always on
+      Rider&rsquo;s lips, irritated and humiliated him by their wealth. Moreover, it
+      was to be a fancy ball, and M. Chebe&mdash;who did not sell wallpapers,
+      not he!&mdash;could not afford to dress his daughter as a circus-dancer.
+      But Risler insisted, declared that he would get everything himself, and at
+      once set about designing a costume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a memorable evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Madame Chebe&rsquo;s bedroom, littered with pieces of cloth and pins and
+      small toilet articles, Desiree Delobelle superintended Sidonie&rsquo;s toilet.
+      The child, appearing taller because of her short skirt of red flannel with
+      black stripes, stood before the mirror, erect and motionless, in the
+      glittering splendor of her costume. She was charming. The waist, with
+      bands of velvet laced over the white stomacher, the lovely, long tresses
+      of chestnut hair escaping from a hat of plaited straw, all the trivial
+      details of her Savoyard&rsquo;s costume were heightened by the intelligent
+      features of the child, who was quite at her ease in the brilliant colors
+      of that theatrical garb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole assembled neighborhood uttered cries of admiration. While some
+      one went in search of Delobelle, the lame girl arranged the folds of the
+      skirt, the bows on the shoes, and cast a final glance over her work,
+      without laying aside her needle; she, too, was excited, poor child! by the
+      intoxication of that festivity to which she was not invited. The great man
+      arrived. He made Sidonie rehearse two or three stately curtseys which he
+      had taught her, the proper way to walk, to stand, to smile with her mouth
+      slightly open, and the exact position of the little finger. It was truly
+      amusing to see the precision with which the child went through the drill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has dramatic blood in her veins!&rdquo; exclaimed the old actor
+      enthusiastically, unable to understand why that stupid Frantz was strongly
+      inclined to weep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A year after that happy evening Sidonie could have told you what flowers
+      there were in the reception rooms, the color of the furniture, and the
+      music they were playing as she entered the ballroom, so deep an impression
+      did her enjoyment make upon her. She forgot nothing, neither the costumes
+      that made an eddying whirl about her, nor the childish laughter, nor all
+      the tiny steps that glided over the polished floors. For a moment, as she
+      sat on the edge of a great red-silk couch, taking from the plate presented
+      to her the first sherbet of her life, she suddenly thought of the dark
+      stairway, of her parents&rsquo; stuffy little rooms, and it produced upon her
+      mind the effect of a distant country which she had left forever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, she was considered a fascinating little creature, and was much
+      admired and petted. Claire Fromont, a miniature Cauchoise dressed in lace,
+      presented her to her cousin Georges, a magnificent hussar who turned at
+      every step to observe the effect of his sabre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You understand, Georges, she is my friend. She is coming to play with us
+      Sundays. Mamma says she may.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, with the artless impulsiveness of a happy child, she kissed little
+      Chebe with all her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the time came to go. For a long time, in the filthy street where the
+      snow was melting, in the dark hall, in the silent room where her mother
+      awaited her, the brilliant light of the salons continued to shine before
+      her dazzled eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it very fine? Did you have a charming time?&rdquo; queried Madame Chebe in
+      a low tone, unfastening the buckles of the gorgeous costume, one by one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Sidonie, overcome with fatigue, made no reply, but fell asleep
+      standing, beginning a lovely dream which was to last throughout her youth
+      and cost her many tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire Fromont kept her word. Sidonie often went to play in the beautiful
+      gravelled garden, and was able to see at close range the carved blinds and
+      the dovecot with its threads of gold. She came to know all the corners and
+      hiding-places in the great factory, and took part in many glorious games
+      of hide-and-seek behind the printing-tables in the solitude of Sunday
+      afternoon. On holidays a plate was laid for her at the children&rsquo;s table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody loved her, although she never exhibited much affection for any
+      one. So long as she was in the midst of that luxury, she was conscious of
+      softer impulses, she was happy and felt that she was embellished by her
+      surroundings; but when she returned to her parents, when she saw the
+      factory through the dirty panes of the window on the landing, she had an
+      inexplicable feeling of regret and anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet Claire Fromont treated her as a friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes they took her to the Bois, to the Tuileries, in the famous
+      blue-lined carriage, or into the country, to pass a whole week at
+      Grandfather Gardinois&rsquo;s chateau, at Savigny-sur-Orge. Thanks to the
+      munificence of Risler, who was very proud of his little one&rsquo;s success, she
+      was always presentable and well dressed. Madame Chebe made it a point of
+      honor, and the pretty, lame girl was always at hand to place her treasures
+      of unused coquetry at her little friend&rsquo;s service.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But M. Chebe, who was always hostile to the Fromonts, looked frowningly
+      upon this growing intimacy. The true reason was that he himself never was
+      invited; but he gave other reasons, and would say to his wife:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see that your daughter&rsquo;s heart is sad when she returns from
+      that house, and that she passes whole hours dreaming at the window?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But poor Madame Chebe, who had been so unhappy ever since her marriage,
+      had become reckless. She declared that one should make the most of the
+      present for fear of the future, should seize happiness as it passes, as
+      one often has no other support and consolation in life than the memory of
+      a happy childhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For once it happened that M. Chebe was right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III. THE FALSE PEARLS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      After two or three years of intimacy with Claire, of sharing her
+      amusements, years during which Sidonie acquired the familiarity with
+      luxury and the graceful manners of the children of the wealthy, the
+      friendship was suddenly broken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cousin Georges, whose guardian M. Fromont was, had entered college some
+      time before. Claire in her turn took her departure for the convent with
+      the outfit of a little queen; and at that very time the Chebes were
+      discussing the question of apprenticing Sidonie to some trade. They
+      promised to love each other as before and to meet twice a month, on the
+      Sundays that Claire was permitted to go home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, little Chebe did still go down sometimes to play with her friends;
+      but as she grew older she realized more fully the distance that separated
+      them, and her clothes began to seem to her very simple for Madame
+      Fromont&rsquo;s salon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the three were alone, the childish friendship which made them equals
+      prevented any feeling of embarrassment; but visitors came, girl friends
+      from the convent, among others a tall girl, always richly dressed, whom
+      her mother&rsquo;s maid used to bring to play with the little Fromonts on
+      Sunday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as she saw her coming up the steps, resplendent and disdainful,
+      Sidonie longed to go away at once. The other embarrassed her with awkward
+      questions. Where did she live? What did her parents do? Had she a
+      carriage?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she listened to their talk of the convent and their friends, Sidonie
+      felt that they lived in a different world, a thousand miles from her own;
+      and a deathly sadness seized her, especially when, on her return home, her
+      mother spoke of sending her as an apprentice to Mademoiselle Le Mire, a
+      friend of the Delobelles, who conducted a large false-pearl establishment
+      on the Rue du Roi-Dore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler insisted upon the plan of having the little one serve an
+      apprenticeship. &ldquo;Let her learn a trade,&rdquo; said the honest fellow. &ldquo;Later I
+      will undertake to set her up in business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, this same Mademoiselle Le Mire spoke of retiring in a few years.
+      It was an excellent opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning, a dull day in November, her father took her to the Rue du
+      Rio-Dore, to the fourth floor of an old house, even older and blacker than
+      her own home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the ground floor, at the entrance to the hall, hung a number of signs
+      with gilt letters: Depot for Travelling-Bags, Plated Chains, Children&rsquo;s
+      Toys, Mathematical Instruments in Glass, Bouquets for Brides and Maids of
+      Honor, Wild Flowers a Specialty; and above was a little dusty show-case,
+      wherein pearls, yellow with age, glass grapes and cherries surrounded the
+      pretentious name of Angelina Le Mire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a horrible house!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had not even a broad landing like that of the Chebes, grimy with old
+      age, but brightened by its window and the beautiful prospect presented by
+      the factory. A narrow staircase, a narrow door, a succession of rooms with
+      brick floors, all small and cold, and in the last an old maid with a false
+      front and black thread mitts, reading a soiled copy of the &lsquo;Journal pour
+      Tous,&rsquo; and apparently very much annoyed to be disturbed in her reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Le Mire (written in two words) received the father and
+      daughter without rising, discoursed at great length of the rank she had
+      lost, of her father, an old nobleman of Le Rouergue&mdash;it is most
+      extraordinary how many old noblemen Le Rouergue has produced!&mdash;and of
+      an unfaithful steward who had carried off their whole fortune. She
+      instantly aroused the sympathies of M. Chebe, for whom decayed gentlefolk
+      had an irresistible charm, and he went away overjoyed, promising his
+      daughter to call for her at seven o&rsquo;clock at night in accordance with the
+      terms agreed upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The apprentice was at once ushered into the still empty workroom.
+      Mademoiselle Le Mire seated her in front of a great drawer filled with
+      pearls, needles, and bodkins, with instalments of four-sou novels thrown
+      in at random among them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Sidonie&rsquo;s business to sort the pearls and string them in necklaces
+      of equal length, which were tied together to be sold to the small dealers.
+      Then the young women would soon be there and they would show her exactly
+      what she would have to do, for Mademoiselle Le Mire (always written in two
+      words!) did not interfere at all, but overlooked her business from a
+      considerable distance, from that dark room where she passed her life
+      reading newspaper novels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At nine o&rsquo;clock the work-women arrived, five tall, pale-faced, faded
+      girls, wretchedly dressed, but with their hair becomingly arranged, after
+      the fashion of poor working-girls who go about bare-headed through the
+      streets of Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two or three were yawning and rubbing their eyes, saying that they were
+      dead with sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they went to work beside a long table where each had her own
+      drawer and her own tools. An order had been received for mourning jewels,
+      and haste was essential. Sidonie, whom the forewoman instructed in her
+      task in a tone of infinite superiority, began dismally to sort a multitude
+      of black pearls, bits of glass, and wisps of crape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The others, paying no attention to the little girl, chatted together as
+      they worked. They talked of a wedding that was to take place that very day
+      at St. Gervais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose we go,&rdquo; said a stout, red-haired girl, whose name was Malvina.
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s to be at noon. We shall have time to go and get back again if we
+      hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, at the lunch hour, the whole party rushed downstairs four steps at a
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie had brought her luncheon in a little basket, like a school-girl;
+      with a heavy heart she sat at a corner of the table and ate alone for the
+      first time in her life. Great God! what a sad and wretched thing life
+      seemed to be; what a terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her
+      sufferings there!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one o&rsquo;clock the girls trooped noisily back, highly excited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see the white satin gown? And the veil of point d&rsquo;Angleterre?
+      There&rsquo;s a lucky girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon they repeated in the workroom the remarks they had made in
+      undertones in the church, leaning against the rail, throughout the
+      ceremony. That question of a wealthy marriage, of beautiful clothes,
+      lasted all day long; nor did it interfere with their work-far from it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These small Parisian industries, which have to do with the most trivial
+      details of the toilet, keep the work-girls informed as to the fashions and
+      fill their minds with thoughts of luxury and elegance. To the poor girls
+      who worked on Mademoiselle Le Mire&rsquo;s fourth floor, the blackened walls,
+      the narrow street did not exist. They were always thinking of something
+      else and passed their lives asking one another:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Malvina, if you were rich what would you do? For my part, I&rsquo;d live on the
+      Champs-Elysees.&rdquo; And the great trees in the square, the carriages that
+      wheeled about there, coquettishly slackening their pace, appeared
+      momentarily before their minds, a delicious, refreshing vision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Chebe, in her corner, listened without speaking, industriously
+      stringing her black grapes with the precocious dexterity and taste she had
+      acquired in Desiree&rsquo;s neighborhood. So that in the evening, when M. Chebe
+      came to fetch his daughter, they praised her in the highest terms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereafter all her days were alike. The next day, instead of black pearls,
+      she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at Mademoiselle Le
+      Mire&rsquo;s they worked only in what was false, in tinsel, and that was where
+      little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the
+      others&mdash;found that they held aloof from her. Later, as she grew
+      older, she was admitted to their friendship and their confidence, but
+      without ever sharing their pleasures. She was too proud to go to see
+      weddings at midday; and when she heard them talking of a ball at Vauxhall
+      or the &lsquo;Delices du Marais,&rsquo; or of a nice little supper at Bonvalet&rsquo;s or at
+      the &lsquo;Quatre Sergents de la Rochelle,&rsquo; she was always very disdainful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We looked higher than that, did we not, little Chebe?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, her father called for her every evening. Sometimes, however,
+      about the New Year, she was obliged to work late with the others, in order
+      to complete pressing orders. In the gaslight those pale-faced Parisians,
+      sorting pearls as white as themselves, of a dead, unwholesome whiteness,
+      were a painful spectacle. There was the same fictitious glitter, the same
+      fragility of spurious jewels. They talked of nothing but masked balls and
+      theatres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen Adele Page, in &lsquo;Les Trois Mousquetaires?&rsquo; And Melingue? And
+      Marie Laurent? Oh! Marie Laurent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The actors&rsquo; doublets, the embroidered costumes of the queens of melodrama,
+      appeared before them in the white light of the necklaces forming beneath
+      their fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In summer the work was less pressing. It was the dull season. In the
+      intense heat, when through the drawn blinds fruit-sellers could be heard
+      in the street, crying their mirabelles and Queen Claudes, the workgirls
+      slept heavily, their heads on the table. Or perhaps Malvina would go and
+      ask Mademoiselle Le Mire for a copy of the &lsquo;Journal pour Tous,&rsquo; and read
+      aloud to the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But little Chebe did not care for the novels. She carried one in her head
+      much more interesting than all that trash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact is, nothing could make her forget the factory. When she set forth
+      in the morning on her father&rsquo;s arm, she always cast a glance in that
+      direction. At that hour the works were just stirring, the chimney emitted
+      its first puff of black smoke. Sidonie, as she passed, could hear the
+      shouts of the workmen, the dull, heavy blows of the bars of the
+      printing-press, the mighty, rhythmical hum of the machinery; and all those
+      sounds of toil, blended in her memory with recollections of fetes and
+      blue-lined carriages, haunted her persistently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They spoke louder than the rattle of the omnibuses, the street cries, the
+      cascades in the gutters; and even in the workroom, when she was sorting
+      the false pearls even at night, in her own home, when she went, after
+      dinner, to breathe the fresh air at the window on the landing and to gaze
+      at the dark, deserted factory, that murmur still buzzed in her ears,
+      forming, as it were, a continual accompaniment to her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The little one is tired, Madame Chebe. She needs diversion. Next Sunday I
+      will take you all into the country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These Sunday excursions, which honest Risler organized to amuse Sidonie,
+      served only to sadden her still more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On those days she must rise at four o&rsquo;clock in the morning; for the poor
+      must pay for all their enjoyments, and there was always a ribbon to be
+      ironed at the last moment, or a bit of trimming to be sewn on in an
+      attempt to rejuvenate the everlasting little lilac frock with white
+      stripes which Madame Chebe conscientiously lengthened every year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They would all set off together, the Chebes, the Rislers, and the
+      illustrious Delobelle. Only Desiree and her mother never were of the
+      party. The poor, crippled child, ashamed of her deformity, never would
+      stir from her chair, and Mamma Delobelle stayed behind to keep her
+      company. Moreover, neither possessed a suitable gown in which to show
+      herself out-of-doors in their great man&rsquo;s company; it would have destroyed
+      the whole effect of his appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they left the house, Sidonie would brighten up a little. Paris in the
+      pink haze of a July morning, the railway stations filled with light
+      dresses, the country flying past the car windows, and the healthful
+      exercise, the bath in the pure air saturated with the water of the Seine,
+      vivified by a bit of forest, perfumed by flowering meadows, by ripening
+      grain, all combined to make her giddy for a moment. But that sensation was
+      soon succeeded by disgust at such a commonplace way of passing her Sunday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was always the same thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They stopped at a refreshment booth, in close proximity to a very noisy
+      and numerously attended rustic festival, for there must be an audience for
+      Delobelle, who would saunter along, absorbed by his chimera, dressed in
+      gray, with gray gaiters, a little hat over his ear, a light top coat on
+      his arm, imagining that the stage represented a country scene in the
+      suburbs of Paris, and that he was playing the part of a Parisian
+      sojourning in the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for M. Chebe, who prided himself on being as fond of nature as the late
+      Jean Jacques Rousseau, he did not appreciate it without the accompaniments
+      of shooting-matches, wooden horses, sack races, and a profusion of dust
+      and penny-whistles, which constituted also Madame Chebe&rsquo;s ideal of a
+      country life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Sidonie had a different ideal; and those Parisian Sundays passed in
+      strolling through noisy village streets depressed her beyond measure. Her
+      only pleasure in those throngs was the consciousness of being stared at.
+      The veriest boor&rsquo;s admiration, frankly expressed aloud at her side, made
+      her smile all day; for she was of those who disdain no compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes, leaving the Chebes and Delobelle in the midst of the fete,
+      Risler would go into the fields with his brother and the &ldquo;little one&rdquo; in
+      search of flowers for patterns for his wall-papers. Frantz, with his long
+      arms, would pull down the highest branches of a hawthorn, or would climb a
+      park wall to pick a leaf of graceful shape he had spied on the other side.
+      But they reaped their richest harvests on the banks of the stream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There they found those flexible plants, with long swaying stalks, which
+      made such a lovely effect on hangings, tall, straight reeds, and the
+      volubilis, whose flower, opening suddenly as if in obedience to a caprice,
+      resembles a living face, some one looking at you amid the lovely,
+      quivering foliage. Risler arranged his bouquets artistically, drawing his
+      inspiration from the very nature of the plants, trying to understand
+      thoroughly their manner of life, which can not be divined after the
+      withering of one day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, when the bouquet was completed, tied with a broad blade of grass as
+      with a ribbon, and slung over Frantz&rsquo;s back, away they went. Risler,
+      always engrossed in his art, looked about for subjects, for possible
+      combinations, as they walked along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look there, little one&mdash;see that bunch of lily of the valley, with
+      its white bells, among those eglantines. What do you think? Wouldn&rsquo;t that
+      be pretty against a sea-green or pearl-gray background?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Sidonie cared no more for lilies of the valley than for eglantine.
+      Wild flowers always seemed to her like the flowers of the poor, something
+      like her lilac dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She remembered that she had seen flowers of a different sort at the house
+      of M. Gardinois, at the Chateau de Savigny, in the hothouses, on the
+      balconies, and all about the gravelled courtyard bordered with tall urns.
+      Those were the flowers she loved; that was her idea of the country!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little stations in the outskirts of Paris are so terribly crowded and
+      stuffy on those Sunday evenings in summer! Such artificial enjoyment, such
+      idiotic laughter, such doleful ballads, sung in whispers by voices that no
+      longer have the strength to roar! That was the time when M. Chebe was in
+      his element.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He would elbow his way to the gate, scold about the delay of the train,
+      declaim against the station-agent, the company, the government; say to
+      Delobelle in a loud voice, so as to be overheard by his neighbors:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say&mdash;suppose such a thing as this should happen in America!&rdquo; Which
+      remark, thanks to the expressive by-play of the illustrious actor, and to
+      the superior air with which he replied, &ldquo;I believe you!&rdquo; gave those who
+      stood near to understand that these gentlemen knew exactly what would
+      happen in America in such a case. Now, they were equally and entirely
+      ignorant on that subject; but upon the crowd their words made an
+      impression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sitting beside Frantz, with half of his bundle of flowers on her knees,
+      Sidonie would seem to be blotted out, as it were, amid the uproar, during
+      the long wait for the evening trains. From the station, lighted by a
+      single lamp, she could see the black clumps of trees outside, lighted here
+      and there by the last illuminations of the fete, a dark village street,
+      people continually coming in, and a lantern hanging on a deserted pier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From time to time, on the other side of the glass doors, a train would
+      rush by without stopping, with a shower of hot cinders and the roar of
+      escaping steam. Thereupon a tempest of shouts and stamping would arise in
+      the station, and, soaring above all the rest, the shrill treble of M.
+      Chebe, shrieking in his sea-gull&rsquo;s voice: &ldquo;Break down the doors! break
+      down the doors!&rdquo;&mdash;a thing that the little man would have taken good
+      care not to do himself, as he had an abject fear of gendarmes. In a moment
+      the storm would abate. The tired women, their hair disarranged by the
+      wind, would fall asleep on the benches. There were torn and ragged
+      dresses, low-necked white gowns, covered with dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The air they breathed consisted mainly of dust. It lay upon their clothes,
+      rose at every step, obscured the light of the lamp, vexed one&rsquo;s eyes, and
+      raised a sort of cloud before the tired faces. The cars which they entered
+      at last, after hours of waiting, were saturated with it also. Sidonie
+      would open the window, and look out at the dark fields, an endless line of
+      shadow. Then, like innumerable stars, the first lanterns of the outer
+      boulevards appeared near the fortifications.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So ended the ghastly day of rest of all those poor creatures. The sight of
+      Paris brought back to each one&rsquo;s mind the thought of the morrow&rsquo;s toil.
+      Dismal as her Sunday had been, Sidonie began to regret that it had passed.
+      She thought of the rich, to whom all the days of their lives were days of
+      rest; and vaguely, as in a dream, the long park avenues of which she had
+      caught glimpses during the day appeared to her thronged with those happy
+      ones of earth, strolling on the fine gravel, while outside the gate, in
+      the dust of the highroad, the poor man&rsquo;s Sunday hurried swiftly by, having
+      hardly time to pause a moment to look and envy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was little Chebe&rsquo;s life from thirteen to seventeen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The years passed, but did not bring with them the slightest change. Madame
+      Chebe&rsquo;s cashmere was a little more threadbare, the little lilac frock had
+      undergone a few additional repairs, and that was all. But, as Sidonie grew
+      older, Frantz, now become a young man, acquired a habit of gazing at her
+      silently with a melting expression, of paying her loving attentions that
+      were visible to everybody, and were unnoticed by none save the girl
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, nothing aroused the interest of little Chebe. In the work-room she
+      performed her task regularly, silently, without the slightest thought of
+      the future or of saving. All that she did seemed to be done as if she were
+      waiting for something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz, on the other hand, had been working for some time with
+      extraordinary energy, the ardor of those who see something at the end of
+      their efforts; so that, at the age of twenty-four, he graduated second in
+      his class from the Ecole Centrale, as an engineer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On that evening Risler had taken the Chebe family to the Gymnase, and
+      throughout the evening he and Madame Chebe had been making signs and
+      winking at each other behind the children&rsquo;s backs. And when they left the
+      theatre Madame Chebe solemnly placed Sidonie&rsquo;s arm in Frantz&rsquo;s, as if she
+      would say to the lovelorn youth, &ldquo;Now settle matters&mdash;here is your
+      chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the poor lover tried to settle matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a long walk from the Gymnase to the Marais. After a very few steps
+      the brilliancy of the boulevard is left behind, the streets become darker
+      and darker, the passers more and more rare. Frantz began by talking of the
+      play. He was very fond of comedies of that sort, in which there was plenty
+      of sentiment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you, Sidonie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! as for me, Frantz, you know that so long as there are fine costumes&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth she thought of nothing else at the theatre. She was not one of
+      those sentimental creatures; a la Madame Bovary, who return from the play
+      with love-phrases ready-made, a conventional ideal. No! the theatre simply
+      made her long madly for luxury and fine raiment; she brought away from it
+      nothing but new methods of arranging the hair, and patterns of gowns. The
+      new, exaggerated toilettes of the actresses, their gait, even the spurious
+      elegance of their speech, which seemed to her of the highest distinction,
+      and with it all the tawdry magnificence of the gilding and the lights, the
+      gaudy placard at the door, the long line of carriages, and all the
+      somewhat unwholesome excitement that springs up about a popular play; that
+      was what she loved, that was what absorbed her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How well they acted their love-scene!&rdquo; continued the lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, as he uttered that suggestive phrase, he bent fondly toward a little
+      face surrounded by a white woollen hood, from which the hair escaped in
+      rebellious curls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie sighed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, the love-scene. The actress wore beautiful diamonds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a moment&rsquo;s silence. Poor Frantz had much difficulty in
+      explaining himself. The words he sought would not come, and then, too, he
+      was afraid. He fixed the time mentally when he would speak:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When we have passed the Porte Saint-Denis&mdash;when we have left the
+      boulevard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But when the time arrived, Sidonie began to talk of such indifferent
+      matters that his declaration froze on his lips, or else it was stopped by
+      a passing carriage, which enabled their elders to overtake them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, in the Marais, he suddenly took courage:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to me, Sidonie&mdash;I love you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That night the Delobelles had sat up very late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the habit of those brave-hearted women to make their working-day as
+      long as possible, to prolong it so far into the night that their lamp was
+      among the last to be extinguished on the quiet Rue de Braque. They always
+      sat up until the great man returned home, and kept a dainty little supper
+      warm for him in the ashes on the hearth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the days when he was an actor there was some reason for that custom;
+      actors, being obliged to dine early and very sparingly, have a terrible
+      gnawing at their vitals when they leave the theatre, and usually eat when
+      they go home. Delobelle had not acted for a long time; but having, as he
+      said, no right to abandon the stage, he kept his mania alive by clinging
+      to a number of the strolling player&rsquo;s habits, and the supper on returning
+      home was one of them, as was his habit of delaying his return until the
+      last footlight in the boulevard theatres was extinguished. To retire
+      without supping, at the hour when all other artists supped, would have
+      been to abdicate, to abandon the struggle, and he would not abandon it,
+      sacre bleu!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the evening in question the actor had not yet come in and the women
+      were waiting for him, talking as they worked, and with great animation,
+      notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. During the whole evening they
+      had done nothing but talk of Frantz, of his success, of the future that
+      lay before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Mamma Delobelle, &ldquo;the only thing he needs is to find a good
+      little wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was Desiree&rsquo;s opinion, too. That was all that was lacking now to
+      Frantz&rsquo;s happiness, a good little wife, active and brave and accustomed to
+      work, who would forget everything for him. And if Desiree spoke with great
+      confidence, it was because she was intimately acquainted with the woman
+      who was so well adapted to Frantz Risler&rsquo;s needs. She was only a year
+      younger than he, just enough to make her younger than her husband and a
+      mother to him at the same time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pretty?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No, not exactly, but attractive rather than ugly, notwithstanding her
+      infirmity, for she was lame, poor child! And then she was clever and
+      bright, and so loving! No one but Desiree knew how fondly that little
+      woman loved Frantz, and how she had thought of him night and day for
+      years. He had not noticed it himself, but seemed to have eyes for nobody
+      but Sidonie, a gamine. But no matter! Silent love is so eloquent, such a
+      mighty power lies hid in restrained feelings. Who knows? Perhaps some day
+      or other:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those
+      long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many in her
+      invalid&rsquo;s easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one of those
+      wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and smiling,
+      leaning on Frantz&rsquo;s arm with all the confidence of a beloved wife. As her
+      fingers followed her thought, the little bird she had in her hand at the
+      moment, smoothing his ruffled wings, looked as if he too were of the party
+      and were about to fly far, far away, as joyous and light of heart as she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the door flew open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not disturb you?&rdquo; said a triumphant voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! it&rsquo;s Monsieur Frantz. Pray come in, Monsieur Frantz. We&rsquo;re waiting
+      for father, as you see. These brigands of artists always stay out so late!
+      Take a seat&mdash;you shall have supper with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! no, thank you,&rdquo; replied Frantz, whose lips were still pale from the
+      emotion he had undergone, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t stop. I saw a light and I just stepped
+      in to tell you&mdash;to tell you some great news that will make you very
+      happy, because I know that you love me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Great heavens, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be
+      married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! didn&rsquo;t I say that all he needed was a good little wife,&rdquo; exclaimed
+      Mamma Delobelle, rising and throwing her arms about his neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Desiree had not the strength to utter a word. She bent still lower over
+      her work, and as Frantz&rsquo;s eyes were fixed exclusively upon his happiness,
+      as Mamma Delobelle did nothing but look at the clock to see whether her
+      great man would return soon, no one noticed the lame girl&rsquo;s emotion, nor
+      her pallor, nor the convulsive trembling of the little bird that lay in
+      her hands with its head thrown back, like a bird with its death-wound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV. THE GLOW-WORMS OF SAVIGNY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SMONIE:&mdash;We were sitting at table yesterday in the great
+      dining-room which you remember, with the door wide open leading to the
+      terrace, where the flowers are all in bloom. I was a little bored. Dear
+      grandpapa had been cross all the morning, and poor mamma dared not say a
+      word, being afraid of those frowning eyebrows which have always laid down
+      the law for her. I was thinking what a pity it was to be so entirely
+      alone, in the middle of the summer, in such a lovely spot, and that I
+      should be very glad, now that I have left the convent, and am destined to
+      pass whole seasons in the country, to have as in the old day, some one to
+      run about the woods and paths with me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure, Georges comes occasionally, but he always arrives very late,
+      just in time for dinner, and is off again with my father in the morning
+      before I am awake. And then he is a serious-minded man now, is Monsieur
+      Georges. He works at the factory, and business cares often bring frowns to
+      his brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa
+      turned abruptly to me:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;What has become of your little friend Sidonie? I should be glad to have
+      her here for a time.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can imagine my delight. What happiness to meet again, to renew the
+      pleasant friendship that was broken off by the fault of the events of life
+      rather than by our own! How many things we shall have to tell each other!
+      You, who alone had the knack of driving the frowns from my terrible
+      grandpapa&rsquo;s brow, will bring us gayety, and I assure you we need it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This lovely Savigny is so lonely! For instance, sometimes in the morning
+      I choose to be a little coquettish. I dress myself, I make myself
+      beautiful with my hair in curls and put on a pretty gown; I walk through
+      all the paths, and suddenly I realize that I have taken all this trouble
+      for the swans and ducks, my dog Kiss, and the cows, who do not even turn
+      to look at me when I pass. Thereupon, in my wrath, I hurry home, put on a
+      thick gown and busy myself on the farm, in the servants&rsquo; quarters,
+      everywhere. And really, I am beginning to believe that ennui has perfected
+      me, and that I shall make an excellent housekeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Luckily the hunting season will soon be here, and I rely upon that for a
+      little amusement. In the first place, Georges and father, both
+      enthusiastic sportsmen, will come oftener. And then you will be here, you
+      know. For you will reply at once that you will come, won&rsquo;t you? Monsieur
+      Risler said not long ago that you were not well. The air of Savigny will
+      do you worlds of good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody here expects you. And I am dying with impatience.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+               &ldquo;CLAIRE.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Her letter written, Claire Fromont donned a large straw hat for the first
+      days of August were warm and glorious&mdash;and went herself to drop it in
+      the little box from which the postman collected the mail from the chateau
+      every morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on the edge of the park, at a turn in the road. She paused a moment
+      to look at the trees by the roadside, at the neighboring meadows sleeping
+      in the bright sunlight. Over yonder the reapers were gathering the last
+      sheaves. Farther on they were ploughing. But all the melancholy of the
+      silent toil had vanished, so far as the girl was concerned, so delighted
+      was she at the thought of seeing her friend once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No breeze came from the hills in the distance, no voice from the trees, to
+      warn her by a presentiment, to prevent her from sending that fatal letter.
+      And immediately upon her return she gave her attention to the preparation
+      of a pretty bedroom for Sidonie adjoining her own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter did its errand faithfully. From the little green,
+      vine-embowered gate of the chateau it found its way to Paris, and arrived
+      that same evening, with its Savigny postmark and impregnated with the odor
+      of the country, at the fifth-floor apartment on the Rue de Braque.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What an event that was! They read it again and again; and for a whole
+      week, until Sidonie&rsquo;s departure, it lay on the mantel-shelf beside Madame
+      Chebe&rsquo;s treasures, the clock under a glass globe and the Empire cups. To
+      Sidonie it was like a wonderful romance filled with tales of enchantment
+      and promises, which she read without opening it, merely by gazing at the
+      white envelope whereon Claire Fromont&rsquo;s monogram was engraved in relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little she thought of marriage now. The important question was, What
+      clothes should she wear at the chateau? She must give her whole mind to
+      that, to cutting and planning, trying on dresses, devising new ways of
+      arranging her hair. Poor Frantz! How heavy his heart was made by these
+      preparations! That visit to Savigny, which he had tried vainly to oppose,
+      would cause a still further postponement of their wedding, which
+      Sidonie-why, he did not know&mdash;persisted in putting off from day to
+      day. He could not go to see her; and when she was once there, in the midst
+      of festivities and pleasures, who could say how long she would remain?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lover in his despair always went to the Delobelles to confide his
+      sorrows, but he never noticed how quickly Desiree rose as soon as he
+      entered, to make room for him by her side at the work-table, and how she
+      at once sat down again, with cheeks as red as fire and shining eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some days past they had ceased to work at birds and insects for
+      ornament. The mother and daughter were hemming pink flounces destined for
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s frock, and the little cripple never had plied her needle with
+      such good heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth little Desiree was not Delobelle&rsquo;s daughter to no purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She inherited her father&rsquo;s faculty of retaining his illusions, of hoping
+      on to the end and even beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Frantz was dilating upon his woe, Desire was thinking that, when
+      Sidonie was gone, he would come every day, if it were only to talk about
+      the absent one; that she would have him there by her side, that they would
+      sit up together waiting for &ldquo;father,&rdquo; and that, perhaps, some evening, as
+      he sat looking at her, he would discover the difference between the woman
+      who loves you and the one who simply allows herself to be loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the thought that every stitch taken in the frock tended to
+      hasten the departure which she anticipated with such impatience imparted
+      extraordinary activity to her needle, and the unhappy lover ruefully
+      watched the flounces and ruffles piling up about her, like little pink,
+      white-capped waves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the pink frock was finished, Mademoiselle Chebe started for Savigny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chateau of M. Gardinois was built in the valley of the Orge, on the
+      bank of that capriciously lovely stream, with its windmills, its little
+      islands, its dams, and its broad lawns that end at its shores.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chateau, an old Louis-Quinze structure, low in reality, although made
+      to appear high by a pointed roof, had a most depressing aspect, suggestive
+      of aristocratic antiquity; broad steps, balconies with rusty balustrades,
+      old urns marred by time, wherein the flowers stood out vividly against the
+      reddish stone. As far as the eye could see, the walls stretched away,
+      decayed and crumbling, descending gradually toward the stream. The chateau
+      overlooked them, with its high, slated roofs, the farmhouse, with its red
+      tiles, and the superb park, with its lindens, ash-trees, poplars and
+      chestnuts growing confusedly together in a dense black mass, cut here and
+      there by the arched openings of the paths.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the charm of the old place was the water, which enlivened its silence
+      and gave character to its beautiful views. There were at Savigny, to say
+      nothing of the river, many springs, fountains, and ponds, in which the sun
+      sank to rest in all his glory; and they formed a suitable setting for that
+      venerable mansion, green and mossy as it was, and slightly worn away, like
+      a stone on the edge of a brook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unluckily, at Savigny, as in most of those gorgeous Parisian summer
+      palaces, which the parvenus in commerce and speculation have made their
+      prey, the chatelains were not in harmony with the chateau.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since he had purchased his chateau, old Gardinois had done nothing but
+      injure the beauty of the beautiful property chance had placed in his
+      hands; cut down trees &ldquo;for the view,&rdquo; filled his park with rough
+      obstructions to keep out trespassers, and reserved all his solicitude for
+      a magnificent kitchen-garden, which, as it produced fruit and vegetables
+      in abundance, seemed to him more like his own part of the country&mdash;the
+      land of the peasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the great salons, where the panels with paintings of famous
+      subjects were fading in the autumn fogs, as for the ponds overrun with
+      water-lilies, the grottoes, the stone bridges, he cared for them only
+      because of the admiration of visitors, and because of such elements was
+      composed that thing which so flattered his vanity as an ex-dealer in
+      cattle&mdash;a chateau!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Being already old, unable to hunt or fish, he passed his time
+      superintending the most trivial details of that large property. The grain
+      for the hens, the price of the last load of the second crop of hay, the
+      number of bales of straw stored in a magnificent circular granary,
+      furnished him with matter for scolding for a whole day; and certain it is
+      that, when one gazed from a distance at that lovely estate of Savigny, the
+      chateau on the hillside, the river, like a mirror, flowing at its feet,
+      the high terraces shaded by ivy, the supporting wall of the park following
+      the majestic slope of the ground, one never would have suspected the
+      proprietor&rsquo;s niggardliness and meanness of spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the idleness consequent upon his wealth, M. Gardinois, being greatly
+      bored in Paris, lived at Savigny throughout the year, and the Fromonts
+      lived with him during the summer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Fromont was a mild, dull woman, whom her father&rsquo;s brutal despotism
+      had early molded to passive obedience for life. She maintained the same
+      attitude with her husband, whose constant kindness and indulgence never
+      had succeeded in triumphing over that humiliated, taciturn nature,
+      indifferent to everything, and, in some sense, irresponsible. Having
+      passed her life with no knowledge of business, she had become rich without
+      knowing it and without the slightest desire to take advantage of it. Her
+      fine apartments in Paris, her father&rsquo;s magnificent chateau, made her
+      uncomfortable. She occupied as small a place as possible in both, filling
+      her life with a single passion, order&mdash;a fantastic, abnormal sort of
+      order, which consisted in brushing, wiping, dusting, and polishing the
+      mirrors, the gilding and the door-knobs, with her own hands, from morning
+      till night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had nothing else to clean, the strange woman would attack her
+      rings, her watch-chain, her brooches, scrubbing the cameos and pearls,
+      and, by dint of polishing the combination of her own name and her
+      husband&rsquo;s, she had effaced all the letters of both. Her fixed idea
+      followed her to Savigny. She picked up dead branches in the paths,
+      scratched the moss from the benches with the end of her umbrella, and
+      would have liked to dust the leaves and sweep down the old trees; and
+      often, when in the train, she looked with envy at the little villas
+      standing in a line along the track, white and clean, with their gleaming
+      utensils, the pewter ball, and the little oblong gardens, which resemble
+      drawers in a bureau. Those were her ideal of a country-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Fromont, who came only occasionally and was always absorbed by his
+      business affairs, enjoyed Savigny little more than she. Claire alone felt
+      really at home in that lovely park. She was familiar with its smallest
+      shrub. Being obliged to provide her own amusements, like all only
+      children, she had become attached to certain walks, watched the flowers
+      bloom, had her favorite path, her favorite tree, her favorite bench for
+      reading. The dinner-bell always surprised her far away in the park. She
+      would come to the table, out of breath but happy, flushed with the fresh
+      air. The shadow of the hornbeams, stealing over that youthful brow, had
+      imprinted a sort of gentle melancholy there, and the deep, dark green of
+      the ponds, crossed by vague rays, was reflected in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those lovely surroundings had in very truth shielded her from the
+      vulgarity and the abjectness of the persons about her. M. Gardinois might
+      deplore in her presence, for hours at a time, the perversity of tradesmen
+      and servants, or make an estimate of what was being stolen from him each
+      month, each week, every day, every minute; Madame Fromont might enumerate
+      her grievances against the mice, the maggots, dust and dampness, all
+      desperately bent upon destroying her property, and engaged in a conspiracy
+      against her wardrobes; not a word of their foolish talk remained in
+      Claire&rsquo;s mind. A run around the lawn, an hour&rsquo;s reading on the river-bank,
+      restored the tranquillity of that noble and intensely active mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her grandfather looked upon her as a strange being, altogether out of
+      place in his family. As a child she annoyed him with her great, honest
+      eyes, her straightforwardness on all occasions, and also because he did
+      not find in her a second edition of his own passive and submissive
+      daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That child will be a proud chit and an original, like her father,&rdquo; he
+      would say in his ugly moods.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How much better he liked that little Chebe girl who used to come now and
+      then and play in the avenues at Savigny! In her, at least, he detected the
+      strain of the common people like himself, with a sprinkling of ambition
+      and envy, suggested even in those early days by a certain little smile at
+      the corner of the mouth. Moreover, the child exhibited an ingenuous
+      amazement and admiration in presence of his wealth, which flattered his
+      parvenu pride; and sometimes, when he teased her, she would break out with
+      the droll phrases of a Paris gamine, slang redolent of the faubourgs,
+      seasoned by her pretty, piquant face, inclined to pallor, which not even
+      superficiality could deprive of its distinction. So he never had forgotten
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this occasion above all, when Sidonie arrived at Savigny after her long
+      absence, with her fluffy hair, her graceful figure, her bright, mobile
+      face, the whole effect emphasized by mannerisms suggestive of the
+      shop-girl, she produced a decided sensation. Old Gardinois, wondering
+      greatly to see a tall young woman in place of the child he was expecting
+      to see, considered her prettier and, above all, better dressed than
+      Claire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a fact that, when Mademoiselle Chebe had left the train and was
+      seated in the great wagonette from the chateau, her appearance was not
+      bad; but she lacked those details that constituted her friend&rsquo;s chief
+      beauty and charm&mdash;a distinguished carriage, a contempt for poses,
+      and, more than all else, mental tranquillity. Her prettiness was not
+      unlike her gowns, of inexpensive materials, but cut according to the style
+      of the day-rags, if you will, but rags of which fashion, that ridiculous
+      but charming fairy, had regulated the color, the trimming, and the shape.
+      Paris has pretty faces made expressly for costumes of that sort, very easy
+      to dress becomingly, for the very reason that they belong to no type, and
+      Mademoiselle Sidonie&rsquo;s face was one of these.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What bliss was hers when the carriage entered the long avenue, bordered
+      with velvety grass and primeval elms, and at the end Savigny awaiting her
+      with its great gate wide open!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And how thoroughly at ease she felt amid all those refinements of wealth!
+      How perfectly that sort of life suited her! It seemed to her that she
+      never had known any other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, in the midst of her intoxication, arrived a letter from Frantz,
+      which brought her back to the realities of her life, to her wretched fate
+      as the future wife of a government clerk, which transported her, whether
+      she would or no, to the mean little apartment they would occupy some day
+      at the top of some dismal house, whose heavy atmosphere, dense with
+      privation, she seemed already to breathe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Should she break her betrothal promise?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She certainly could do it, as she had given no other pledge than her word.
+      But when he had left her, who could say that she would not wish him back?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In that little brain, turned by ambition, the strangest ideas chased one
+      another. Sometimes, while Grandfather Gardinois, who had laid aside in her
+      honor his old-fashioned hunting-jackets and swanskin waistcoats, was
+      jesting with her, amusing himself by contradicting her in order to draw
+      out a sharp reply, she would gaze steadily, coldly into his eyes, without
+      replying. Ah! if only he were ten years younger! But the thought of
+      becoming Madame Gardinois did not long occupy her. A new personage, a new
+      hope came into her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After Sidonie&rsquo;s arrival, Georges Fromont, who was seldom seen at Savigny
+      except on Sundays, adopted the habit of coming to dinner almost every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a tall, slender, pale youth, of refined appearance. Having no
+      father or mother, he had been brought up by his uncle, M. Fromont, and was
+      looked upon by him to succeed him in business, and probably to become
+      Claire&rsquo;s husband. That ready-made future did not arouse any enthusiasm in
+      Georges. In the first place business bored him. As for his cousin, the
+      intimate good-fellowship of an education in common and mutual confidence
+      existed between them, but nothing more, at least on his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With Sidonie, on the contrary, he was exceedingly embarrassed and shy, and
+      at the same time desirous of producing an effect&mdash;a totally different
+      man, in short. She had just the spurious charm, a little free, which was
+      calculated to attract a superficial nature, and it was not long before she
+      discovered the impression that she produced upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the two girls were walking together in the park, it was always
+      Sidonie who remembered that it was time for the train from Paris to
+      arrive. They would go together to the gate to meet the travellers, and
+      Georges&rsquo;s first glance was always for Mademoiselle Chebe, who remained a
+      little behind her friend, but with the poses and airs that go halfway to
+      meet the eyes. That manoeuvring between them lasted some time. They did
+      not mention love, but all the words, all the smiles they exchanged were
+      full of silent avowals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One cloudy and threatening summer evening, when the two friends had left
+      the table as soon as dinner was at an end and were walking in the long,
+      shady avenue, Georges joined them. They were talking upon indifferent
+      subjects, crunching the gravel beneath their idling footsteps, when Madame
+      Fromont&rsquo;s voice, from the chateau, called Claire away. Georges and Sidonie
+      were left alone. They continued to walk along the avenue, guided by the
+      uncertain whiteness of the path, without speaking of drawing nearer to
+      each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A warm wind rustled among the leaves. The ruffled surface of the pond
+      lapped softly against the arches of the little bridge; and the blossoms of
+      the acacias and lindens, detached by the breeze, whirled about in circles,
+      perfuming the electricity-laden air. They felt themselves surrounded by an
+      atmosphere of storm, vibrant and penetrating. Dazzling flashes of heat
+      passed before their troubled eyes, like those that played along the
+      horizon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! what lovely glow-worms!&rdquo; exclaimed Sidonie, embarrassed by the
+      oppressive silence broken by so many mysterious sounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the edge of the greensward a blade of grass here and there was
+      illuminated by a tiny, green, flickering light. She stooped to lift one on
+      her glove. Georges knelt close beside her; and as they leaned down, their
+      hair and cheeks touching, they gazed at each other for a moment by the
+      light of the glow-worms. How weird and fascinating she seemed to him in
+      that green light, which shone upon her face and died away in the fine
+      network of her waving hair! He put his arm around her waist, and suddenly,
+      feeling that she abandoned herself to him, he clasped her in a long,
+      passionate embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you looking for?&rdquo; asked Claire, suddenly coming up in the shadow
+      behind them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taken by surprise, and with a choking sensation in his throat, Georges
+      trembled so that he could not reply. Sidonie, on the other hand, rose with
+      the utmost coolness, and said as she shook out her skirt:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The glow-worms. See how many of them there are tonight. And how they
+      sparkle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes also sparkled with extraordinary brilliancy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The storm makes them, I suppose,&rdquo; murmured Georges, still trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The storm was indeed near. At brief intervals great clouds of leaves and
+      dust whirled from one end of the avenue to the other. They walked a few
+      steps farther, then all three returned to the house. The young women took
+      their work, Georges tried to read a newspaper, while Madame Fromont
+      polished her rings and M. Gardinois and his son-in-law played billiards in
+      the adjoining room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How long that evening seemed to Sidonie! She had but one wish, to be
+      alone-alone with her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, in the silence of her little bedroom, when she had put out her light,
+      which interferes with dreams by casting too bright an illumination upon
+      reality, what schemes, what transports of delight! Georges loved her,
+      Georges Fromont, the heir of the factory! They would marry; she would be
+      rich. For in that mercenary little heart the first kiss of love had
+      awakened no ideas save those of ambition and a life of luxury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To assure herself that her lover was sincere, she tried to recall the
+      scene under the trees to its most trifling details, the expression of his
+      eyes, the warmth of his embrace, the vows uttered brokenly, lips to lips,
+      it that weird light shed by the glow-worms, which one solemn moment had
+      fixed forever in her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the glow-worms of Savigny!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All night long they twinkled like stars before her closed eyes. The park
+      was full of them, to the farthest limits of its darkest paths. There were
+      clusters of them all along the lawns, on the trees, in the shrubbery. The
+      fine gravel of the avenues, the waves of the river, seemed to emit green
+      sparks, and all those microscopic flashes formed a sort of holiday
+      illumination in which Savigny seemed to be enveloped in her honor, to
+      celebrate the betrothal of Georges and Sidonie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she rose the next day, her plan was formed. Georges loved her; that
+      was certain. Did he contemplate marrying her? She had a suspicion that he
+      did not, the clever minx! But that did not frighten her. She felt strong
+      enough to triumph over that childish nature, at once weak and passionate.
+      She had only to resist him, and that is exactly what she did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some days she was cold and indifferent, wilfully blind and devoid of
+      memory. He tried to speak to her, to renew the blissful moment, but she
+      avoided him, always placing some one between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he wrote to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He carried his notes himself to a hollow in a rock near a clear spring
+      called &ldquo;The Phantom,&rdquo; which was in the outskirts of the park, sheltered by
+      a thatched roof. Sidonie thought that a charming episode. In the evening
+      she must invent some story, a pretext of some sort for going to &ldquo;The
+      Phantom&rdquo; alone. The shadow of the trees across the path, the mystery of
+      the night, the rapid walk, the excitement, made her heart beat
+      deliciously. She would find the letter saturated with dew, with the
+      intense cold of the spring, and so white in the moonlight that she would
+      hide it quickly for fear of being surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, when she was alone, what joy to open it, to decipher those magic
+      characters, those words of love which swam before her eyes, surrounded by
+      dazzling blue and yellow circles, as if she were reading her letter in the
+      bright sunlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love you! Love me!&rdquo; wrote Georges in every conceivable phrase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first she did not reply; but when she felt that he was fairly caught,
+      entirely in her power, she declared herself concisely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never will love any one but my husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! she was a true woman already, was little Chebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V. HOW LITTLE CHEBE&rsquo;S STORY ENDED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile September arrived. The hunting season brought together a large,
+      noisy, vulgar party at the chateau. There were long dinners at which the
+      wealthy bourgeois lingered slothfully and wearily, prone to fall asleep
+      like peasants. They went in carriages to meet the returning hunters in the
+      cool air of the autumn evening. The mist arose from the fields, from which
+      the crops had been gathered; and while the frightened game flew along the
+      stubble with plaintive cries, the darkness seemed to emerge from the
+      forests whose dark masses increased in size, spreading out over the
+      fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage lamps were lighted, the hoods raised, and they drove quickly
+      homeward with the fresh air blowing in their faces. The dining-hall,
+      brilliantly illuminated, was filled with gayety and laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire Fromont, embarrassed by the vulgarity of those about her, hardly
+      spoke at all. Sidonie was at her brightest. The drive had given animation
+      to her pale complexion and Parisian eyes. She knew how to laugh,
+      understood a little too much, perhaps, and seemed to the male guests the
+      only woman in the party. Her success completed Georges&rsquo;s intoxication; but
+      as his advances became more pronounced, she showed more and more reserve.
+      Thereupon he determined that she should be his wife. He swore it to
+      himself, with the exaggerated emphasis of weak characters, who seem always
+      to combat beforehand the difficulties to which they know that they must
+      yield some day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the happiest moment of little Chebe&rsquo;s life. Even aside from any
+      ambitious project, her coquettish, false nature found a strange
+      fascination in this intrigue, carried on mysteriously amid banquets and
+      merry-makings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one about them suspected anything. Claire was at that healthy and
+      delightful period of youth when the mind, only partly open, clings to the
+      things it knows with blind confidence, in complete ignorance of treachery
+      and falsehood. M. Fromont thought of nothing but his business. His wife
+      polished her jewels with frenzied energy. Only old Gardinois and his
+      little, gimlet-like eyes were to be feared; but Sidonie entertained him,
+      and even if he had discovered anything, he was not the man to interfere
+      with her future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hour of triumph was near, when a sudden, unforeseen disaster blasted
+      her hopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One Sunday morning M. Fromont was brought back fatally wounded from a
+      hunting expedition. A bullet intended for a deer had pierced his temple.
+      The chateau was turned upside-down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the hunters, among them the unknown bungler that had fired the fatal
+      shot, started in haste for Paris. Claire, frantic with grief, entered the
+      room where her father lay on his deathbed, there to remain; and Risler,
+      being advised of the catastrophe, came to take Sidonie home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the night before her departure she had a final meeting with Georges at
+      The Phantom,&mdash;a farewell meeting, painful and stealthy, and made
+      solemn by the proximity of death. They vowed, however, to love each other
+      always; they agreed upon a method of writing to each other. Then they
+      parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sad journey home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie returned abruptly to her every-day life, escorted by the
+      despairing grief of Risler, to whom his dear master&rsquo;s death was an
+      irreparable loss. On her arrival, she was compelled to describe her visit
+      to the smallest detail; discuss the inmates of the chateau, the guests,
+      the entertainments, the dinners, and the final catastrophe. What torture
+      for her, when, absorbed as she was by a single, unchanging thought, she
+      had so much need of silence and solitude! But there was something even
+      more terrible than that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the first day after her return Frantz resumed his former place; and the
+      glances with which he followed her, the words he addressed to her alone,
+      seemed to her exasperating beyond endurance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Despite all his shyness and distrust of himself, the poor fellow believed
+      that he had some rights as an accepted and impatient lover, and little
+      Chebe was obliged to emerge from her dreams to reply to that creditor, and
+      to postpone once more the maturity of his claim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A day came, however, when indecision ceased to be possible. She had
+      promised to marry Frantz when he had obtained a good situation; and now an
+      engineer&rsquo;s berth in the South, at the smelting-furnaces of Grand Combe,
+      was offered to him. That was sufficient for the support of a modest
+      establishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no way of avoiding the question. She must either keep her
+      promise or invent an excuse for breaking it. But what excuse could she
+      invent?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In that pressing emergency, she thought of Desiree. Although the lame
+      little girl had never confided in her, she knew of her great love for
+      Frantz. Long ago she had detected it, with her coquette&rsquo;s eyes, bright and
+      changing mirrors, which reflected all the thoughts of others without
+      betraying any of her own. It may be that the thought that another woman
+      loved her betrothed had made Frantz&rsquo;s love more endurable to her at first;
+      and, just as we place statues on tombstones to make them appear less sad,
+      Desiree&rsquo;s pretty, little, pale face at the threshold of that uninviting
+      future had made it seem less forbidding to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it provided&mdash;her with a simple and honorable pretext for freeing
+      herself from her promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! I tell you, mamma,&rdquo; she said to Madame Chebe one day, &ldquo;I never will
+      consent to make a friend like her unhappy. I should suffer too much from
+      remorse,&mdash;poor Desiree! Haven&rsquo;t you noticed how badly she looks since
+      I came home; what a beseeching way she has of looking at me? No, I won&rsquo;t
+      cause her that sorrow; I won&rsquo;t take away her Frantz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even while she admired her daughter&rsquo;s generous spirit, Madame Chebe looked
+      upon that as a rather exaggerated sacrifice, and remonstrated with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care, my child; we aren&rsquo;t rich. A husband like Frantz doesn&rsquo;t turn
+      up every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well! then I won&rsquo;t marry at all,&rdquo; declared Sidonie flatly, and,
+      deeming her pretext an excellent one, she clung persistently to it.
+      Nothing could shake her determination, neither the tears shed by Frantz,
+      who was exasperated by her refusal to fulfil her promise, enveloped as it
+      was in vague reasons which she would not even explain to him, nor the
+      entreaties of Risler, in whose ear Madame Chebe had mysteriously mumbled
+      her daughter&rsquo;s reasons, and who in spite of everything could not but
+      admire such a sacrifice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t revile her, I tell you! She&rsquo;s an angel!&rdquo; he said to his brother,
+      striving to soothe him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, she is an angel,&rdquo; assented Madame Chebe with a sigh, so that the
+      poor betrayed lover had not even the right to complain. Driven to despair,
+      he determined to leave Paris, and as Grand Combe seemed too near in his
+      frenzied longing for flight, he asked and obtained an appointment as
+      overseer on the Suez Canal at Ismailia. He went away without knowing, or
+      caring to know aught of, Desiree&rsquo;s love; and yet, when he went to bid her
+      farewell, the dear little cripple looked up into his face with her shy,
+      pretty eyes, in which were plainly written the words:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love you, if she does not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Frantz Risler did not know how to read what was written in those eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately, hearts that are accustomed to suffer have an infinite store
+      of patience. When her friend had gone, the lame girl, with her charming
+      morsel of illusion, inherited from her father and refined by her feminine
+      nature, returned bravely to her work, saying to herself:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will wait for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And thereafter she spread the wings of her birds to their fullest extent,
+      as if they were all going, one after another, to Ismailia in Egypt. And
+      that was a long distance!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before sailing from Marseilles, young Risler wrote Sidonie a farewell
+      letter, at once laughable and touching, wherein, mingling the most
+      technical details with the most heartrending adieux, the unhappy engineer
+      declared that he was about to set sail, with a broken heart, on the
+      transport Sahib, &ldquo;a sailing-ship and steamship combined, with engines of
+      fifteen-hundred-horse power,&rdquo; as if he hoped that so considerable a
+      capacity would make an impression on his ungrateful betrothed, and cause
+      her ceaseless remorse. But Sidonie had very different matters on her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was beginning to be disturbed by Georges&rsquo;s silence. Since she left
+      Savigny she had heard from him only once. All her letters were left
+      unanswered. To be sure, she knew through Risler that Georges was very
+      busy, and that his uncle&rsquo;s death had thrown the management of the factory
+      upon him, imposing upon him a responsibility that was beyond his strength.
+      But to abandon her without a word!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the window on the landing, where she had resumed her silent
+      observations&mdash;for she had so arranged matters as not to return to
+      Mademoiselle Le Mire&mdash;little Chebe tried to distinguish her lover,
+      watched him as he went to and fro across the yards and among the
+      buildings; and in the afternoon, when it was time for the train to start
+      for Savigny, she saw him enter his carriage to go to his aunt and cousin,
+      who were passing the early months of their period of mourning at the
+      grandfather&rsquo;s chateau in the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this excited and alarmed her; and the proximity of the factory
+      rendered Georges&rsquo;s avoidance of her even more apparent. To think that by
+      raising her voice a little she could make him turn toward the place where
+      she stood! To think that they were separated only by a wall! And yet, at
+      that moment they were very far apart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Do you remember, little Chebe, that unhappy winter evening when the
+      excellent Risler rushed into your parents&rsquo; room with an extraordinary
+      expression of countenance, exclaiming, &ldquo;Great news!&rdquo;?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Great news, indeed! Georges Fromont had just informed him that, in
+      accordance with his uncle&rsquo;s last wishes, he was to marry his cousin
+      Claire, and that, as he was certainly unequal to the task of carrying on
+      the business alone, he had resolved to take him, Risler, for a partner,
+      under the firm name of FROMONT JEUNE AND RISLER AINE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How did you succeed, little Chebe, in maintaining your self-possession
+      when you learned that the factory had eluded your grasp and that another
+      woman had taken your place? What a terrible evening!&mdash;Madame Chebe
+      sat by the table mending; M. Chebe before the fire drying his clothes,
+      which were wet through by his having walked a long distance in the rain.
+      Oh! that miserable room, overflowing with gloom and ennui! The lamp gave a
+      dim light. The supper, hastily prepared, had left in the room the odor of
+      the poor man&rsquo;s kitchen. And Risler, intoxicated with joy, talking with
+      increasing animation, laid great plans!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All these things tore your heart, and made the treachery still more
+      horrible by the contrast between the riches that eluded your outstretched
+      hand and the ignoble mediocrity in which you were doomed to pass your
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie was seriously ill for a long while. As she lay in bed, whenever
+      the window-panes rattled behind the curtains, the unhappy creature fancied
+      that Georges&rsquo;s wedding-coaches were driving through the street; and she
+      had paroxysms of nervous excitement, without words and inexplicable, as if
+      a fever of wrath were consuming her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, time and youthful strength, her mother&rsquo;s care, and, more than
+      all, the attentions of Desiree, who now knew of the sacrifice her friend
+      had made for her, triumphed over the disease. But for a long while Sidonie
+      was very weak, oppressed by a deadly melancholy, by a constant longing to
+      weep, which played havoc with her nervous system.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes she talked of travelling, of leaving Paris. At other times she
+      insisted that she must enter a convent. Her friends were sorely perplexed,
+      and strove to discover the cause of that singular state of mind, which was
+      even more alarming than her illness; when she suddenly confessed to her
+      mother the secret of her melancholy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She loved the elder Risler! She never had dared to whisper it; but it was
+      he whom she had always loved and not Frantz.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This news was a surprise to everybody, to Risler most of all; but little
+      Chebe was so pretty, her eyes were so soft when she glanced at him, that
+      the honest fellow instantly became as fond of her as a fool! Indeed, it
+      may be that love had lain in his heart for a long time without his
+      realizing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that is how it happened that, on the evening of her wedding-day, young
+      Madame Risler, in her white wedding-dress, gazed with a smile of triumph
+      at the window on the landing which had been the narrow setting of ten
+      years of her life. That haughty smile, in which there was a touch of
+      profound pity and of scorn as well, such scorn as a parvenu feels for his
+      poor beginnings, was evidently addressed to the poor sickly child whom she
+      fancied she saw up at that window, in the depths of the past and the
+      darkness. It seemed to say to Claire, pointing at the factory:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you say to this little Chebe? She is here at last, you see!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI. NOON&mdash;THE MARAIS IS BREAKFASTING.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Sitting near the door, on a stone which once served as a horse-block for
+      equestrians, Risler watches with a smile the exit from the factory. He
+      never loses his enjoyment of the outspoken esteem of all these good people
+      whom he knew when he was insignificant and humble like themselves. The
+      &ldquo;Good-day, Monsieur Risler,&rdquo; uttered by so many different voices, all in
+      the same affectionate tone, warms his heart. The children accost him
+      without fear, the long-bearded designers, half-workmen, half-artists,
+      shake hands with him as they pass, and address him familiarly as &ldquo;thou.&rdquo;
+       Perhaps there is a little too much familiarity in all this, for the worthy
+      man has not yet begun to realize the prestige and authority of his new
+      station; and there was some one who considered this free-and-easy manner
+      very humiliating. But that some one can not see him at this moment, and
+      the master takes advantage of the fact to bestow a hearty greeting upon
+      the old bookkeeper, Sigismond, who comes out last of all, erect and
+      red-faced, imprisoned in a high collar and bareheaded&mdash;whatever the
+      weather&mdash;for fear of apoplexy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and Risler are fellow-countrymen. They have for each other a profound
+      esteem, dating from their first employment at the factory, from that time,
+      long, long ago, when they breakfasted together at the little creamery on
+      the corner, to which Sigismond Planus goes alone now and selects his
+      refreshment for the day from the slate hanging on the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But stand aside! The carriage of Fromont Jeune drives through the gateway.
+      He has been out on business all the morning; and the partners, as they
+      walk toward the pretty little house in which they both live at the end of
+      the garden, discuss matters of business in a friendly way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been at Prochasson&rsquo;s,&rdquo; says Fromont. &ldquo;They showed me some new
+      patterns, pretty ones too, I assure you. We must be on our guard. They are
+      dangerous rivals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Risler is not at all anxious. He is strong in his talent, his
+      experience; and then&mdash;but this is strictly confidential&mdash;he is
+      on the track of a wonderful invention, an improved printing-press,
+      something that&mdash;but we shall see. Still talking, they enter the
+      garden, which is as carefully kept as a public park, with round-topped
+      acacias almost as old as the buildings, and magnificent ivies that hide
+      the high, black walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beside Fromont jeune, Risler Aine has the appearance of a clerk making his
+      report to his employer. At every step he stops to speak, for his gait is
+      heavy, his mind works slowly, and words have much difficulty in finding
+      their way to his lips. Oh, if he could see the little flushed face up
+      yonder, behind the window on the second floor, watching everything so
+      attentively!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Risler is waiting for her husband to come to breakfast, and waxes
+      impatient over the good man&rsquo;s moderation. She motions to him with her
+      hand:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come!&rdquo; but Risler does not notice it. His attention is engrossed by
+      the little Fromont, daughter of Claire and Georges, who is taking a
+      sun-bath, blooming like a flower amid her lace in her nurse&rsquo;s arms. How
+      pretty she is! &ldquo;She is your very picture, Madame Chorche.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so, my dear Risler? Why, everybody says she looks like her
+      father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a little. But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And there they all stand, the father and mother, Risler and the nurse,
+      gravely seeking resemblances in that miniature model of a human being, who
+      stares at them out of her little eyes, blinking with the noise and glare.
+      Sidonie, at her open window, leans out to see what they are doing, and why
+      her husband does not come up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Risler has taken the tiny creature in his arms, the whole
+      fascinating bundle of white draperies and light ribbons, and is trying to
+      make it laugh and crow with baby-talk and gestures worthy of a
+      grandfather. How old he looks, poor man! His tall body, which he contorts
+      for the child&rsquo;s amusement, his hoarse voice, which becomes a low growl
+      when he tries to soften it, are absurd and ridiculous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Above, the wife taps the floor with her foot and mutters between her
+      teeth:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idiot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, weary of waiting, she sends a servant to tell Monsieur that
+      breakfast is served; but the game is so far advanced that Monsieur does
+      not see how he can go away, how he can interrupt these explosions of
+      laughter and little bird-like cries. He succeeds at last, however, in
+      giving the child back to its nurse, and enters the hall, laughing
+      heartily. He is laughing still when he enters the dining-room; but a
+      glance from his wife stops him short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie is seated at table before the chafing-dish, already filled. Her
+      martyr-like attitude suggests a determination to be cross.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! there you are. It&rsquo;s very lucky!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler took his seat, a little ashamed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you have, my love? That child is so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have asked you before now not to speak to me in that way. It isn&rsquo;t good
+      form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, not when we&rsquo;re alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! you will never learn to adapt yourself to our new fortune. And what
+      is the result? No one in this place treats me with any respect. Pere
+      Achille hardly touches his hat to me when I pass his lodge. To be sure,
+      I&rsquo;m not a Fromont, and I haven&rsquo;t a carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, little one, you know perfectly well that you can use Madame
+      Chorche&rsquo;s coupe. She always says it is at our disposal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How many times must I tell you that I don&rsquo;t choose to be under any
+      obligation to that woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Sidonie&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, I know, it&rsquo;s all understood. Madame Fromont is the good Lord
+      himself. Every one is forbidden to touch her. And I must make up my mind
+      to be a nobody in my own house, to allow myself to be humiliated, trampled
+      under foot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, little one&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Risler tries to interpose, to say a word in favor of his dear Madame
+      &ldquo;Chorche.&rdquo; But he has no tact. This is the worst possible method of
+      effecting a reconciliation; and Sidonie at once bursts forth:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you that that woman, with all her calm airs, is proud and
+      spiteful. In the first place, she detests me, I know that. So long as I
+      was poor little Sidonie and she could toss me her broken dolls and old
+      clothes, it was all right, but now that I am my own mistress as well as
+      she, it vexes her and humiliates her. Madame gives me advice with a lofty
+      air, and criticises what I do. I did wrong to have a maid. Of course!
+      Wasn&rsquo;t I in the habit of waiting on myself? She never loses a chance to
+      wound me. When I call on her on Wednesdays, you should hear the tone in
+      which she asks me, before everybody, how &lsquo;dear Madame Chebe&rsquo; is. Oh! yes.
+      I&rsquo;m a Chebe and she&rsquo;s a Fromont. One&rsquo;s as good as the other, in my
+      opinion. My grandfather was a druggist. What was hers? A peasant who got
+      rich by money-lending. I&rsquo;ll tell her so one of these days, if she shows me
+      too much of her pride; and I&rsquo;ll tell her, too, that their little imp,
+      although they don&rsquo;t suspect it, looks just like that old Pere Gardinois,
+      and heaven knows he isn&rsquo;t handsome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaims Risler, unable to find words to reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, of course! I advise you to admire their child. She&rsquo;s always ill.
+      She cries all night like a little cat. It keeps me awake. And afterward,
+      through the day, I have mamma&rsquo;s piano and her scales&mdash;tra, la la la!
+      If the music were only worth listening to!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler has taken the wise course. He does not say a word until he sees
+      that she is beginning to calm down a little, when he completes the
+      soothing process with compliments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How pretty we are to-day! Are we going out soon to make some calls, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He resorts to this mode of address to avoid the more familiar form, which
+      is so offensive to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I am not going to make calls,&rdquo; Sidonie replies with a certain pride.
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, I expect to receive them. This is my day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In response to her husband&rsquo;s astounded, bewildered expression she
+      continues:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, this is my day. Madame Fromont has one; I can have one also, I
+      fancy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, of course,&rdquo; said honest Risler, looking about with some little
+      uneasiness. &ldquo;So that&rsquo;s why I saw so many flowers everywhere, on the
+      landing and in the drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my maid went down to the garden this morning. Did I do wrong? Oh!
+      you don&rsquo;t say so, but I&rsquo;m sure you think I did wrong. &lsquo;Dame&rsquo;! I thought
+      the flowers in the garden belonged to us as much as to the Fromonts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly they do&mdash;but you&mdash;it would have been better perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To ask leave? That&rsquo;s it-to humble myself again for a few paltry
+      chrysanthemums and two or three bits of green. Besides, I didn&rsquo;t make any
+      secret of taking the flowers; and when she comes up a little later&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she coming? Ah! that&rsquo;s very kind of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie turned upon him indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that? Kind of her? Upon my word, if she doesn&rsquo;t come, it would be
+      the last straw. When I go every Wednesday to be bored to death in her
+      salon with a crowd of affected, simpering women!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not say that those same Wednesdays of Madame Fromont&rsquo;s were very
+      useful to her, that they were like a weekly journal of fashion, one of
+      those composite little publications in which you are told how to enter and
+      to leave a room, how to bow, how to place flowers in a jardiniere and
+      cigars in a case, to say nothing of the engravings, the procession of
+      graceful, faultlessly attired men and women, and the names of the best
+      modistes. Nor did Sidonie add that she had entreated all those friends of
+      Claire&rsquo;s, of whom she spoke so scornfully, to come to see her on her own
+      day, and that the day was selected by them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Will they come? Will Madame Fromont Jeune insult Madame Risler Aine by
+      absenting herself on her first Friday? The thought makes her almost
+      feverish with anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake, hurry!&rdquo; she says again and again. &ldquo;Good heavens! how
+      long you are at your, breakfast!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a fact that it is one of honest Risler&rsquo;s ways to eat slowly, and to
+      light his pipe at the table while he sips his coffee. To-day he must
+      renounce these cherished habits, must leave the pipe in its case because
+      of the smoke, and, as soon as he has swallowed the last mouthful, run
+      hastily and dress, for his wife insists that he must come up during the
+      afternoon and pay his respects to the ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a sensation in the factory when they see Risler Aine come in, on a
+      week-day, in a black frock-coat and white cravat!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to a wedding, pray?&rdquo; cries Sigismond, the cashier, behind
+      his grating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Risler, not without a feeling of pride, replies:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is my wife&rsquo;s reception day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon everybody in the place knows that it is Sidonie&rsquo;s day; and Pere
+      Achille, who takes care of the garden, is not very well pleased to find
+      that the branches of the winter laurels by the gate are broken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before taking his seat at the table upon which he draws, in the bright
+      light from the tall windows, Risler has taken off his fine frock-coat,
+      which embarrasses him, and has turned up his clean shirt-sleeves; but the
+      idea that his wife is expecting company preoccupies and disturbs him; and
+      from time to time he puts on his coat and goes up to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has no one come?&rdquo; he asks timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Monsieur, no one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the beautiful red drawing-room&mdash;for they have a drawing-room in
+      red damask, with a console between the windows and a pretty table in the
+      centre of the light-flowered carpet&mdash;Sidonie has established herself
+      in the attitude of a woman holding a reception, a circle of chairs of many
+      shapes around her. Here and there are books, reviews, a little work-basket
+      in the shape of a gamebag, with silk tassels, a bunch of violets in a
+      glass vase, and green plants in the jardinieres. Everything is arranged
+      exactly as in the Fromonts&rsquo; apartments on the floor below; but the taste,
+      that invisible line which separates the distinguished from the vulgar, is
+      not yet refined. You would say it was a passable copy of a pretty genre
+      picture. The hostess&rsquo;s attire, even, is too new; she looks more as if she
+      were making a call than as if she were at home. In Risler&rsquo;s eyes
+      everything is superb, beyond reproach; he is preparing to say so as he
+      enters the salon, but, in face of his wife&rsquo;s wrathful glance, he checks
+      himself in terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, it&rsquo;s four o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; she says, pointing to the clock with an
+      angry gesture. &ldquo;No one will come. But I take it especially ill of Claire
+      not to come up. She is at home&mdash;I am sure of it&mdash;I can hear
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, ever since noon, Sidonie has listened intently to the slightest
+      sounds on the floor below, the child&rsquo;s crying, the closing of doors.
+      Risler attempts to go down again in order to avoid a renewal of the
+      conversation at breakfast; but his wife will not allow him to do so. The
+      very least he can do is to stay with her when everybody else abandons her,
+      and so he remains there, at a loss what to say, rooted to the spot, like
+      those people who dare not move during a storm for fear of attracting the
+      lightning. Sidonie moves excitedly about, going in and out of the salon,
+      changing the position of a chair, putting it back again, looking at
+      herself as she passes the mirror, and ringing for her maid to send her to
+      ask Pere Achille if no one has inquired for her. That Pere Achille is such
+      a spiteful creature! Perhaps when people have come, he has said that she
+      was out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But no, the concierge has not seen any one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence and consternation. Sidonie is standing at the window on the left,
+      Risler at the one on the right. From there they can see the little garden,
+      where the darkness is gathering, and the black smoke which the chimney
+      emits beneath the lowering clouds. Sigismond&rsquo;s window is the first to show
+      a light on the ground floor; the cashier trims his lamp himself with
+      painstaking care, and his tall shadow passes in front of the flame and
+      bends double behind the grating. Sidonie&rsquo;s wrath is diverted a moment by
+      these familiar details.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a small coupe drives into the garden and stops in front of the
+      door. At last some one is coming. In that pretty whirl of silk and flowers
+      and jet and flounces and furs, as it runs quickly up the step, Sidonie has
+      recognized one of the most fashionable frequenters of the Fromont salon,
+      the wife of a wealthy dealer in bronzes. What an honor to receive a call
+      from such an one! Quick, quick! the family takes its position, Monsieur in
+      front of the hearth, Madame in an easychair, carelessly turning the leaves
+      of a magazine. Wasted pose! The fair caller did not come to see Sidonie;
+      she has stopped at the floor below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! if Madame Georges could hear what her neighbor says of her and her
+      friends!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the door opens and &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus&rdquo; is announced. She
+      is the cashier&rsquo;s sister, a poor old maid, humble and modest, who has made
+      it her duty to make this call upon the wife of her brother&rsquo;s employer, and
+      who is amazed at the warm welcome she receives. She is surrounded and made
+      much of. &ldquo;How kind of you to come! Draw up to the fire.&rdquo; They overwhelm
+      her with attentions and show great interest in her slightest word. Honest
+      Risler&rsquo;s smiles are as warm as his thanks. Sidonie herself displays all
+      her fascinations, overjoyed to exhibit herself in her glory to one who was
+      her equal in the old days, and to reflect that the other, in the room
+      below, must hear that she has had callers. So she makes as much noise as
+      possible, moving chairs, pushing the table around; and when the lady takes
+      her leave, dazzled, enchanted, bewildered, she escorts her to the landing
+      with a great rustling of flounces, and calls to her in a very loud voice,
+      leaning over the rail, that she is at home every Friday. &ldquo;You understand,
+      every Friday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it is dark. The two great lamps in the salon are lighted. In the
+      adjoining room they hear the servant laying the table. It is all over.
+      Madame Fromont Jeune will not come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie is pale with rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just fancy, that minx can&rsquo;t come up eighteen steps! No doubt Madame
+      thinks we&rsquo;re not grand enough for her. Ah! but I&rsquo;ll have my revenge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she pours forth her wrath in unjust words, her voice becomes coarse,
+      takes on the intonations of the faubourg, an accent of the common people
+      which betrays the ex-apprentice of Mademoiselle Le Mire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler is unlucky enough to make a remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows? Perhaps the child is ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turns upon him in a fury, as if she would like to bite him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you hold your tongue about that brat? After all, it&rsquo;s your fault
+      that this has happened to me. You don&rsquo;t know how to make people treat me
+      with respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And as she closed the door of her bedroom violently, making the globes on
+      the lamps tremble, as well as all the knick-knacks on the etageres,
+      Risler, left alone, stands motionless in the centre of the salon, looking
+      with an air of consternation at his white cuffs, his broad patent-leather
+      shoes, and mutters mechanically:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My wife&rsquo;s reception day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 2.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII. THE TRUE PEARL AND THE FALSE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can be the matter? What have I done to her?&rdquo; Claire Fromont very
+      often wondered when she thought of Sidonie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was entirely ignorant of what had formerly taken place between her
+      friend and Georges at Savigny. Her own life was so upright, her mind so
+      pure, that it was impossible for her to divine the jealous, mean-spirited
+      ambition that had grown up by her side within the past fifteen years. And
+      yet the enigmatical expression in that pretty face as it smiled upon her
+      gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness which she could not understand. An
+      affectation of politeness, strange enough between friends, was suddenly
+      succeeded by an ill-dissembled anger, a cold, stinging tone, in presence
+      of which Claire was as perplexed as by a difficult problem. Sometimes,
+      too, a singular presentiment, the ill-defined intuition of a great
+      misfortune, was mingled with her uneasiness; for all women have in some
+      degree a kind of second sight, and, even in the most innocent, ignorance
+      of evil is suddenly illumined by visions of extraordinary lucidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From time to time, as the result of a conversation somewhat longer than
+      usual, or of one of those unexpected meetings when faces taken by surprise
+      allow their real thoughts to be seen, Madame Fromont reflected seriously
+      concerning this strange little Sidonie; but the active, urgent duties of
+      life, with its accompaniment of affections and preoccupations, left her no
+      time for dwelling upon such trifles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To all women comes a time when they encounter such sudden windings in the
+      road that their whole horizon changes and all their points of view become
+      transformed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had Claire been a young girl, the falling away of that friendship bit by
+      bit, as if torn from her by an unkindly hand, would have been a source of
+      great regret to her. But she had lost her father, the object of her
+      greatest, her only youthful affection; then she had married. The child had
+      come, with its thrice welcome demands upon her every moment. Moreover, she
+      had with her her mother, almost in her dotage, still stupefied by her
+      husband&rsquo;s tragic death. In a life so fully occupied, Sidonie&rsquo;s caprices
+      received but little attention; and it had hardly occurred to Claire
+      Fromont to be surprised at her marriage to Risler. He was clearly too old
+      for her; but, after all, what difference did it make, if they loved each
+      other?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for being vexed because little Chebe had attained that lofty position,
+      had become almost her equal, her superior nature was incapable of such
+      pettiness. On the contrary, she would have been glad with all her heart to
+      know that that young wife, whose home was so near her own, who lived the
+      same life, so to speak, and had been her playmate in childhood, was happy
+      and highly esteemed. Being most kindly disposed toward her, she tried to
+      teach her, to instruct her in the ways of society, as one might instruct
+      an attractive provincial, who fell but little short of being altogether
+      charming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Advice is not readily accepted by one pretty young woman from another.
+      When Madame Fromont gave a grand dinner-party, she took Madame Risler to
+      her bedroom, and said to her, smiling frankly in order not to vex her:
+      &ldquo;You have put on too many jewels, my dear. And then, you know, with a high
+      dress one doesn&rsquo;t wear flowers in the hair.&rdquo; Sidonie blushed, and thanked
+      her friend, but wrote down an additional grievance against her in the
+      bottom of her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Claire&rsquo;s circle her welcome was decidedly cold. The Faubourg
+      Saint-Germain has its pretensions; but do not imagine that the Marais has
+      none! Those wives and daughters of mechanics, of wealthy manufacturers,
+      knew little Chebe&rsquo;s story; indeed, they would have guessed it simply by
+      her manner of making her appearance and by her demeanor among them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s efforts were unavailing. She retained the manners of a
+      shop-girl. Her slightly artificial amiability, sometimes too humble, was
+      as unpleasant as the spurious elegance of the shop; and her disdainful
+      attitudes recalled the superb airs of the head saleswomen in the great
+      dry-goods establishments, arrayed in black silk gowns, which they take off
+      in the dressing-room when they go away at night&mdash;who stare with an
+      imposing air, from the vantage-point of their mountains of curls, at the
+      poor creatures who venture to discuss prices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt that she was being examined and criticised, and her modesty was
+      compelled to place itself upon a war footing. Of the names mentioned in
+      her presence, the amusements, the entertainments, the books of which they
+      talked to her, she knew nothing. Claire did her best to help her, to keep
+      her on the surface, with a friendly hand always outstretched; but many of
+      these ladies thought Sidonie pretty; that was enough to make them bear her
+      a grudge for seeking admission to their circle. Others, proud of their
+      husbands&rsquo; standing and of their wealth, could not invent enough unspoken
+      affronts and patronizing phrases to humiliate the little parvenue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie included them all in a single phrase: &ldquo;Claire&rsquo;s friends&mdash;that
+      is to say, my enemies!&rdquo; But she was seriously incensed against but one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two partners had no suspicion of what was taking place between their
+      wives. Risler, continually engrossed in his press, sometimes remained at
+      his draughting-table until midnight. Fromont passed his days abroad,
+      lunched at his club, was almost never at the factory. He had his reasons
+      for that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s proximity disturbed him. His capricious passion for her, that
+      passion that he had sacrificed to his uncle&rsquo;s last wishes, recurred too
+      often to his memory with all the regret one feels for the irreparable;
+      and, conscious that he was weak, he fled. His was a pliable nature,
+      without sustaining purpose, intelligent enough to appreciate his failings,
+      too weak to guide itself. On the evening of Risler&rsquo;s wedding&mdash;he had
+      been married but a few months himself&mdash;he had experienced anew, in
+      that woman&rsquo;s presence, all the emotion of the stormy evening at Savigny.
+      Thereafter, without self-examination, he avoided seeing her again or
+      speaking with her. Unfortunately, as they lived in the same house, as
+      their wives saw each other ten times a day, chance sometimes brought them
+      together; and this strange thing happened&mdash;that the husband, wishing
+      to remain virtuous, deserted his home altogether and sought distraction
+      elsewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire was not astonished that it was so. She had become accustomed,
+      during her father&rsquo;s lifetime, to the constant comings and goings of a
+      business life; and during her husband&rsquo;s absences, zealously performing her
+      duties as wife and mother, she invented long tasks, occupations of all
+      sorts, walks for the child, prolonged, peaceful tarryings in the sunlight,
+      from which she would return home, overjoyed with the little one&rsquo;s
+      progress, deeply impressed with the gleeful enjoyment of all infants in
+      the fresh air, but with a touch of their radiance in the depths of her
+      serious eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie also went out a great deal. It often happened, toward night, that
+      Georges&rsquo;s carriage, driving through the gateway, would compel Madame
+      Risler to step hastily aside as she was returning in a gorgeous costume
+      from a triumphal promenade. The boulevard, the shop-windows, the
+      purchases, made after long deliberation as if to enjoy to the full the
+      pleasure of purchasing, detained her very late. They would exchange a bow,
+      a cold glance at the foot of the staircase; and Georges would hurry into
+      his apartments, as into a place of refuge, concealing beneath a flood of
+      caresses, bestowed upon the child his wife held out to him, the sudden
+      emotion that had seized him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie, for her part, seemed to have forgotten everything, and to have
+      retained no other feeling but contempt for that weak, cowardly creature.
+      Moreover, she had many other things to think about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband had just had a piano placed in her red salon, between the
+      windows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After long hesitation she had decided to learn to sing, thinking that it
+      was rather late to begin to play the piano; and twice a week Madame
+      Dobson, a pretty, sentimental blonde, came to give her lessons from twelve
+      o&rsquo;clock to one. In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and o-oo,
+      persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows open, gave
+      the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises, an
+      inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings, with
+      everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real woman. But
+      her ambition confined itself to a superficial aspect of things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Claire Fromont plays the piano; I will sing. She is considered a refined
+      and distinguished woman, and I intend that people shall say the same of
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without a thought of improving her education, Sidonie passed her life
+      running about among milliners and dressmakers. &ldquo;What are people going to
+      wear this winter?&rdquo; was her cry. She was attracted by the gorgeous displays
+      in the shop-windows, by everything that caught the eye of the passers-by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The one thing that Sidonie envied Claire more than all else was the child,
+      the luxurious plaything, beribboned from the curtains of its cradle to its
+      nurse&rsquo;s cap. She did not think of the sweet, maternal duties, demanding
+      patience and self-abnegation, of the long rockings when sleep would not
+      come, of the laughing awakenings sparkling with fresh water. No! she saw
+      in the child naught but the daily walk. It is such a pretty sight, the
+      little bundle of finery, with floating ribbons and long feathers, that
+      follows young mothers through the crowded streets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she wanted company she had only her parents or her husband. She
+      preferred to go out alone. The excellent Risler had such an absurd way of
+      showing his love for her, playing with her as if she were a doll, pinching
+      her chin and her cheek, capering about her, crying, &ldquo;Hou! hou!&rdquo; or staring
+      at her with his great, soft eyes like an affectionate and grateful dog.
+      That senseless love, which made of her a toy, a mantel ornament, made her
+      ashamed. As for her parents, they were an embarrassment to her in presence
+      of the people she wished to know, and immediately after her marriage she
+      almost got rid of them by hiring a little house for them at Montrouge.
+      That step had cut short the frequent invasions of Monsieur Chebe and his
+      long frock-coat, and the endless visits of good Madame Chebe, in whom the
+      return of comfortable circumstances had revived former habits of gossip
+      and of indolence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie would have been very glad to rid herself of the Delobelles in the
+      same way, for their proximity annoyed her. But the Marais was a central
+      location for the old actor, because the boulevard theatres were so near;
+      then, too, Desiree, like all sedentary persons, clung to the familiar
+      outlook, and her gloomy courtyard, dark at four o&rsquo;clock in winter, seemed
+      to her like a friend, like a familiar face which the sun lighted up at
+      times as if it were smiling at her. As she was unable to get rid of them,
+      Sidonie had adopted the course of ceasing to visit them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth, her life would have been lonely and depressing enough, had it
+      not been for the distractions which Claire Fromont procured for her. Each
+      time added fuel to her wrath. She would say to herself:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must everything come to me through her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And when, just at dinner-time, a box at the theatre or an invitation for
+      the evening was sent to her from the floor below, while she was dressing,
+      overjoyed at the opportunity to exhibit herself, she thought of nothing
+      but crushing her rival. But such opportunities became more rare as
+      Claire&rsquo;s time was more and more engrossed by her child. When Grandfather
+      Gardinois came to Paris, however, he never failed to bring the two
+      families together. The old peasant&rsquo;s gayety, for its freer expansion,
+      needed little Sidonie, who did not take alarm at his jests. He would take
+      them all four to dine at Philippe&rsquo;s, his favorite restaurant, where he
+      knew all the patrons, the waiters and the steward, would spend a lot of
+      money, and then take them to a reserved box at the Opera-Comique or the
+      Palais-Royal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the theatre he laughed uproariously, talked familiarly with the
+      box-openers, as he did with the waiters at Philippe&rsquo;s, loudly demanded
+      footstools for the ladies, and when the performance was over insisted on
+      having the topcoats and fur wraps of his party first of all, as if he were
+      the only three-million parvenu in the audience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For these somewhat vulgar entertainments, from which her husband usually
+      excused himself, Claire, with her usual tact, dressed very plainly and
+      attracted no attention. Sidonie, on the contrary, in all her finery, in
+      full view of the boxes, laughed with all her heart at the grandfather&rsquo;s
+      anecdotes, happy to have descended from the second or third gallery, her
+      usual place in the old days, to that lovely proscenium box, adorned with
+      mirrors, with a velvet rail that seemed made expressly for her light
+      gloves, her ivory opera-glass, and her spangled fan. The tawdry glitter of
+      the theatre, the red and gold of the hangings, were genuine splendor to
+      her. She bloomed among them like a pretty paper flower in a filigree
+      jardiniere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening, at the performance of a successful play at the Palais-Royal,
+      among all the noted women who were present, painted celebrities wearing
+      microscopic hats and armed with huge fans, their rouge-besmeared faces
+      standing out from the shadow of the boxes in the gaudy setting of their
+      gowns, Sidonie&rsquo;s behavior, her toilette, the peculiarities of her laugh
+      and her expression attracted much attention. All the opera-glasses in the
+      hall, guided by the magnetic current that is so powerful under the great
+      chandeliers, were turned one by one upon the box in which she sat. Claire
+      soon became embarrassed, and modestly insisted upon changing places with
+      her husband, who, unluckily, had accompanied them that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges, youthful and elegant, sitting beside Sidonie, seemed her natural
+      companion, while Risler Allie, always so placid and self-effacing, seemed
+      in his proper place beside Claire Fromont, who in her dark clothes
+      suggested the respectable woman incog. at the Bal de l&rsquo;Opera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon leaving the theatre each of the partners offered his arm to his
+      neighbor. A box-opener, speaking to Sidonie, referred to Georges as &ldquo;your
+      husband,&rdquo; and the little woman beamed with delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your husband!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That simple phrase was enough to upset her and set in motion a multitude
+      of evil currents in the depths of her heart. As they passed through the
+      corridors and the foyer, she watched Risler and Madame &ldquo;Chorche&rdquo; walking
+      in front of them. Claire&rsquo;s refinement of manner seemed to her to be
+      vulgarized and annihilated by Risler&rsquo;s shuffling gait. &ldquo;How ugly he must
+      make me look when we are walking together!&rdquo; she said to herself. And her
+      heart beat fast as she thought what a charming, happy, admired couple they
+      would have made, she and this Georges Fromont, whose arm was trembling
+      beneath her own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, when the blue-lined carriage drove up to the door of the
+      theatre, she began to reflect, for the first time, that, when all was
+      said, Claire had stolen her place and that she would be justified in
+      trying to recover it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII. THE BREWERY ON THE RUE BLONDEL
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      After his marriage Risler had given up the brewery. Sidonie would have
+      been glad to have him leave the house in the evening for a fashionable
+      club, a resort of wealthy, well-dressed men; but the idea of his
+      returning, amid clouds of pipe-smoke, to his friends of earlier days,
+      Sigismond, Delobelle, and her own father, humiliated her and made her
+      unhappy. So he ceased to frequent the place; and that was something of a
+      sacrifice. It was almost a glimpse of his native country, that brewery
+      situated in a remote corner of Paris. The infrequent carriages, the high,
+      barred windows of the ground floors, the odor of fresh drugs, of
+      pharmaceutical preparations, imparted to that narrow little Rue Blondel a
+      vague resemblance to certain streets in Basle or Zurich.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brewery was managed by a Swiss and crowded with men of that
+      nationality. When the door was opened, through the smoke-laden atmosphere,
+      dense with the accents of the North, one had a vision of a vast, low room
+      with hams hanging from the rafters, casks of beer standing in a row, the
+      floor ankle-deep with sawdust, and on the counter great salad-bowls filled
+      with potatoes as red as chestnuts, and baskets of pretzels fresh from the
+      oven, their golden knots sprinkled with white salt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For twenty years Risler had had his pipe there, a long pipe marked with
+      his name in the rack reserved for the regular customers. He had also his
+      table, at which he was always joined by several discreet, quiet
+      compatriots, who listened admiringly, but without comprehending them, to
+      the endless harangues of Chebe and Delobelle. When Risler ceased his
+      visits to the brewery, the two last-named worthies likewise turned their
+      backs upon it, for several excellent reasons. In the first place, M. Chebe
+      now lived a considerable distance away. Thanks to the generosity of his
+      children, the dream of his whole life was realized at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I am rich,&rdquo; the little man used to say in his cheerless rooms in the
+      Marais, &ldquo;I will have a house of my own, at the gates of Paris, almost in
+      the country, a little garden which I will plant and water myself. That
+      will be better for my health than all the excitement of the capital.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, he had his house now, but he did not enjoy himself in it. It was at
+      Montrouge, on the road that runs around the city. &ldquo;A small chalet, with
+      garden,&rdquo; said the advertisement, printed on a placard which gave an almost
+      exact idea of the dimensions of the property. The papers were new and of
+      rustic design, the paint perfectly fresh; a water-butt planted beside a
+      vine-clad arbor played the part of a pond. In addition to all these
+      advantages, only a hedge separated this paradise from another &ldquo;chalet with
+      garden&rdquo; of precisely the same description, occupied by Sigismond Planus
+      the cashier, and his sister. To Madame Chebe that was a most precious
+      circumstance. When the good woman was bored, she would take a stock of
+      knitting and darning and go and sit in the old maid&rsquo;s arbor, dazzling her
+      with the tale of her past splendors. Unluckily, her husband had not the
+      same source of distraction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, everything went well at first. It was midsummer, and M. Chebe,
+      always in his shirt-sleeves, was busily employed in getting settled. Each
+      nail to be driven in the house was the subject of leisurely reflections,
+      of endless discussions. It was the same with the garden. He had determined
+      at first to make an English garden of it, lawns always green, winding
+      paths shaded by shrubbery. But the trouble of it was that it took so long
+      for the shrubbery to grow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a mind to make an orchard of it,&rdquo; said the impatient little man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thenceforth he dreamed of nothing but vegetables, long lines of beans,
+      and peach-trees against the wall. He dug for whole mornings, knitting his
+      brows in a preoccupied way and wiping his forehead ostentatiously before
+      his wife, so that she would say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake, do rest a bit&mdash;you&rsquo;re killing yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The result was that the garden was a mixture: flowers and fruit, park and
+      kitchen garden; and whenever he went into Paris M. Chebe was careful to
+      decorate his buttonhole with a rose from his rose-bushes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the fine weather lasted, the good people did not weary of admiring
+      the sunsets behind the fortifications, the long days, the bracing country
+      air. Sometimes, in the evening, when the windows were open, they sang
+      duets; and in presence of the stars in heaven, which began to twinkle
+      simultaneously with the lanterns on the railway around the city, Ferdinand
+      would become poetical. But when the rain came and he could not go out,
+      what misery! Madame Chebe, a thorough Parisian, sighed for the narrow
+      streets of the Marais, her expeditions to the market of Blancs-Manteaux,
+      and to the shops of the quarter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat by the window, her usual place for sewing and observation, she
+      would gaze at the damp little garden, where the volubilis and the
+      nasturtiums, stripped of their blossoms, were dropping away from the
+      lattices with an air of exhaustion, at the long, straight line of the
+      grassy slope of the fortifications, still fresh and green, and, a little
+      farther on, at the corner of a street, the office of the Paris omnibuses,
+      with all the points of their route inscribed in enticing letters on the
+      green walls. Whenever one of the omnibuses lumbered away on its journey,
+      she followed it with her eyes, as a government clerk at Cayenne or Noumea
+      gazes after the steamer about to return to France; she made the trip with
+      it, knew just where it would stop, at what point it would lurch around a
+      corner, grazing the shop-windows with its wheels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a prisoner, M. Chebe became a terrible trial. He could not work in the
+      garden. On Sundays the fortifications were deserted; he could no longer
+      strut about among the workingmen&rsquo;s families dining on the grass, and pass
+      from group to group in a neighborly way, his feet encased in embroidered
+      slippers, with the authoritative demeanor of a wealthy landowner of the
+      vicinity. This he missed more than anything else, consumed as he was by
+      the desire to make people think about him. So that, having nothing to do,
+      having no one to pose before, no one to listen to his schemes, his
+      stories, the anecdote of the accident to the Duc d&rsquo;Orleans&mdash;a similar
+      accident had happened to him in his youth, you remember&mdash;the
+      unfortunate Ferdinand overwhelmed his wife with reproaches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your daughter banishes us&mdash;your daughter is ashamed of us!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard nothing but that &ldquo;Your daughter&mdash;your daughter&mdash;your
+      daughter!&rdquo; For, in his anger with Sidonie, he denied her, throwing upon
+      his wife the whole responsibility for that monstrous and unnatural child.
+      It was a genuine relief for poor Madame Chebe when her husband took an
+      omnibus at the office to go and hunt up Delobelle&mdash;whose hours for
+      lounging were always at his disposal&mdash;and pour into his bosom all his
+      rancor against his son-in-law and his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The illustrious Delobelle also bore Risler a grudge, and freely said of
+      him: &ldquo;He is a dastard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The great man had hoped to form an integral part of the new household, to
+      be the organizer of festivities, the &lsquo;arbiter elegantiarum&rsquo;. Instead of
+      which, Sidonie received him very coldly, and Risler no longer even took
+      him to the brewery. However, the actor did not complain too loud, and
+      whenever he met his friend he overwhelmed him with attentions and
+      flattery; for he had need of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Weary of awaiting the discerning manager, seeing that the engagement he
+      had longed for so many years did not come, it had occurred to Delobelle to
+      purchase a theatre and manage it himself. He counted upon Risler for the
+      funds. Opportunely enough, a small theatre on the boulevard happened to be
+      for sale, as a result of the failure of its manager. Delobelle mentioned
+      it to Risler, at first very vaguely, in a wholly hypothetical form&mdash;&ldquo;There
+      would be a good chance to make a fine stroke.&rdquo; Risler listened with his
+      usual phlegm, saying, &ldquo;Indeed, it would be a good thing for you.&rdquo; And to a
+      more direct suggestion, not daring to answer, &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he took refuge behind
+      such phrases as &ldquo;I will see&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Perhaps later&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t say no&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      finally uttered the unlucky words &ldquo;I must see the estimates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a whole week the actor had delved away at plans and figures, seated
+      between his wife and daughter, who watched him in admiration, and
+      intoxicated themselves with this latest dream. The people in the house
+      said, &ldquo;Monsieur Delobelle is going to buy a theatre.&rdquo; On the boulevard, in
+      the actors&rsquo; cafes, nothing was talked of but this transaction. Delobelle
+      did not conceal the fact that he had found some one to advance the funds;
+      the result being that he was surrounded by a crowd of unemployed actors,
+      old comrades who tapped him familiarly on the shoulder and recalled
+      themselves to his recollection&mdash;&ldquo;You know, old boy.&rdquo; He promised
+      engagements, breakfasted at the cafe, wrote letters there, greeted those
+      who entered with the tips of his fingers, held very animated conversations
+      in corners; and already two threadbare authors had read to him a drama in
+      seven tableaux, which was &ldquo;exactly what he wanted&rdquo; for his opening piece.
+      He talked about &ldquo;my theatre!&rdquo; and his letters were addressed, &ldquo;Monsieur
+      Delobelle, Manager.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had composed his prospectus and made his estimates, he went to the
+      factory to see Risler, who, being very busy, made an appointment to meet
+      him in the Rue Blondel; and that same evening, Delobelle, being the first
+      to arrive at the brewery, established himself at their old table, ordered
+      a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited. He waited a long while,
+      with his eye on the door, trembling with impatience. Whenever any one
+      entered, the actor turned his head. He had spread his papers on the table,
+      and pretended to be reading them, with animated gestures and movements of
+      the head and lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a magnificent opportunity, unique in its way. He already fancied
+      himself acting&mdash;for that was the main point&mdash;acting, in a
+      theatre of his own, roles written expressly for him, to suit his talents,
+      in which he would produce all the effect of&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the door opened, and M. Chebe made his appearance amid the
+      pipe-smoke. He was as surprised and annoyed to find Delobelle there as
+      Delobelle himself was by his coming. He had written to his son-in-law that
+      morning that he wished to speak with him on a matter of very serious
+      importance, and that he would meet him at the brewery. It was an affair of
+      honor, entirely between themselves, from man to man. The real fact
+      concerning this affair of honor was that M. Chebe had given notice of his
+      intention to leave the little house at Montrouge, and had hired a shop
+      with an entresol in the Rue du Mail, in the midst of a business district.
+      A shop? Yes, indeed! And now he was a little alarmed regarding his hasty
+      step, anxious to know how his son-in-law would take it, especially as the
+      shop cost much more than the Montrouge house, and there were some repairs
+      to be made at the outset. As he had long been acquainted with his
+      son-in-law&rsquo;s kindness of heart, M. Chebe had determined to appeal to him
+      at once, hoping to lead him into his game and throw upon him the
+      responsibility for this domestic change. Instead of Risler he found
+      Delobelle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They looked askance at each other, with an unfriendly eye, like two dogs
+      meeting beside the same dish. Each divined for whom the other was waiting,
+      and they did not try to deceive each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t my son-in-law here?&rdquo; asked M. Chebe, eying the documents spread
+      over the table, and emphasizing the words &ldquo;my son-in-law,&rdquo; to indicate
+      that Risler belonged to him and to nobody else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am waiting for him,&rdquo; Delobelle replied, gathering up his papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He pressed his lips together, as he added with a dignified, mysterious,
+      but always theatrical air:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a matter of very great importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So is mine,&rdquo; declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a
+      porcupine&rsquo;s quills.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke, he took his seat on the bench beside Delobelle, ordered a
+      pitcher and two glasses as the former had done, then sat erect with his
+      hands in his pockets and his back against the wall, waiting in his turn.
+      The two empty glasses in front of them, intended for the same absentee,
+      seemed to be hurling defiance at each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Risler did not come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men, drinking in silence, lost their patience and fidgeted about
+      on the bench, each hoping that the other would tire of waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last their ill-humor overflowed, and naturally poor Risler received the
+      whole flood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an outrage to keep a man of my years waiting so long!&rdquo; began M.
+      Chebe, who never mentioned his great age except upon such occasions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us,&rdquo; replied M.
+      Delobelle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the other:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And such company!&rdquo; scornfully exclaimed the illustrious actor, in whose
+      mind bitter memories were awakened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is&mdash;&rdquo; continued M. Chebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drew closer to each other and talked. The hearts of both were full in
+      respect to Sidonie and Risler. They opened the flood-gates. That Risler,
+      with all his good-nature, was an egotist pure and simple, a parvenu. They
+      laughed at his accent and his bearing, they mimicked certain of his
+      peculiarities. Then they talked about his household, and, lowering their
+      voices, they became confidential, laughed familiarly together, were
+      friends once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Chebe went very far: &ldquo;Let him beware! he has been foolish enough to
+      send the father and mother away from their daughter; if anything happens
+      to her, he can&rsquo;t blame us. A girl who hasn&rsquo;t her parents&rsquo; example before
+      her eyes, you understand&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly&mdash;certainly,&rdquo; said Delobelle; &ldquo;especially as Sidonie has
+      become a great flirt. However, what can you expect? He will get no more
+      than he deserves. No man of his age ought to&mdash;Hush! here he is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler had entered the room, and was walking toward them, distributing
+      hand-shakes all along the benches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a moment of embarrassment between the three friends. Risler
+      excused himself as well as he could. He had been detained at home; Sidonie
+      had company&mdash;Delobelle touched M. Chebe&rsquo;s foot under the table&mdash;and,
+      as he spoke, the poor man, decidedly perplexed by the two empty glasses
+      that awaited him, wondered in front of which of the two he ought to take
+      his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Delobelle was generous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have business together, Messieurs; do not let me disturb you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He added in a low tone, winking at Risler:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The papers?&rdquo; echoed Risler, in a bewildered tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The estimates,&rdquo; whispered the actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, with a great show of discretion, he withdrew within himself,
+      and resumed the reading of his documents, his head in his hands and his
+      fingers in his ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two others conversed by his side, first in undertones, then louder,
+      for M. Chebe&rsquo;s shrill, piercing voice could not long be subdued.&mdash;He
+      wasn&rsquo;t old enough to be buried, deuce take it!&mdash;He should have died
+      of ennui at Montrouge.&mdash;What he must have was the bustle and life of
+      the Rue de Mail or the Rue du Sentier&mdash;of the business districts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but a shop? Why a shop?&rdquo; Risler timidly ventured to ask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why a shop?&mdash;why a shop?&rdquo; repeated M. Chebe, red as an Easter egg,
+      and raising his voice to its highest pitch. &ldquo;Why, because I&rsquo;m a merchant,
+      Monsieur Risler, a merchant and son of a merchant. Oh! I see what you&rsquo;re
+      coming at. I have no business. But whose fault is it? If the people who
+      shut me up at Montrouge, at the gates of Bicetre, like a paralytic, had
+      had the good sense to furnish me with the money to start in business&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that point Risler succeeded in silencing him, and thereafter only
+      snatches of the conversation could be heard: &ldquo;a more convenient shop&mdash;high
+      ceilings&mdash;better air&mdash;future plans&mdash;enormous business&mdash;I
+      will speak when the time comes&mdash;many people will be astonished.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he caught these fragments of sentences, Delobelle became more and more
+      absorbed in his estimates, presenting the eloquent back of the man who is
+      not listening. Risler, sorely perplexed, slowly sipped his beer from time
+      to time to keep himself, in countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, when M. Chebe had grown calm, and with good reason, his
+      son-in-law turned with a smile to the illustrious Delobelle, and met the
+      stern, impassive glance which seemed to say, &ldquo;Well! what of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Mon Dieu!&mdash;that is true,&rdquo; thought the poor fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Changing at once his chair and his glass, he took his seat opposite the
+      actor. But M. Chebe had not Delobelle&rsquo;s courtesy. Instead of discreetly
+      moving away, he took his glass and joined the others, so that the great
+      man, unwilling to speak before him, solemnly replaced his documents in his
+      pocket a second time, saying to Risler:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will talk this over later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Very much later, in truth, for M. Chebe had reflected:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son-in-law is so good-natured! If I leave him with this swindler, who
+      knows what he may get out of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he remained on guard. The actor was furious. It was impossible to
+      postpone the matter to some other day, for Risler told them that he was
+      going the next day to spend the next month at Savigny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A month at Savigny!&rdquo; exclaimed M. Chebe, incensed at the thought of his
+      son-in-law escaping him. &ldquo;How about business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I shall come to Paris every day with Georges. Monsieur Gardinois is
+      very anxious to see his little Sidonie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Chebe shook his head. He considered it very imprudent. Business is
+      business. A man ought to be on the spot, always on the spot, in the
+      breach. Who could say?&mdash;the factory might take fire in the night. And
+      he repeated sententiously: &ldquo;The eye of the master, my dear fellow, the eye
+      of the master,&rdquo; while the actor&mdash;who was little better pleased by
+      this intended departure&mdash;opened his great eyes; giving them an
+      expression at once cunning and authoritative, the veritable expression of
+      the eye of the master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, about midnight, the last Montrouge omnibus bore away the
+      tyrannical father-in-law, and Delobelle was able to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us first look at the prospectus,&rdquo; he said, preferring not to attack
+      the question of figures at once; and with his eyeglasses on his nose, he
+      began, in a declamatory tone, always upon the stage: &ldquo;When one considers
+      coolly the decrepitude which dramatic art has reached in France, when one
+      measures the distance that separates the stage of Moliere&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were several pages like that. Risler listened, puffing at his pipe,
+      afraid to stir, for the reader looked at him every moment over his
+      eyeglasses, to watch the effect of his phrases. Unfortunately, right in
+      the middle of the prospectus, the cafe closed. The lights were
+      extinguished; they must go.&mdash;And the estimates?&mdash;It was agreed
+      that they should read them as they walked along. They stopped at every
+      gaslight. The actor displayed his figures. So much for the hall, so much
+      for the lighting, so much for poor-rates, so much for the actors. On that
+      question of the actors he was firm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best point about the affair,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is that we shall have no
+      leading man to pay. Our leading man will be Bibi.&rdquo; (When Delobelle
+      mentioned himself, he commonly called himself Bibi.) &ldquo;A leading man is
+      paid twenty thousand francs, and as we have none to pay, it&rsquo;s just as if
+      you put twenty thousand francs in your pocket. Tell me, isn&rsquo;t that true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler did not reply. He had the constrained manner, the wandering eyes of
+      the man whose thoughts are elsewhere. The reading of the estimates being
+      concluded, Delobelle, dismayed to find that they were drawing near the
+      corner of the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes, put the question squarely.
+      Would Risler advance the money, yes or no?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&mdash;no,&rdquo; said Risler, inspired by heroic courage, which he owed
+      principally to the proximity of the factory and to the thought that the
+      welfare of his family was at stake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Delobelle was astounded. He had believed that the business was as good as
+      done, and he stared at his companion, intensely agitated, his eyes as big
+      as saucers, and rolling his papers in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; Risler continued, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do what you ask, for this reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the worthy man, slowly, with his usual heaviness of speech,
+      explained that he was not rich. Although a partner in a wealthy house, he
+      had no available funds. Georges and he drew a certain sum from the concern
+      each month; then, when they struck a balance at the end of the year they
+      divided the profits. It had cost him a good deal to begin housekeeping:
+      all his savings. It was still four months before the inventory. Where was
+      he to obtain the 30,000 francs to be paid down at once for the theatre?
+      And then, beyond all that, the affair could not be successful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it must succeed. Bibi will be there!&rdquo; As he spoke, poor Bibi drew
+      himself up to his full height; but Risler was determined, and all Bibi&rsquo;s
+      arguments met the same refusal&mdash;&ldquo;Later, in two or three years, I
+      don&rsquo;t say something may not be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor fought for a long time, yielding his ground inch by inch. He
+      proposed revising his estimates. The thing might be done cheaper. &ldquo;It
+      would still be too dear for me,&rdquo; Risler interrupted. &ldquo;My name doesn&rsquo;t
+      belong to me. It is a part of the firm. I have no right to pledge it.
+      Imagine my going into bankruptcy!&rdquo; His voice trembled as he uttered the
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if everything is in my name,&rdquo; said Delobelle, who had no
+      superstition. He tried everything, invoked the sacred interests of art,
+      went so far as to mention the fascinating actresses whose alluring glances&mdash;Risler
+      laughed aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, you rascal! What&rsquo;s that you&rsquo;re saying? You forget that we&rsquo;re
+      both married men, and that it is very late and our wives are expecting us.
+      No ill-will, eh?&mdash;This is not a refusal, you understand.&mdash;By the
+      way, come and see me after the inventory. We will talk it over again. Ah!
+      there&rsquo;s Pere Achille putting out his gas.&mdash;I must go in. Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was after one o&rsquo;clock when the actor returned home. The two women were
+      waiting for him, working as usual, but with a sort of feverish activity
+      which was strange to them. Every moment the great scissors that Mamma
+      Delobelle used to cut the brass wire were seized with strange fits of
+      trembling, and Desiree&rsquo;s little fingers, as she mounted an insect, moved
+      so fast that it made one dizzy to watch them. Even the long feathers of
+      the little birds scattered about on the table before her seemed more
+      brilliant, more richly colored, than on other days. It was because a
+      lovely visitor named Hope had called upon them that evening. She had made
+      the tremendous effort required to climb five dark flights of stairs, and
+      had opened the door of the little room to cast a luminous glance therein.
+      However much you may have been deceived in life, those magic gleams always
+      dazzle you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! if your father could only succeed!&rdquo; said Mamma Delobelle from time to
+      time, as if to sum up a whole world of happy thoughts to which her reverie
+      abandoned itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will succeed, mamma, never fear. Monsieur Risler is so kind, I will
+      answer for him. And Sidonie is very fond of us, too, although since she
+      was married she does seem to neglect her old friends a little. But we must
+      make allowance for the difference in our positions. Besides, I never shall
+      forget what she did for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, at the thought of what Sidonie had done for her, the little cripple
+      applied herself with even more feverish energy to her work. Her
+      electrified fingers moved with redoubled swiftness. You would have said
+      that they were running after some fleeing, elusive thing, like happiness,
+      for example, or the love of some one who loves you not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was it that she did for you?&rdquo; her mother would naturally have asked
+      her; but at that moment she was only slightly interested in what her
+      daughter said. She was thinking exclusively of her great man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! do you think so, my dear? Just suppose your father should have a
+      theatre of his own and act again as in former days. You don&rsquo;t remember;
+      you were too small then. But he had tremendous success, no end of recalls.
+      One night, at Alencon, the subscribers to the theatre gave him a gold
+      wreath. Ah! he was a brilliant man in those days, so lighthearted, so glad
+      to be alive. Those who see him now don&rsquo;t know him, poor man, misfortune
+      has changed him so. Oh, well! I feel sure that all that&rsquo;s necessary is a
+      little success to make him young and happy again. And then there&rsquo;s money
+      to be made managing theatres. The manager at Nantes had a carriage. Can
+      you imagine us with a carriage? Can you imagine it, I say? That&rsquo;s what
+      would be good for you. You could go out, leave your armchair once in a
+      while. Your father would take us into the country. You would see the water
+      and the trees you have had such a longing to see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! the trees,&rdquo; murmured the pale little recluse, trembling from head to
+      foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the street door of the house was closed violently, and M.
+      Delobelle&rsquo;s measured step echoed in the vestibule. There was a moment of
+      speechless, breathless anguish. The women dared not look at each other,
+      and mamma&rsquo;s great scissors trembled so that they cut the wire crooked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor devil had unquestionably received a terrible blow. His illusions
+      crushed, the humiliation of a refusal, the jests of his comrades, the bill
+      at the cafe where he had breakfasted on credit during the whole period of
+      his managership, a bill which must be paid&mdash;all these things occurred
+      to him in the silence and gloom of the five flights he had to climb. His
+      heart was torn. Even so, the actor&rsquo;s nature was so strong in him that he
+      deemed it his duty to envelop his distress, genuine as it was, in a
+      conventional tragic mask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he entered, he paused, cast an ominous glance around the work-room, at
+      the table covered with work, his little supper waiting for him in a
+      corner, and the two dear, anxious faces looking up at him with glistening
+      eyes. He stood a full minute without speaking&mdash;and you know how long
+      a minute&rsquo;s silence seems on the stage; then he took three steps forward,
+      sank upon a low chair beside the table, and exclaimed in a hissing voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I am accursed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same time he dealt the table such a terrible blow with his fist
+      that the &ldquo;birds and insects for ornament&rdquo; flew to the four corners of the
+      room. His terrified wife rose and timidly approached him, while Desiree
+      half rose in her armchair with an expression of nervous agony that
+      distorted all her features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lolling in his chair, his arms hanging despondently by his sides, his head
+      on his chest, the actor soliloquized&mdash;a fragmentary soliloquy,
+      interrupted by sighs and dramatic hiccoughs, overflowing with imprecations
+      against the pitiless, selfish bourgeois, those monsters to whom the artist
+      gives his flesh and blood for food and drink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he reviewed his whole theatrical life, his early triumphs, the golden
+      wreath from the subscribers at Alencon, his marriage to this &ldquo;sainted
+      woman,&rdquo; and he pointed to the poor creature who stood by his side, with
+      tears streaming from her eyes, and trembling lips, nodding her head
+      dotingly at every word her husband said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In very truth, a person who never had heard of the illustrious Delobelle
+      could have told his history in detail after that long monologue. He
+      recalled his arrival in Paris, his humiliations, his privations. Alas! he
+      was not the one who had known privation. One had but to look at his full,
+      rotund face beside the thin, drawn faces of the two women. But the actor
+      did not look so closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he said, continuing to intoxicate himself with declamatory phrases,
+      &ldquo;oh! to have struggled so long. For ten years, fifteen years, have I
+      struggled on, supported by these devoted creatures, fed by them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa, papa, hush,&rdquo; cried Desiree, clasping her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, fed by them, I say&mdash;and I do not blush for it. For I accept all
+      this devotion in the name of sacred art. But this is too much. Too much
+      has been put upon me. I renounce the stage!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! my dear, what is that you say?&rdquo; cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, leave me. I have reached the end of my strength. They have slain the
+      artist in me. It is all over. I renounce the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If you had seen the two women throw their arms about him then, implore him
+      to struggle on, prove to him that he had no right to give up, you could
+      not have restrained your tears. But Delobelle resisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He yielded at last, however, and promised to continue the fight a little
+      while, since it was their wish; but it required many an entreaty and
+      caress to carry the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX. AT SAVIGNY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a great misfortune, that sojourn of the two families at Savigny for
+      a month.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After an interval of two years Georges and Sidonie found themselves side
+      by side once more on the old estate, too old not to be always like itself,
+      where the stones, the ponds, the trees, always the same, seemed to cast
+      derision upon all that changes and passes away. A renewal of intercourse
+      under such circumstances must have been disastrous to two natures that
+      were not of a very different stamp, and far more virtuous than those two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Claire, she never had been so happy; Savigny never had seemed so
+      lovely to her. What joy to walk with her child over the greensward where
+      she herself had walked as a child; to sit, a young mother, upon the shaded
+      seats from which her own mother had looked on at her childish games years
+      before; to go, leaning on Georges&rsquo;s arm, to seek out the nooks where they
+      had played together. She felt a tranquil contentment, the overflowing
+      happiness of placid lives which enjoy their bliss in silence; and all day
+      long her skirts swept along the paths, guided by the tiny footsteps of the
+      child, her cries and her demands upon her mother&rsquo;s care.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie seldom took part in these maternal promenades. She said that the
+      chatter of children tired her, and therein she agreed with old Gardinois,
+      who seized upon any pretext to annoy his granddaughter. He believed that
+      he accomplished that object by devoting himself exclusively to Sidonie,
+      and arranging even more entertainments for her than on her former visit.
+      The carriages that had been shut up in the carriage-house for two years,
+      and were dusted once a week because the spiders spun their webs on the
+      silk cushions, were placed at her disposal. The horses were harnessed
+      three times a day, and the gate was continually turning on its hinges.
+      Everybody in the house followed this impulse of worldliness. The gardener
+      paid more attention to his flowers because Madame Risler selected the
+      finest ones to wear in her hair at dinner. And then there were calls to be
+      made. Luncheon parties were given, gatherings at which Madame Fromont
+      Jeune presided, but at which Sidonie, with her lively manners, shone
+      supreme. Indeed, Claire often left her a clear field. The child had its
+      hours for sleeping and riding out, with which no amusements could
+      interfere. The mother was compelled to remain away, and it often happened
+      that she was unable to go with Sidonie to meet the partners when they came
+      from Paris at night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will make my excuses,&rdquo; she would say, as the went up to her room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Risler was triumphant. A picture of elegant indolence, she would
+      drive away behind the galloping horses, unconscious of the swiftness of
+      their pace, without a thought in her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Other carriages were always waiting at the station. Two or three times she
+      heard some one near her whisper, &ldquo;That is Madame Fromont Jeune,&rdquo; and,
+      indeed, it was a simple matter for people to make the mistake, seeing the
+      three return together from the station, Sidonie sitting beside Georges on
+      the back seat, laughing and talking with him, and Risler facing them,
+      smiling contentedly with his broad hands spread flat upon his knees, but
+      evidently feeling a little out of place in that fine carriage. The thought
+      that she was taken for Madame Fromont made her very proud, and she became
+      a little more accustomed to it every day. On their arrival at the chateau,
+      the two families separated until dinner; but, in the presence of his wife
+      sitting tranquilly beside the sleeping child, Georges Fromont, too young
+      to be absorbed by the joys of domesticity, was continually thinking of the
+      brilliant Sidonie, whose voice he could hear pouring forth triumphant
+      roulades under the trees in the garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the whole chateau was thus transformed in obedience to the whims of
+      a young woman, old Gardinois continued to lead the narrow life of a
+      discontented, idle, impotent &lsquo;parvenu&rsquo;. The most successful means of
+      distraction he had discovered was espionage. The goings and comings of his
+      servants, the remarks that were made about him in the kitchen, the basket
+      of fruit and vegetables brought every morning from the kitchen-garden to
+      the pantry, were objects of continual investigation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the purposes of this constant spying upon his household, he made use
+      of a stone bench set in the gravel behind an enormous Paulownia. He would
+      sit there whole days at a time, neither reading nor thinking, simply
+      watching to see who went in or out. For the night he had invented
+      something different. In the great vestibule at the main entrance, which
+      opened upon the front steps with their array of bright flowers, he had
+      caused an opening to be made leading to his bedroom on the floor above. An
+      acoustic tube of an improved type was supposed to convey to his ears every
+      sound on the ground floor, even to the conversation of the servants taking
+      the air on the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unluckily, the instrument was so powerful that it exaggerated all the
+      noises, confused them and prolonged them, and the powerful, regular
+      ticking of a great clock, the cries of a paroquet kept in one of the lower
+      rooms, the clucking of a hen in search of a lost kernel of corn, were all
+      Monsieur Gardinois could hear when he applied his ear to the tube. As for
+      voices, they reached him in the form of a confused buzzing, like the
+      muttering of a crowd, in which it was impossible to distinguish anything.
+      He had nothing to show for the expense of the apparatus, and he concealed
+      his wonderful tube in a fold of his bed-curtains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One night Gardinois, who had fallen asleep, was awakened suddenly by the
+      creaking of a door. It was an extraordinary thing at that hour. The whole
+      house hold was asleep. Nothing could be heard save the footsteps of the
+      watch-dogs on the sand, or their scratching at the foot of a tree in which
+      an owl was screeching. An excellent opportunity to use his listening-tube!
+      Upon putting it to his ear, M. Gardinois was assured that he had made no
+      mistake. The sounds continued. One door was opened, then another. The bolt
+      of the front door was thrown back with an effort. But neither Pyramus nor
+      Thisbe, not even Kiss, the formidable Newfoundland, had made a sign. He
+      rose softly to see who those strange burglars could be, who were leaving
+      the house instead of entering it; and this is what he saw through the
+      slats of his blind:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A tall, slender young man, with Georges&rsquo;s figure and carriage, arm-in-arm
+      with a woman in a lace mantilla. They stopped first at the bench by the
+      Paulownia, which was in full bloom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a superb moonlight night. The moon, silvering the treetops, made
+      numberless flakes of light amid the dense foliage. The terraces, white
+      with moonbeams, where the Newfoundlands in their curly coats went to and
+      fro, watching the night butterflies, the smooth, deep waters of the ponds,
+      all shone with a mute, calm brilliance, as if reflected in a silver
+      mirror. Here and there glow-worms twinkled on the edges of the greensward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two promenaders remained for a moment beneath the shade of the
+      Paulownia, sitting silent on the bench, lost in the dense darkness which
+      the moon makes where its rays do not reach. Suddenly they appeared in the
+      bright light, wrapped in a languishing embrace; then walked slowly across
+      the main avenue, and disappeared among the trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was sure of it!&rdquo; said old Gardinois, recognizing them. Indeed, what
+      need had he to recognize them? Did not the silence of the dogs, the aspect
+      of the sleeping house, tell him more clearly than anything else could,
+      what species of impudent crime, unknown and unpunished, haunted the
+      avenues in his park by night? Be that as it may, the old peasant was
+      overjoyed by his discovery. He returned to bed without a light, chuckling
+      to himself, and in the little cabinet filled with hunting-implements,
+      whence he had watched them, thinking at first that he had to do with
+      burglars, the moon&rsquo;s rays shone upon naught save the fowling-pieces
+      hanging on the wall and the boxes of cartridges of all sizes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie and Georges had taken up the thread of their love at the corner of
+      the same avenue. The year that had passed, marked by hesitation, by vague
+      struggles, by fruitless resistance, seemed to have been only a preparation
+      for their meeting. And it must be said that, when once the fatal step was
+      taken, they were surprised at nothing so much as the fact that they had
+      postponed it so long. Georges Fromont especially was seized by a mad
+      passion. He was false to his wife, his best friend; he was false to
+      Risler, his partner, the faithful companion of his every hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt a constant renewal, a sort of overflow of remorse, wherein his
+      passion was intensified by the magnitude of his sin. Sidonie became his
+      one engrossing thought, and he discovered that until then he had not
+      lived. As for her, her love was made up of vanity and spite. The thing
+      that she relished above all else was Claire&rsquo;s degradation in her eyes. Ah!
+      if she could only have said to her, &ldquo;Your husband loves me&mdash;he is
+      false to you with me,&rdquo; her pleasure would have been even greater. As for
+      Risler, in her view he richly deserved what had happened to him. In her
+      old apprentice&rsquo;s jargon, in which she still thought, even if she did not
+      speak it, the poor man was only &ldquo;an old fool,&rdquo; whom she had taken as a
+      stepping-stone to fortune. &ldquo;An old fool&rdquo; is made to be deceived!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the day Savigny belonged to Claire, to the child who ran about upon
+      the gravel, laughing at the birds and the clouds, and who grew apace. The
+      mother and child had for their own the daylight, the paths filled with
+      sunbeams. But the blue nights were given over to sin, to that sin firmly
+      installed in the chateau, which spoke in undertones, crept noiselessly
+      behind the closed blinds, and in face of which the sleeping house became
+      dumb and blind, and resumed its stony impassibility, as if it were ashamed
+      to see and hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X. SIGISMOND PLANUS TREMBLES FOR HIS CASH-BOX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carriage, my dear Chorche?&mdash;I&mdash;have a carriage? What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you, my dear Risler, that it is quite essential for you. Our
+      business, our relations, are extending every day; the coupe is no longer
+      enough for us. Besides, it doesn&rsquo;t look well to see one of the partners
+      always in his carriage and the other on foot. Believe me, it is a
+      necessary outlay, and of course it will go into the general expenses of
+      the firm. Come, resign yourself to the inevitable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was genuine resignation. It seemed to Risler as if he were stealing
+      something in taking the money for such an unheard-of luxury as a carriage;
+      however, he ended by yielding to Georges&rsquo;s persistent representations,
+      thinking as he did so:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will make Sidonie very happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor fellow had no suspicion that Sidonie herself, a month before, had
+      selected at Binder&rsquo;s the coupe which Georges insisted upon giving her, and
+      which was to be charged to expense account in order not to alarm the
+      husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Honest Risler was so plainly created to be deceived. His inborn
+      uprightness, the implicit confidence in men and things, which was the
+      foundation of his transparent nature, had been intensified of late by
+      preoccupation resulting from his pursuit of the Risler Press, an invention
+      destined to revolutionize the wall-paper industry and representing in his
+      eyes his contribution to the partnership assets. When he laid aside his
+      drawings and left his little work-room on the first floor, his face
+      invariably wore the absorbed look of the man who has his life on one side,
+      his anxieties on another. What a delight it was to him, therefore, to find
+      his home always tranquil, his wife always in good humor, becomingly
+      dressed and smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without undertaking to explain the change to himself, he recognized that
+      for some time past the &ldquo;little one&rdquo; had not been as before in her
+      treatment of him. She allowed him to resume his old habits: the pipe at
+      dessert, the little nap after dinner, the appointments at the brewery with
+      Chebe and Delobelle. Their apartments also were transformed, embellished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A grand piano by a famous maker made its appearance in the salon in place
+      of the old one, and Madame Dobson, the singing-teacher, came no longer
+      twice a week, but every day, music-roll in hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of a curious type was that young woman of American extraction, with hair
+      of an acid blond, like lemon-pulp, over a bold forehead and metallic blue
+      eyes. As her husband would not allow her to go on the stage, she gave
+      lessons, and sang in some bourgeois salons. As a result of living in the
+      artificial world of compositions for voice and piano, she had contracted a
+      species of sentimental frenzy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was romance itself. In her mouth the words &ldquo;love&rdquo; and &ldquo;passion&rdquo; seemed
+      to have eighty syllables, she uttered them with so much expression. Oh,
+      expression! That was what Mistress Dobson placed before everything, and
+      what she tried, and tried in vain, to impart to her pupil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Ay Chiquita,&rsquo; upon which Paris fed for several seasons, was then at the
+      height of its popularity. Sidonie studied it conscientiously, and all the
+      morning she could be heard singing:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &ldquo;On dit que tu te maries,
+          Tu sais que j&rsquo;en puis mourir.&rdquo;
+ 
+          [They say that thou&rsquo;rt to marry
+          Thou know&rsquo;st that I may die.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mouri-i-i-i-i-r!&rdquo; the expressive Madame Dobson would interpose, while her
+      hands wandered feebly over the piano-keys; and die she would, raising her
+      light blue eyes to the ceiling and wildly throwing back her head. Sidonie
+      never could accomplish it. Her mischievous eyes, her lips, crimson with
+      fulness of life, were not made for such AEolian-harp sentimentalities. The
+      refrains of Offenbach or Herve, interspersed with unexpected notes, in
+      which one resorts to expressive gestures for aid, to a motion of the head
+      or the body, would have suited her better; but she dared not admit it to
+      her sentimental instructress. By the way, although she had been made to
+      sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le Mire&rsquo;s, her voice was still fresh and
+      not unpleasing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having no social connections, she came gradually to make a friend of her
+      singing-mistress. She would keep her to breakfast, take her to drive in
+      the new coupe and to assist in her purchases of gowns and jewels. Madame
+      Dobson&rsquo;s sentimental and sympathetic tone led one to repose confidence in
+      her. Her continual repinings seemed too long to attract other repinings.
+      Sidonie told her of Georges, of their relations, attempting to palliate
+      her offence by blaming the cruelty of her parents in marrying her by force
+      to a man much older than herself. Madame Dobson at once showed a
+      disposition to assist them; not that the little woman was venal, but she
+      had a passion for passion, a taste for romantic intrigue. As she was
+      unhappy in her own home, married to a dentist who beat her, all husbands
+      were monsters in her eyes, and poor Risler especially seemed to her a
+      horrible tyrant whom his wife was quite justified in hating and deceiving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was an active confidant and a very useful one. Two or three times a
+      week she would bring tickets for a box at the Opera or the Italiens, or
+      some one of the little theatres which enjoy a temporary vogue, and cause
+      all Paris to go from one end of Paris to the other for a season. In
+      Risler&rsquo;s eyes the tickets came from Madame Dobson; she had as many as she
+      chose to the theatres where operas were given. The poor wretch had no
+      suspicion that one of those boxes for an important &ldquo;first night&rdquo; had often
+      cost his partner ten or fifteen Louis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening, when his wife went away, always splendidly attired, he
+      would gaze admiringly at her, having no suspicion of the cost of her
+      costumes, certainly none of the man who paid for them, and would await her
+      return at his table by the fire, busy with his drawings, free from care,
+      and happy to be able to say to himself, &ldquo;What a good time she is having!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the floor below, at the Fromonts&rsquo;, the same comedy was being played,
+      but with a transposition of parts. There it was the young wife who sat by
+      the fire. Every evening, half an hour after Sidonie&rsquo;s departure, the great
+      gate swung open to give passage to the Fromont coupe conveying Monsieur to
+      his club. What would you have? Business has its demands. All the great
+      deals are arranged at the club, around the bouillotte table, and a man
+      must go there or suffer the penalty of seeing his business fall off.
+      Claire innocently believed it all. When her husband had gone, she felt sad
+      for a moment. She would have liked so much to keep him with her or to go
+      out leaning on his arm, to seek enjoyment with him. But the sight of the
+      child, cooing in front of the fire and kicking her little pink feet while
+      she was being undressed, speedily soothed the mother. Then the eloquent
+      word &ldquo;business,&rdquo; the merchant&rsquo;s reason of state, was always at hand to
+      help her to resign herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges and Sidonie met at the theatre. Their feeling at first when they
+      were together was one of satisfied vanity. People stared at them a great
+      deal. She was really pretty now, and her irregular but attractive
+      features, which required the aid of all the eccentricities of the
+      prevailing style in order to produce their full effect, adapted themselves
+      to them so perfectly that you would have said they were invented expressly
+      for her. In a few moments they went away, and Madame Dobson was left alone
+      in the box. They had hired a small suite on the Avenue Gabriel, near the
+      &lsquo;rond-point&rsquo; of the Champs Elysees&mdash;the dream of the young women at
+      the Le Mire establishment&mdash;two luxuriously furnished, quiet rooms,
+      where the silence of the wealthy quarter, disturbed only by passing
+      carriages, formed a blissful surrounding for their love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little by little, when she had become accustomed to her sin, she conceived
+      the most audacious whims. From her old working-days she had retained in
+      the depths of her memory the names of public balls, of famous restaurants,
+      where she was eager to go now, just as she took pleasure in causing the
+      doors to be thrown open for her at the establishments of the great
+      dressmakers, whose signs only she had known in her earlier days. For what
+      she sought above all else in this liaison was revenge for the sorrows and
+      humiliations of her youth. Nothing delighted her so much, for example,
+      when returning from an evening drive in the Bois, as a supper at the Cafe
+      Anglais with the sounds of luxurious vice around her. From these repeated
+      excursions she brought back peculiarities of speech and behavior,
+      equivocal songs, and a style of dress that imported into the bourgeois
+      atmosphere of the old commercial house an accurate reproduction of the
+      most advanced type of the Paris cocotte of that period.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the factory they began to suspect something. The women of the people,
+      even the poorest, are so quick at picking a costume to pieces! When Madame
+      Risler went out, about three o&rsquo;clock, fifty pairs of sharp, envious eyes,
+      lying in ambush at the windows of the polishing-shop, watched her pass,
+      penetrating to the lowest depths of her guilty conscience through her
+      black velvet dolman and her cuirass of sparkling jet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although she did not suspect it, all the secrets of that mad brain were
+      flying about her like the ribbons that played upon her bare neck; and her
+      daintily-shod feet, in their bronzed boots with ten buttons, told the
+      story of all sorts of clandestine expeditions, of the carpeted stairways
+      they ascended at night on their way to supper, and the warm fur robes in
+      which they were wrapped when the coupe made the circuit of the lake in the
+      darkness dotted with lanterns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The work-women laughed sneeringly and whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just look at that Tata Bebelle! A fine way to dress to go out. She don&rsquo;t
+      rig herself up like that to go to mass, that&rsquo;s sure! To think that it
+      ain&rsquo;t three years since she used to start for the shop every morning in an
+      old waterproof, and two sous&rsquo; worth of roasted chestnuts in her pockets to
+      keep her fingers warm. Now she rides in her carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And amid the talc dust and the roaring of the stoves, red-hot in winter
+      and summer alike, more than one poor girl reflected on the caprice of
+      chance in absolutely transforming a woman&rsquo;s existence, and began to dream
+      vaguely of a magnificent future which might perhaps be in store for
+      herself without her suspecting it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In everybody&rsquo;s opinion Risler was a dishonored husband. Two assistants in
+      the printing-room&mdash;faithful patrons of the Folies Dramatiques&mdash;declared
+      that they had seen Madame Risler several times at their theatre,
+      accompanied by some escort who kept out of sight at the rear of the box.
+      Pere Achille, too, told of amazing things. That Sidonie had a lover, that
+      she had several lovers, in fact, no one entertained a doubt. But no one
+      had as yet thought of Fromont jeune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet she showed no prudence whatever in her relations with him. On the
+      contrary, she seemed to make a parade of them; it may be that that was
+      what saved them. How many times she accosted him boldly on the steps to
+      agree upon a rendezvous for the evening! How many times she had amused
+      herself in making him shudder by looking into his eyes before every one!
+      When the first confusion had passed, Georges was grateful to her for these
+      exhibitions of audacity, which he attributed to the intensity of her
+      passion. He was mistaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What she would have liked, although she did not admit it to herself, would
+      have been to have Claire see them, to have her draw aside the curtain at
+      her window, to have her conceive a suspicion of what was passing. She
+      needed that in order to be perfectly happy: that her rival should be
+      unhappy. But her wish was ungratified; Claire Fromont noticed nothing and
+      lived, as did Risler, in imperturbable serenity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only Sigismond, the old cashier, was really ill at ease. And yet he was
+      not thinking of Sidonie when, with his pen behind his ear, he paused a
+      moment in his work and gazed fixedly through his grating at the drenched
+      soil of the little garden. He was thinking solely of his master, of
+      Monsieur &ldquo;Chorche,&rdquo; who was drawing a great deal of money now for his
+      current expenses and sowing confusion in all his books. Every time it was
+      some new excuse. He would come to the little wicket with an unconcerned
+      air:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you a little money, my good Planus? I was worsted again at
+      bouillotte last night, and I don&rsquo;t want to send to the bank for such a
+      trifle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond Planus would open his cash-box, with an air of regret, to get
+      the sum requested, and he would remember with terror a certain day when
+      Monsieur Georges, then only twenty years old, had confessed to his uncle
+      that he owed several thousand francs in gambling debts. The elder man
+      thereupon conceived a violent antipathy for the club and contempt for all
+      its members. A rich tradesman who was a member happened to come to the
+      factory one day, and Sigismond said to him with brutal frankness:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The devil take your &lsquo;Cercle du Chateau d&rsquo;Eau!&rsquo; Monsieur Georges has left
+      more than thirty thousand francs there in two months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other began to laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you&rsquo;re greatly mistaken, Pere Planus&mdash;it&rsquo;s at least three
+      months since we have seen your master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier did not pursue the conversation; but a terrible thought took
+      up its abode in his mind, and he turned it over and over all day long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If Georges did not go to the club, where did he pass his evenings? Where
+      did he spend so much money?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was evidently a woman at the bottom of the affair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as that idea occurred to him, Sigismond Planus began to tremble
+      seriously for his cash-box. That old bear from the canton of Berne, a
+      confirmed bachelor, had a terrible dread of women in general and Parisian
+      women in particular. He deemed it his duty, first of all, in order to set
+      his conscience at rest, to warn Risler. He did it at first in rather a
+      vague way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Georges is spending a great deal of money,&rdquo; he said to him one
+      day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler exhibited no surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you expect me to do, my old Sigismond? It is his right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the honest fellow meant what he said. In his eyes Fromont jeune was
+      the absolute master of the establishment. It would have been a fine thing,
+      and no mistake, for him, an ex-draughtsman, to venture to make any
+      comments. The cashier dared say no more until the day when a messenger
+      came from a great shawl-house with a bill for six thousand francs for a
+      cashmere shawl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to Georges in his office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I pay it, Monsieur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges Fromont was a little annoyed. Sidonie had forgotten to tell him of
+      this latest purchase; she used no ceremony with him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay it, pay it, Pere Planus,&rdquo; he said, with a shade of embarrassment, and
+      added: &ldquo;Charge it to the account of Fromont jeune. It is a commission
+      intrusted to me by a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening, as Sigismond was lighting his little lamp, he saw Risler
+      crossing the garden, and tapped on the window to call him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a woman,&rdquo; he said, under his breath. &ldquo;I have the proof of it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he uttered the awful words &ldquo;a woman&rdquo; his voice shook with alarm and was
+      drowned in the great uproar of the factory. The sounds of the work in
+      progress had a sinister meaning to the unhappy cashier at that moment. It
+      seemed to him as if all the whirring machinery, the great chimney pouring
+      forth its clouds of smoke, the noise of the workmen at their different
+      tasks&mdash;as if all this tumult and bustle and fatigue were for the
+      benefit of a mysterious little being, dressed in velvet and adorned with
+      jewels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler laughed at him and refused to believe him. He had long been
+      acquainted with his compatriot&rsquo;s mania for detecting in everything the
+      pernicious influence of woman. And yet Planus&rsquo;s words sometimes recurred
+      to his thoughts, especially in the evening when Sidonie, after all the
+      commotion attendant upon the completion of her toilette, went away to the
+      theatre with Madame Dobson, leaving the apartment empty as soon as her
+      long train had swept across the threshold. Candles burning in front of the
+      mirrors, divers little toilette articles scattered about and thrown aside,
+      told of extravagant caprices and a reckless expenditure of money. Risler
+      thought nothing of all that; but, when he heard Georges&rsquo;s carriage rolling
+      through the courtyard, he had a feeling of discomfort at the thought of
+      Madame Fromont passing her evenings entirely alone. Poor woman! Suppose
+      what Planus said were true!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suppose Georges really had a second establishment! Oh, it would be
+      frightful!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, instead of beginning to work, he would go softly downstairs and
+      ask if Madame were visible, deeming it his duty to keep her company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little girl was always in bed, but the little cap, the blue shoes,
+      were still lying in front of the fire. Claire was either reading or
+      working, with her silent mother beside her, always rubbing or dusting with
+      feverish energy, exhausting herself by blowing on the case of her watch,
+      and nervously taking the same thing up and putting it down again ten times
+      in succession, with the obstinate persistence of mania. Nor was honest
+      Risler a very entertaining companion; but that did not prevent the young
+      woman from welcoming him kindly. She knew all that was said about Sidonie
+      in the factory; and although she did not believe half of it, the sight of
+      the poor man, whom his wife left alone so often, moved her heart to pity.
+      Mutual compassion formed the basis of that placid friendship, and nothing
+      could be more touching than these two deserted ones, one pitying the other
+      and each trying to divert the other&rsquo;s thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seated at the small, brightly lighted table in the centre of the salon,
+      Risler would gradually yield to the influence of the warmth of the fire
+      and the harmony of his surroundings. He found there articles of furniture
+      with which he had been familiar for twenty years, the portrait of his
+      former employer; and his dear Madame Chorche, bending over some little
+      piece of needle work at his side, seemed to him even younger and more
+      lovable among all those old souvenirs. From time to time she would rise to
+      go and look at the child sleeping in the adjoining room, whose soft
+      breathing they could hear in the intervals of silence. Without fully
+      realizing it, Risler felt more comfortable and warmer there than in his
+      own apartment; for on certain days those attractive rooms, where the doors
+      were forever being thrown open for hurried exits or returns, gave him the
+      impression of a hall without doors or windows, open to the four winds. His
+      rooms were a camping-ground; this was a home. A care-taking hand caused
+      order and refinement to reign everywhere. The chairs seemed to be talking
+      together in undertones, the fire burned with a delightful sound, and
+      Mademoiselle Fromont&rsquo;s little cap retained in every bow of its blue
+      ribbons suggestions of sweet smiles and baby glances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And while Claire was thinking that such an excellent man deserved a better
+      companion in life, Risler, watching the calm and lovely face turned toward
+      him, the intelligent, kindly eyes, asked himself who the hussy could be
+      for whom Georges Fromont neglected such an adorable woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI. THE INVENTORY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The house in which old Planus lived at Montrouge adjoined the one which
+      the Chebes had occupied for some time. There was the same ground floor
+      with three windows, and a single floor above, the same garden with its
+      latticework fence, the same borders of green box. There the old cashier
+      lived with his sister. He took the first omnibus that left the office in
+      the morning, returned at dinner-time, and on Sundays remained at home,
+      tending his flowers and his poultry. The old maid was his housekeeper and
+      did all the cooking and sewing. A happier couple never lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Celibates both, they were bound together by an equal hatred of marriage.
+      The sister abhorred all men, the brother looked upon all women with
+      suspicion; but they adored each other, each considering the other an
+      exception to the general perversity of the sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In speaking of him she always said: &ldquo;Monsieur Planus, my brother!&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      he, with the same affectionate solemnity, interspersed all his sentences
+      with &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus, my sister!&rdquo; To those two retiring and innocent
+      creatures, Paris, of which they knew nothing, although they visited it
+      every day, was a den of monsters of two varieties, bent upon doing one
+      another the utmost possible injury; and whenever, amid the gossip of the
+      quarter, a conjugal drama came to their ears, each of them, beset by his
+      or her own idea, blamed a different culprit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the husband&rsquo;s fault,&rdquo; would be the verdict of &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus,
+      my sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the wife&rsquo;s fault,&rdquo; &ldquo;Monsieur Planus, my brother,&rdquo; would reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! the men&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! the women&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was their one never-failing subject of discussion in those rare hours
+      of idleness which old Sigismond set aside in his busy day, which was as
+      carefully ruled off as his account-books. For some time past the
+      discussions between the brother and sister had been marked by
+      extraordinary animation. They were deeply interested in what was taking
+      place at the factory. The sister was full of pity for Madame Fromont and
+      considered her husband&rsquo;s conduct altogether outrageous; as for Sigismond,
+      he could find no words bitter enough for the unknown trollop who sent
+      bills for six-thousand-franc shawls to be paid from his cashbox. In his
+      eyes, the honor and fair fame of the old house he had served since his
+      youth were at stake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will become of us?&rdquo; he repeated again and again. &ldquo;Oh! these women&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One day Mademoiselle Planus sat by the fire with her knitting, waiting for
+      her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The table had been laid for half an hour, and the old lady was beginning
+      to be worried by such unheard-of tardiness, when Sigismond entered with a
+      most distressed face, and without a word, which was contrary to all his
+      habits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited until the door was shut tight, then said in a low voice, in
+      response to his sister&rsquo;s disturbed and questioning expression:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have some news. I know who the woman is who is doing her best to ruin
+      us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lowering his voice still more, after glancing about at the silent walls of
+      their little dining-room, he uttered a name so unexpected that
+      Mademoiselle Planus made him repeat it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, despite his grief, he had almost a triumphant air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His old sister could not believe it. Such a refined, polite person, who
+      had received her with so much cordiality!&mdash;How could any one imagine
+      such a thing?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have proofs,&rdquo; said Sigismond Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon he told her how Pere Achille had met Sidonie and Georges one
+      night at eleven o&rsquo;clock, just as they entered a small furnished
+      lodging-house in the Montmartre quarter; and he was a man who never lied.
+      They had known him for a long while. Besides, others had met them. Nothing
+      else was talked about at the factory. Risler alone suspected nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is your duty to tell him,&rdquo; declared Mademoiselle Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier&rsquo;s face assumed a grave expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a very delicate matter. In the first place, who knows whether he
+      would believe me? There are blind men so blind that&mdash;And then, by
+      interfering between the two partners, I risk the loss of my place. Oh! the
+      women&mdash;the women! When I think how happy Risler might have been. When
+      I sent for him to come to Paris with his brother, he hadn&rsquo;t a sou; and
+      to-day he is at the head of one of the first houses in Paris. Do you
+      suppose that he would be content with that? Oh! no, of course not!
+      Monsieur must marry. As if any one needed to marry! And, worse yet, he
+      marries a Parisian woman, one of those frowsy-haired chits that are the
+      ruin of an honest house, when he had at his hand a fine girl, of almost
+      his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you
+      might say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus, my sister,&rdquo; to whose physical structure he alluded,
+      had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, &ldquo;Oh! the men, the men!&rdquo; but she
+      was silent. It was a very delicate question, and perhaps, if Risler had
+      chosen in time, he might have been the only one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Sigismond continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is what we have come to. For three months the leading wall-paper
+      factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that good-for-nothing.
+      You should see how the money flies. All day long I do nothing but open my
+      wicket to meet Monsieur Georges&rsquo;s calls. He always applies to me, because
+      at his banker&rsquo;s too much notice would be taken of it, whereas in our
+      office money comes and goes, comes in and goes out. But look out for the
+      inventory! We shall have some pretty figures to show at the end of the
+      year. The worst part of the whole business is that Risler won&rsquo;t listen to
+      anything. I have warned him several times: &lsquo;Look out, Monsieur Georges is
+      making a fool of himself for some woman.&rsquo; He either turns away with a
+      shrug, or else he tells me that it is none of his business and that
+      Fromont Jeune is the master. Upon my word, one would almost think&mdash;one
+      would almost think&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier did not finish his sentence; but his silence was pregnant with
+      unspoken thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old maid was appalled; but, like most women under such circumstances,
+      instead of seeking a remedy for the evil, she wandered off into a maze of
+      regrets, conjectures, and retrospective lamentations. What a misfortune
+      that they had not known it sooner when they had the Chebes for neighbors.
+      Madame Chebe was such an honorable woman. They might have put the matter
+      before her so that she would keep an eye on Sidonie and talk seriously to
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, that&rsquo;s a good idea,&rdquo; Sigismond interrupted. &ldquo;You must go to the
+      Rue du Mail and tell her parents. I thought at first of writing to little
+      Frantz. He always had a great deal of influence over his brother, and he&rsquo;s
+      the only person on earth who could say certain things to him. But Frantz
+      is so far away. And then it would be such a terrible thing to do. I can&rsquo;t
+      help pitying that unlucky Risler, though. No! the best way is to tell
+      Madame Chebe. Will you undertake to do it, sister?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a dangerous commission. Mademoiselle Planus made some objections,
+      but she never had been able to resist her brother&rsquo;s wishes, and the desire
+      to be of service to their old friend Risler assisted materially in
+      persuading her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thanks to his son-in-law&rsquo;s kindness, M. Chebe had succeeded in gratifying
+      his latest whim. For three months past he had been living at his famous
+      warehouse on the Rue du Mail, and a great sensation was created in the
+      quarter by that shop without merchandise, the shutters of which were taken
+      down in the morning and put up again at night, as in wholesale houses.
+      Shelves had been placed all around the walls, there was a new counter, a
+      safe, a huge pair of scales. In a word, M. Chebe possessed all the
+      requisites of a business of some sort, but did not know as yet just what
+      business he would choose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He pondered the subject all day as he walked to and fro across the shop,
+      encumbered with several large pieces of bedroom furniture which they had
+      been unable to get into the back room; he pondered it, too, as he stood on
+      his doorstep, with his pen behind his ear, and feasted his eyes
+      delightedly on the hurly-burly of Parisian commerce. The clerks who passed
+      with their packages of samples under their arms, the vans of the express
+      companies, the omnibuses, the porters, the wheelbarrows, the great bales
+      of merchandise at the neighboring doors, the packages of rich stuffs and
+      trimmings which were dragged in the mud before being consigned to those
+      underground regions, those dark holes stuffed with treasures, where the
+      fortune of business lies in embryo&mdash;all these things delighted M.
+      Chebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He amused himself guessing at the contents of the bales and was first at
+      the fray when some passer-by received a heavy package upon his feet, or
+      the horses attached to a dray, spirited and restive, made the long vehicle
+      standing across the street an obstacle to circulation. He had, moreover,
+      the thousand-and-one distractions of the petty tradesman without
+      customers, the heavy showers, the accidents, the thefts, the disputes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the day M. Chebe, dazed, bewildered, worn out by the labor
+      of other people, would stretch himself out in his easy-chair and say to
+      his wife, as he wiped his forehead:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the kind of life I need&mdash;an active life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Chebe would smile softly without replying. Accustomed as she was to
+      all her husband&rsquo;s whims, she had made herself as comfortable as possible
+      in a back room with an outlook upon a dark yard, consoling herself with
+      reflections on the former prosperity of her parents and her daughter&rsquo;s
+      wealth; and, being always neatly dressed, she had succeeded already in
+      acquiring the respect of neighbors and tradesmen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She asked nothing more than not to be confounded with the wives of
+      workingmen, often less poor than herself, and to be allowed to retain, in
+      spite of everything, a petty bourgeois superiority. That was her constant
+      thought; and so the back room in which she lived, and where it was dark at
+      three in the afternoon, was resplendent with order and cleanliness. During
+      the day the bed became a couch, an old shawl did duty as a tablecloth, the
+      fireplace, hidden by a screen, served as a pantry, and the meals were
+      cooked in modest retirement on a stove no larger than a foot-warmer. A
+      tranquil life&mdash;that was the dream of the poor woman, who was
+      continually tormented by the whims of an uncongenial companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the early days of his tenancy, M. Chebe had caused these words to be
+      inscribed in letters a foot long on the fresh paint of his shop-front:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          COMMISSION&mdash;EXPORTATION
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      No specifications. His neighbors sold tulle, broadcloth, linen; he was
+      inclined to sell everything, but could not make up his mind just what.
+      With what arguments did his indecision lead him to favor Madame Chebe as
+      they sat together in the evening!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about linen; but when you come to broadcloth, I
+      understand that. Only, if I go into broadcloths I must have a man to
+      travel; for the best kinds come from Sedan and Elbeuf. I say nothing about
+      calicoes; summer is the time for them. As for tulle, that&rsquo;s out of the
+      question; the season is too far advanced.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He usually brought his discourse to a close with the words:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The night will bring counsel&mdash;let us go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And to bed he would go, to his wife&rsquo;s great relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After three or four months of this life, M. Chebe began to tire of it. The
+      pains in the head, the dizzy fits gradually returned. The quarter was
+      noisy and unhealthy: besides, business was at a standstill. Nothing was to
+      be done in any line, broadcloths, tissues, or anything else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was just at the period of this new crisis that &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus, my
+      sister,&rdquo; called to speak about Sidonie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old maid had said to herself on the way, &ldquo;I must break it gently.&rdquo;
+       But, like all shy people, she relieved herself of her burden in the first
+      words she spoke after entering the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a stunning blow. When she heard the accusation made against her
+      daughter, Madame Chebe rose in indignation. No one could ever make her
+      believe such a thing. Her poor Sidonie was the victim of an infamous
+      slander.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Chebe, for his part, adopted a very lofty tone, with significant
+      phrases and motions of the head, taking everything to himself as was his
+      custom. How could any one suppose that his child, a Chebe, the daughter of
+      an honorable business man known for thirty years on the street, was
+      capable of Nonsense!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Planus insisted. It was a painful thing to her to be
+      considered a gossip, a hawker of unsavory stories. But they had
+      incontestable proofs. It was no longer a secret to anybody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And even suppose it were true,&rdquo; cried M. Chebe, furious at her
+      persistence. &ldquo;Is it for us to worry about it? Our daughter is married. She
+      lives a long way from her parents. It is for her husband, who is much
+      older than she, to advise and guide her. Does he so much as think of doing
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon that the little man began to inveigh against his son-in-law, that
+      cold-blooded Swiss, who passed his life in his office devising machines,
+      refused to accompany his wife into society, and preferred his old-bachelor
+      habits, his pipe and his brewery, to everything else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You should have seen the air of aristocratic disdain with which M. Chebe
+      pronounced the word &ldquo;brewery!&rdquo; And yet almost every evening he went there
+      to meet Risler, and overwhelmed him with reproaches if he once failed to
+      appear at the rendezvous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Behind all this verbiage the merchant of the Rue du Mail&mdash;&ldquo;Commission-Exportation&rdquo;&mdash;had
+      a very definite idea. He wished to give up his shop, to retire from
+      business, and for some time he had been thinking of going to see Sidonie,
+      in order to interest her in his new schemes. That was not the time,
+      therefore, to make disagreeable scenes, to prate about paternal authority
+      and conjugal honor. As for Madame Chebe, being somewhat less confident
+      than before of her daughter&rsquo;s virtue, she took refuge in the most profound
+      silence. The poor woman wished that she were deaf and blind&mdash;that she
+      never had known Mademoiselle Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like all persons who have been very unhappy, she loved a benumbed
+      existence with a semblance of tranquillity, and ignorance seemed to her
+      preferable to everything. As if life were not sad enough, good heavens!
+      And then, after all, Sidonie had always been a good girl; why should she
+      not be a good woman?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Night was falling. M. Chebe rose gravely to close the shutters of the shop
+      and light a gas-jet which illumined the bare walls, the empty, polished
+      shelves, and the whole extraordinary place, which reminded one strongly of
+      the day following a failure. With his lips closed disdainfully, in his
+      determination to remain silent, he seemed to say to the old lady, &ldquo;Night
+      has come&mdash;it is time for you to go home.&rdquo; And all the while they
+      could hear Madame Chebe sobbing in the back room, as she went to and fro
+      preparing supper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Planus got no further satisfaction from her visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; queried old Sigismond, who was impatiently awaiting her return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They wouldn&rsquo;t believe me, and politely showed me the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had tears in her eyes at the thought of her humiliation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s face flushed, and he said in a grave voice, taking his
+      sister&rsquo;s hand:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, I ask your pardon for having made you
+      take this step; but the honor of the house of Fromont was at stake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From that moment Sigismond became more and more depressed. His cash-box no
+      longer seemed to him safe or secure. Even when Fromont Jeune did not ask
+      him for money, he was afraid, and he summed up all his apprehensions in
+      four words which came continually to his lips when talking with his
+      sister:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ha no gonfidence,&rdquo; he would say, in his hoarse Swiss patois.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thinking always of his cash-box, he dreamed sometimes that it had broken
+      apart at all the joints, and insisted on remaining open, no matter how
+      much he turned the key; or else that a high wind had scattered all the
+      papers, notes, cheques, and bills, and that he ran after them all over the
+      factory, tiring himself out in the attempt to pick them up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the daytime, as he sat behind his grating in the silence of his office,
+      he imagined that a little white mouse had eaten its way through the bottom
+      of the box and was gnawing and destroying all its contents, growing
+      plumper and prettier as the work of destruction went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So that, when Sidonie appeared on the steps about the middle of the
+      afternoon, in her pretty Parisian plumage, old Sigismond shuddered with
+      rage. In his eyes it was the ruin of the house that stood there, ruin in a
+      magnificent costume, with its little coupe at the door, and the placid
+      bearing of a happy coquette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Risler had no suspicion that, at that window on the ground floor,
+      sat an untiring foe who watched her slightest movements, the most trivial
+      details of her life, the going and coming of her music-teacher, the
+      arrival of the fashionable dressmaker in the morning, all the boxes that
+      were brought to the house, and the laced cap of the employe of the Magasin
+      du Louvre, whose heavy wagon stopped at the gate with a jingling of bells,
+      like a diligence drawn by stout horses which were dragging the house of
+      Fromont to bankruptcy at break-neck speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond counted the packages, weighed them with his eye as they passed,
+      and gazed inquisitively into Risler&rsquo;s apartments through the open windows.
+      The carpets that were shaken with a great noise, the jardinieres that were
+      brought into the sunlight filled with fragile, unseasonable flowers, rare
+      and expensive, the gorgeous hangings&mdash;none of these things escaped
+      his notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new acquisitions of the household stared him in the face, reminding
+      him of some request for a large amount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the one thing that he studied more carefully than all else was
+      Risler&rsquo;s countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his view that woman was in a fair way to change his friend, the best,
+      the most upright of men, into a shameless villain. There was no
+      possibility of doubt that Risler knew of his dishonor, and submitted to
+      it. He was paid to keep quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Certainly there was something monstrous in such a supposition. But it is
+      the tendency of innocent natures, when they are made acquainted with evil
+      for the first time, to go at once too far, beyond reason. When he was once
+      convinced of the treachery of Georges and Sidonie, Risler&rsquo;s degradation
+      seemed to the cashier less impossible of comprehension. On what other
+      theory could his indifference, in the face of his partner&rsquo;s heavy
+      expenditures, be explained?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The excellent Sigismond, in his narrow, stereotyped honesty, could not
+      understand the delicacy of Risler&rsquo;s heart. At the same time, the
+      methodical bookkeeper&rsquo;s habit of thought and his clear-sightedness in
+      business were a thousand leagues from that absent-minded, flighty
+      character, half-artist, half-inventor. He judged him by himself, having no
+      conception of the condition of a man with the disease of invention,
+      absorbed by a fixed idea. Such men are somnambulists. They look, but do
+      not see, their eyes being turned within.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Sigismond&rsquo;s belief that Risler did see. That belief made the old
+      cashier very unhappy. He began by staring at his friend whenever he
+      entered the counting-room; then, discouraged by his immovable
+      indifference, which he believed to be wilful and premeditated, covering
+      his face like a mask, he adopted the plan of turning away and fumbling
+      among his papers to avoid those false glances, and keeping his eyes fixed
+      on the garden paths or the interlaced wires of the grating when he spoke
+      to him. Even his words were confused and distorted, like his glances. No
+      one could say positively to whom he was talking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No more friendly smiles, no more reminiscences as they turned over the
+      leaves of the cash-book together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was the year you came to the factory. Your first increase of pay. Do
+      you remember? We dined at Douix&rsquo;s that day. And then the Cafe des Aveugles
+      in the evening, eh? What a debauch!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Risler noticed the strange coolness that had sprung up between
+      Sigismond and himself. He mentioned it to his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time past she had felt that antipathy prowling about her.
+      Sometimes, as she crossed the courtyard, she was oppressed, as it were, by
+      malevolent glances which caused her to turn nervously toward the old
+      cashier&rsquo;s corner. This estrangement between the friends alarmed her, and
+      she very quickly determined to put her husband on his guard against
+      Planus&rsquo;s unpleasant remarks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see that he is jealous of you, of your position? A man who was
+      once his equal, now his superior, he can&rsquo;t stand that. But why bother
+      one&rsquo;s head about all these spiteful creatures? Why, I am surrounded by
+      them here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler looked at her with wide-open eyes:&mdash;&ldquo;You?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, it is easy enough to see that all these people detest me. They
+      bear little Chebe a grudge because she has become Madame Risler Aine.
+      Heaven only knows all the outrageous things that are said about me! And
+      your cashier doesn&rsquo;t keep his tongue in his pocket, I assure you. What a
+      spiteful fellow he is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These few words had their effect. Risler, indignant, but too proud to
+      complain, met coldness with coldness. Those two honest men, each intensely
+      distrustful of the other, could no longer meet without a painful
+      sensation, so that, after a while, Risler ceased to go to the
+      counting-room at all. It was not difficult for him, as Fromont Jeune had
+      charge of all financial matters. His month&rsquo;s allowance was carried to him
+      on the thirtieth of each month. This arrangement afforded Sidonie and
+      Georges additional facilities, and opportunity for all sorts of underhand
+      dealing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She thereupon turned her attention to the completion of her programme of a
+      life of luxury. She lacked a country house. In her heart she detested the
+      trees, the fields, the country roads that cover you with dust. &ldquo;The most
+      dismal things on earth,&rdquo; she used to say. But Claire Fromont passed the
+      summer at Savigny. As soon as the first fine days arrived, the trunks were
+      packed and the curtains taken down on the floor below; and a great
+      furniture van, with the little girl&rsquo;s blue bassinet rocking on top, set
+      off for the grandfather&rsquo;s chateau. Then, one morning, the mother,
+      grandmother, child, and nurse, a medley of white gowns and light veils,
+      would drive away behind two fast horses toward the sunny lawns and the
+      pleasant shade of the avenues.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that season Paris was ugly, depopulated; and although Sidonie loved it
+      even in the summer, which heats it like a furnace, it troubled her to
+      think that all the fashion and wealth of Paris were driving by the
+      seashore under their light umbrellas, and would make their outing an
+      excuse for a thousand new inventions, for original styles of the most
+      risque sort, which would permit one to show that one has a pretty ankle
+      and long, curly chestnut hair of one&rsquo;s own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The seashore bathing resorts! She could not think of them; Risler could
+      not leave Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How about buying a country house? They had not the means. To be sure,
+      there was the lover, who would have asked nothing better than to gratify
+      this latest whim; but a country house cannot be concealed like a bracelet
+      or a shawl. The husband must be induced to accept it. That was not an easy
+      matter; however, they might venture to try it with Risler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To pave the way, she talked to him incessantly about a little nook in the
+      country, not too expensive, very near Paris. Risler listened with a smile.
+      He thought of the high grass, of the orchard filled with fine fruit-trees,
+      being already tormented by the longing to possess which comes with wealth;
+      but, as he was prudent, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will see, we will see. Let us wait till the end of the year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The end of the year, that is to say, the striking of the balance-sheet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The balance-sheet! That is the magic word. All through the year we go on
+      and on in the eddying whirl of business. Money comes and goes, circulates,
+      attracts other money, vanishes; and the fortune of the firm, like a
+      slippery, gleaming snake, always in motion, expands, contracts,
+      diminishes, or increases, and it is impossible to know our condition until
+      there comes a moment of rest. Not until the inventory shall we know the
+      truth, and whether the year, which seems to have been prosperous, has
+      really been so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The account of stock is usually taken late in December, between Christmas
+      and New Year&rsquo;s Day. As it requires much extra labor to prepare it,
+      everybody works far into the night. The whole establishment is alert. The
+      lamps remain lighted in the offices long after the doors are closed, and
+      seem to share in the festal atmosphere peculiar to that last week of the
+      year, when so many windows are illuminated for family gatherings. Every
+      one, even to the least important &lsquo;employe&rsquo; of the firm, is interested in
+      the results of the inventory. The increases of salary, the New Year&rsquo;s
+      presents, depend upon those blessed figures. And so, while the vast
+      interests of a wealthy house are trembling in the balance, the wives and
+      children and aged parents of the clerks, in their fifth-floor tenements or
+      poor apartments in the suburbs, talk of nothing but the inventory, the
+      results of which will make themselves felt either by a greatly increased
+      need of economy or by some purchase, long postponed, which the New Year&rsquo;s
+      gift will make possible at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the premises of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, Sigismond Planus is the
+      god of the establishment at that season, and his little office a sanctuary
+      where all the clerks perform their devotions. In the silence of the
+      sleeping factory, the heavy pages of the great books rustle as they are
+      turned, and names called aloud cause search to be made in other books.
+      Pens scratch. The old cashier, surrounded by his lieutenants, has a
+      businesslike, awe-inspiring air. From time to time Fromont Jeune, on the
+      point of going out in his carriage, looks in for a moment, with a cigar in
+      his mouth, neatly gloved and ready for the street. He walks slowly, on
+      tiptoe, puts his face to the grating:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&mdash;are you getting on all right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond gives a grunt, and the young master takes his leave, afraid to
+      ask any further questions. He knows from the cashier&rsquo;s expression that the
+      showing will be a bad one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth, since the days of the Revolution, when there was fighting in the
+      very courtyard of the factory, so pitiable an inventory never had been
+      seen in the Fromont establishment. Receipts and expenditures balanced each
+      other. The general expense account had eaten up everything, and,
+      furthermore, Fromont Jeune was indebted to the firm in a large sum. You
+      should have seen old Planus&rsquo;s air of consternation when, on the 31st of
+      December, he went up to Georges&rsquo;s office to make report of his labors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges took a very cheerful view of the matter. Everything would go
+      better next year. And to restore the cashier&rsquo;s good humor he gave him an
+      extraordinary bonus of a thousand francs, instead of the five hundred his
+      uncle used always to give. Everybody felt the effects of that generous
+      impulse, and, in the universal satisfaction, the deplorable results of the
+      yearly accounting were very soon forgotten. As for Risler, Georges chose
+      to take it upon himself to inform him as to the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he entered his partner&rsquo;s little closet, which was lighted from above
+      by a window in the ceiling, so that the light fell directly upon the
+      subject of the inventor&rsquo;s meditations, Fromont hesitated a moment, filled
+      with shame and remorse for what he was about to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other, when he heard the door, turned joyfully toward his partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chorche, Chorche, my dear fellow&mdash;I have got it, our press. There
+      are still a few little things to think out. But no matter! I am sure now
+      of my invention: you will see&mdash;you will see! Ah! the Prochassons can
+      experiment all they choose. With the Risler Press we will crush all
+      rivalry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bravo, my comrade!&rdquo; replied Fromont Jeune. &ldquo;So much for the future; but
+      you don&rsquo;t seem to think about the present. What about this inventory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! to be sure. I had forgotten all about it. It isn&rsquo;t very
+      satisfactory, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said that because of the somewhat disturbed and embarrassed expression
+      on Georges&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, on the contrary, it is very satisfactory indeed,&rdquo; was the
+      reply. &ldquo;We have every reason to be satisfied, especially as this is our
+      first year together. We have forty thousand francs each for our share of
+      the profits; and as I thought you might need a little money to give your
+      wife a New Year&rsquo;s present&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashamed to meet the eyes of the honest man whose confidence he was
+      betraying, Fromont jeune placed a bundle of cheques and notes on the
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler was deeply moved for a moment. So much money at one time for him!
+      His mind dwelt upon the generosity of these Fromonts, who had made him
+      what he was; then he thought of his little Sidonie, of the longing which
+      she had so often expressed and which he would now be able to gratify.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With tears in his eyes and a happy smile on his lips, he held out both
+      hands to his partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very happy! I am very happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was his favorite phrase on great occasions. Then he pointed to the
+      bundles of bank notes spread out before him in the narrow bands which are
+      used to confine those fugitive documents, always ready to fly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what that is?&rdquo; he said to Georges, with an air of triumph.
+      &ldquo;That is Sidonie&rsquo;s house in the country!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII. A LETTER
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;TO M. FRANTZ RISLER,
+
+   &ldquo;Engineer of the Compagnie Francaise,
+   &ldquo;Ismailia, Egypt.
+
+   &ldquo;Frantz, my boy, it is old Sigismond who is writing to you. If I
+   knew better how to put my ideas on paper, I should have a very long
+   story to tell you. But this infernal French is too hard, and
+   Sigismond Planus is good for nothing away from his figures. So I
+   will come to the point at once.
+
+   &ldquo;Affairs in your brother&rsquo;s house are not as they should be. That
+   woman is false to him with his partner. She has made her husband a
+   laughing-stock, and if this goes on she will cause him to be looked
+   upon as a rascal. Frantz, my boy, you must come home at once. You
+   are the only one who can speak to Risler and open his eyes about
+   that little Sidonie. He would not believe any of us. Ask leave of
+   absence at once, and come.
+
+   &ldquo;I know that you have your bread to earn out there, and your future
+   to assure; but a man of honor should think more of the name his
+   parents gave him than of anything else. And I tell you that if you
+   do not come at once, a time will come when the name of Risler will
+   be so overwhelmed with shame that you will not dare to bear it.
+
+                  &ldquo;SIGISMOND PLANUS,
+                       &ldquo;Cashier.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Those persons who live always in doors, confined by work or infirmity to a
+      chair by the window, take a deep interest in the people who pass, just as
+      they make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls, roofs, and
+      windows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nailed to their place, they live in the life of the streets; and the busy
+      men and women who pass within their range of vision, sometimes every day
+      at the same hour, do not suspect that they serve as the mainspring of
+      other lives, that interested eyes watch for their coming and miss them if
+      they happen to go to their destination by another road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Delobelles, left to themselves all day, indulged in this sort of
+      silent observation. Their window was narrow, and the mother, whose eyes
+      were beginning to weaken as the result of hard usage, sat near the light
+      against the drawn muslin curtain; her daughter&rsquo;s large armchair was a
+      little farther away. She announced the approach of their daily passers-by.
+      It was a diversion, a subject of conversation; and the long hours of toil
+      seemed shorter, marked off by the regular appearance of people who were as
+      busy as they. There were two little sisters, a gentleman in a gray
+      overcoat, a child who was taken to school and taken home again, and an old
+      government clerk with a wooden leg, whose step on the sidewalk had a
+      sinister sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They hardly ever saw him; he passed after dark, but they heard him, and
+      the sound always struck the little cripple&rsquo;s ears like a harsh echo of her
+      own mournful thoughts. All these street friends unconsciously occupied a
+      large place in the lives of the two women. If it rained, they would say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They will get wet. I wonder whether the child got home before the
+      shower.&rdquo; And when the season changed, when the March sun inundated the
+      sidewalks or the December snow covered them with its white mantle and its
+      patches of black mud, the appearance of a new garment on one of their
+      friends caused the two recluses to say to themselves, &ldquo;It is summer,&rdquo; or,
+      &ldquo;winter has come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, on a certain evening in May, one of those soft, luminous evenings
+      when life flows forth from the houses into the street through the open
+      windows, Desiree and her mother were busily at work with needles and
+      fingers, exhausting the daylight to its last ray, before lighting the
+      lamp. They could hear the shouts of children playing in the yards, the
+      muffled notes of pianos, and the voice of a street peddler, drawing his
+      half-empty wagon. One could smell the springtime in the air, a vague odor
+      of hyacinth and lilac.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mamma Delobelle had laid aside her work, and, before closing the window,
+      leaned upon the sill listening to all these noises of a great toiling
+      city, taking delight in walking through the streets when its day&rsquo;s work
+      was ended. From time to time she spoke to her daughter, without turning
+      her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! there&rsquo;s Monsieur Sigismond. How early he leaves the factory to-night!
+      It may be because the days are lengthening so fast, but I don&rsquo;t think it
+      can be seven o&rsquo;clock. Who can that man be with the old cashier?&mdash;What
+      a funny thing!&mdash;One would say&mdash;Why, yes!&mdash;One would say it
+      was Monsieur Frantz. But that isn&rsquo;t possible. Monsieur Frantz is a long
+      way from here at this moment; and then he had no beard. That man looks
+      like him all the same! Just look, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But &ldquo;my dear&rdquo; does not leave her chair; she does not even stir. With her
+      eyes staring into vacancy, her needle in the air, arrested in its pretty,
+      industrious movement, she has gone away to the blue country, that
+      wonderful country whither one may go at will, without thought of any
+      infirmity. The name &ldquo;Frantz,&rdquo; uttered mechanically by her mother, because
+      of a chance resemblance, represented to her a whole lifetime of illusions,
+      of fervent hopes, ephemeral as the flush that rose to her cheeks when, on
+      returning home at night, he used to come and chat with her a moment. How
+      far away that was already! To think that he used to live in the little
+      room near hers, that they used to hear his step on the stairs and the
+      noise made by his table when he dragged it to the window to draw! What
+      sorrow and what happiness she used to feel when he talked to her of
+      Sidonie, sitting on the low chair at her knees, while she mounted her
+      birds and her insects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she worked, she used to cheer and comfort him, for Sidonie had caused
+      poor Frantz many little griefs before the last great one. His tone when he
+      spoke of Sidonie, the sparkle in his eyes when he thought of her,
+      fascinated Desiree in spite of everything, so that when he went away in
+      despair, he left behind him a love even greater than that he carried with
+      him&mdash;a love which the unchanging room, the sedentary, stagnant life,
+      kept intact with all its bitter perfume, whereas his would gradually fade
+      away and vanish in the fresh air of the outer world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It grows darker and darker. A great wave of melancholy envelops the poor
+      girl with the falling darkness of that balmy evening. The blissful gleam
+      from the past dies away as the last glimmer of daylight vanishes in the
+      narrow recess of the window, where her mother still stands leaning on the
+      sill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the door opens. Some one is there whose features can not be
+      distinguished. Who can it be? The Delobelles never receive calls. The
+      mother, who has turned her head, thinks at first that some one has come
+      from the shop to get the week&rsquo;s work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My husband has just gone to your place, Monsieur. We have nothing here.
+      Monsieur Delobelle has taken everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man comes forward without speaking, and as he approaches the window
+      his features can be distinguished. He is a tall, solidly built fellow with
+      a bronzed face, a thick, red beard, and a deep voice, and is a little slow
+      of speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! so you don&rsquo;t know me, Mamma Delobelle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I knew you at once, Monsieur Frantz,&rdquo; said Desiree, very calmly, in a
+      cold, sedate tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merciful heavens! it&rsquo;s Monsieur Frantz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Quickly Mamma Delobelle runs to the lamp, lights it, and closes the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?&rdquo; How coolly she says it, the
+      little rascal! &ldquo;I knew you at once.&rdquo; Ah, the little iceberg! She will
+      always be the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her hand
+      as it lies in Frantz&rsquo;s is white and cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She seems to him improved, even more refined than before. He seems to her
+      superb, as always, with a melancholy, weary expression in the depths of
+      his eyes, which makes him more of a man than when he went away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His weariness is due to his hurried journey, undertaken immediately on his
+      receipt of Sigismond&rsquo;s letter. Spurred on by the word dishonor, he had
+      started instantly, without awaiting his leave of absence, risking his
+      place and his future prospects; and, hurrying from steamships to railways,
+      he had not stopped until he reached Paris. Reason enough for being weary,
+      especially when one has travelled in eager haste to reach one&rsquo;s
+      destination, and when one&rsquo;s mind has been continually beset by impatient
+      thoughts, making the journey ten times over in incessant doubt and fear
+      and perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His melancholy began further back. It began on the day when the woman he
+      loved refused to marry him, to become, six months later, the wife of his
+      brother; two terrible blows in close succession, the second even more
+      painful than the first. It is true that, before entering into that
+      marriage, Risler had written to him to ask his permission to be happy, and
+      had written in such touching, affectionate terms that the violence of the
+      blow was somewhat diminished; and then, in due time, life in a strange
+      country, hard work, and long journeys had softened his grief. Now only a
+      vast background of melancholy remains; unless, indeed, the hatred and
+      wrath by which he is animated at this moment against the woman who is
+      dishonoring his brother may be a remnant of his former love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But no! Frantz Risler thinks only of avenging the honor of the Rislers. He
+      comes not as a lover, but as a judge; and Sidonie may well look to
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The judge had gone straight to the factory on leaving the train, relying
+      upon the surprise, the unexpectedness, of his arrival to disclose to him
+      at a glance what was taking place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unluckily he had found no one. The blinds of the little house at the foot
+      of the garden had been closed for two weeks. Pere Achille informed him
+      that the ladies were at their respective country seats where the partners
+      joined them every evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fromont Jeune had left the factory very early; Risler Aine had just gone.
+      Frantz decided to speak to old Sigismond. But it was Saturday, the regular
+      pay-day, and he must needs wait until the long line of workmen, extending
+      from Achille&rsquo;s lodge to the cashier&rsquo;s grated window, had gradually
+      dispersed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although very impatient and very depressed, the excellent youth, who had
+      lived the life of a Paris workingman from his childhood, felt a thrill of
+      pleasure at finding himself once more in the midst of the animated scenes
+      peculiar to that time and place. Upon all those faces, honest or vicious,
+      was an expression of satisfaction that the week was at an end. You felt
+      that, so far as they were concerned, Sunday began at seven o&rsquo;clock
+      Saturday evening, in front of the cashier&rsquo;s little lamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One must have lived among workingmen to realize the full charm of that one
+      day&rsquo;s rest and its solemnity. Many of these poor creatures, bound fast to
+      unhealthful trades, await the coming of the blessed Sunday like a puff of
+      refreshing air, essential to their health and their life. What an overflow
+      of spirits, therefore, what a pressing need of noisy mirth! It seems as if
+      the oppression of the week&rsquo;s labor vanishes with the steam from the
+      machinery, as it escapes in a hissing cloud of vapor over the gutters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One by one the workmen moved away from the grating, counting the money
+      that glistened in their black hands. There were disappointments,
+      mutterings, remonstrances, hours missed, money drawn in advance; and above
+      the tinkling of coins, Sigismond&rsquo;s voice could be heard, calm and
+      relentless, defending the interests of his employers with a zeal amounting
+      to ferocity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz was familiar with all the dramas of pay-day, the false accents and
+      the true. He knew that one man&rsquo;s wages were expended for his family, to
+      pay the baker and the druggist, or for his children&rsquo;s schooling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another wanted his money for the wine-shop or for something even worse.
+      And the melancholy, downcast shadows passing to and fro in front of the
+      factory gateway&mdash;he knew what they were waiting for&mdash;that they
+      were all on the watch for a father or a husband, to hurry him home with
+      complaining or coaxing words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the barefooted children, the tiny creatures wrapped in old shawls, the
+      shabby women, whose tear-stained faces were as white as the linen caps
+      that surmounted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the lurking vice that prowls about on pay-day, the candles that are
+      lighted in the depths of dark alleys, the dirty windows of the wine-shops
+      where the thousand-and-one poisonous concoctions of alcohol display their
+      alluring colors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz was familiar with all these forms of misery; but never had they
+      seemed to him so depressing, so harrowing as on that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the last man was paid, Sigismond came out of his office. The two
+      friends recognized each other and embraced; and in the silence of the
+      factory, at rest for twenty-four hours and deathly still in all its empty
+      buildings, the cashier explained to Frantz the state of affairs. He
+      described Sidonie&rsquo;s conduct, her mad extravagance, the total wreck of the
+      family honor. The Rislers had bought a country house at Asnieres, formerly
+      the property of an actress, and had set up a sumptuous establishment
+      there. They had horses and carriages, and led a luxurious, gay life. The
+      thing that especially disturbed honest Sigismond was the self restraint of
+      Fromont jeune. For some time he had drawn almost no money from the
+      strong-box, and yet Sidonie was spending more than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haf no gonfidence!&rdquo; said the unhappy cashier, shaking his head, &ldquo;I haf
+      no gonfidence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lowering his voice he added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your brother, my little Frantz, your brother? Who can explain his
+      actions? He goes about through it all with his eyes in the air, his hands
+      in his pockets, his mind on his famous invention, which unfortunately
+      doesn&rsquo;t move fast. Look here! do you want me to give you my opinion?&mdash;He&rsquo;s
+      either a knave or a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were walking up and down the little garden as they talked, stopping
+      for a moment, then resuming their walk. Frantz felt as if he were living
+      in a horrible dream. The rapid journey, the sudden change of scene and
+      climate, the ceaseless flow of Sigismond&rsquo;s words, the new idea that he had
+      to form of Risler and Sidonie&mdash;the same Sidonie he had loved so
+      dearly&mdash;all these things bewildered him and almost drove him mad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late. Night was falling. Sigismond proposed to him to go to
+      Montrouge for the night; he declined on the plea of fatigue, and when he
+      was left alone in the Marais, at that dismal and uncertain hour when the
+      daylight has faded and the gas is still unlighted, he walked instinctively
+      toward his old quarters on the Rue de Braque.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the hall door hung a placard: Bachelor&rsquo;s Chamber to let.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the same room in which he had lived so long with his brother. He
+      recognized the map fastened to the wall by four pins, the window on the
+      landing, and the Delobelles&rsquo; little sign: &lsquo;Birds and Insects for
+      Ornament.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their door was ajar; he had only to push it a little in order to enter the
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Certainly there was not in all Paris a surer refuge for him, a spot better
+      fitted to welcome and console his perturbed spirit, than that hard-working
+      familiar fireside. In his present agitation and perplexity it was like the
+      harbor with its smooth, deep water, the sunny, peaceful quay, where the
+      women work while awaiting their husbands and fathers, though the wind
+      howls and the sea rages. More than all else, although he did not realize
+      that it was so, it was a network of steadfast affection, that miraculous
+      love-kindness which makes another&rsquo;s love precious to us even when we do
+      not love that other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That dear little iceberg of a Desiree loved him so dearly. Her eyes
+      sparkled so even when talking of the most indifferent things with him. As
+      objects dipped in phosphorus shine with equal splendor, so the most
+      trivial words she said illuminated her pretty, radiant face. What a
+      blissful rest it was for him after Sigismond&rsquo;s brutal disclosures!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was
+      setting the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will dine with us, won&rsquo;t you, Monsieur Frantz? Father has gone to
+      take back the work; but he will surely come home to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He will surely come home to dinner!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The good woman said it with a certain pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact, since the failure of his managerial scheme, the illustrious
+      Delobelle no longer took his meals abroad, even on the evenings when he
+      went to collect the weekly earnings. The unlucky manager had eaten so many
+      meals on credit at his restaurant that he dared not go there again. By way
+      of compensation, he never failed, on Saturday, to bring home with him two
+      or three unexpected, famished guests&mdash;&ldquo;old comrades&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;unlucky
+      devils.&rdquo; So it happened that, on the evening in question, he appeared upon
+      the stage escorting a financier from the Metz theatre and a comique from
+      the theatre at Angers, both waiting for an engagement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The comique, closely shaven, wrinkled, shrivelled by the heat from the
+      footlights, looked like an old street-arab; the financier wore cloth
+      shoes, and no linen, so far as could be seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frantz!&mdash;my Frantz!&rdquo; cried the old strolling player in a
+      melodramatic voice, clutching the air convulsively with his hands. After a
+      long and energetic embrace he presented his guests to one another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Robricart, of the theatre at Metz.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Chaudezon, of the theatre at Angers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frantz Risler, engineer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In Delobelle&rsquo;s mouth that word &ldquo;engineer&rdquo; assumed vast proportions!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Desiree pouted prettily when she saw her father&rsquo;s friends. It would have
+      been so nice to be by themselves on a day like to-day. But the great man
+      snapped his fingers at the thought. He had enough to do to unload his
+      pockets. First of all, he produced a superb pie &ldquo;for the ladies,&rdquo; he said,
+      forgetting that he adored pie. A lobster next made its appearance, then an
+      Arles sausage, marrons glaces and cherries, the first of the season!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the financier enthusiastically pulled up the collar of his invisible
+      shirt, while the comique exclaimed &ldquo;gnouf! gnouf!&rdquo; with a gesture
+      forgotten by Parisians for ten years, Desiree thought with dismay of the
+      enormous hole that impromptu banquet would make in the paltry earnings of
+      the week, and Mamma Delobelle, full of business, upset the whole buffet in
+      order to find a sufficient number of plates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a very lively meal. The two actors ate voraciously, to the great
+      delight of Delobelle, who talked over with them old memories of their days
+      of strolling. Fancy a collection of odds and ends of scenery, extinct
+      lanterns, and mouldy, crumbling stage properties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a sort of vulgar, meaningless, familiar slang, they recalled their
+      innumerable triumphs; for all three of them, according to their own
+      stories, had been applauded, laden with laurel-wreaths, and carried in
+      triumph by whole cities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they talked they ate as actors usually eat, sitting with their faces
+      turned three-fourths toward the audience, with the unnatural haste of
+      stage guests at a pasteboard supper, alternating words and mouthfuls,
+      seeking to produce an effect by their manner of putting down a glass or
+      moving a chair, and expressing interest, amazement, joy, terror, surprise,
+      with the aid of a skilfully handled knife and fork. Madame Delobelle
+      listened to them with a smiling face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One can not be an actor&rsquo;s wife for thirty years without becoming somewhat
+      accustomed to these peculiar mannerisms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one little corner of the table was separated from the rest of the
+      party as by a cloud which intercepted the absurd remarks, the hoarse
+      laughter, the boasting. Frantz and Desiree talked together in undertones,
+      hearing naught of what was said around them. Things that happened in their
+      childhood, anecdotes of the neighborhood, a whole ill-defined past which
+      derived its only value from the mutual memories evoked, from the spark
+      that glowed in the eyes of both-those were the themes of their pleasant
+      chat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the cloud was torn aside, and Delobelle&rsquo;s terrible voice
+      interrupted the dialogue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you not seen your brother?&rdquo; he asked, in order to avoid the
+      appearance of neglecting him too much. &ldquo;And you have not seen his wife,
+      either? Ah! you will find her a Madame. Such toilettes, my dear fellow,
+      and such chic! I assure you. They have a genuine chateau at Asnieres. The
+      Chebes are there also. Ah! my old friend, they have all left us behind.
+      They are rich, they look down on old friends. Never a word, never a call.
+      For my part, you understand, I snap my fingers at them, but it really
+      wounds these ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, papa!&rdquo; said Desiree hastily, &ldquo;you know very well that we are too fond
+      of Sidonie to be offended with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then, you do wrong. You ought to be offended with people who seek
+      always to wound and humiliate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He still had upon his mind the refusal to furnish funds for his theatrical
+      project, and he made no secret of his wrath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you knew,&rdquo; he said to Frantz, &ldquo;if you knew how money is being
+      squandered over yonder! It is a great pity. And nothing substantial,
+      nothing sensible. I who speak to you, asked your brother for a paltry sum
+      to assure my future and himself a handsome profit. He flatly refused.
+      Parbleu! Madame requires too much. She rides, goes to the races in her
+      carriage, and drives her husband at the same rate as her little phaeton on
+      the quay at Asnieres. Between you and me, I don&rsquo;t think that our good
+      friend Risler is very happy. That woman makes him believe black is white.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the
+      financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional
+      grimaces, &lsquo;ha-has!&rsquo; and &lsquo;hum-hums!&rsquo; and all the usual pantomime expressive
+      of thoughts too deep for words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz was struck dumb. Do what he would, the horrible certainty assailed
+      him on all sides. Sigismond had spoken in accordance with his nature,
+      Delobelle with his. The result was the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately the dinner was drawing near its close. The three actors left
+      the table and betook themselves to the brewery on the Rue Blondel. Frantz
+      remained with the two women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he sat beside her, gentle and affectionate in manner, Desiree was
+      suddenly conscious of a great outflow of gratitude to Sidonie. She said to
+      herself that, after all, it was to her generosity that she owed this
+      semblance of happiness, and that thought gave her courage to defend her
+      former friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Monsieur Frantz, you mustn&rsquo;t believe all my father told you
+      about your sister-in-law. Dear papa! he always exaggerates a little. For
+      my own part, I am very sure that Sidonie is incapable of all the evil she
+      is accused of. I am sure that her heart has remained the same; and that
+      she is still fond of her friends, although she does neglect them a little.
+      Such is life, you know. Friends drift apart without meaning to. Isn&rsquo;t that
+      true, Monsieur Frantz?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! how pretty she was in his eyes, while she talked in that strain. He
+      never had taken so much notice of the refined features, the aristocratic
+      pallor of her complexion; and when he left her that evening, deeply
+      touched by the warmth she had displayed in defending Sidonie, by all the
+      charming feminine excuses she put forward for her friend&rsquo;s silence and
+      neglect, Frantz Risler reflected, with a feeling of selfish and ingenuous
+      pleasure, that the child had loved him once, and that perhaps she loved
+      him still, and kept for him in the bottom of her heart that warm,
+      sheltered spot to which we turn as to the sanctuary when life has wounded
+      us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All night long in his old room, lulled by the imaginary movement of the
+      vessel, by the murmur of the waves and the howling of the wind which
+      follow long sea voyages, he dreamed of his youthful days, of little Chebe
+      and Desiree Delobelle, of their games, their labors, and of the Ecole
+      Centrale, whose great, gloomy buildings were sleeping near at hand, in the
+      dark streets of the Marais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And when daylight came, and the sun shining in at his bare window vexed
+      his eyes and brought him back to a realization of the duty that lay before
+      him and to the anxieties of the day, he dreamed that it was time to go to
+      the School, and that his brother, before going down to the factory, opened
+      the door and called to him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, lazybones! Come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That dear, loving voice, too natural, too real for a dream, made him open
+      his eyes without more ado.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler was standing by his bed, watching his awakening with a charming
+      smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
+      from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more, he
+      could find nothing better to say than, &ldquo;I am very happy, I am very happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the factory
+      to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his press.
+      Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that his brother
+      was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de Braque, and he
+      had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little vexed that he had not
+      been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had defrauded him of the first
+      evening. His regret on that account came to the surface every moment in
+      his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in which everything that he wanted
+      to say was left unfinished, interrupted by innumerable questions on all
+      sorts of subjects and explosions of affection and joy. Frantz excused
+      himself on the plea of fatigue, and the pleasure it had given him to be in
+      their old room once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, all right,&rdquo; said Risler, &ldquo;but I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t let you alone now&mdash;you
+      are coming to Asnieres at once. I give myself leave of absence today. All
+      thought of work is out of the question now that you have come, you
+      understand. Ah! won&rsquo;t the little one be surprised and glad! We talk about
+      you so often! What joy! what joy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor fellow fairly beamed with happiness; he, the silent man,
+      chattered like a magpie, gazed admiringly at his Frantz and remarked upon
+      his growth. The pupil of the Ecole Centrale had had a fine physique when
+      he went away, but his features had acquired greater firmness, his
+      shoulders were broader, and it was a far cry from the tall,
+      studious-looking boy who had left Paris two years before, for Ismailia, to
+      this handsome, bronzed corsair, with his serious yet winning face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Risler was gazing at him, Frantz, on his side, was closely
+      scrutinizing his brother, and, finding him the same as always, as
+      ingenuous, as loving, and as absent-minded as times, he said to himself:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! it is not possible&mdash;he has not ceased to be an honest man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, as he reflected upon what people had dared to imagine, all his
+      wrath turned against that hypocritical, vicious woman, who deceived her
+      husband so impudently and with such absolute impunity that she succeeded
+      in causing him to be considered her confederate. Oh! what a terrible
+      reckoning he proposed to have with her; how pitilessly he would talk to
+      her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forbid you, Madame&mdash;understand what I say&mdash;I forbid you to
+      dishonor my brother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was thinking of that all the way, as he watched the still leafless
+      trees glide along the embankment of the Saint-Germain railway. Sitting
+      opposite him, Risler chattered, chattered without pause. He talked about
+      the factory, about their business. They had gained forty thousand francs
+      each the last year; but it would be a different matter when the Press was
+      at work. &ldquo;A rotary press, my little Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal,
+      capable of printing a pattern in twelve to fifteen colors at a single turn
+      of the wheel&mdash;red on pink, dark green on light green, without the
+      least running together or absorption, without a line lapping over its
+      neighbor, without any danger of one shade destroying or overshadowing
+      another. Do you understand that, little brother? A machine that is an
+      artist like a man. It means a revolution in the wallpaper trade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; queried Frantz with some anxiety, &ldquo;have you invented this Press of
+      yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Invented!&mdash;perfected! To-morrow I will show you all my plans. I have
+      also invented an automatic crane for hanging the paper on the rods in the
+      drying-room. Next week I intend to take up my quarters in the factory, up
+      in the garret, and have my first machine made there secretly, under my own
+      eyes. In three months the patents must be taken out and the Press must be
+      at work. You&rsquo;ll see, my little Frantz, it will make us all rich-you can
+      imagine how glad I shall be to be able to make up to these Fromonts for a
+      little of what they have done for me. Ah! upon my word, the Lord has been
+      too good to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon he began to enumerate all his blessings. Sidonie was the best of
+      women, a little love of a wife, who conferred much honor upon him. They
+      had a charming home. They went into society, very select society. The
+      little one sang like a nightingale, thanks to Madame Dobson&rsquo;s expressive
+      method. By the way, this Madame Dobson was another most excellent
+      creature. There was just one thing that disturbed poor Risler, that was
+      his incomprehensible misunderstanding with Sigismond. Perhaps Frantz could
+      help him to clear up that mystery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, I will help you, brother,&rdquo; replied Frantz through his clenched
+      teeth; and an angry flush rose to his brow at the idea that any one could
+      have suspected the open-heartedness, the loyalty, that were displayed
+      before him in all their artless spontaneity. Luckily he, the judge, had
+      arrived; and he proposed to restore everything to its proper place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, they were drawing near the house at Asnieres. Frantz had
+      noticed at a distance a fanciful little turreted affair, glistening with a
+      new blue slate roof. It seemed to him to have been built expressly for
+      Sidonie, a fitting cage for that capricious, gaudy-plumaged bird.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a chalet with two stories, whose bright mirrors and pink-lined
+      curtains could be seen from the railway, shining resplendent at the far
+      end of a green lawn, where an enormous pewter ball was suspended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The river was near at hand, still wearing its Parisian aspect, filled with
+      chains, bathing establishments, great barges, and multitudes of little,
+      skiffs, with a layer of coal dust on their pretentious, freshly-painted
+      names, tied to the pier and rocking to the slightest motion of the water.
+      From her windows Sidonie could see the restaurants on the beach, silent
+      through the week, but filled to overflowing on Sunday with a motley, noisy
+      crowd, whose shouts of laughter, mingled with the dull splash of oars,
+      came from both banks to meet in midstream in that current of vague
+      murmurs, shouts, calls, laughter, and singing that floats without ceasing
+      up and down the Seine on holidays for a distance of ten miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the week she saw shabbily-dressed idlers sauntering along the
+      shore, men in broad-brimmed straw hats and flannel shirts, women who sat
+      on the worn grass of the sloping bank, doing nothing, with the dreamy eyes
+      of a cow at pasture. All the peddlers, hand-organs, harpists; travelling
+      jugglers, stopped there as at a quarantine station. The quay was crowded
+      with them, and as they approached, the windows in the little houses near
+      by were always thrown open, disclosing white dressing-jackets,
+      half-buttoned, heads of dishevelled hair, and an occasional pipe, all
+      watching these paltry strolling shows, as if with a sigh of regret for
+      Paris, so near at hand. It was a hideous and depressing sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The grass, which had hardly begun to grow, was already turning yellow
+      beneath the feet of the crowd. The dust was black; and yet, every
+      Thursday, the cocotte aristocracy passed through on the way to the Casino,
+      with a great show of rickety carriages and borrowed postilions. All these
+      things gave pleasure to that fanatical Parisian, Sidonie; and then, too,
+      in her childhood, she had heard a great deal about Asnieres from the
+      illustrious Delobelle, who would have liked to have, like so many of his
+      profession, a little villa in those latitudes, a cozy nook in the country
+      to which to return by the midnight train, after the play is done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All these dreams of little Chebe, Sidonie Risler had realized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brothers went to the gate opening on the quay, in which the key was
+      usually left. They entered, making their way among trees and shrubs of
+      recent growth. Here and there the billiard-room, the gardener&rsquo;s lodge, a
+      little greenhouse, made their appearance, like the pieces of one of the
+      Swiss chalets we give to children to play with; all very light and
+      fragile, hardly more than resting on the ground, as if ready to fly away
+      at the slightest breath of bankruptcy or caprice: the villa of a cocotte
+      or a pawnbroker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz looked about in some bewilderment. In the distance, opening on a
+      porch surrounded by vases of flowers, was the salon with its long blinds
+      raised. An American easy-chair, folding-chairs, a small table from which
+      the coffee had not been removed, could be seen near the door. Within they
+      heard a succession of loud chords on the piano and the murmur of low
+      voices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you Sidonie will be surprised,&rdquo; said honest Risler, walking softly
+      on the gravel; &ldquo;she doesn&rsquo;t expect me until tonight. She and Madame Dobson
+      are practising together at this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pushing the door open suddenly, he cried from the threshold in his loud,
+      good-natured voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess whom I&rsquo;ve brought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dobson, who was sitting alone at the piano, jumped up from her
+      stool, and at the farther end of the grand salon Georges and Sidonie rose
+      hastily behind the exotic plants that reared their heads above a table, of
+      whose delicate, slender lines they seemed a prolongation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! how you frightened me!&rdquo; said Sidonie, running to meet Risler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The flounces of her white peignoir, through which blue ribbons were drawn,
+      like little patches of blue sky among the clouds, rolled in billows over
+      the carpet, and, having already recovered from her embarrassment, she
+      stood very straight, with an affable expression and her everlasting little
+      smile, as she kissed her husband and offered her forehead to Frantz,
+      saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler left them confronting each other, and went up to Fromont Jeune,
+      whom he was greatly surprised to find there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Chorche, you here? I supposed you were at Savigny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, to be sure, but&mdash;I came&mdash;I thought you stayed at Asnieres
+      Sundays. I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, entangling himself in his words, he began to talk hurriedly of
+      an important order. Sidonie had disappeared after exchanging a few
+      unmeaning words with the impassive Frantz. Madame Dobson continued her
+      tremolos on the soft pedal, like those which accompany critical situations
+      at the theatre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In very truth, the situation at that moment was decidedly strained. But
+      Risler&rsquo;s good-humor banished all constraint. He apologized to his partner
+      for not being at home, and insisted upon showing Frantz the house. They
+      went from the salon to the stable, from the stable to the carriage-house,
+      the servants&rsquo; quarters, and the conservatory. Everything was new,
+      brilliant, gleaming, too small, and inconvenient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Risler, with a certain pride, &ldquo;it cost a heap of money!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He persisted in compelling admiration of Sidonie&rsquo;s purchase even to its
+      smallest details, exhibited the gas and water fixtures on every floor, the
+      improved system of bells, the garden seats, the English billiard-table,
+      the hydropathic arrangements, and accompanied his exposition with
+      outbursts of gratitude to Fromont Jeune, who, by taking him into
+      partnership, had literally placed a fortune in his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At each new effusion on Risler&rsquo;s part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly,
+      ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The breakfast was lacking in gayety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dobson talked almost without interruption, overjoyed to be swimming
+      in the shallows of a romantic love-affair. Knowing, or rather believing
+      that she knew her friend&rsquo;s story from beginning to end, she understood the
+      lowering wrath of Frantz, a former lover furious at finding his place
+      filled, and the anxiety of Georges, due to the appearance of a rival; and
+      she encouraged one with a glance, consoled the other with a smile, admired
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s tranquil demeanor, and reserved all her contempt for that
+      abominable Risler, the vulgar, uncivilized tyrant. She made an effort to
+      prevent any of those horrible periods of silence, when the clashing knives
+      and forks mark time in such an absurd and embarrassing way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as breakfast was at an end Fromont Jeune announced that he must
+      return to Savigny. Risler did not venture to detain him, thinking that his
+      dear Madame Chorche would pass her Sunday all alone; and so, without an
+      opportunity to say a word to his mistress, the lover went away in the
+      bright sunlight to take an afternoon train, still attended by the husband,
+      who insisted upon escorting him to the station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dobson sat for a moment with Frantz and Sidonie under a little
+      arbor which a climbing vine studded with pink buds; then, realizing that
+      she was in the way, she returned to the salon, and as before, while
+      Georges was there, began to play and sing softly and with expression. In
+      the silent garden, that muffled music, gliding between the branches,
+      seemed like the cooing of birds before the storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they were alone. Under the lattice of the arbor, still bare and
+      leafless, the May sun shone too bright. Sidonie shaded her eyes with her
+      hand as she watched the people passing on the quay. Frantz likewise looked
+      out, but in another direction; and both of them, affecting to be entirely
+      independent of each other, turned at the same instant with the same
+      gesture and moved by the same thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have something to say to you,&rdquo; he said, just as she opened her mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I to you,&rdquo; she replied gravely; &ldquo;but come in here; we shall be more
+      comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And they entered together a little summer-house at the foot of the garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 3.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV. EXPLANATION
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      By slow degrees Sidonie sank to her former level, yes, even lower. From
+      the rich, well-considered bourgeoise to which her marriage had raised her,
+      she descended the ladder to the rank of a mere toy. By dint of travelling
+      in railway carriages with fantastically dressed courtesans, with their
+      hair worn over their eyes like a terrier&rsquo;s, or falling over the back &lsquo;a la
+      Genevieve de Brabant&rsquo;, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To divert Sidonie&rsquo;s thoughts, he had provided a simulacrum of society for
+      her&mdash;his bachelor friends, a few fast tradesmen, almost no women,
+      women have too sharp eyes. Madame Dobson was the only friend of Sidonie&rsquo;s
+      sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They organized grand dinner-parties, excursions on the water, fireworks.
+      From day to day Risler&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have some people to dinner,&rdquo; his wife would say. &ldquo;Make haste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Business breakfasts and dinners!&rdquo; To Risler&rsquo;s mind that phrase explained
+      everything: his partner&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in the deuce has become of your husband?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pere Gardinois would ask his grand-daughter with a cunning leer. &ldquo;Why
+      doesn&rsquo;t he come here oftener?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her plan was formed on the instant. She must at once put it into
+      execution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hangings were new, and the Persian pattern-birds flying among bluish
+      reeds&mdash;produced the effect of a dream in summer, ethereal figures
+      floating before one&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz, pale as death, remained standing, looking about the room. After a
+      moment he began:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I congratulate you, Madame; you understand how to make yourself
+      comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To whom do you owe this magnificence, to your lover or your husband?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without moving from the divan, without even raising her eyes to his, she
+      answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a little disconcerted by such self-possession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you confess that that man is your lover?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confess it!&mdash;yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to me, Sidonie! My brother&rsquo;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&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If not?&rdquo; queried Sidonie, who had not ceased to play with her rings while
+      he was speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shrugged her shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well! let him kill me. What do I care for that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you love him so dearly?&rdquo; he said, in an indefinably milder tone. &ldquo;Do
+      you love this Fromont so dearly that you prefer to die rather than
+      renounce him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew herself up hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Love that fop, that doll, that silly girl in men&rsquo;s clothes? Nonsense!&mdash;I
+      took him as I would have taken any other man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I couldn&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had risen and was speaking with her eyes in his, her lips near his,
+      trembling from head to foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A criminal love?&mdash;Whom did she love, in God&rsquo;s name?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz was afraid to question her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although suspecting nothing as yet, he had a feeling that that glance,
+      that breath, leaning toward him, were about to make some horrible
+      disclosure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But his office of judge made it necessary for him to know all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She replied in a stifled voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know very well that it is you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was his brother&rsquo;s wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For two years he had not thought of her except as a sister. In his eyes
+      his brother&rsquo;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, &ldquo;I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And now it was she who said that she loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The unhappy judge was thunderstruck, dazed, could find no words in which
+      to reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She, standing before him, waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      amorous, languishing voice, sighing:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &ldquo;On dit que tu te maries;
+          Tu sais que j&rsquo;en puis mouri-i-i-r!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Frantz, I have always loved you,&rdquo; said Sidonie. &ldquo;That love which I
+      renounced long ago because I was a young girl&mdash;and young girls do not
+      know what they are doing&mdash;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if you loved me,&rdquo; asked Frantz, in a low voice, &ldquo;if you loved me, why
+      did you marry my brother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not waver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To marry Risler was to bring myself nearer to you. I said to myself: &lsquo;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.&rsquo; 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&mdash;Frantz
+      said this; Frantz did that&mdash;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, &lsquo;It is he, it is Frantz.&rsquo; 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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s
+      wife!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she was his brother&rsquo;s wife!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! wretched, wretched creatures that we are!&rdquo; exclaimed the poor judge,
+      dropping upon the divan beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+      &ldquo;Frantz&mdash;Frantz!&rdquo; she said; and they remained there side by side,
+      silent and burning with emotion, soothed by Madame Dobson&rsquo;s romance, which
+      reached their ears by snatches through the shrubbery:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &ldquo;Ton amour, c&rsquo;est ma folie.
+          Helas! je n&rsquo;en puis guei-i-i-r.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Risler&rsquo;s tall figure appeared in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This way, Chebe, this way. They are in the summerhouse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke the husband entered, escorting his father-in-law and
+      mother-in-law, whom he had gone to fetch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my boy, does the Suez Canal progress as you would wish?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame Dobson, Madame Dobson&mdash;if you&rsquo;ll allow me, it&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, Risler, are you crazy, my son-in-law?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, mamma! We must dance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And up and down the paths, to the strains of an automatic six-step waltz-a
+      genuine valse de Vaucanson&mdash;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&rsquo;s wedding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Risler was intoxicated with joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Frantz that was an endless, indelible day of agony. Driving, rowing on
+      the river, lunch on the grass on the Ile des Ravageurs&mdash;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&rsquo;s description of
+      the Press. &ldquo;Rotary, my dear Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How she had changed in two years! How lovely she had grown!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 
+      heads. As they passed, people turned to look. Every eye followed them, as
+      if drawn by the wind caused by their rapid motion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie resembled those creatures. She might herself have driven Georges&rsquo; 
+      carriage; for Frantz was in Georges&rsquo; carriage. He had drunk Georges&rsquo; wine.
+      All the luxurious enjoyment of that family party came from Georges.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie, leaning on the piano, objected with a melancholy air, while
+      Madame Dobson ran her fingers over the keys, shaking her long curls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t know anything. What do you wish me to sing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Pauv&rsquo; pitit Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi,
+        C&rsquo;est l&rsquo;amou, l&rsquo;amou qui tourne la tete a li.&rdquo;
+ 
+        [&ldquo;Poor little Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi,
+        &lsquo;Tis love, &lsquo;tis love that turns her head.&rdquo;]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;C&rsquo;est l&rsquo;amou, l&rsquo;amou qui tourne la tete....&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      It was enough to drive the unlucky judge mad as well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But no! The siren had been unfortunate in her choice of a ballad. For, at
+      the mere name of Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi, Frantz was suddenly transported to a
+      gloomy chamber in the Marais, a long way from Sidonie&rsquo;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&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s return. Yes, there, and there only,
+      was his salvation. He must take refuge in that child&rsquo;s love, throw himself
+      at her feet, say to her, &ldquo;Take me, save me!&rdquo; And who knows? She loved him
+      so dearly. Perhaps she would save him, would cure him of his guilty
+      passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; asked Risler, seeing that his brother rose
+      hurriedly as soon as the last flourish was at an end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going back. It is late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? You are not going to sleep here? Why your room is ready for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all ready,&rdquo; added Sidonie, with a meaning glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;Yo-ho!&rdquo; of the boatmen and the footsteps of
+      the dancers like a rhythmical, muffled drumming on the tambourine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a kill-joy for you!&rdquo; observed Madame Dobson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have checkmated him,&rdquo; replied Sidonie; &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV. POOR LITTLE MAM&rsquo;ZELLE ZIZI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Oh, how happy Desiree was!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as she began to work in the morning, she would see the door open
+      softly. &ldquo;Good morning, Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi.&rdquo; He always called her now by the
+      name she had borne as a child; and if you could know how prettily he said
+      it: &ldquo;Good morning, Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening they waited for &ldquo;the father&rdquo; together, and while she worked
+      he made her shudder with the story of his adventures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with you? You&rsquo;re not the same as you used to be,&rdquo;
+       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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you notice IT when I am not walking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;birds and insects for ornament&rdquo; assumed a knowing little air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s rest, all four set out one Sunday morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the lovely drive, the lovely country, the lovely river, the lovely
+      trees!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s bouquet:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you noticed how sweet the flowers smell this year, mamma?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Frantz, too, began to fall under the charm. Little by little Mam&rsquo;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&rsquo;s side, and clung
+      to her like a child. Not once did he venture to return to Asnieres. He
+      feared the other too much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray come and see us once in a while; Sidonie keeps asking for you,&rdquo;
+       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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whenever Frantz came down from his brother&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier was triumphant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the good man would
+      add by force of habit, &ldquo;and yet I haf no gonfidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never fear, Monsieur Sigismond, I am here,&rdquo; the judge would reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re not going away yet, are you, my dear Frantz?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no&mdash;not yet. I have an important matter to finish up first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! so much the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a fine day to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our flowers still smell sweet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! very sweet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And even as they uttered those trivial sentences, their voices trembled at
+      the thought of what was about to be said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Desiree!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frantz!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment there was a knock at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the soft little tap of a daintily gloved hand which fears to soil
+      itself by the slightest touch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember, Frantz, when the Princess Hummingbird entered your room,
+      holding her little head very straight under a diadem of birds&rsquo; feathers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Desiree suspected nothing, not she! Sidonie&rsquo;s manner was so frank and
+      friendly. And then, they were brother and sister now. Love was no longer
+      possible between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she added, with the prettiest smile imaginable:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will let us have him, won&rsquo;t you, Ziree? Don&rsquo;t be afraid; we will send
+      him back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he had the courage to go, the ungrateful wretch!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;zelle Zizi&rsquo;s great easy-chair learn what the interesting
+      communication was that the little low chair had to make to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI. THE WAITING-ROOM
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;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&rsquo;clock. The tickets are secured and I shall be there awaiting you.
+
+                         &ldquo;FRANTZ.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! the poor, dear fellow, the poor, dear, fellow,&rdquo; said the sentimental
+      American, &ldquo;if you could see how unhappy he is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, shaking her curls, she unrolled her music-roll and took from it the
+      poor, dear fellow&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Sidonie showed her Frantz&rsquo;s note, Madame Dobson asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall you write in reply?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already written. I consented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! You will go away with that madman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie laughed scornfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;t agreeable to him, and he would have liked to
+      dismiss you with the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The one thing that Sidonie did not mention&mdash;and it was the deepest
+      cause of her anger against Frantz&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s eyes
+      calumny pure and simple. Ah, master judge, we have you now!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am born again&mdash;I am born again!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s accompaniment. Suddenly she
+      stopped in the middle of her aria and burst into a peal of laughter. The
+      clock had just struck ten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler looked up quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you laughing at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing-an idea that came into my head,&rdquo; replied Sidonie, winking of
+      Madame Dobson and pointing at the clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the hour appointed for the meeting, and she was thinking of her
+      lover&rsquo;s torture as he waited for her to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since the return of the messenger bringing from Sidonie the &ldquo;yes&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two first-class for Marseilles,&rdquo; he said. It seemed to him as if that
+      were equivalent to taking possession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;Take care!&rdquo; He stood there among the wheels of the cabs, under
+      the horses&rsquo; feet, with deaf ears and staring eyes. Only five minutes more.
+      It was almost impossible for her to arrive in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, there she is, it is certainly she&mdash;a woman in black, slender and
+      graceful, accompanied by another shorter woman&mdash;Madame Dobson, no
+      doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment a hand is placed on his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Great God!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turns. The coarse face of M. Gardinois, surrounded by a travelling-cap
+      with ear-pieces, is before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not mistaken, it is Monsieur Risler. Are you going to Marseilles by
+      the express? I am not going far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems that business hasn&rsquo;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&rsquo;re sailing their ship, the same thing is likely to happen to
+      them that happened to Bonnardel. But excuse me, I believe they&rsquo;re about to
+      close the gate. Au revoir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frantz has hardly heard what he has been saying. His brother&rsquo;s ruin, the
+      destruction of the whole world, nothing is of any further consequence to
+      him. He is waiting, waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s ear like an ironical farewell, then dies away in
+      the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ten o&rsquo;clock train has gone!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly some one hailed him from the shore:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Monsieur Frantz. How early you are today!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Sidonie&rsquo;s coachman taking his horses to bathe in the river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has anything happened at the house?&rdquo; inquired Frantz tremblingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Monsieur Frantz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is my brother at home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Monsieur slept at the factory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Monsieur Frantz, no one, so far as I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s voice as clear and vibrating as the song of a bird among the
+      rose-bushes of the facade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was talking with animation. Frantz, deeply moved, drew near to listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no cream. The &lsquo;cafe parfait&rsquo; will be enough. Be sure that it&rsquo;s well
+      frozen and ready at seven o&rsquo;clock. Oh! about an entree&mdash;let us see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was holding council with her cook concerning the famous dinner-party
+      for the next day. Her brother-in-law&rsquo;s sudden appearance did not
+      disconcert her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! good-morning, Frantz,&rdquo; she said very coolly. &ldquo;I am at your service
+      directly. We&rsquo;re to have some people to dinner to-morrow, customers of the
+      firm, a grand business dinner. You&rsquo;ll excuse me, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s features, distorted by a night of agony and
+      fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, when they were alone and he was able to speak, he asked in a
+      hollow voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you receive my letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;and
+      au revoir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII. AN ITEM OF NEWS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! mon Dieu, my poor man, what has happened?&rdquo; instantly inquired Madame
+      Delobelle, whom twenty years of exaggerated dramatic pantomime had not yet
+      surfeited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;Comfort me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That forlorn hope kept her alive for three weeks. She needed so little as
+      that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But no. Even that was denied her. Frantz had gone, gone without a glance
+      for her, without a parting word. The lover&rsquo;s desertion was followed by the
+      desertion of the friend. It was horrible!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At her father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who was there who had the power to sustain her in that great disaster?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      God? The thing that is called Heaven?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;t see, and pouf!
+      But she must go downstairs, into the street, all alone, and the street
+      frightened her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to bed, my child; are you going to sit up any longer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With her eyes on her work, &ldquo;my child&rdquo; replied that she was. She wished to
+      finish her dozen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, then,&rdquo; said Mamma Delobelle, her enfeebled sight being unable
+      to endure the light longer. &ldquo;I have put father&rsquo;s supper by the fire. Just
+      look at it before you go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Carefully, daintily, Desiree suspends it on a piece of brass wire, in the
+      charming attitude of a frightened creature about to fly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When one dies young, even by one&rsquo;s own act, it is never without a
+      rebellious feeling, and poor Desiree bids adieu to life, indignant with
+      destiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, Monsieur. How can I get to the Seine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He would recognize her at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Can it be you, Mam&rsquo;zelle Zizi? What are you doing out-of-doors at
+      this time of night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to die, Frantz. You have taken away all my pleasure in
+      living.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon he, deeply moved, would seize her, press her to his heart and
+      carry her away in his arms, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! no, do not die. I need you to comfort me, to cure all the wounds the
+      other has inflicted on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But that is a mere poet&rsquo;s dream, one of the meetings that life can not
+      bring about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor little Desiree!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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. &ldquo;Remember,&rdquo; it seems to say to
+      her; and she replies mentally, &ldquo;Oh! yes, I remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Almost immediately there are shouts and excitement all along the quay:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick&mdash;a boat&mdash;grappling-irons!&rdquo; Boatmen and policemen come
+      running from all sides. A boat puts off from the shore with a lantern in
+      the bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman just jumped into the river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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: &ldquo;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.&rdquo; Gradually the tumult subsides, the
+      bystanders disperse, and the black group moves away toward a
+      police-station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I implore you, messieurs,&rdquo; she said, trembling from head to foot, &ldquo;let me
+      return to mamma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Desiree entered the room, a man rose from the shadow and came to meet
+      her, holding out his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the man of the reward, her hideous rescuer at twenty-five francs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, little-mother,&rdquo; he said, with his cynical laugh, and in a voice
+      that made one think of foggy nights on the water, &ldquo;how are we since our
+      dive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &lsquo;cafe au
+      lait&rsquo; and reading the &lsquo;Gazette des Tribunaux.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! it&rsquo;s you, is it?&rdquo; 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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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. &ldquo;I
+      don&rsquo;t know&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she whispered, shivering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, do you promise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! yes, Monsieur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will never try again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! no, indeed I will not, never&mdash;never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding her protestations, Monsieur le Commissaire de Police shook
+      his head, as if he did not trust her oath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a carriage stopped in front of the door. Voices and footsteps
+      echoed through the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M&rsquo;ame Delobelle, here she is! Your daughter&rsquo;s been found.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not be alarmed, it is nothing,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not loving her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it would kill me if you should die,&rdquo; said the poor mother. &ldquo;Oh! when
+      I got up this morning and saw that your bed hadn&rsquo;t been slept in and that
+      you weren&rsquo;t in the workroom either!&mdash;I just turned round and fell
+      flat. Are you warm now? Do you feel well? You won&rsquo;t do it again, will you&mdash;try
+      to kill yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she tucked in the bed-clothes, rubbed her feet, and rocked her upon
+      her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That ghastly river, which she could not find in the night, haunted her
+      now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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: &ldquo;Hide me&mdash;hide
+      me&mdash;I am ashamed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII. SHE PROMISED NOT TO TRY AGAIN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mamma Delobelle sits by Desiree&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mamma Delobelle had to work alone now, and her fingers had not the
+      marvellous dexterity of Desiree&rsquo;s little hands; medicines were dear, and
+      she would not for anything in the world have interfered with one of &ldquo;the
+      father&rsquo;s&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between two stitches the mother would look up at her child, whose face
+      grew paler and paler:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you feel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s lodging,
+      instead of brightening it, brings out more clearly its cheerlessness and
+      nudity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Delobelle&rsquo;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&rsquo; restaurant, with red eyes and pale
+      cheeks. He loved to invite the question, &ldquo;Well, my poor old fellow, how
+      are things going at home?&rdquo; 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 &lsquo;Medecin des Enfants;&rsquo; all of which did not prevent
+      him, however, from bestowing the most delicate and thoughtful attentions
+      upon his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;Let us wait and see&rdquo;; 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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly she awoke, and, as we said a moment since, in an extraordinary
+      state.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suppose that, before going away&mdash;something told her that she would go
+      very soon&mdash;before going away, she should tear away the thick bandage
+      that the poor man kept over his eyes wilfully and by force?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only a hand as light and loving as hers could attempt that operation. Only
+      she had the right to say to her father:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Earn your living. Give up the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon, as time was flying, Desire Delobelle summoned all her courage
+      and called softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa-papa&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At his daughter&rsquo;s first summons the great man hurried to her side. He
+      entered Desiree&rsquo;s bedroom, radiant and superb, very erect, his lamp in his
+      hand and a camellia in his buttonhole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Zizi. Aren&rsquo;t you asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put down your lamp&mdash;I have something to say to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He approached with something like awe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what&rsquo;s the matter, Bichette? Do you feel any worse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s arm and whispered in his ear. She was very ill, hopelessly ill. She
+      realized fully that she had not long to live.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, father, you will be left alone with mamma. Don&rsquo;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&rsquo;t be
+      strong enough to support the family just see how pale and exhausted she
+      is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor looked at his &ldquo;sainted wife,&rdquo; and seemed greatly surprised to
+      find that she did really look so badly. Then he consoled himself with the
+      selfish remark:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She never was very strong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That remark and the tone in which it was made angered Desiree and
+      strengthened her determination. She continued, without pity for the
+      actor&rsquo;s illusions:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;I am sure Monsieur Risler Aine
+      would ask nothing better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that you would do well,&rdquo; pursued Desiree, timidly, &ldquo;I think that
+      you would do well to give up&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&mdash;what?&mdash;what&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused when she saw the effect of her words. The old actor&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She murmured twice or thrice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To give up&mdash;to give up&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX. APPROACHING CLOUDS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The notes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; thought the worthy man, sitting up in bed; &ldquo;day after
+      to-morrow will be the last day of the month. And I have the courage to
+      sleep!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s anxious questions,
+      gnawing his moustache:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, all right, my old Planus. Don&rsquo;t disturb yourself; I will look
+      into it.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s whims worried him much more than his cashier&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;Where were they to find that hundred thousand francs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take the notes back. I have no funds to meet them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No, no! That was not possible. Any sort of humiliation was preferable to
+      that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s decided. I will go to-morrow,&rdquo; sighed the poor cashier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he tossed about in torture, unable to close an eye until morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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,&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he&rsquo;s your lover!&rdquo; Georges had exclaimed angrily, his eyes gazing
+      into hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not denied it; she had not even turned her eyes away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And to think that he had sacrificed everything to that woman&mdash;his
+      fortune, his honor, even his lovely Claire, who lay sleeping with her
+      child in the adjoining room&mdash;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&rsquo;s name, what potion had she
+      given him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was while he was struggling amid such cruel and unfruitful
+      reflections as these that the devil of anxiety whispered in his ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The notes! the notes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;That day will be the end of
+      everything!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that was no longer possible. He saw the impending disaster clearly, in
+      its full meaning; and Sigismond Planus&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, no, he had not the hundred thousand francs, nor did he know where to
+      get them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Georges, Georges, it is I. What is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;an
+      irresistible longing to accuse himself, to ask forgiveness, to lessen the
+      weight of the remorse that was crushing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She spared him the pain of uttering a word:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been gambling, have you not? You have lost&mdash;lost heavily?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not all is lost as yet. I will go to Savigny tomorrow and ask my
+      grandfather for the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Claire, Claire&mdash;how good your are!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without replying, she led him to their child&rsquo;s cradle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kiss her,&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX. REVELATIONS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! here&rsquo;s Sigismond. How goes the world, Pere Sigismond? How is
+      business? Is it good with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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 employees 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 &lsquo;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&mdash;between ten or
+      fifteen thousand francs&mdash;which had never been definitely adjusted,
+      because they knew that money was in good hands when the Prochassons had
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&mdash;very good. He happened to be
+      passing through the quarter and thought he would come in a moment&mdash;that
+      was natural, was it not? One likes to see old friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! by the way, so long as I am here&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a little wink which he thought sly, but which was in reality
+      heartrending.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So long as I am here, suppose we settle that old account.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two brothers and the young woman in the counting-room gazed at one
+      another a second, unable to understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Account? What account, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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. &ldquo;Go along
+      with you, you sly old Pere Planus!&rdquo; The old man laughed with them! He
+      laughed without any desire to laugh, simply to do as the others did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they explained. Fromont Jeune had come in person, six months
+      before, to collect the balance in their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond felt that his strength was going. But he summoned courage to
+      say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes; true. I had forgotten. Sigismond Planus is growing old, that is
+      plain. I am failing, my children, I am failing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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!&mdash;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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, Pere So-and-So. I want to ask you a question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held the door half open, his hand upon the knob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did we settle our last bill? I forgot to enter it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! it was a long while ago, a very long while, that their last bill was
+      settled. Fromont Jeune&rsquo;s receipt was dated in September. It was five
+      months ago.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door was hastily closed. Another! Evidently it would be the same thing
+      everywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Monsieur Chorche, Monsieur Chorche,&rdquo; muttered poor Sigismond; and
+      while he pursued his journey, with bowed head and trembling legs, Madame
+      Fromont Jeune&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Think of it! It was horrible. To go and ask M. Gardinois for a hundred
+      thousand francs&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll find my property when I am dead,&rdquo; he often said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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, &ldquo;We shall see what it all comes to in the
+      end,&rdquo; 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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If your daughter wishes, I will give her a royal present; but she must
+      ask for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Claire received nothing, because she would not ask for anything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was eleven o&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; nests hidden among their highest branches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the cruel aspect of everything!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet not so cruel after all. For, with its tightly closed exterior,
+      Savigny seemed to say to her, &ldquo;Begone&mdash;do not come in!&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, Francoise. Where is grandpapa?&rdquo; the young woman asked the
+      gardener&rsquo;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&rsquo;s eye was upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the master&rsquo;s favorite. His name was Fouinat (polecat), and he had
+      the flat, crafty, blood-thirsty face appropriate to his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter, little one? Why, you&rsquo;re all &lsquo;perlute&rsquo;,&rdquo; said the
+      grandfather, seated behind his huge desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perlute, in the Berrichon dictionary, signifies troubled, excited, upset,
+      and applied perfectly to Claire&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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 &ldquo;I was sure of
+      it&mdash;I always said so&mdash;I knew we should see what it would all
+      come to&rdquo;&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Claire spoke of her child, of her husband&rsquo;s name, which was also her
+      father&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; queried M. Gardinois, with a savage light in his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire shuddered and walked toward the door without replying. The old man
+      detained her with a gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care! you don&rsquo;t know what you&rsquo;re refusing. It is in your interest,
+      you understand, that I suggest bringing your husband here. You don&rsquo;t know
+      the life he is leading up yonder. Of course you don&rsquo;t know it, or you&rsquo;d
+      never come and ask me for money to go where yours has gone. Ah! I know all
+      about your man&rsquo;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&rsquo;t choose that my crowns shall go to the places where he
+      goes. They&rsquo;re not clean enough for money honestly earned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire&rsquo;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:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That little Sidonie has fine, sharp teeth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sidonie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faith, yes, to be sure. I have told you the name. At all events, you&rsquo;d
+      have found it out some day or other. In fact, it&rsquo;s an astonishing thing
+      that, since the time&mdash;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&rsquo;s the one who has got it all out of him&mdash;with her husband&rsquo;s
+      consent, by the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire listened to him without speaking, with a smile of incredulity. That
+      smile irritated the old man, spurred on his malice. &ldquo;Ah! you don&rsquo;t believe
+      me. Ah! you want proofs, do you?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s gift to Sidonie. Thirty thousand francs for diamonds at
+      the moment of becoming bankrupt!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he ceased; he had told the whole story. She bowed and walked
+      toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going? What a hurry you&rsquo;re in!&rdquo; said the grandfather, following
+      her outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At heart he was a little ashamed of his savagery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you breakfast with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head, not having strength to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least wait till the carriage is ready&mdash;some one will drive you to
+      the station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No, still no.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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. &ldquo;Ah!
+      had I known&mdash;had I only known!&rdquo; And she fancied that she could still
+      feel between her fingers the smooth envelope, ready to drop into the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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: &ldquo;Why is it? What have I
+      done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she suddenly exclaimed: &ldquo;No! it isn&rsquo;t true. It can not be possible.
+      Grandfather lied to me.&rdquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s sight was keener than she could have
+      wished. Now she understood and accounted for certain peculiar
+      circumstances in her husband&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was three o&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she entered the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, Madame, certainly&mdash;Monsieur Fromont. A necklace of diamonds
+      and roses. We could make you one like it for twenty-five thousand francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was five thousand less than for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, Monsieur,&rdquo; said Claire, &ldquo;I will think it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;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: &ldquo;Not like
+      that. Bend it over. Take care of the carpet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo;s rosy cheeks before running to her mother&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, mamma, dress yourself quickly. We are going away. We are going
+      away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, hurry. Get your things ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice trembled, and the poor monomaniac&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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&rsquo; 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment she was in her bedroom, packing a trunk, making a pile of
+      her effects&mdash;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not at home to any one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door resisted her efforts, and Sigismond&rsquo;s square head appeared in the
+      opening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is I, Madame,&rdquo; he said in an undertone. &ldquo;I have come to get the
+      money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What money?&rdquo; demanded Claire, for she no longer remembered why she had
+      gone to Savigny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes&mdash;true. The hundred thousand francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t them, Monsieur Planus; I haven&rsquo;t anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the cashier, in a strange voice, as if he were speaking to
+      himself, &ldquo;then it means failure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he turned slowly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alone&mdash;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She pitied him, notwithstanding his great sin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the thought came to her that she would perhaps seem to have fled at
+      the approach of bankruptcy, of poverty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges might say to himself:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had I been rich, she would have forgiven me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ought she to allow him to entertain that doubt?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To a generous, noble heart like Claire&rsquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; she replied gently. &ldquo;We are not going away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 4.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI. THE DAY OF RECKONING
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The great clock of Saint-Gervais struck one in the morning. It was so cold
+      that the fine snow, flying through the air, hardened as it fell, covering
+      the pavements with a slippery, white blanket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler, wrapped in his cloak, was hastening home from the brewery through
+      the deserted streets of the Marais. He had been celebrating, in company
+      with his two faithful borrowers, Chebe and Delobelle, his first moment of
+      leisure, the end of that almost endless period of seclusion during which
+      he had been superintending the manufacture of his press, with all the
+      searchings, the joys, and the disappointments of the inventor. It had been
+      long, very long. At the last moment he had discovered a defect. The crane
+      did not work well; and he had had to revise his plans and drawings. At
+      last, on that very day, the new machine had been tried. Everything had
+      succeeded to his heart&rsquo;s desire. The worthy man was triumphant. It seemed
+      to him that he had paid a debt, by giving the house of Fromont the benefit
+      of a new machine, which would lessen the labor, shorten the hours of the
+      workmen, and at the same time double the profits and the reputation of the
+      factory. He indulged in beautiful dreams as he plodded along. His
+      footsteps rang out proudly, emphasized by the resolute and happy trend of
+      his thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quickening his pace, he reached the corner of Rue des
+      Vieilles-Haudriettes. A long line of carriages was standing in front of
+      the factory, and the light of their lanterns in the street, the shadows of
+      the drivers seeking shelter from the snow in the corners and angles that
+      those old buildings have retained despite the straightening of the
+      sidewalks, gave an animated aspect to that deserted, silent quarter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes! to be sure,&rdquo; thought the honest fellow, &ldquo;we have a ball at our
+      house.&rdquo; He remembered that Sidonie was giving a grand musical and dancing
+      party, which she had excused him from attending, by the way, knowing that
+      he was very busy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shadows passed and repassed behind the fluttering veil of the curtains;
+      the orchestra seemed to follow the movements of those stealthy apparitions
+      with the rising and falling of its muffled notes. The guests were dancing.
+      Risler let his eyes rest for a moment on that phantasmagoria of the ball,
+      and fancied that he recognized Sidonie&rsquo;s shadow in a small room adjoining
+      the salon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was standing erect in her magnificent costume, in the attitude of a
+      pretty woman before her mirror. A shorter shadow behind her, Madame Dobson
+      doubtless, was repairing some accident to the costume, re-tieing the knot
+      of a ribbon tied about her neck, its long ends floating down to the
+      flounces of the train. It was all very indistinct, but the woman&rsquo;s
+      graceful figure was recognizable in those faintly traced outlines, and
+      Risler tarried long admiring her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The contrast on the first floor was most striking. There was no light
+      visible, with the exception of a little lamp shining through the lilac
+      hangings of the bedroom. Risler noticed that circumstance, and as the
+      little girl had been ailing a few days before, he felt anxious about her,
+      remembering Madame Georges&rsquo;s strange agitation when she passed him so
+      hurriedly in the afternoon; and he retraced his steps as far as Pere
+      Achille&rsquo;s lodge to inquire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lodge was full. Coachmen were warming themselves around the stove,
+      chatting and laughing amid the smoke from their pipes. When Risler
+      appeared there was profound silence, a cunning, inquisitive, significant
+      silence. They had evidently been speaking of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the Fromont child still sick?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not the child, Monsieur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Georges sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he was taken when he came home to-night. I went right off to get the
+      doctor. He said that it wouldn&rsquo;t amount to anything&mdash;that all
+      Monsieur needed was rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Risler closed the door Pere Achille added, under his breath, with the
+      half-fearful, half-audacious insolence of an inferior, who would like to
+      be listened to and yet not distinctly heard:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! &lsquo;dame&rsquo;, they&rsquo;re not making such a show on the first floor as they are
+      on the second.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This is what had happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fromont jeune, on returning home during the evening, had found his wife
+      with such a changed, heartbroken face, that he at once divined a
+      catastrophe. But he had become so accustomed in the past two years to sin
+      with impunity that it did not for one moment occur to him that his wife
+      could have been informed of his conduct. Claire, for her part, to avoid
+      humiliating him, was generous enough to speak only of Savigny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandpapa refused,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The miserable man turned frightfully pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am lost&mdash;I am lost!&rdquo; he muttered two or three times in the wild
+      accents of fever; and his sleepless nights, a last terrible scene which he
+      had had with Sidonie, trying to induce her not to give this party on the
+      eve of his downfall, M. Gardinois&rsquo; refusal, all these maddening things
+      which followed so closely on one another&rsquo;s heels and had agitated him
+      terribly, culminated in a genuine nervous attack. Claire took pity on him,
+      put him to bed, and established herself by his side; but her voice had
+      lost that affectionate intonation which soothes and persuades. There was
+      in her gestures, in the way in which she arranged the pillow under the
+      patient&rsquo;s head and prepared a quieting draught, a strange indifference,
+      listlessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have ruined you!&rdquo; Georges said from time to time, as if to rouse
+      her from that apathy which made him uncomfortable. She replied with a
+      proud, disdainful gesture. Ah! if he had done only that to her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, however, his nerves became calmer, the fever subsided, and he
+      fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She remained to attend to his wants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is my duty,&rdquo; she said to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her duty. She had reached that point with the man whom she had adored so
+      blindly, with the hope of a long and happy life together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the ball in Sidonie&rsquo;s apartments began to become very
+      animated. The ceiling trembled rhythmically, for Madame had had all the
+      carpets removed from her salons for the greater comfort of the dancers.
+      Sometimes, too, the sound of voices reached Claire&rsquo;s ears in waves, and
+      frequent tumultuous applause, from which one could divine the great number
+      of the guests, the crowded condition of the rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire was lost in thought. She did not waste time in regrets, in
+      fruitless lamentations. She knew that life was inflexible and that all the
+      arguments in the world will not arrest the cruel logic of its inevitable
+      progress. She did not ask herself how that man had succeeded in deceiving
+      her so long&mdash;how he could have sacrificed the honor and happiness of
+      his family for a mere caprice. That was the fact, and all her reflections
+      could not wipe it out, could not repair the irreparable. The subject that
+      engrossed her thoughts was the future. A new existence was unfolding
+      before her eyes, dark, cruel, full of privation and toil; and, strangely
+      enough, the prospect of ruin, instead of terrifying her, restored all her
+      courage. The idea of the change of abode made necessary by the economy
+      they would be obliged to practise, of work made compulsory for Georges and
+      perhaps for herself, infused an indefinable energy into the distressing
+      calmness of her despair. What a heavy burden of souls she would have with
+      her three children: her mother, her child, and her husband! The feeling of
+      responsibility prevented her giving way too much to her misfortune, to the
+      wreck of her love; and in proportion as she forgot herself in the thought
+      of the weak creatures she had to protect she realized more fully the
+      meaning of the word &ldquo;sacrifice,&rdquo; so vague on careless lips, so serious
+      when it becomes a rule of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such were the poor woman&rsquo;s thoughts during that sad vigil, a vigil of arms
+      and tears, while she was preparing her forces for the great battle. Such
+      was the scene lighted by the modest little lamp which Risler had seen from
+      below, like a star fallen from the radiant chandeliers of the ballroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Reassured by Pere Achille&rsquo;s reply, the honest fellow thought of going up
+      to his bedroom, avoiding the festivities and the guests, for whom he cared
+      little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On such occasions he used a small servants&rsquo; staircase communicating with
+      the counting-room. So he walked through the many-windowed workshops, which
+      the moon, reflected by the snow, made as light as at noonday. He breathed
+      the atmosphere of the day of toil, a hot, stifling atmosphere, heavy with
+      the odor of boiled talc and varnish. The papers spread out on the dryers
+      formed long, rustling paths. On all sides tools were lying about, and
+      blouses hanging here and there ready for the morrow. Risler never walked
+      through the shops without a feeling of pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he spied a light in Planus&rsquo;s office, at the end of that long line
+      of deserted rooms. The old cashier was still at work, at one o&rsquo;clock in
+      the morning! That was really most extraordinary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler&rsquo;s first impulse was to retrace his steps. In fact, since his
+      unaccountable falling-out with Sigismond, since the cashier had adopted
+      that attitude of cold silence toward him, he had avoided meeting him. His
+      wounded friendship had always led him to shun an explanation; he had a
+      sort of pride in not asking Planus why he bore him ill-will. But, on that
+      evening, Risler felt so strongly the need of cordial sympathy, of pouring
+      out his heart to some one, and then it was such an excellent opportunity
+      for a tete-a-tete with his former friend, that he did not try to avoid him
+      but boldly entered the counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier was sitting there, motionless, among heaps of papers and great
+      books, which he had been turning over, some of which had fallen to the
+      floor. At the sound of his employer&rsquo;s footsteps he did not even lift his
+      eyes. He had recognized Risler&rsquo;s step. The latter, somewhat abashed,
+      hesitated a moment; then, impelled by one of those secret springs which we
+      have within us and which guide us, despite ourselves, in the path of our
+      destiny, he walked straight to the cashier&rsquo;s grating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sigismond,&rdquo; he said in a grave voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man raised his head and displayed a shrunken face down which two
+      great tears were rolling, the first perhaps that that animate column of
+      figures had ever shed in his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are weeping, old man? What troubles you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And honest Risler, deeply touched, held out his hand to his friend, who
+      hastily withdrew his. That movement of repulsion was so instinctive, so
+      brutal, that all Risler&rsquo;s emotion changed to indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew himself up with stern dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I offer you my hand, Sigismond Planus!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I refuse to take it,&rdquo; said Planus, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a terrible pause, during which they heard the muffled music of
+      the orchestra upstairs and the noise of the ball, the dull, wearing noise
+      of floors shaken by the rhythmic movement of the dance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you refuse to take my hand?&rdquo; demanded Risler simply, while the
+      grating upon which he leaned trembled with a metallic quiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond was facing him, with both hands on his desk, as if to emphasize
+      and drive home what he was about to say in reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Because you have ruined the house; because in a few hours a
+      messenger from the Bank will come and stand where you are, to collect a
+      hundred thousand francs; and because, thanks to you, I haven&rsquo;t a sou in
+      the cash-box&mdash;that&rsquo;s the reason why!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler was stupefied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have ruined the house&mdash;I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse than that, Monsieur. You have allowed it to be ruined by your wife,
+      and you have arranged with her to benefit by our ruin and your dishonor.
+      Oh! I can see your game well enough. The money your wife has wormed out of
+      the wretched Fromont, the house at Asnieres, the diamonds and all the rest
+      is invested in her name, of course, out of reach of disaster; and of
+      course you can retire from business now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh!&rdquo; exclaimed Risler in a faint voice, a restrained voice
+      rather, that was insufficient for the multitude of thoughts it strove to
+      express; and as he stammered helplessly he drew the grating toward him
+      with such force that he broke off a piece of it. Then he staggered, fell
+      to the floor, and lay there motionless, speechless, retaining only, in
+      what little life was still left in him, the firm determination not to die
+      until he had justified himself. That determination must have been very
+      powerful; for while his temples throbbed madly, hammered by the blood that
+      turned his face purple, while his ears were ringing and his glazed eyes
+      seemed already turned toward the terrible unknown, the unhappy man
+      muttered to himself in a thick voice, like the voice of a shipwrecked man
+      speaking with his mouth full of water in a howling gale: &ldquo;I must live! I
+      must live!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he recovered consciousness, he was sitting on the cushioned bench on
+      which the workmen sat huddled together on pay-day, his cloak on the floor,
+      his cravat untied, his shirt open at the neck, cut by Sigismond&rsquo;s knife.
+      Luckily for him, he had cut his hands when he tore the grating apart; the
+      blood had flowed freely, and that accident was enough to avert an attack
+      of apoplexy. On opening his eyes, he saw on either side old Sigismond and
+      Madame Georges, whom the cashier had summoned in his distress. As soon as
+      Risler could speak, he said to her in a choking voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this true, Madame Chorche&mdash;is this true that he just told me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not the courage to deceive him, so she turned her eyes away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So,&rdquo; continued the poor fellow, &ldquo;so the house is ruined, and I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Risler, my friend. No, not you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My wife, was it not? Oh! it is horrible! This is how I have paid my debt
+      of gratitude to you. But you, Madame Chorche, you could not have believed
+      that I was a party to this infamy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my friend, no; be calm. I know that you are the most honorable man on
+      earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her a moment, with trembling lips and clasped hands, for
+      there was something child-like in all the manifestations of that artless
+      nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Madame Chorche, Madame Chorche,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;When I think that I am
+      the one who has ruined you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the terrible blow which overwhelmed him, and by which his heart,
+      overflowing with love for Sidonie, was most deeply wounded, he refused to
+      see anything but the financial disaster to the house of Fromont, caused by
+      his blind devotion to his wife. Suddenly he stood erect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let us not give way to emotion. We must see about
+      settling our accounts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Fromont was frightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, Risler&mdash;where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thought that he was going up to Georges&rsquo; room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler understood her and smiled in superb disdain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never fear, Madame. Monsieur Georges can sleep in peace. I have something
+      more urgent to do than avenge my honor as a husband. Wait for me here. I
+      will come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He darted toward the narrow staircase; and Claire, relying upon his word,
+      remained with Planus during one of those supreme moments of uncertainty
+      which seem interminable because of all the conjectures with which they are
+      thronged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments later the sound of hurried steps, the rustling of silk
+      filled the dark and narrow staircase. Sidonie appeared first, in ball
+      costume, gorgeously arrayed and so pale that the jewels that glistened
+      everywhere on her dead-white flesh seemed more alive than she, as if they
+      were scattered over the cold marble of a statue. The breathlessness due to
+      dancing, the trembling of intense excitement and her rapid descent, caused
+      her to shake from head to foot, and her floating ribbons, her ruffles, her
+      flowers, her rich and fashionable attire drooped tragically about her.
+      Risler followed her, laden with jewel-cases, caskets, and papers. Upon
+      reaching his apartments he had pounced upon his wife&rsquo;s desk, seized
+      everything valuable that it contained, jewels, certificates, title-deeds
+      of the house at Asnieres; then, standing in the doorway, he had shouted
+      into the ballroom:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame Risler!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had run quickly to him, and that brief scene had in no wise disturbed
+      the guests, then at the height of the evening&rsquo;s enjoyment. When she saw
+      her husband standing in front of the desk, the drawers broken open and
+      overturned on the carpet with the multitude of trifles they contained, she
+      realized that something terrible was taking place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come at once,&rdquo; said Risler; &ldquo;I know all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her by
+      the arm with such force that Frantz&rsquo;s words came to her mind: &ldquo;It will
+      kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first.&rdquo; As she was afraid of death,
+      she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had not even
+      the strength to lie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we going?&rdquo; she asked, in a low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler did not answer. She had only time to throw over her shoulders, with
+      the care for herself that never failed her, a light tulle veil, and he
+      dragged her, pushed her, rather, down the stairs leading to the
+      counting-room, which he descended at the same time, his steps close upon
+      hers, fearing that his prey would escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; he said, as he entered the room. &ldquo;We have stolen, we make
+      restitution. Look, Planus, you can raise money with all this stuff.&rdquo; And
+      he placed on the cashier&rsquo;s desk all the fashionable plunder with which his
+      arms were filled&mdash;feminine trinkets, trivial aids to coquetry,
+      stamped papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to his wife:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take off your jewels! Come, be quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She complied slowly, opened reluctantly the clasps of bracelets and
+      buckles, and above all the superb fastening of her diamond necklace on
+      which the initial of her name-a gleaming S-resembled a sleeping serpent,
+      imprisoned in a circle of gold. Risler, thinking that she was too slow,
+      ruthlessly broke, the fragile fastenings. Luxury shrieked beneath his
+      fingers, as if it were being whipped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now it is my turn,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I too must give up everything. Here is my
+      portfolio. What else have I? What else have I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He searched his pockets feverishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my watch. With the chain it will bring four-thousand francs. My
+      rings, my wedding-ring. Everything goes into the cash-box, everything. We
+      have a hundred thousand francs to pay this morning. As soon as it is
+      daylight we must go to work, sell out and pay our debts. I know some one
+      who wants the house at Asnieres. That can be settled at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He alone spoke and acted. Sigismond and Madame Georges watched him without
+      speaking. As for Sidonie, she seemed unconscious, lifeless. The cold air
+      blowing from the garden through the little door, which was opened at the
+      time of Risler&rsquo;s swoon, made her shiver, and she mechanically drew the
+      folds of her scarf around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on vacancy, her
+      thoughts wandering. Did she not hear the violins of her ball, which
+      reached their ears in the intervals of silence, like bursts of savage
+      irony, with the heavy thud of the dancers shaking the floors? An iron
+      hand, falling upon her, aroused her abruptly from her torpor. Risler had
+      taken her by the arm, and, leading her before his partner&rsquo;s wife, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down on your knees!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Fromont drew back, remonstrating:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Risler, not that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be,&rdquo; said the implacable Risler. &ldquo;Restitution, reparation! Down
+      on your knees then, wretched woman!&rdquo; And with irresistible force he threw
+      Sidonie at Claire&rsquo;s feet; then, still holding her arm;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will repeat after me, word for word, what I say: Madame&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie, half dead with fear, repeated faintly: &ldquo;Madame&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A whole lifetime of humility and submission&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A whole lifetime of humil&mdash;No, I can not!&rdquo; she exclaimed, springing
+      to her feet with the agility of a deer; and, wresting herself from
+      Risler&rsquo;s grasp, through that open door which had tempted her from the
+      beginning of this horrible scene, luring her out into the darkness of the
+      night to the liberty obtainable by flight, she rushed from the house,
+      braving the falling snow and the wind that stung her bare shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop her, stop her!&mdash;Risler, Planus, I implore you! In pity&rsquo;s name
+      do not let her go in this way,&rdquo; cried Claire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Planus stepped toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler detained him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forbid you to stir! I ask your pardon, Madame, but we have more
+      important matters than this to consider. Madame Risler concerns us no
+      longer. We have to save the honor of the house of Fromont, which alone is
+      at stake, which alone fills my thoughts at this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond put out his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a noble man, Risler. Forgive me for having suspected you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler pretended not to hear him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hundred thousand francs to pay, you say? How much is there left in the
+      strong-box?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat bravely down behind the gratin, looking over the books of account,
+      the certificates of stock in the funds, opening the jewel-cases,
+      estimating with Planus, whose father had been a jeweller, the value of all
+      those diamonds, which he had once so admired on his wife, having no
+      suspicion of their real value.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Claire, trembling from head to foot, looked out through the
+      window at the little garden, white with snow, where Sidonie&rsquo;s footsteps
+      were already effaced by the fast-falling flakes, as if to bear witness
+      that that precipitate departure was without hope of return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Up-stairs they were still dancing. The mistress of the house was supposed
+      to be busy with the preparations for supper, while she was flying,
+      bare-headed, forcing back sobs and shrieks of rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Where was she going? She had started off like a mad woman, running across
+      the garden and the courtyard of the factory, and under the dark arches,
+      where the cruel, freezing wind blew in eddying circles. Pere Achille did
+      not recognize her; he had seen so many shadows wrapped in white pass his
+      lodge that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young woman&rsquo;s first thought was to join the tenor Cazaboni, whom at
+      the last she had not dared to invite to her ball; but he lived at
+      Montmartre, and that was very far away for her to go, in that garb; and
+      then, would he be at home? Her parents would take her in, doubtless; but
+      she could already hear Madame Chebe&rsquo;s lamentations and the little man&rsquo;s
+      sermon under three heads. Thereupon she thought of Delobelle, her old
+      Delobelle. In the downfall of all her splendors she remembered the man who
+      had first initiated her into fashionable life, who had given her lessons
+      in dancing and deportment when she was a little girl, laughed at her
+      pretty ways, and taught her to look upon herself as beautiful before any
+      one had ever told her that she was so. Something told her that that fallen
+      star would take her part against all others. She entered one of the
+      carriages standing at the gate and ordered the driver to take her to the
+      actor&rsquo;s lodgings on the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time past Mamma Delobelle had been making straw hats for export-a
+      dismal trade if ever there was one, which brought in barely two francs
+      fifty for twelve hours&rsquo; work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Delobelle continued to grow fat in the same degree that his &ldquo;sainted
+      wife&rdquo; grew thin. At the very moment when some one knocked hurriedly at his
+      door he had just discovered a fragrant soup &lsquo;au fromage&rsquo;, which had been
+      kept hot in the ashes on the hearth. The actor, who had been witnessing at
+      Beaumarchais some dark-browed melodrama drenched with gore even to the
+      illustrated headlines of its poster, was startled by that knock at such an
+      advanced hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo; he asked in some alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is I, Sidonie. Open the door quickly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered the room, shivering all over, and, throwing aside her wrap,
+      went close to the stove where the fire was almost extinct. She began to
+      talk at once, to pour out the wrath that had been stifling her for an
+      hour, and while she was describing the scene in the factory, lowering her
+      voice because of Madame Delobelle, who was asleep close by, the
+      magnificence of her costume in that poor, bare, fifth floor, the dazzling
+      whiteness of her disordered finery amid the heaps of coarse hats and the
+      wisps of straw strewn about the room, all combined to produce the effect
+      of a veritable drama, of one of those terrible upheavals of life when
+      rank, feelings, fortunes are suddenly jumbled together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I never shall return home. It is all over. Free&mdash;I am free!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who could have betrayed you to your husband?&rdquo; asked the actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Frantz! I am sure it was Frantz. He wouldn&rsquo;t have believed it from
+      anybody else. Only last evening a letter came from Egypt. Oh! how he
+      treated me before that woman! To force me to kneel! But I&rsquo;ll be revenged.
+      Luckily I took something to revenge myself with before I came away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the smile of former days played about the corners of her pale lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old strolling player listened to it all with deep interest.
+      Notwithstanding his compassion for that poor devil of a Risler, and for
+      Sidonie herself, for that matter, who seemed to him, in theatrical
+      parlance, &ldquo;a beautiful culprit,&rdquo; he could not help viewing the affair from
+      a purely scenic standpoint, and finally cried out, carried away by his
+      hobby:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a first-class situation for a fifth act!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not bear him. Absorbed by some evil thought, which made her smile
+      in anticipation, she stretched out to the fire her dainty shoes, saturated
+      with snow, and her openwork stockings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what do you propose to do now?&rdquo; Delobelle asked after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay here till daylight and get a little rest. Then I will see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no bed to offer you, my poor girl. Mamma Delobelle has gone to
+      bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you worry about me, my dear Delobelle. I&rsquo;ll sleep in that armchair.
+      I won&rsquo;t be in your way, I tell you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor heaved a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, that armchair. It was our poor Zizi&rsquo;s. She sat up many a night
+      in it, when work was pressing. Ah, me! those who leave this world are much
+      the happiest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had always at hand such selfish, comforting maxims. He had no sooner
+      uttered that one than he discovered with dismay that his soup would soon
+      be stone-cold. Sidonie noticed his movement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you were just eating your supper, weren&rsquo;t you? Pray go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Dame&rsquo;! yes, what would you have? It&rsquo;s part of the trade, of the hard
+      existence we fellows have. For you see, my girl, I stand firm. I haven&rsquo;t
+      given up. I never will give up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What still remained of Desiree&rsquo;s soul in that wretched household in which
+      she had lived twenty years must have shuddered at that terrible
+      declaration. He never would give up!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter what people may say,&rdquo; continued Delobelle, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s the noblest
+      profession in the world. You are free; you depend upon nobody. Devoted to
+      the service of glory and the public! Ah! I know what I would do in your
+      place. As if you were born to live with all those bourgeois&mdash;the
+      devil! What you need is the artistic life, the fever of success, the
+      unexpected, intense emotion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke he took his seat, tucked his napkin in his neck, and helped
+      himself to a great plateful of soup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To say nothing of the fact that your triumphs as a pretty woman would in
+      no wise interfere with your triumph as an actress. By the way, do you
+      know, you must take a few lessons in elocution. With your voice, your
+      intelligence, your charms, you would have a magnificent prospect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he added abruptly, as if to initiate her into the joys of the
+      dramatic art:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it occurs to me that perhaps you have not supped! Excitement makes
+      one hungry; sit there, and take this soup. I am sure that you haven&rsquo;t
+      eaten soup &lsquo;au fromage&rsquo; for a long while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned the closet topsy-turvy to find her a spoon and a napkin; and she
+      took her seat opposite him, assisting him and laughing a little at the
+      difficulties attending her entertainment. She was less pale already, and
+      there was a pretty sparkle in her eyes, composed of the tears of a moment
+      before and the present gayety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The strolling actress! All her happiness in life was lost forever: honor,
+      family, wealth. She was driven from her house, stripped, dishonored. She
+      had undergone all possible humiliations and disasters. That did not
+      prevent her supping with a wonderful appetite and joyously holding her own
+      under Delobelle&rsquo;s jocose remarks concerning her vocation and her future
+      triumphs. She felt light-hearted and happy, fairly embarked for the land
+      of Bohemia, her true country. What more would happen to her? Of how many
+      ups and downs was her new, unforeseen, and whimsical existence to consist?
+      She thought about that as she fell asleep in Desiree&rsquo;s great easy-chair;
+      but she thought of her revenge, too&mdash;her cherished revenge which she
+      held in her hand, all ready for use, and so unerring, so fierce!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII. THE NEW EMPLOYEE OF THE HOUSE OF FROMONT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was broad daylight when Fromont Jeune awoke. All night long, between
+      the drama that was being enacted below him and the festivity in joyous
+      progress above, he slept with clenched fists, the deep sleep of complete
+      prostration like that of a condemned man on the eve of his execution or of
+      a defeated General on the night following his disaster; a sleep from which
+      one would wish never to awake, and in which, in the absence of all
+      sensation, one has a foretaste of death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bright light streaming through his curtains, made more dazzling by the
+      deep snow with which the garden and the surrounding roofs were covered,
+      recalled him to the consciousness of things as they were. He felt a shock
+      throughout his whole being, and, even before his mind began to work, that
+      vague impression of melancholy which misfortunes, momentarily forgotten,
+      leave in their place. All the familiar noises of the factory, the dull
+      throbbing of the machinery, were in full activity. So the world still
+      existed! and by slow degrees the idea of his own responsibility awoke in
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day is the day,&rdquo; he said to himself, with an involuntary movement
+      toward the dark side of the room, as if he longed to bury himself anew in
+      his long sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the
+      Angelus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noon! Already! How I have slept!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt some little remorse and a great sense of relief at the thought
+      that the drama of settling-day had passed off without him. What had they
+      done downstairs? Why did they not call him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose, drew the curtains aside, and saw Risler and Sigismond talking
+      together in the garden. And it was so long since they had spoken to each
+      other! What in heaven&rsquo;s name had happened? When he was ready to go down he
+      found Claire at the door of his room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not go out,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay here. I will explain it to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what&rsquo;s the matter? Did any one come from the Bank?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, they came&mdash;the notes are paid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler obtained the money. He has been rushing about with Planus since
+      early morning. It seems that his wife had superb jewels. The diamond
+      necklace alone brought twenty thousand francs. He has also sold their
+      house at Asnieres with all it contained; but as time was required to
+      record the deed, Planus and his sister advanced the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned away from him as she spoke. He, on his side, hung his head to
+      avoid her glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler is an honorable man,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;and when he learned from
+      whom his wife received all her magnificent things&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; exclaimed Georges in dismay. &ldquo;He knows?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All,&rdquo; Claire replied, lowering her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then&mdash;you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I knew it all before Risler. Remember, that when I came home last
+      night, I told you I had heard very cruel things down at Savigny, and that
+      I would have given ten years of my life not to have taken that journey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Claire!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Moved by a mighty outburst of affection, he stepped toward his wife; but
+      her face was so cold, so sad, so resolute, her despair was so plainly
+      written in the stern indifference of her whole bearing, that he dared not
+      take her in his arms as he longed to do, but simply murmured under his
+      breath:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive!&mdash;forgive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must think me strangely calm,&rdquo; said the brave woman; &ldquo;but I shed all
+      my tears yesterday. You may have thought that I was weeping over our ruin;
+      you were mistaken. While one is young and strong as we are, such cowardly
+      conduct is not permissible. We are armed against want and can fight it
+      face to face. No, I was weeping for our departed happiness, for you, for
+      the madness that led you to throw away your only, your true friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was lovely, lovelier than Sidonie had ever been, as she spoke thus,
+      enveloped by a pure light which seemed to fall upon her from a great
+      height, like the radiance of a fathomless, cloudless sky; whereas the
+      other&rsquo;s irregular features had always seemed to owe their brilliancy,
+      their saucy, insolent charm to the false glamour of the footlights in some
+      cheap theatre. The touch of statuesque immobility formerly noticeable in
+      Claire&rsquo;s face was vivified by anxiety, by doubt, by all the torture of
+      passion; and like those gold ingots which have their full value only when
+      the Mint has placed its stamp upon them, those beautiful features stamped
+      with the effigy of sorrow had acquired since the preceding day an
+      ineffaceable expression which perfected their beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges gazed at her in admiration. She seemed to him more alive, more
+      womanly, and worthy of adoration because of their separation and all the
+      obstacles that he now knew to stand between them. Remorse, despair, shame
+      entered his heart simultaneously with this new love, and he would have
+      fallen on his knees before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, do not kneel,&rdquo; said Claire; &ldquo;if you knew of what you remind me,
+      if you knew what a lying face, distorted with hatred, I saw at my feet
+      last night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but I am not lying,&rdquo; replied Georges with a shudder. &ldquo;Claire, I
+      implore you, in the name of our child&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment some one knocked at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rise, I beg of you! You see that life has claims upon us,&rdquo; she said in a
+      low voice and with a bitter smile; then she asked what was wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Risler had sent for Monsieur to come down to the office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;say that he will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges approached the door, but she stopped him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, let me go. He must not see you yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you to stay here. You have no idea of the indignation and wrath of
+      that poor man, whom you have deceived. If you had seen him last night,
+      crushing his wife&rsquo;s wrists!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she said it she looked him in the face with a curiosity most cruel to
+      herself; but Georges did not wince, and replied simply:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My life belongs to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It belongs to me, too; and I do not wish you to go down. There has been
+      scandal enough in my father&rsquo;s house. Remember that the whole factory is
+      aware of what is going on. Every one is watching us, spying upon us. It
+      required all the authority of the foremen to keep the men busy to-day, to
+      compel them to keep their inquisitive looks on their work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I shall seem to be hiding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And suppose it were so! That is just like a man. They do not recoil from
+      the worst crimes: betraying a wife, betraying a friend; but the thought
+      that they may be accused of being afraid touches them more keenly than
+      anything. Moreover, listen to what I say. Sidonie has gone; she has gone
+      forever; and if you leave this house I shall think that you have gone to
+      join her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, I will stay,&rdquo; said Georges. &ldquo;I will do whatever you wish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire descended into Planus&rsquo; office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To see Risler striding to and fro, with his hands behind his back, as calm
+      as usual, no one would ever have suspected all that had taken place in his
+      life since the night before. As for Sigismond, he was fairly beaming, for
+      he saw nothing in it all beyond the fact that the notes had been paid at
+      maturity and that the honor of the firm was safe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Madame Fromont appeared, Risler smiled sadly and shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought that you would prefer to come down in his place; but you are
+      not the one with whom I have to deal. It is absolutely necessary that I
+      should see Georges and talk with him. We have paid the notes that fell due
+      this morning; the crisis has passed; but we must come to an understanding
+      about many matters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Madame Chorche, there&rsquo;s not a minute to lose. Oh! I suspect that you
+      fear I may give way to an outbreak of anger. Have no fear&mdash;let him
+      have no fear. You know what I told you, that the honor of the house of
+      Fromont is to be assured before my own. I have endangered it by my fault.
+      First of all, I must repair the evil I have done or allowed to be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I
+      know it well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Madame, if you could see him! he&rsquo;s a saint,&rdquo; said poor Sigismond,
+      who, not daring to speak to his friend, was determined at all events to
+      express his remorse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But aren&rsquo;t you afraid?&rdquo; continued Claire. &ldquo;Human endurance has its
+      limits. It may be that in presence of the man who has injured you so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dear creature, who speak of nothing but the injury done to me! Do you
+      not know that I hate him as bitterly for his falseness to you? But nothing
+      of that sort has any existence for me at this moment. You see in me simply
+      a business man who wishes to have an understanding with his partner for
+      the good of the firm. So let him come down without the slightest fear, and
+      if you dread any outbreak on my part, stay here with us. I shall need only
+      to look at my old master&rsquo;s daughter to be reminded of my promise and my
+      duty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I trust you, my friend,&rdquo; said Claire; and she went up to bring her
+      husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first minute of the interview was terrible. Georges was deeply moved,
+      humiliated, pale as death. He would have preferred a hundred times over to
+      be looking into the barrel of that man&rsquo;s pistol at twenty paces, awaiting
+      his fire, instead of appearing before him as an unpunished culprit and
+      being compelled to confine his feelings within the commonplace limits of a
+      business conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler pretended not to look at him, and continued to pace the floor as he
+      talked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our house is passing through a terrible crisis. We have averted the
+      disaster for to-day; but this is not the last of our obligations. That
+      cursed invention has kept my mind away from the business for a long while.
+      Luckily, I am free now, and able to attend to it. But you must give your
+      attention to it as well. The workmen and clerks have followed the example
+      of their employers to some extent. Indeed, they have become extremely
+      negligent and indifferent. This morning, for the first time in a year,
+      they began work at the proper time. I expect that you will make it your
+      business to change all that. As for me, I shall work at my drawings again.
+      Our patterns are old-fashioned. We must have new ones for the new
+      machines. I have great confidence in our presses. The experiments have
+      succeeded beyond my hopes. We unquestionably have in them a means of
+      building up our business. I didn&rsquo;t tell you sooner because I wished to
+      surprise you; but we have no more surprises for each other, have we,
+      Georges?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was such a stinging note of irony in his voice that Claire
+      shuddered, fearing an outbreak; but he continued, in his natural tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I think I can promise that in six months the Risler Press will begin
+      to show magnificent results. But those six months will be very hard to
+      live through. We must limit ourselves, cut down our expenses, save in
+      every way that we can. We have five draughtsmen now; hereafter we will
+      have but two. I will undertake to make the absence of the others of no
+      consequence by working at night myself. Furthermore, beginning with this
+      month, I abandon my interest in the firm. I will take my salary as foreman
+      as I took it before, and nothing more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fromont attempted to speak, but a gesture from his wife restrained him,
+      and Risler continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am no longer your partner, Georges. I am once more the clerk that I
+      never should have ceased to be. From this day our partnership articles are
+      cancelled. I insist upon it, you understand; I insist upon it. We will
+      remain in that relation to each other until the house is out of difficulty
+      and I can&mdash;But what I shall do then concerns me alone. This is what I
+      wanted to say to you, Georges. You must give your attention to the factory
+      diligently; you must show yourself, make it felt that you are master now,
+      and I believe there will turn out to be, among all our misfortunes, some
+      that can be retrieved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the silence that followed, they heard the sound of wheels in the
+      garden, and two great furniture vans stopped at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Risler, &ldquo;but I must leave you a moment. Those
+      are the vans from the public auction rooms; they have come to take away my
+      furniture from upstairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! you are going to sell your furniture too?&rdquo; asked Madame Fromont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly&mdash;to the last piece. I am simply giving it back to the
+      firm. It belongs to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is impossible,&rdquo; said Georges. &ldquo;I can not allow that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler turned upon him indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that? What is it that you can&rsquo;t allow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire checked him with an imploring gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True&mdash;true!&rdquo; he muttered; and he hurried from the room to escape the
+      sudden temptation to give vent to all that was in his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The second floor was deserted. The servants, who had been paid and
+      dismissed in the morning, had abandoned the apartments to the disorder of
+      the day following a ball; and they wore the aspect peculiar to places
+      where a drama has been enacted, and which are left in suspense, as it
+      were, between the events that have happened and those that are still to
+      happen. The open doors, the rugs lying in heaps in the corners, the
+      salvers laden with glasses, the preparations for the supper, the table
+      still set and untouched, the dust from the dancing on all the furniture,
+      its odor mingled with the fumes of punch, of withered flowers, of
+      rice-powder&mdash;all these details attracted Risler&rsquo;s notice as he
+      entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the disordered salon the piano was open, the bacchanal from &lsquo;Orphee aux
+      Enfers&rsquo; on the music-shelf, and the gaudy hangings surrounding that scene
+      of desolation, the chairs overturned, as if in fear, reminded one of the
+      saloon of a wrecked packet-boat, of one of those ghostly nights of
+      watching when one is suddenly informed, in the midst of a fete at sea,
+      that the ship has sprung a leak, that she is taking in water in every
+      part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The men began to remove the furniture. Risler watched them at work with an
+      indifferent air, as if he were in a stranger&rsquo;s house. That magnificence
+      which had once made him so happy and proud inspired in him now an
+      insurmountable disgust. But, when he entered his wife&rsquo;s bedroom, he was
+      conscious of a vague emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a large room, hung with blue satin under white lace. A veritable
+      cocotte&rsquo;s nest. There were torn and rumpled tulle ruffles lying about,
+      bows, and artificial flowers. The wax candles around the mirror had burned
+      down to the end and cracked the candlesticks; and the bed, with its lace
+      flounces and valances, its great curtains raised and drawn back, untouched
+      in the general confusion, seemed like the bed of a corpse, a state bed on
+      which no one would ever sleep again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler&rsquo;s first feeling upon entering the room was one of mad indignation,
+      a longing to fall upon the things before him, to tear and rend and shatter
+      everything. Nothing, you see, resembles a woman so much as her bedroom.
+      Even when she is absent, her image still smiles in the mirrors that have
+      reflected it. A little something of her, of her favorite perfume, remains
+      in everything she has touched. Her attitudes are reproduced in the
+      cushions of her couch, and one can follow her goings and comings between
+      the mirror and the toilette table in the pattern of the carpet. The one
+      thing above all others in that room that recalled Sidonie was an &lsquo;etagere&rsquo; 
+      covered with childish toys, petty, trivial knickknacks, microscopic fans,
+      dolls&rsquo; tea-sets, gilded shoes, little shepherds and shepherdesses facing
+      one another, exchanging cold, gleaming, porcelain glances. That &lsquo;etagere&rsquo; 
+      was Sidonie&rsquo;s very soul, and her thoughts, always commonplace, petty,
+      vain, and empty, resembled those gewgaws. Yes, in very truth, if Risler,
+      while he held her in his grasp last night, had in his frenzy broken that
+      fragile little head, a whole world of &lsquo;etagere&rsquo; ornaments would have come
+      from it in place of a brain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor man was thinking sadly of all these things amid the ringing of
+      hammers and the heavy footsteps of the furniture-movers, when he heard an
+      interloping, authoritative step behind him, and Monsieur Chebe appeared,
+      little Monsieur Chebe, flushed and breathless, with flames darting from
+      his eyes. He assumed, as always, a very high tone with his son-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does this mean? What is this I hear? Ah! so you&rsquo;re moving, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe&mdash;I am selling out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are selling out? What are you selling, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am selling everything,&rdquo; said Risler in a hollow voice, without even
+      looking at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, son-in-law, be reasonable. God knows I don&rsquo;t say that
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s conduct&mdash;But, for my part, I know nothing about it. I never
+      wanted to know anything. Only I must remind you of your dignity. People
+      wash their dirty linen in private, deuce take it! They don&rsquo;t make
+      spectacles of themselves as you&rsquo;ve been doing ever since morning. Just see
+      everybody at the workshop windows; and on the porch, too! Why, you&rsquo;re the
+      talk of the quarter, my dear fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better. The dishonor was public, the reparation must be
+      public, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This apparent coolness, this indifference to all his observations,
+      exasperated Monsieur Chebe. He suddenly changed his tactics, and adopted,
+      in addressing his son-in-law, the serious, peremptory tone which one uses
+      with children or lunatics.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I say that you haven&rsquo;t any right to take anything away from here. I
+      remonstrate formally, with all my strength as a man, with all my authority
+      as a father. Do you suppose I am going to let you drive my child into the
+      street. No, indeed! Oh! no, indeed! Enough of such nonsense as that!
+      Nothing more shall go out of these rooms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Monsieur Chebe, having closed the door, planted himself in front of it
+      with a heroic gesture. Deuce take it! his own interest was at stake in the
+      matter. The fact was that when his child was once in the gutter he ran
+      great risk of not having a feather bed to sleep on himself. He was superb
+      in that attitude of an indignant father, but he did not keep it long. Two
+      hands, two vises, seized his wrists, and he found himself in the middle of
+      the room, leaving the doorway clear for the workmen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chebe, my boy, just listen,&rdquo; said Risler, leaning over him. &ldquo;I am at the
+      end of my forbearance. Since this morning I have been making superhuman
+      efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now to make my
+      anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls! I am quite
+      capable of killing some one. Come! Be off at once!&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was such an intonation in his son-in-law&rsquo;s voice, and the way that
+      son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe was
+      fully convinced. He even stammered an apology. Certainly Risler had good
+      reason for acting as he had. All honorable people would be on his side.
+      And he backed toward the door as he spoke. When he reached it, he inquired
+      timidly if Madame Chebe&rsquo;s little allowance would be continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was Risler&rsquo;s reply, &ldquo;but never go beyond it, for my position here
+      is not what it was. I am no longer a partner in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
+      expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
+      happened to him&mdash;exactly like that of the Duc d&rsquo;Orleans, you know&mdash;was
+      not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
+      observation. Surely some one had changed his son-in-law. Was this really
+      Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word and talked
+      of nothing less than killing people?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
+      stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them for
+      the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus&rsquo;s office to hand
+      it to Madame Georges.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can let the apartment,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it will be so much added to the
+      income of the factory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you, my friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I don&rsquo;t need much. An iron bed up under the eaves. That&rsquo;s all a clerk
+      needs. For, I repeat, I am nothing but a clerk from this time on. A useful
+      clerk, by the way, faithful and courageous, of whom you will have no
+      occasion to complain, I promise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges, who was going over the books with Planus, was so affected at
+      hearing the poor fellow talk in that strain that he left his seat
+      precipitately. He was suffocated by his sobs. Claire, too, was deeply
+      moved; she went to the new clerk of the house of Fromont and said to him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, I thank you in my father&rsquo;s name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Pere Achille appeared with the mail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler took the pile of letters, opened them tranquilly one by one, and
+      passed them over to Sigismond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s an order for Lyon. Why wasn&rsquo;t it answered at Saint-Etienne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He plunged with all his energy into these details, and he brought to them
+      a keen intelligence, due to the constant straining of the mind toward
+      peace and forgetfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, among those huge envelopes, stamped with the names of business
+      houses, the paper of which and the manner of folding suggested the office
+      and hasty despatch, he discovered one smaller one, carefully sealed, and
+      hidden so cunningly between the others that at first he did not notice it.
+      He recognized instantly that long, fine, firm writing,&mdash;To Monsieur
+      Risler&mdash;Personal. It was Sidonie&rsquo;s writing! When he saw it he felt
+      the same sensation he had felt in the bedroom upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All his love, all the hot wrath of the betrayed husband poured back into
+      his heart with the frantic force that makes assassins. What was she
+      writing to him? What lie had she invented now? He was about to open the
+      letter; then he paused. He realized that, if he should read that, it would
+      be all over with his courage; so he leaned over to the old cashier, and
+      said in an undertone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sigismond, old friend, will you do me a favor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think so!&rdquo; said the worthy man enthusiastically. He was so
+      delighted to hear his friend speak to him in the kindly voice of the old
+      days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a letter someone has written me which I don&rsquo;t wish to read now. I
+      am sure it would interfere with my thinking and living. You must keep it
+      for me, and this with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took from his pocket a little package carefully tied, and handed it to
+      him through the grating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all I have left of the past, all I have left of that woman. I
+      have determined not to see her, nor anything that reminds me of her, until
+      my task here is concluded, and concluded satisfactorily,&mdash;I need all
+      my intelligence, you understand. You will pay the Chebes&rsquo; allowance. If
+      she herself should ask for anything, you will give her what she needs. But
+      you will never mention my name. And you will keep this package safe for me
+      until I ask you for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond locked the letter and the package in a secret drawer of his desk
+      with other valuable papers. Risler returned at once to his correspondence;
+      but all the time he had before his eyes the slender English letters traced
+      by a little hand which he had so often and so ardently pressed to his
+      heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII. CAFE CHANTANT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      What a rare, what a conscientious clerk did that new employe of the house
+      of Fromont prove himself!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every day his lamp was the first to appear at, and the last to disappear
+      from, the windows of the factory. A little room had been arranged for him
+      under the eaves, exactly like the one he had formerly occupied with
+      Frantz, a veritable Trappist&rsquo;s cell, furnished with an iron cot and a
+      white wooden table, that stood under his brother&rsquo;s portrait. He led the
+      same busy, regular, quiet life as in those old days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He worked constantly, and had his meals brought from the same little
+      creamery. But, alas! the disappearance forever of youth and hope deprived
+      those memories of all their charm. Luckily he still had Frantz and Madame
+      &ldquo;Chorche,&rdquo; the only two human beings of whom he could think without a
+      feeling of sadness. Madame &ldquo;Chorche&rdquo; was always at hand, always trying to
+      minister to his comfort, to console him; and Frantz wrote to him often,
+      without mentioning Sidonie, by the way. Risler supposed that some one had
+      told Frantz of the disaster that had befallen him, and he too avoided all
+      allusion to the subject in his letters. &ldquo;Oh! when I can send for him to
+      come home!&rdquo; That was his dream, his sole ambition: to restore the factory
+      and recall his brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile the days succeeded one another, always the same to him in the
+      restless activity of business and the heartrending loneliness of his
+      grief. Every morning he walked through the workshops, where the profound
+      respect he inspired and his stern, silent countenance had reestablished
+      the orderly conditions that had been temporarily disturbed. In the
+      beginning there had been much gossip, and various explanations of
+      Sidonie&rsquo;s departure had been made. Some said that she had eloped with a
+      lover, others that Risler had turned her out. The one fact that upset all
+      conjectures was the attitude of the two partners toward each other,
+      apparently as unconstrained as before. Sometimes, however, when they were
+      talking together in the office, with no one by, Risler would suddenly
+      start convulsively, as a vision of the crime passed before his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he would feel a mad longing to spring upon the villain, seize him by
+      the throat, strangle him without mercy; but the thought of Madame
+      &ldquo;Chorche&rdquo; was always there to restrain him. Should he be less courageous,
+      less master of himself than that young wife? Neither Claire, nor Fromont,
+      nor anybody else suspected what was in his mind. They could barely detect
+      a severity, an inflexibility in his conduct, which were not habitual with
+      him. Risler awed the workmen now; and those of them upon whom his white
+      hair, blanched in one night, his drawn, prematurely old features did not
+      impose respect, quailed before his strange glance-a glance from eyes of a
+      bluish-black like the color of a gun-barrel. Whereas he had always been
+      very kind and affable with the workmen, he had become pitilessly severe in
+      regard to the slightest infraction of the rules. It seemed as if he were
+      taking vengeance upon himself for some indulgence in the past, blind,
+      culpable indulgence, for which he blamed himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Surely he was a marvellous employe, was this new officer in the house of
+      Fromont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thanks to him, the factory bell, notwithstanding the quavering of its old,
+      cracked voice, had very soon resumed its authority; and the man who guided
+      the whole establishment denied himself the slightest recreation. Sober as
+      an apprentice, he left three-fourths of his salary with Planus for the
+      Chebes&rsquo; allowance, but he never asked any questions about them. Punctually
+      on the last day of the month the little man appeared to collect his little
+      income, stiff and formal in his dealings with Sigismond, as became an
+      annuitant on duty. Madame Chebe had tried to obtain an interview with her
+      son-in-law, whom she pitied and loved; but the mere appearance of her
+      palm-leaf shawl on the steps put Sidonie&rsquo;s husband to flight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth, the courage with which he armed himself was more apparent than
+      real. The memory of his wife never left him. What had become of her? What
+      was she doing? He was almost angry with Planus for never mentioning her.
+      That letter, above all things, that letter which he had had the courage
+      not to open, disturbed him. He thought of it continually. Ah! had he
+      dared, how he would have liked to ask Sigismond for it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day the temptation was too strong. He was alone in the office. The old
+      cashier had gone out to luncheon, leaving the key in his drawer, a most
+      extraordinary thing. Risler could not resist. He opened the drawer, moved
+      the papers, and searched for his letter. It was not there. Sigismond must
+      have put it away even more carefully, perhaps with a foreboding of what
+      actually happened. In his heart Risler was not sorry for his
+      disappointment; for he well knew that, had he found the letter, it would
+      have been the end of the resigned and busy life which he imposed upon
+      himself with so much difficulty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the week it was all very well. Life was endurable, absorbed by the
+      innumerable duties of the factory, and so fatiguing that, when night came,
+      Risler fell on his bed like a lifeless mass. But Sunday was long and sad.
+      The silence of the deserted yards and workshops opened a far wider field
+      to his thoughts. He tried to busy himself, but he missed the encouragement
+      of the others&rsquo; work. He alone was busy in that great, empty factory whose
+      very breath was arrested. The locked doors, the closed blinds, the hoarse
+      voice of Pere Achille playing with his dog in the deserted courtyard, all
+      spoke of solitude. And the whole neighborhood also produced the same
+      effect. In the streets, which seemed wider because of their emptiness, and
+      where the passers-by were few and silent, the bells ringing for vespers
+      had a melancholy sound, and sometimes an echo of the din of Paris,
+      rumbling wheels, a belated hand-organ, the click of a toy-peddler&rsquo;s
+      clappers, broke the silence, as if to make it even more noticeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler would try to invent new combinations of flowers and leaves, and,
+      while he handled his pencil, his thoughts, not finding sufficient food
+      there, would escape him, would fly back to his past happiness, to his
+      hopeless misfortunes, would suffer martyrdom, and then, on returning,
+      would ask the poor somnambulist, still seated at his table: &ldquo;What have you
+      done in my absence?&rdquo; Alas! he had done nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the long, heartbreaking, cruel Sundays! Consider that, mingled with
+      all these perplexities in his mind, was the superstitious reverence of the
+      common people for holy days, for the twenty-four hours of rest, wherein
+      one recovers strength and courage. If he had gone out, the sight of a
+      workingman with his wife and child would have made him weep, but his
+      monastic seclusion gave him other forms of suffering, the despair of
+      recluses, their terrible outbreaks of rebellion when the god to whom they
+      have consecrated themselves does not respond to their sacrifices. Now,
+      Risler&rsquo;s god was work, and as he no longer found comfort or serenity
+      therein, he no longer believed in it, but cursed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Often in those hours of mental struggle the door of the draughting-room
+      would open gently and Claire Fromont would appear. The poor man&rsquo;s
+      loneliness throughout those long Sunday afternoons filled her with
+      compassion, and she would come with her little girl to keep him company,
+      knowing by experience how contagious is the sweet joyousness of children.
+      The little one, who could now walk alone, would slip from her mother&rsquo;s
+      arms to run to her friend. Risler would hear the little, hurrying steps.
+      He would feel the light breath behind him, and instantly he would be
+      conscious of a soothing, rejuvenating influence. She would throw her plump
+      little arms around his neck with affectionate warmth, with her artless,
+      causeless laugh, and a kiss from that little mouth which never had lied.
+      Claire Fromont, standing in the doorway, would smile as she looked at
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, my friend,&rdquo; she would say, &ldquo;you must come down into the garden a
+      while,&mdash;you work too hard. You will be ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Madame,&mdash;on the contrary, work is what saves me. It keeps me
+      from thinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after a long pause, she would continue:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler would shake his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forget? Is that possible? There are some things beyond one&rsquo;s strength. A
+      man may forgive, but he never forgets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child almost always succeeded in dragging him down to the garden. He
+      must play ball, or in the sand, with her; but her playfellow&rsquo;s awkwardness
+      and lack of enthusiasm soon impressed the little girl. Then she would
+      become very sedate, contenting herself with walking gravely between the
+      hedges of box, with her hand in her friend&rsquo;s. After a moment Risler would
+      entirely forget that she was there; but, although he did not realize it,
+      the warmth of that little hand in his had a magnetic, softening effect
+      upon his diseased mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A man may forgive, but he never forgets!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Claire herself knew something about it; for she had never forgotten,
+      notwithstanding her great courage and the conception she had formed of her
+      duty. To her, as to Risler; her surroundings were a constant reminder of
+      her sufferings. The objects amid which she lived pitilessly reopened the
+      wound that was ready to close. The staircase, the garden, the courtyard,
+      all those dumb witnesses of her husband&rsquo;s sin, assumed on certain days an
+      implacable expression. Even the careful precaution her husband took to
+      spare her painful reminders, the way in which he called attention to the
+      fact that he no longer went out in the evening, and took pains to tell her
+      where he had been during the day, served only to remind her the more
+      forcibly of his wrong-doing. Sometimes she longed to ask him to forbear,&mdash;to
+      say to him: &ldquo;Do not protest too much.&rdquo; Faith was shattered within her, and
+      the horrible agony of the priest who doubts, and seeks at the same time to
+      remain faithful to his vows, betrayed itself in her bitter smile, her
+      cold, uncomplaining gentleness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Georges was wofully unhappy. He loved his wife now. The nobility of her
+      character had conquered him. There was admiration in his love, and&mdash;why
+      not say it?&mdash;Claire&rsquo;s sorrow filled the place of the coquetry which
+      was contrary to her nature, the lack of which had always been a defect in
+      her husband&rsquo;s eyes. He was one of that strange type of men who love to
+      make conquests. Sidonie, capricious and cold as she was, responded to that
+      whim of his heart. After parting from her with a tender farewell, he found
+      her indifferent and forgetful the next day, and that continual need of
+      wooing her back to him took the place of genuine passion. Serenity in love
+      bored him as a voyage without storms wearies a sailor. On this occasion he
+      had been very near shipwreck with his wife, and the danger had not passed
+      even yet. He knew that Claire was alienated from him and devoted entirely
+      to the child, the only link between them thenceforth. Their separation
+      made her seem lovelier, more desirable, and he exercised all his powers of
+      fascination to recapture her. He knew how hard a task it would be, and
+      that he had no ordinary, frivolous nature to deal with. But he did not
+      despair. Sometimes a vague gleam in the depths of the mild and apparently
+      impassive glance with which she watched his efforts, bade him hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Sidonie, he no longer thought of her. Let no one be astonished at
+      that abrupt mental rupture. Those two superficial beings had nothing to
+      attach them securely to each other. Georges was incapable of receiving
+      lasting impressions unless they were continually renewed; Sidonie, for her
+      part, had no power to inspire any noble or durable sentiment. It was one
+      of those intrigues between a cocotte and a coxcomb, compounded of vanity
+      and of wounded self-love, which inspire neither devotion nor constancy,
+      but tragic adventures, duels, suicides which are rarely fatal, and which
+      end in a radical cure. Perhaps, had he seen her again, he might have had a
+      relapse of his disease; but the impetus of flight had carried Sidonie away
+      so swiftly and so far that her return was impossible. At all events, it
+      was a relief for him to be able to live without lying; and the new life he
+      was leading, a life of hard work and self-denial, with the goal of success
+      in the distance, was not distasteful to him. Luckily; for the courage and
+      determination of both partners were none too much to put the house on its
+      feet once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor house of Fromont had sprung leaks on all sides. So Pere Planus
+      still had wretched nights, haunted by the nightmare of notes maturing and
+      the ominous vision of the little blue man. But, by strict economy, they
+      always succeeded in paying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon four Risler Presses were definitively set up and used in the work of
+      the factory. People began to take a deep interest in them and in the
+      wall-paper trade. Lyons, Caen, Rixbeim, the great centres of the industry,
+      were much disturbed concerning that marvellous &ldquo;rotary and dodecagonal&rdquo;
+       machine. One fine day the Prochassons appeared, and offered three hundred
+      thousand francs simply for an interest in the patent rights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall we do?&rdquo; Fromont Jeune asked Risler Aine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Decide for yourself. It doesn&rsquo;t concern me. I am only an employe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words, spoken coldly, without anger, fell heavily upon Fromont&rsquo;s
+      bewildered joy, and reminded him of the gravity of a situation which he
+      was always on the point of forgetting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when he was alone with his dear Madame &ldquo;Chorche,&rdquo; Risler advised her
+      not to accept the Prochassons&rsquo; offer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait,&mdash;don&rsquo;t be in a hurry. Later you will have a better offer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke only of them in that affair in which his own share was so
+      glorious. She felt that he was preparing to cut himself adrift from their
+      future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile orders came pouring in and accumulated on their hands. The
+      quality of the paper, the reduced price because of the improved methods of
+      manufacture, made competition impossible. There was no doubt that a
+      colossal fortune was in store for the house of Fromont. The factory had
+      resumed its former flourishing aspect and its loud, business-like hum.
+      Intensely alive were all the great buildings and the hundreds of workmen
+      who filled them. Pere Planus never raised his nose from his desk; one
+      could see him from the little garden, leaning over his great ledgers,
+      jotting down in magnificently molded figures the profits of the Risler
+      press.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler still worked as before, without change or rest. The return of
+      prosperity brought no alteration in his secluded habits, and from the
+      highest window on the topmost floor of the house he listened to the
+      ceaseless roar of his machines. He was no less gloomy, no less silent. One
+      day, however, it became known at the factory that the press, a specimen of
+      which had been sent to the great Exposition at Manchester, had received
+      the gold medal, whereby its success was definitely established. Madame
+      Georges called Risler into the garden at the luncheon hour, wishing to be
+      the first to tell him the good news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the moment a proud smile relaxed his prematurely old, gloomy features.
+      His inventor&rsquo;s vanity, his pride in his renown, above all, the idea of
+      repairing thus magnificently the wrong done to the family by his wife,
+      gave him a moment of true happiness. He pressed Claire&rsquo;s hands and
+      murmured, as in the old days:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very happy! I am very happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But what a difference in tone! He said it without enthusiasm, hopelessly,
+      with the satisfaction of a task accomplished, and nothing more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bell rang for the workmen to return, and Risler went calmly upstairs
+      to resume his work as on other days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a moment he came down again. In spite of all, that news had excited him
+      more than he cared to show. He wandered about the garden, prowled around
+      the counting-room, smiling sadly at Pere Planus through the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ails him?&rdquo; the old cashier wondered. &ldquo;What does he want of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, when night came and it was time to close the office, Risler
+      summoned courage to go and speak to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Planus, my old friend, I should like&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like you to give me the&mdash;letter, you know, the little
+      letter and the package.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond stared at him in amazement. In his innocence, he had imagined
+      that Risler never thought of Sidonie, that he had entirely forgotten her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;you want&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I have well earned it; I can think of myself a little now. I have
+      thought enough of others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; said Planus. &ldquo;Well, this is what we&rsquo;ll do. The letter and
+      package are at my house at Montrouge. If you choose, we will go and dine
+      together at the Palais-Royal, as in the good old times. I will stand
+      treat. We&rsquo;ll water your medal with a bottle of wine; something choice!
+      Then we&rsquo;ll go to the house together. You can get your trinkets, and if
+      it&rsquo;s too late for you to go home, Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, shall
+      make up a bed for you, and you shall pass the night with us. We are very
+      comfortable there&mdash;it&rsquo;s in the country. To-morrow morning at seven
+      o&rsquo;clock we&rsquo;ll come back to the factory by the first omnibus. Come, old
+      fellow, give me this pleasure. If you don&rsquo;t, I shall think you still bear
+      your old Sigismond a grudge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler accepted. He cared little about celebrating the award of his medal,
+      but he desired to gain a few hours before opening the little letter he had
+      at last earned the right to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He must dress. That was quite a serious matter, for he had lived in a
+      workman&rsquo;s jacket during the past six months. And what an event in the
+      factory! Madame Fromont was informed at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame, Madame! Monsieur Risler is going out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Claire looked at him from her window, and that tall form, bowed by sorrow,
+      leaning on Sigismond&rsquo;s arm, aroused in her a profound, unusual emotion
+      which she remembered ever after.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the street people bowed to Risler with great interest. Even their
+      greetings warmed his heart. He was so much in need of kindness! But the
+      noise of vehicles made him a little dizzy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My head is spinning,&rdquo; he said to Planus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lean hard on me, old fellow-don&rsquo;t be afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And honest Planus drew himself up, escorting his friend with the artless,
+      unconventional pride of a peasant of the South bearing aloft his village
+      saint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they arrived at the Palais-Royal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The garden was full of people. They had come to hear the music, and were
+      trying to find seats amid clouds of dust and the scraping of chairs. The
+      two friends hurried into the restaurant to avoid all that turmoil. They
+      established themselves in one of the large salons on the first floor,
+      whence they could see the green trees, the promenaders, and the water
+      spurting from the fountain between the two melancholy flower-gardens. To
+      Sigismond it was the ideal of luxury, that restaurant, with gilding
+      everywhere, around the mirrors, in the chandelier and even on the figured
+      wallpaper. The white napkin, the roll, the menu of a table d&rsquo;hote dinner
+      filled his soul with joy. &ldquo;We are comfortable here, aren&rsquo;t we?&rdquo; he said to
+      Risler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he exclaimed at each of the courses of that banquet at two francs
+      fifty, and insisted on filling his friend&rsquo;s plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eat that&mdash;it&rsquo;s good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other, notwithstanding his desire to do honor to the fete, seemed
+      preoccupied and gazed out-of-doors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember, Sigismond?&rdquo; he said, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cashier, engrossed in his memories of long ago, of Risler&rsquo;s first
+      employment at the factory, replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think I do remember&mdash;listen! The first time we dined
+      together at the Palais-Royal was in February, &lsquo;forty-six, the year we put
+      in the planches-plates at the factory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! no&mdash;I mean three years ago. It was in that room just opposite
+      that we dined on that memorable evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he pointed to the great windows of the salon of Cafe Vefour, gleaming
+      in the rays of the setting sun like the chandeliers at a wedding feast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! yes, true,&rdquo; murmured Sigismond, abashed. What an unlucky idea of his
+      to bring his friend to a place that recalled such painful things!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler, not wishing to cast a gloom upon their banquet, abruptly raised
+      his glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come! here&rsquo;s your health, my old comrade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried to change the subject. But a moment later he himself led the
+      conversation back to it again, and asked Sigismond, in an undertone, as if
+      he were ashamed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your wife? No, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t written again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;never again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must have heard of her. What has she been doing these six months?
+      Does she live with her parents?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler turned pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hoped that Sidonie would have returned to her mother, that she would
+      have worked, as he had worked, to forget and atone. He had often thought
+      that he would arrange his life according to what he should learn of her
+      when he should have the right to speak of her; and in one of those far-off
+      visions of the future, which have the vagueness of a dream, he sometimes
+      fancied himself living in exile with the Chebes in an unknown land, where
+      nothing would remind him of his past shame. It was not a definite plan, to
+      be sure; but the thought lived in the depths of his mind like a hope,
+      caused by the need that all human creatures feel of finding their lost
+      happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she in Paris?&rdquo; he asked, after a few moments&rsquo; reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. She went away three months ago. No one knows where she has gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond did not add that she had gone with her Cazaboni, whose name she
+      now bore, that they were making the circuit of the provincial cities
+      together, that her mother was in despair, never saw her, and heard of her
+      only through Delobelle. Sigismond did not deem it his duty to mention all
+      that, and after his last words he held his peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler, for his part, dared ask no further questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they sat there, facing each other, both embarrassed by the long
+      silence, the military band began to play under the trees in the garden.
+      They played one of those Italian operatic overtures which seem to have
+      been written expressly for public open-air resorts; the swiftly-flowing
+      notes, as they rise into the air, blend with the call of the swallows and
+      the silvery plash of the fountain. The blaring brass brings out in bold
+      relief the mild warmth of the closing hours of those summer days, so long
+      and enervating in Paris; it seems as if one could hear nothing else. The
+      distant rumbling of wheels, the cries of children playing, the footsteps
+      of the promenaders are wafted away in those resonant, gushing, refreshing
+      waves of melody, as useful to the people of Paris as the daily watering of
+      their streets. On all sides the faded flowers, the trees white with dust,
+      the faces made pale and wan by the heat, all the sorrows, all the miseries
+      of a great city, sitting dreamily, with bowed head, on the benches in the
+      garden, feel its comforting, refreshing influence. The air is stirred,
+      renewed by those strains that traverse it, filling it with harmony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Risler felt as if the tension upon all his nerves were relaxed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little music does one good,&rdquo; he said, with glistening eyes. &ldquo;My heart
+      is heavy, old fellow,&rdquo; he added, in a lower tone; &ldquo;if you knew&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat without speaking, their elbows resting on the window-sill, while
+      their coffee was served.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the music ceased, the garden became deserted. The light that had
+      loitered in the corners crept upward to the roofs, cast its last rays upon
+      the highest windowpanes, followed by the birds, the swallows, which
+      saluted the close of day with a farewell chirp from the gutter where they
+      were huddled together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, where shall we go?&rdquo; said Planus, as they left the restaurant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wherever you wish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the first floor of a building on the Rue Montpensier, close at hand,
+      was a cafe chantant, where many people entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose we go in,&rdquo; said Planus, desirous of banishing his friend&rsquo;s
+      melancholy at any cost, &ldquo;the beer is excellent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler assented to the suggestion; he had not tasted beer for six months.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a former restaurant transformed into a concert-hall. There were
+      three large rooms, separated by gilded pillars, the partitions having been
+      removed; the decoration was in the Moorish style, bright red, pale blue,
+      with little crescents and turbans for ornament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although it was still early, the place was full; and even before entering
+      one had a feeling of suffocation, simply from seeing the crowds of people
+      sitting around the tables, and at the farther end, half-hidden by the rows
+      of pillars, a group of white-robed women on a raised platform, in the heat
+      and glare of the gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our two friends had much difficulty in finding seats, and had to be
+      content with a place behind a pillar whence they could see only half of
+      the platform, then occupied by a superb person in black coat and yellow
+      gloves, curled and waxed and oiled, who was singing in a vibrating voice&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          Mes beaux lions aux crins dores,
+          Du sang des troupeaux alteres,
+          Halte la!&mdash;Je fais sentinello!
+
+          [My proud lions with golden manes
+          Who thirst for the blood of my flocks,
+          Stand back!&mdash;I am on guard!]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The audience&mdash;small tradesmen of the quarter with their wives and
+      daughters-seemed highly enthusiastic: especially the women. He represented
+      so perfectly the ideal of the shopkeeper imagination, that magnificent
+      shepherd of the desert, who addressed lions with such an air of authority
+      and tended his flocks in full evening dress. And so, despite their
+      bourgeois bearing, their modest costumes and their expressionless
+      shop-girl smiles, all those women, made up their little mouths to be
+      caught by the hook of sentiment, and cast languishing glances upon the
+      singer. It was truly comical to see that glance at the platform suddenly
+      change and become contemptuous and fierce as it fell upon the husband, the
+      poor husband tranquilly drinking a glass of beer opposite his wife: &ldquo;You
+      would never be capable of doing sentry duty in the very teeth of lions,
+      and in a black coat too, and with yellow gloves!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the husband&rsquo;s eye seemed to reply:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! &lsquo;dame&rsquo;, yes, he&rsquo;s quite a dashing buck, that fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Being decidedly indifferent to heroism of that stamp, Risler and Sigismond
+      were drinking their beer without paying much attention to the music, when,
+      at the end of the song, amid the applause and cries and uproar that
+      followed it, Pere Planus uttered an exclamation:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that is odd; one would say&mdash;but no, I&rsquo;m not mistaken. It is he,
+      it&rsquo;s Delobelle!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, in fact, the illustrious actor, whom he had discovered in the
+      front row near the platform. His gray head was turned partly away from
+      them. He was leaning carelessly against a pillar, hat in hand, in his
+      grand make-up as leading man: dazzlingly white linen, hair curled with the
+      tongs, black coat with a camellia in the buttonhole, like the ribbon of an
+      order. He glanced at the crowd from time to time with a patronizing air:
+      but his eyes were most frequently turned toward the platform, with
+      encouraging little gestures and smiles and pretended applause, addressed
+      to some one whom Pere Planus could not see from his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing very extraordinary in the presence of the illustrious
+      Delobelle at a cafe concert, as he spent all his evenings away from home;
+      and yet the old cashier felt vaguely disturbed, especially when he
+      discovered in the same row a blue cape and a pair of steely eyes. It was
+      Madame Dobson, the sentimental singing-teacher. The conjunction of those
+      two faces amid the pipe-smoke and the confusion of the crowd, produced
+      upon Sigismond the effect of two ghosts evoked by a bad dream. He was
+      afraid for his friend, without knowing exactly why; and suddenly it
+      occurred to him to take him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us go, Risler. The heat here is enough to kill one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just as they rose&mdash;for Risler was no more desirous to stay than to go&mdash;the
+      orchestra, consisting of a piano and several violins, began a peculiar
+      refrain. There was a flutter of curiosity throughout the room, and cries
+      of &ldquo;Hush! hush! sit down!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were obliged to resume their seats. Risler, too, was beginning to be
+      disturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that tune,&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;Where have I heard it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A thunder of applause and an exclamation from Planus made him raise his
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, let us go,&rdquo; said the cashier, trying to lead him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler had already seen his wife come forward to the front of the stage
+      and curtsey to the audience with a ballet-dancer&rsquo;s smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She wore a white gown, as on the night of the ball; but her whole costume
+      was much less rich and shockingly immodest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dress was barely caught together at the shoulders; her hair floated in
+      a blond mist low over her eyes, and around her neck was a necklace of
+      pearls too large to be real, alternated with bits of tinsel. Delobelle was
+      right: the Bohemian life was better suited to her. Her beauty had gained
+      an indefinably reckless expression, which was its most characteristic
+      feature, and made her a perfect type of the woman who has escaped from all
+      restraint, placed herself at the mercy of every accident, and is
+      descending stage by stage to the lowest depths of the Parisian hell, from
+      which nothing is powerful enough to lift her and restore her to the pure
+      air and the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And how perfectly at ease she seemed in her strolling life! With what
+      self-possession she walked to the front of the stage! Ah! could she have
+      seen the desperate, terrible glance fixed upon her down there in the hall,
+      concealed behind a pillar, her smile would have lost that equivocal
+      placidity, her voice would have sought in vain those wheedling, languorous
+      tones in which she warbled the only song Madame Dobson had ever been able
+      to teach her:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          Pauv&rsquo; pitit Mamz&rsquo;elle Zizi,
+          C&rsquo;est l&rsquo;amou, l&rsquo;amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Risler had risen, in spite of Planus&rsquo;s efforts. &ldquo;Sit down! sit down!&rdquo; the
+      people shouted. The wretched man heard nothing. He was staring at his
+      wife.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          C&rsquo;est l&rsquo;amou, l&rsquo;amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li,
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Sidonie repeated affectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment he wondered whether he should not leap on the platform and
+      kill her. Red flames shot before his eyes, and he was blinded with frenzy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, suddenly, shame and disgust seized upon him and he rushed from the
+      hall, overturning chairs and tables, pursued by the terror and
+      imprecations of all those scandalized bourgeois.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV. SIDONIE&rsquo;S VENGEANCE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Never had Sigismond Planus returned home so late without giving his sister
+      warning, during the twenty years and more that he had lived at Montrouge.
+      Consequently Mademoiselle Planus was greatly worried. Living in community
+      of ideas and of everything else with her brother, having but one mind for
+      herself and for him, the old maid had felt for several months the rebound
+      of all the cashier&rsquo;s anxiety and indignation; and the effect was still
+      noticeable in her tendency to tremble and become agitated on slight
+      provocation. At the slightest tardiness on Sigismond&rsquo;s part, she would
+      think:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! mon Dieu! If only nothing has happened at the factory!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That is the reason why on the evening in question, when the hens and
+      chickens were all asleep on their perches, and the dinner had been removed
+      untouched, Mademoiselle Planus was sitting in the little ground-floor
+      living-room, waiting, in great agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, about eleven o&rsquo;clock, some one rang. A timid, melancholy ring, in
+      no wise resembling Sigismond&rsquo;s vigorous pull.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it you, Monsieur Planus?&rdquo; queried the old lady from behind the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was he; but he was not alone. A tall, bent old man accompanied him,
+      and, as they entered, bade her good-evening in a slow, hesitating voice.
+      Not till then did Mademoiselle Planus recognize Risler Aine, whom she had
+      not seen since the days of the New Year&rsquo;s calls, that is to say, some time
+      before the dramas at the factory. She could hardly restrain an exclamation
+      of pity; but the grave taciturnity of the two men told her that she must
+      be silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, you will put clean sheets on my bed. Our
+      friend Risler does us the honor to pass the night with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sister hastened away to prepare the bedroom with an almost
+      affectionate zeal; for, as we know, beside &ldquo;Monsieur Planus, my brother,&rdquo;
+       Risler was the only man excepted from the general reprobation in which she
+      enveloped the whole male sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon leaving the cafe concert, Sidonie&rsquo;s husband had had a moment of
+      frantic excitement. He leaned on Planus&rsquo;s arm, every nerve in his body
+      strained to the utmost. At that moment he had no thought of going to
+      Montrouge to get the letter and the package.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave me&mdash;go away,&rdquo; he said to Sigismond. &ldquo;I must be alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the other knew better than to abandon him thus to his despair.
+      Unnoticed by Risler, he led him away from the factory, and as his
+      affectionate heart suggested to the old cashier what he had best say to
+      his friend, he talked to him all the time of Frantz, his little Frantz
+      whom he loved so dearly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was genuine affection, genuine and trustworthy. No treachery to fear
+      with such hearts as that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they talked they left behind them the noisy streets of the centre of
+      Paris. They walked along the quays, skirted the Jardin des Plantes,
+      plunged into Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Risler followed where the other led.
+      Sigismond&rsquo;s words did him so much good!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In due time they came to the Bievre, bordered at that point with tanneries
+      whose tall drying-houses with open sides were outlined in blue against the
+      sky; and then the ill-defined plains of Montsouris, vast tracts of land
+      scorched and stripped of vegetation by the fiery breath that Paris exhales
+      around its daily toil, like a monstrous dragon, whose breath of flame and
+      smoke suffers no vegetation within its range.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Montsouris to the fortifications of Montrouge is but a step. When
+      they had reached that point, Planus had no great difficulty in taking his
+      friend home with him. He thought, and justly, that his tranquil fireside,
+      the spectacle of a placid, fraternal, devoted affection, would give the
+      wretched man&rsquo;s heart a sort of foretaste of the happiness that was in
+      store for him with his brother Frantz. And, in truth, the charm of the
+      little household began to work as soon as they arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, you are right, old fellow,&rdquo; said Risler, pacing the floor of
+      the living-room, &ldquo;I mustn&rsquo;t think of that woman any more. She&rsquo;s like a
+      dead woman to me now. I have nobody left in the world but my little
+      Frantz; I don&rsquo;t know yet whether I shall send for him to come home, or go
+      out and join him; the one thing that is certain is that we are going to
+      stay together. Ah! I longed so to have a son! Now I have found one. I want
+      no other. When I think that for a moment I had an idea of killing myself!
+      Nonsense! it would make Madame What-d&rsquo;ye-call-her, yonder, too happy. On
+      the contrary, I mean to live&mdash;to live with my Frantz, and for him,
+      and for nothing else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bravo!&rdquo; said Sigismond, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the way I like to hear you talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Mademoiselle Planus came to say that the room was ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler apologized for the trouble he was causing them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are so comfortable, so happy here. Really, it&rsquo;s too bad to burden you
+      with my melancholy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my old friend, you can arrange just such happiness as ours for
+      yourself,&rdquo; said honest Sigismond with beaming face. &ldquo;I have my sister, you
+      have your brother. What do we lack?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler smiled vaguely. He fancied himself already installed with Frantz in
+      a quiet little quakerish house like that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Decidedly, that was an excellent idea of Pere Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to bed,&rdquo; he said triumphantly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll go and show you your room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond Planus&rsquo;s bedroom was on the ground floor, a large room simply
+      but neatly furnished; with muslin curtains at the windows and the bed, and
+      little squares of carpet on the polished floor, in front of the chairs.
+      The dowager Madame Fromont herself could have found nothing to say as to
+      the orderly and cleanly aspect of the place. On a shelf or two against the
+      wall were a few books: Manual of Fishing, The Perfect Country Housewife,
+      Bayeme&rsquo;s Book-keeping. That was the whole of the intellectual equipment of
+      the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pere Planus glanced proudly around. The glass of water was in its place on
+      the walnut table, the box of razors on the dressing-case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Risler. Here is everything you need. And if you should want
+      anything else, the keys are in all the drawers&mdash;you have only to turn
+      them. Just see what a beautiful view you get from here. It&rsquo;s a little dark
+      just now, but when you wake up in the morning you&rsquo;ll see; it is
+      magnificent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the widow. Great drops of rain were beginning to fall, and
+      lightning flashes rending the darkness disclosed the long, silent line of
+      the fortifications, with telegraph poles at intervals, or the frowning
+      door of a casemate. Now and then the footsteps of a patrol making the
+      rounds, the clash of muskets or swords, reminded them that they were
+      within the military zone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the outlook so vaunted by Planus&mdash;a melancholy outlook if
+      ever there were one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now good-night. Sleep well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as the old cashier was leaving the room, his friend called him back:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sigismond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here!&rdquo; said Sigismond, and he waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler blushed slightly and moved his lips like a man who is about to
+      speak; then, with a mighty effort, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no-nothing. Good-night, old man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the dining-room the brother and sister talked together a long while in
+      low tones. Planus described the terrible occurrence of the evening, the
+      meeting with Sidonie; and you can imagine the&mdash;&ldquo;Oh! these women!&rdquo; and
+      &ldquo;Oh! these men?&rdquo; At last, when they had locked the little garden-door,
+      Mademoiselle Planus went up to her room, and Sigismond made himself as
+      comfortable as possible in a small cabinet adjoining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About midnight the cashier was aroused by his sister calling him in a
+      terrified whisper:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Planus, my brother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! it was awful. Something like a deep sigh, but so loud and so sad! It
+      came from the room below.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They listened. Without, the rain was falling in torrents, with the dreary
+      rustling of leaves that makes the country seem so lonely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is only the wind,&rdquo; said Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure not. Hush! Listen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Amid the tumult of the storm, they heard a wailing sound, like a sob, in
+      which a name was pronounced with difficulty:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frantz! Frantz!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was terrible and pitiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Christ on the Cross sent up to heaven His despairing cry: &lsquo;Eli, eli,
+      lama sabachthani&rsquo;, they who heard him must have felt the same species of
+      superstitious terror that suddenly seized upon Mademoiselle Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid!&rdquo; she whispered; &ldquo;suppose you go and look&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, we will let him alone. He is thinking of his brother. Poor
+      fellow! It&rsquo;s the very thought of all others that will do him the most
+      good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the old cashier went to sleep again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning he woke as usual when the drums beat the reveille in the
+      fortifications; for the little family, surrounded by barracks, regulated
+      its life by the military calls. The sister had already risen and was
+      feeding the poultry. When she saw Sigismond she came to him in agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very strange,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I hear nothing stirring in Monsieur
+      Risler&rsquo;s room. But the window is wide open.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend&rsquo;s door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler! Risler!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He called in great anxiety:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Risler, are you there? Are you asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no reply. He opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was cold. It was evident that the damp air had been blowing in
+      all night through the open window. At the first glance at the bed,
+      Sigismond thought: &ldquo;He hasn&rsquo;t been in bed&rdquo;&mdash;for the clothes were
+      undisturbed and the condition of the room, even in the most trivial
+      details, revealed an agitated vigil: the still smoking lamp, which he had
+      neglected to extinguish, the carafe, drained to the last drop by the fever
+      of sleeplessness; but the thing that filled the cashier with dismay was to
+      find the bureau drawer wide open in which he had carefully bestowed the
+      letter and package entrusted to him by his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter was no longer there. The package lay on the table, open,
+      revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen. With her high-necked frock,
+      her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed pose of
+      an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle Le Mire&rsquo;s
+      apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day. And that was
+      the reason why Risler had kept that photograph, as a souvenir, not of his
+      wife, but of the &ldquo;little one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond was in great dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is my fault,&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;I ought to have taken away the
+      keys. But who would have supposed that he was still thinking of her? He
+      had sworn so many times that that woman no longer existed for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation
+      written on her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Risler has gone!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone? Why, wasn&rsquo;t the garden-gate locked?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have climbed over the wall. You can see his footprints.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the letter!&rdquo; thought Planus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Evidently that letter from his wife must have made some extraordinary
+      revelation to Risler; and, in order not to disturb his hosts, he had made
+      his escape noiselessly through the window, like a burglar. Why? With what
+      aim in view?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will see, sister,&rdquo; said poor Planus, as he dressed with all haste,
+      &ldquo;you will see that that hussy has played him still another trick.&rdquo; And
+      when his sister tried to encourage him, he recurred to his favorite
+      refrain:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haf no gonfidence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as he was dressed, he darted out of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler&rsquo;s footprints could be distinguished on the wet ground as far as the
+      gate of the little garden. He must have gone before daylight, for the beds
+      of vegetables and flowers were trampled down at random by deep footprints
+      with long spaces between; there were marks of heels on the garden-wall and
+      the mortar was crumbled slightly on top. The brother and sister went out
+      on the road skirting the fortifications. There it was impossible to follow
+      the footprints. They could tell nothing more than that Risler had gone in
+      the direction of the Orleans road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After all,&rdquo; Mademoiselle Planus ventured to say, &ldquo;we are very foolish to
+      torment ourselves about him; perhaps he has simply gone back to the
+      factory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond shook his head. Ah! if he had said all that he thought!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Return to the house, sister. I will go and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with the old &ldquo;I haf no gonfidence&rdquo; he rushed away like a hurricane,
+      his white mane standing even more erect than usual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that hour, on the road near the fortifications, was an endless
+      procession of soldiers and market-gardeners, guard-mounting, officers&rsquo; 
+      horses out for exercise, sutlers with their paraphernalia, all the bustle
+      and activity that is seen in the morning in the neighborhood of forts.
+      Planus was striding along amid the tumult, when suddenly he stopped. At
+      the foot of the bank, on the left, in front of a small, square building,
+      with the inscription.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+               CITY OF PARIS,
+            ENTRANCE TO THE QUARRIES,
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      On the rough plaster, he saw a crowd assembled, and soldiers&rsquo; and
+      custom-house officers&rsquo; uniforms, mingled with the shabby, dirty blouses of
+      barracks-loafers. The old man instinctively approached. A customs officer,
+      seated on the stone step below a round postern with iron bars, was talking
+      with many gestures, as if he were acting out his narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was where I am,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He had hanged himself sitting, by pulling
+      with all his strength on the rope! It&rsquo;s clear that he had made up his mind
+      to die, for he had a razor in his pocket that he would have used in case
+      the rope had broken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A voice in the crowd exclaimed: &ldquo;Poor devil!&rdquo; Then another, a tremulous
+      voice, choking with emotion, asked timidly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it quite certain that he&rsquo;s dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody looked at Planus and began to laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, here&rsquo;s a greenhorn,&rdquo; said the officer. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t I tell you that he
+      was all blue this morning, when we cut him down to take him to the
+      chasseurs&rsquo; barracks!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The barracks were not far away; and yet Sigismond Planus had the greatest
+      difficulty in the world in dragging himself so far. In vain did he say to
+      himself that suicides are of frequent occurrence in Paris, especially in
+      those regions; that not a day passes that a dead body is not found
+      somewhere along that line of fortifications, as upon the shores of a
+      tempestuous sea,&mdash;he could not escape the terrible presentiment that
+      had oppressed his heart since early morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you have come to see the man that hanged himself,&rdquo; said the
+      quartermaster-sergeant at the door of the barracks. &ldquo;See! there he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The body had been laid on a table supported by trestles in a sort of shed.
+      A cavalry cloak that had been thrown over it covered it from head to foot,
+      and fell in the shroud-like folds which all draperies assume that come in
+      contact with the rigidity of death. A group of officers and several
+      soldiers in duck trousers were looking on at a distance, whispering as if
+      in a church; and an assistant-surgeon was writing a report of the death on
+      a high window-ledge. To him Sigismond spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like very much to see him,&rdquo; he said softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go and look.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked to the table, hesitated a minute, then, summoning courage,
+      uncovered a swollen face, a tall, motionless body in its rain-soaked
+      garments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has killed you at last, my old comrade!&rdquo; murmured Planus, and fell on
+      his knees, sobbing bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officers had come forward, gazing curiously at the body, which was
+      left uncovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look, surgeon,&rdquo; said one of them. &ldquo;His hand is closed, as if he were
+      holding something in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; the surgeon replied, drawing nearer. &ldquo;That sometimes
+      happens in the last convulsions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember at Solferino, Commandant Bordy held his little daughter&rsquo;s
+      miniature in his hand like that? We had much difficulty in taking it from
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke he tried to open the poor, tightly-closed dead hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is a letter that he is holding so tight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to read it; but one of the officers took it from his hands
+      and passed it to Sigismond, who was still kneeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Monsieur. Perhaps you will find in this some last wish to be
+      carried out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sigismond Planus rose. As the light in the room was dim, he walked with
+      faltering step to the window, and read, his eyes filled with tears:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes, I love you, I love you, more than ever and forever! What is
+      the use of struggling and fighting against fate? Our sin is stronger than
+      we...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the letter which Frantz had written to his sister-in-law a year
+      before, and which Sidonie had sent to her husband on the day following
+      their terrible scene, to revenge herself on him and his brother at the
+      same time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Risler could have survived his wife&rsquo;s treachery, but that of his brother
+      had killed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Sigismond understood, he was petrified with horror. He stood there,
+      with the letter in his hand, gazing mechanically through the open window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The clock struck six.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yonder, over Paris, whose dull roar they could hear although they could
+      not see the city, a cloud of smoke arose, heavy and hot, moving slowly
+      upward, with a fringe of red and black around its edges, like the
+      powder-smoke on a field of battle. Little by little, steeples, white
+      buildings, a gilded cupola, emerged from the mist, and burst forth in a
+      splendid awakening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the thousands of tall factory chimneys, towering above that sea of
+      clustered roofs, began with one accord to exhale their quivering vapor,
+      with the energy of a steamer about to sail. Life was beginning anew.
+      Forward, ye wheels of time! And so much the worse for him who lags behind!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon old Planus gave way to a terrible outburst of wrath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! harlot-harlot!&rdquo; he cried, shaking his fist; and no one could say
+      whether he was addressing the woman or the city of Paris.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     ETEXT EDITOR&rsquo;S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     A man may forgive, but he never forgets
+     Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered
+     Affectation of indifference
+     Always smiling condescendingly
+     Charm of that one day&rsquo;s rest and its solemnity
+     Clashing knives and forks mark time
+     Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!
+     Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
+     Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+     Exaggerated dramatic pantomime
+     Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen
+     He fixed the time mentally when he would speak
+     Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away
+     Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs
+     No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were
+     Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous
+     She was of those who disdain no compliment
+     Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter
+     Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works
+     Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings
+     The poor must pay for all their enjoyments
+     The groom isn&rsquo;t handsome, but the bride&rsquo;s as pretty as a picture
+     Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come
+     Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
+     Word &ldquo;sacrifice,&rdquo; so vague on careless lips
+     Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg&rsquo;s Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
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+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/3980.txt b/3980.txt
new file mode 100644
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+++ b/3980.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,10189 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fromont and Risler, Complete
+
+Author: Alphonse Daudet
+
+Last Updated: March 3, 2009
+Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3980]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROMONT AND RISLER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+
+ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio
+representing Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that
+school, and by private friendship, no less than by a common profession
+of faith, was one of them. But the students of the future, while
+recognizing an obvious affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to
+find Daudet's name conjoined with theirs.
+
+Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School. But, above all, he
+was an impressionist. All that can be observed--the individual picture,
+scene, character--Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all
+his novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing
+firmness of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of
+the sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
+Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to. Feverish as his
+method of writing was--true to his Southern character he took endless
+pains to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from
+beginning to end. He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and
+it is from this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth
+and the taste of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and
+women. In the earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to
+episode or from scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner
+of the Goncourts. But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the
+same school, but not of the same family. Zola is methodical, Daudet
+spontaneous. Zola works with documents, Daudet from the living fact.
+Zola is objective, Daudet with equal scope and fearlessness shows more
+personal feeling and hence more delicacy. And in style also Zola is
+vast, architectural; Daudet slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive.
+And finally, in their philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of
+vice and wrong, but Daudet wins a love for what is good and true.
+
+Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840. His father
+had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
+child, lost his property. Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
+post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais. In November, 1857, he settled
+in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest. The
+autobiography, 'Le Petit Chose' (1868), gives graphic details about this
+period. His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
+Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread.
+He had secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the
+Corps Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the
+'Figaro', when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers. Returning,
+he married toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose
+literary talent comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own. After
+the death of the Duc de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to
+literature and published 'Lettres de mon Moulin' (1868), which also made
+his name favorably known. He now turned from fiction to the drama,
+and it was not until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his
+vocation as a novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris
+and the humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without
+souring it. Daudet's genial satire, 'Tartarin de Tarascon', appeared
+in 1872; but with the Parisian romance 'Fromont jeune et Risler aine',
+crowned by the Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost
+rank of French novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts
+it, "the dawn of his popularity."
+
+How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
+translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with
+natural pride. The book must be read to be appreciated. "Risler, a
+self-made, honest man, raises himself socially into a society against
+the corruptness of which he has no defence and from which he escapes
+only by suicide. Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and
+heartless woman; Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic
+simplicity of Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing."
+
+Success followed now after success. 'Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
+Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L'Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
+(1884); Tartarin sur des Alces (1886); L'Immortel (1888); Port Tarascon
+(1890); Rose et Ninette (1892); La petite Parvisse (1895); and Soutien
+de Famille (1899)'; such is the long list of the great life-artist.
+In Le Nabab we find obvious traces of Daudet's visits to Algiers and
+Corsica-Mora is the Duc de Morny. Sapho is the most concentrated of his
+novels, with never a divergence, never a break, in its development. And
+of the theme--legitimate marriage contra common-law--what need be said
+except that he handled it in a manner most acceptable to the aesthetic
+and least offensive to the moral sense?
+
+L'Immortel is a satire springing from personal reasons; L'Evangeliste
+and Rose et Ninette--the latter on the divorce problem--may be classed
+as clever novels; but had Daudet never written more than 'Fromont et
+Risler', 'Tartarin sur les Alces', and 'Port Tarascon', these would keep
+him in lasting remembrance.
+
+We must not omit to mention also many 'contes' and his 'Trente ans de
+Paris (A travers ma vie et mes livres), Souvenirs d'un Homme de lettres
+(1888), and Notes sur la Vie (1899)'.
+
+Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897
+
+                    LECONTE DE LISLE
+                  de l'Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. A WEDDING-PARTY AT THE CAFE VEFOUR
+
+"Madame Chebe!"
+
+"My boy--"
+
+"I am so happy!"
+
+This was the twentieth time that day that the good Risler had said that
+he was happy, and always with the same emotional and contented manner,
+in the same low, deep voice-the voice that is held in check by emotion
+and does not speak too loud for fear of suddenly breaking into violent
+tears.
+
+Not for the world would Risler have wept at that moment--imagine
+a newly-made husband giving way to tears in the midst of the
+wedding-festival! And yet he had a strong inclination to do so. His
+happiness stifled him, held him by the throat, prevented the words from
+coming forth. All that he could do was to murmur from time to time, with
+a slight trembling of the lips, "I am happy; I am happy!"
+
+Indeed, he had reason to be happy.
+
+Since early morning the poor man had fancied that he was being whirled
+along in one of those magnificent dreams from which one fears lest he
+may awake suddenly with blinded eyes; but it seemed to him as if this
+dream would never end. It had begun at five o'clock in the morning, and
+at ten o'clock at night, exactly ten o'clock by Vefour's clock, he was
+still dreaming.
+
+How many things had happened during that day, and how vividly he
+remembered the most trivial details.
+
+He saw himself, at daybreak, striding up and down his bachelor quarters,
+delight mingled with impatience, clean-shaven, his coat on, and
+two pairs of white gloves in his pocket. Then there were the
+wedding-coaches, and in the foremost one--the one with white horses,
+white reins, and a yellow damask lining--the bride, in her finery,
+floated by like a cloud. Then the procession into the church, two by
+two, the white veil in advance, ethereal, and dazzling to behold. The
+organ, the verger, the cure's sermon, the tapers casting their light
+upon jewels and spring gowns, and the throng of people in the sacristy,
+the tiny white cloud swallowed up, surrounded, embraced, while the
+bridegroom distributed hand-shakes among all the leading tradesmen of
+Paris, who had assembled to do him honor. And the grand crash from the
+organ at the close, made more solemn by the fact that the church door
+was thrown wide open, so that the whole street took part in the family
+ceremony--the music passing through the vestibule at the same time with
+the procession--the exclamations of the crowd, and a burnisher in an
+ample lute-string apron remarking in a loud voice, "The groom isn't
+handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture." That is the kind of
+thing that makes you proud when you happen to be the bridegroom.
+
+And then the breakfast at the factory, in a workroom adorned with
+hangings and flowers; the drive in the Bois--a concession to the wishes
+of his mother-in-law, Madame Chebe, who, being the petty Parisian
+bourgeoise that she was, would not have deemed her daughter legally
+married without a drive around the lake and a visit to the Cascade.
+Then the return for dinner, as the lamps were being lighted along
+the boulevard, where people turned to look after the wedding-party, a
+typical well-to-do bourgeois wedding-party, as it drove up to the grand
+entrance at Vefour's with all the style the livery horses could command.
+
+Risler had reached that point in his dream.
+
+And now the worthy man, dazed with fatigue and well-being, glanced
+vaguely about that huge table of twenty-four covers, curved in the shape
+of a horseshoe at the ends, and surrounded by smiling, familiar faces,
+wherein he seemed to see his happiness reflected in every eye. The
+dinner was drawing near its close. The wave of private conversation
+flowed around the table. Faces were turned toward one another, black
+sleeves stole behind waists adorned with bunches of asclepias, a
+childish face laughed over a fruit ice, and the dessert at the level of
+the guests' lips encompassed the cloth with animation, bright colors,
+and light.
+
+Ah, yes! Risler was very happy.
+
+Except his brother Frantz, everybody he loved was there. First of all,
+sitting opposite him, was Sidonie--yesterday little Sidonie, to-day his
+wife. For the ceremony of dinner she had laid aside her veil; she had
+emerged from her cloud. Now, above the smooth, white silk gown, appeared
+a pretty face of a less lustrous and softer white, and the crown of
+hair-beneath that other crown so carefully bestowed--would have told you
+of a tendency to rebel against life, of little feathers fluttering
+for an opportunity to fly away. But husbands do not see such things as
+those.
+
+Next to Sidonie and Frantz, the person whom Risler loved best in the
+world was Madame Georges Fromont, whom he called "Madame Chorche," the
+wife of his partner and the daughter of the late Fromont, his former
+employer and his god. He had placed her beside him, and in his manner of
+speaking to her one could read affection and deference. She was a very
+young woman, of about the same age as Sidonie, but of a more regular,
+quiet and placid type of beauty. She talked little, being out of
+her element in that conglomerate assemblage; but she tried to appear
+affable.
+
+On Risler's other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride's mother, radiant
+and gorgeous in her green satin gown, which gleamed like a shield. Ever
+since the morning the good woman's every thought had been as brilliant
+as that robe of emblematic hue. At every moment she said to herself: "My
+daughter is marrying Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, of Rue des Vieilles
+Haudriettes!" For, in her mind, it was not Risler alone whom her
+daughter took for her husband, but the whole sign of the establishment,
+illustrious in the commercial annals of Paris; and whenever she mentally
+announced that glorious event, Madame Chebe sat more erect than ever,
+stretching the silk of the bodice until it almost cracked.
+
+What a contrast to the attitude of Monsieur Chebe, who was seated at
+a short distance. In different households, as a general rule, the same
+causes produce altogether different results. That little man, with the
+high forehead of a visionary, as inflated and hollow as a ball, was as
+fierce in appearance as his wife was radiant. That was nothing unusual,
+by the way, for Monsieur Chebe was in a frenzy the whole year long.
+On this particular evening, however, he did not wear his customary
+woe-begone, lack-lustre expression, nor the full-skirted coat, with the
+pockets sticking out behind, filled to repletion with samples of oil,
+wine, truffles, or vinegar, according as he happened to be dealing in
+one or the other of those articles. His black coat, new and magnificent,
+made a fitting pendant to the green gown; but unfortunately his thoughts
+were of the color of his coat. Why had they not seated him beside the
+bride, as was his right? Why had they given his seat to young Fromont?
+And there was old Gardinois, the Fromonts' grandfather, what business
+had he by Sidonie's side? Ah! that was how it was to be! Everything for
+the Fromonts and nothing for the Chebes! And yet people are amazed that
+there are such things as revolutions!
+
+Luckily the little man had by his side, to vent his anger upon, his
+friend Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who listened to him with his
+serene and majestic holiday countenance.
+
+Strangely enough, the bride herself had something of that same
+expression. On that pretty and youthful face, which happiness enlivened
+without making glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupation;
+and, at times, the corners of her lips quivered with a smile, as if she
+were talking to herself.
+
+With that same little smile she replied to the somewhat pronounced
+pleasantries of Grandfather Gardinois, who sat by her side.
+
+"This Sidonie, on my word!" said the good man, with a laugh. "When
+I think that not two months ago she was talking about going into a
+convent. We all know what sort of convents such minxes as she go to! As
+the saying is in our province: The Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes
+under the bed!"
+
+And everybody at the table laughed heartily at the rustic jests of
+the old Berrichon peasant, whose colossal fortune filled the place of
+manliness, of education, of kindness of heart, but not of wit; for
+he had plenty of that, the rascal--more than all his bourgeois
+fellow-guests together. Among the very rare persons who inspired a
+sympathetic feeling in his breast, little Chebe, whom he had known as
+an urchin, appealed particularly to him; and she, for her part,
+having become rich too recently not to venerate wealth, talked to her
+right-hand neighbor with a very perceptible air of respect and coquetry.
+
+With her left-hand-neighbor, on the contrary, Georges Fromont, her
+husband's partner, she exhibited the utmost reserve. Their conversation
+was restricted to the ordinary courtesies of the table; indeed there was
+a sort of affectation of indifference between them.
+
+Suddenly there was that little commotion among the guests which
+indicates that they are about to rise: the rustling of silk, the moving
+of chairs, the last words of conversations, the completion of a laugh,
+and in that half-silence Madame Chebe, who had become communicative,
+observed in a very loud tone to a provincial cousin, who was gazing in
+an ecstasy of admiration at the newly made bride's reserved and tranquil
+demeanor, as she stood with her arm in Monsieur Gardinois's:
+
+"You see that child, cousin--well, no one has ever been able to find out
+what her thoughts were."
+
+Thereupon the whole party rose and repaired to the grand salon.
+
+While the guests invited for the ball were arriving and mingling
+with the dinner-guests, while the orchestra was tuning up, while
+the cavaliers, eyeglass in position, strutted before the impatient,
+white-gowned damsels, the bridegroom, awed by so great a throng, had
+taken refuge with his friend Planus--Sigismond Planus, cashier of the
+house of Fromont for thirty years--in that little gallery decorated
+with flowers and hung with a paper representing shrubbery and clambering
+vines, which forms a sort of background of artificial verdure to
+Vefour's gilded salons.
+
+"Sigismond, old friend--I am very happy."
+
+And Sigismond too was happy; but Risler did not give him time to say so.
+Now that he was no longer in dread of weeping before his guests, all the
+joy in his heart overflowed.
+
+"Just think of it, my friend!--It's so extraordinary that a young girl
+like Sidonie would consent to marry me. For you know I'm not handsome.
+I didn't need to have that impudent creature tell me so this morning to
+know it. And then I'm forty-two--and she such a dear little thing! There
+were so many others she might have chosen, among the youngest and the
+richest, to say nothing of my poor Frantz, who loved her so. But, no,
+she preferred her old Risler. And it came about so strangely. For a long
+time I noticed that she was sad, greatly changed. I felt sure there was
+some disappointment in love at the bottom of it. Her mother and I looked
+about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be. One
+morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, 'You are the
+man she loves, my dear friend!'--And I was the man--I was the man! Bless
+my soul! Whoever would have suspected such a thing? And to think that
+in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune--a
+partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie--Oh!"
+
+At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple
+whirled into the small salon. They were Risler's bride and his partner,
+Georges Fromont. Equally young and attractive, they were talking in
+undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.
+
+"You lie!" said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.
+
+And the other, paler than she, replied:
+
+"I do not lie. It was my uncle who insisted upon this marriage. He was
+dying--you had gone away. I dared not say no."
+
+Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration.
+
+"How pretty she is! How well they dance!"
+
+But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked
+quickly to him.
+
+"What! You here? What are you doing? They are looking everywhere for
+you. Why aren't you in there?"
+
+As she spoke she retied his cravat with a pretty, impatient gesture.
+That enchanted Risler, who smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his
+eye, too overjoyed at feeling the touch of that little gloved hand on
+his neck, to notice that she was trembling to the ends of her slender
+fingers.
+
+"Give me your arm," she said to him, and they returned together to the
+salons. The white bridal gown with its long train made the badly cut,
+awkwardly worn black coat appear even more uncouth; but a coat can
+not be retied like a cravat; she must needs take it as it was. As they
+passed along, returning the salutations of all the guests who were so
+eager to smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of
+satisfied vanity. Unhappily it did not last. In a corner of the room
+sat a young and attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who
+looked on at the dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of
+a first maternity. As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the
+corner where she sat and compelled Sidonie to sit beside her. Needless
+to say that it was Madame "Chorche." To whom else would he have spoken
+with such affectionate respect? In what other hand than hers could he
+have placed his little Sidonie's, saying: "You will love her dearly,
+won't you? You are so good. She needs your advice, your knowledge of the
+world."
+
+"Why, my dear Risler," Madame Georges replied, "Sidonie and I are old
+friends. We have reason to be fond of each other still."
+
+And her calm, straightforward glance strove unsuccessfully to meet that
+of her old friend.
+
+With his ignorance of women, and his habit of treating Sidonie as a
+child, Risler continued in the same tone:
+
+"Take her for your model, little one. There are not two people in the
+world like Madame Chorche. She has her poor father's heart. A true
+Fromont!"
+
+Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed without replying, while an
+imperceptible shudder ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the topmost
+bit of orange-blossom in her crown. But honest Risler saw nothing. The
+excitement, the dancing, the music, the flowers, the lights made him
+drunk, made him mad. He believed that every one breathed the same
+atmosphere of bliss beyond compare which enveloped him. He had no
+perception of the rivalries, the petty hatreds that met and passed one
+another above all those bejewelled foreheads.
+
+He did not notice Delobelle, standing with his elbow on the mantel, one
+hand in the armhole of his waistcoat and his hat upon his hip, weary
+of his eternal attitudinizing, while the hours slipped by and no one
+thought of utilizing his talents. He did not notice M. Chebe, who was
+prowling darkly between the two doors, more incensed than ever against
+the Fromonts. Oh! those Fromonts!--How large a place they filled at that
+wedding! They were all there with their wives, their children, their
+friends, their friends' friends. One would have said that one of
+themselves was being married. Who had a word to say of the Rislers or
+the Chebes? Why, he--he, the father, had not even been presented!--And
+the little man's rage was redoubled by the attitude of Madame Chebe,
+smiling maternally upon one and all in her scarab-hued dress.
+
+Furthermore, there were at this, as at almost all wedding-parties, two
+distinct currents which came together but without mingling. One of the
+two soon gave place to the other. The Fromonts, who irritated Monsieur
+Chebe so much and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president
+of the Chamber of Commerce, the syndic of the solicitors, a famous
+chocolate-manufacturer and member of the Corps Legislatif, and the
+old millionaire Gardinois, all retired shortly after midnight. Georges
+Fromont and his wife entered their carriage behind them. Only the Risler
+and Chebe party remained, and the festivity at once changed its aspect,
+becoming more uproarious.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle, disgusted to see that no one called upon him
+for anything, decided to call upon himself for something, and began in a
+voice as resonant as a gong the monologue from Ruy Blas: "Good appetite,
+Messieurs!" while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with
+chocolate and glasses of punch. Inexpensive little costumes were
+displayed upon the benches, overjoyed to produce their due effect
+at last; and here and there divers young shop-clerks, consumed with
+conceit, amused themselves by venturing upon a quadrille.
+
+The bride had long wished to take her leave. At last she disappeared
+with Risler and Madame Chebe. As for Monsieur Chebe, who had recovered
+all his importance, it was impossible to induce him to go. Some one
+must be there to do the honors, deuce take it! And I assure you that
+the little man assumed the responsibility! He was flushed, lively,
+frolicsome, noisy, almost seditious. On the floor below he could
+be heard talking politics with Vefour's headwaiter, and making most
+audacious statements.
+
+Through the deserted streets the wedding-carriage, the tired coachman
+holding the white reins somewhat loosely, rolled heavily toward the
+Marais.
+
+Madame Chebe talked continuously, enumerating all the splendors of that
+memorable day, rhapsodizing especially over the dinner, the commonplace
+menu of which had been to her the highest display of magnificence.
+Sidonie mused in the darkness of the carriage, and Risler, sitting
+opposite her, even though he no longer said, "I am very happy,"
+continued to think it with all his heart. Once he tried to take
+possession of a little white hand that rested against the closed window,
+but it was hastily withdrawn, and he sat there without moving, lost in
+mute admiration.
+
+They drove through the Halles and the Rue de Rambuteau, thronged
+with kitchen-gardeners' wagons; and, near the end of the Rue des
+Francs-Bourgeois, they turned the corner of the Archives into the Rue de
+Braque. There they stopped first, and Madame Chebe alighted at her door,
+which was too narrow for the magnificent green silk frock, so that it
+vanished in the hall with rustlings of revolt and with all its folds
+muttering. A few minutes later, a tall, massive portal on the Rue des
+Vieilles-Haudriettes, bearing on the escutcheon that betrayed the former
+family mansion, beneath half-effaced armorial bearings, a sign in blue
+letters, Wall Papers, was thrown wide open to allow the wedding-carriage
+to pass through.
+
+Thereupon the bride, hitherto motionless and like one asleep, seemed to
+wake suddenly, and if all the lights in the vast buildings, workshops or
+storehouses, which surrounded the courtyard, had not been extinguished,
+Risler might have seen that pretty, enigmatical face suddenly lighted by
+a smile of triumph. The wheels revolved less noisily on the fine gravel
+of a garden, and soon stopped before the stoop of a small house of two
+floors. It was there that the young Fromonts lived, and Risler and his
+wife were to take up their abode on the floor above. The house had an
+aristocratic air. Flourishing commerce avenged itself therein for the
+dismal street and the out-of-the-way quarter. There was a carpet on the
+stairway leading to their apartment, and on all sides shone the gleaming
+whiteness of marble, the reflection of mirrors and of polished copper.
+
+While Risler was parading his delight through all the rooms of the new
+apartment, Sidonie remained alone in her bedroom. By the light of the
+little blue lamp hanging from the ceiling, she glanced first of all at
+the mirror, which gave back her reflection from head to foot, at all her
+luxurious surroundings, so unfamiliar to her; then, instead of going
+to bed, she opened the window and stood leaning against the sill,
+motionless as a statue.
+
+The night was clear and warm. She could see distinctly the whole
+factory, its innumerable unshaded windows, its glistening panes, its
+tall chimney losing itself in the depths of the sky, and nearer at hand
+the lovely little garden against the ancient wall of the former mansion.
+All about were gloomy, miserable roofs and squalid streets. Suddenly
+she started. Yonder, in the darkest, the ugliest of all those attics
+crowding so closely together, leaning against one another, as if
+overweighted with misery, a fifth-floor window stood wide open, showing
+only darkness within. She recognized it at once. It was the window of
+the landing on which her parents lived.
+
+The window on the landing!
+
+How many things the mere name recalled! How many hours, how many
+days she had passed there, leaning on that damp sill, without rail or
+balcony, looking toward the factory. At that moment she fancied that she
+could see up yonder little Chebe's ragged person, and in the frame made
+by that poor window, her whole child life, her deplorable youth as a
+Parisian street arab, passed before her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. LITTLE CHEBE'S STORY
+
+In Paris the common landing is like an additional room, an enlargement
+of their abodes, to poor families confined in their too small
+apartments. They go there to get a breath of air in summer, and there
+the women talk and the children play.
+
+When little Chebe made too much noise in the house, her mother would say
+to her: "There there! you bother me, go and play on the landing." And
+the child would go quickly enough.
+
+This landing, on the upper floor of an old house in which space had not
+been spared, formed a sort of large lobby, with a high ceiling, guarded
+on the staircase side by a wrought-iron rail, lighted by a large window
+which looked out upon roofs, courtyards, and other windows, and, farther
+away, upon the garden of the Fromont factory, which was like a green
+oasis among the huge old walls.
+
+There was nothing very cheerful about it, but the child liked it much
+better than her own home. Their rooms were dismal, especially when it
+rained and Ferdinand did not go out.
+
+With his brain always smoking with new ideas, which unfortunately
+never came to anything, Ferdinand Chebe was one of those slothful,
+project-devising bourgeois of when there are so many in Paris. His
+wife, whom he had dazzled at first, had soon detected his utter
+insignificance, and had ended by enduring patiently and with unchanged
+demeanor his continual dreams of wealth and the disasters that
+immediately followed them.
+
+Of the dot of eighty thousand francs which she had brought him, and
+which he had squandered in his absurd schemes, only a small annuity
+remained, which still gave them a position of some importance in the
+eyes of their neighbors, as did Madame Chebe's cashmere, which had been
+rescued from every wreck, her wedding laces and two diamond studs, very
+tiny and very modest, which Sidonie sometimes begged her mother to show
+her, as they lay in the drawer of the bureau, in an old-fashioned white
+velvet case, on which the jeweller's name, in gilt letters, thirty years
+old, was gradually fading. That was the only bit of luxury in that poor
+annuitant's abode.
+
+For a very long time M. Chebe had sought a place which would enable him
+to eke out their slender income. But he sought it only in what he called
+standing business, his health forbidding any occupation that required
+him to be seated.
+
+It seemed that, soon after his marriage, when he was in a flourishing
+business and had a horse and tilbury of his own, the little man had
+had one day a serious fall. That fall, to which he referred upon every
+occasion, served as an excuse for his indolence.
+
+One could not be with M. Chebe five minutes before he would say in a
+confidential tone:
+
+"You know of the accident that happened to the Duc d'Orleans?"
+
+And then he would add, tapping his little bald pate "The same thing
+happened to me in my youth."
+
+Since that famous fall any sort of office work made him dizzy, and he
+had found himself inexorably confined to standing business. Thus, he had
+been in turn a broker in wines, in books, in truffles, in clocks, and
+in many other things beside. Unluckily, he tired of everything, never
+considered his position sufficiently exalted for a former business man
+with a tilbury, and, by gradual degrees, by dint of deeming every sort
+of occupation beneath him, he had grown old and incapable, a genuine
+idler with low tastes, a good-for-nothing.
+
+Artists are often rebuked for their oddities, for the liberties they
+take with nature, for that horror of the conventional which impels them
+to follow by-paths; but who can ever describe all the absurd fancies,
+all the idiotic eccentricities with which a bourgeois without occupation
+can succeed in filling the emptiness of his life? M. Chebe imposed upon
+himself certain rules concerning his goings and comings, and his walks
+abroad. While the Boulevard Sebastopol was being built, he went twice a
+day "to see how it was getting on."
+
+No one knew better than he the fashionable shops and the bargains; and
+very often Madame Chebe, annoyed to see her husband's idiotic face at
+the window while she was energetically mending the family linen, would
+rid herself of him by giving him an errand to do. "You know that place,
+on the corner of such a street, where they sell such nice cakes. They
+would be nice for our dessert."
+
+And the husband would go out, saunter along the boulevard by the shops,
+wait for the omnibus, and pass half the day in procuring two cakes,
+worth three sous, which he would bring home in triumph, wiping his
+forehead.
+
+M. Chebe adored the summer, the Sundays, the great footraces in the dust
+at Clamart or Romainville, the excitement of holidays and the crowd. He
+was one of those who went about for a whole week before the fifteenth
+of August, gazing at the black lamps and their frames, and the
+scaffoldings. Nor did his wife complain. At all events, she no longer
+had that chronic grumbler prowling around her chair for whole days,
+with schemes for gigantic enterprises, combinations that missed fire in
+advance, lamentations concerning the past, and a fixed determination not
+to work at anything to earn money.
+
+She no longer earned anything herself, poor woman; but she knew so well
+how to save, her wonderful economy made up so completely for everything
+else, that absolute want, although a near neighbor of such impecuniosity
+as theirs, never succeeded in making its way into those three rooms,
+which were always neat and clean, or in destroying the carefully mended
+garments or the old furniture so well concealed beneath its coverings.
+
+Opposite the Chebes' door, whose copper knob gleamed in bourgeois
+fashion upon the landing, were two other and smaller ones.
+
+On the first, a visiting-card, held in place by four nails, according to
+the custom in vogue among industrial artists, bore the name of
+
+                 RISLER
+             DESIGNER OF PATTERNS.
+
+On the other was a small square of leather, with these words in gilt
+letters:
+
+              MESDAMES DELOBELLE
+          BIRDS AND INSECTS FOR ORNAMENT.
+
+The Delobelles' door was often open, disclosing a large room with a
+brick floor, where two women, mother and daughter, the latter almost
+a child, each as weary and as pale as the other, worked at one of the
+thousand fanciful little trades which go to make up what is called the
+'Articles de Paris'.
+
+It was then the fashion to ornament hats and ballgowns with the lovely
+little insects from South America that have the brilliant coloring of
+jewels and reflect the light like diamonds. The Delobelles had adopted
+that specialty.
+
+A wholesale house, to which consignments were made directly from the
+Antilles, sent to them, unopened, long, light boxes from which, when
+the lid was removed, arose a faint odor, a dust of arsenic through which
+gleamed the piles of insects, impaled before being shipped, the birds
+packed closely together, their wings held in place by a strip of thin
+paper. They must all be mounted--the insects quivering upon brass wire,
+the humming-birds with their feathers ruffled; they must be cleansed and
+polished, the beak in a bright red, claw repaired with a silk thread,
+dead eyes replaced with sparkling pearls, and the insect or the bird
+restored to an appearance of life and grace. The mother prepared the
+work under her daughter's direction; for Desiree, though she was still a
+mere girl, was endowed with exquisite taste, with a fairy-like power of
+invention, and no one could, insert two pearl eyes in those tiny heads
+or spread their lifeless wings so deftly as she. Happy or unhappy,
+Desiree always worked with the same energy. From dawn until well into
+the night the table was covered with work. At the last ray of daylight,
+when the factory bells were ringing in all the neighboring yards, Madame
+Delobelle lighted the lamp, and after a more than frugal repast they
+returned to their work. Those two indefatigable women had one object,
+one fixed idea, which prevented them from feeling the burden of enforced
+vigils. That idea was the dramatic renown of the illustrious Delobelle.
+After he had left the provincial theatres to pursue his profession
+in Paris, Delobelle waited for an intelligent manager, the ideal and
+providential manager who discovers geniuses, to seek him out and offer
+him a role suited to his talents. He might, perhaps, especially at the
+beginning, have obtained a passably good engagement at a theatre of the
+third order, but Delobelle did not choose to lower himself.
+
+He preferred to wait, to struggle, as he said! And this is how he
+awaited the struggle.
+
+In the morning in his bedroom, often in his bed, he rehearsed roles in
+his former repertory; and the Delobelle ladies trembled with emotion
+when they heard behind the partition tirades from 'Antony' or the
+'Medecin des Enfants', declaimed in a sonorous voice that blended with
+the thousand-and-one noises of the great Parisian bee-hive. Then, after
+breakfast, the actor would sally forth for the day; would go to "do his
+boulevard," that is to say, to saunter to and fro between the Chateau
+d'Eau and the Madeline, with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, his
+hat a little on one side-always gloved, and brushed, and glossy.
+
+That question of dress was of great importance in his eyes. It was one
+of the greatest elements of success, a bait for the manager--the famous,
+intelligent manager--who never would dream of engaging a threadbare,
+shabbily dressed man.
+
+So the Delobelle ladies took good care that he lacked nothing; and you
+can imagine how many birds and insects it required to fit out a blade of
+that temper! The actor thought it the most natural thing in the world.
+
+In his view, the labors, the privations of his wife and daughter were
+not, strictly speaking, for his benefit, but for the benefit of that
+mysterious and unknown genius, whose trustee he considered himself to
+be.
+
+There was a certain analogy between the position of the Chebe family and
+that of the Delobelles. But the latter household was less depressing.
+The Chebes felt that their petty annuitant existence was fastened
+upon them forever, with no prospect of amelioration, always the
+same; whereas, in the actor's family, hope and illusion often opened
+magnificent vistas.
+
+The Chebes were like people living in a blind alley; the Delobelles on
+a foul little street, where there was no light or air, but where a great
+boulevard might some day be laid out. And then, too, Madame Chebe no
+longer believed in her husband, whereas, by virtue of that single magic
+word, "Art!" her neighbor never had doubted hers.
+
+And yet for years and years Monsieur Delobelle had been unavailingly
+drinking vermouth with dramatic agents, absinthe with leaders of
+claques, bitters with vaudevillists, dramatists, and the famous
+what's-his-name, author of several great dramas. Engagements did not
+always follow. So that, without once appearing on the boards, the poor
+man had progressed from jeune premier to grand premier roles, then to
+the financiers, then to the noble fathers, then to the buffoons--
+
+He stopped there!
+
+On two or three occasions his friends had obtained for him a chance to
+earn his living as manager of a club or a cafe as an inspector in great
+warehouses, at the 'Phares de la Bastille' or the 'Colosse de Rhodes.'
+All that was necessary was to have good manners. Delobelle was not
+lacking in that respect, God knows! And yet every suggestion that was
+made to him the great man met with a heroic refusal.
+
+"I have no right to abandon the stage!" he would then assert.
+
+In the mouth of that poor devil, who had not set foot on the boards
+for years, it was irresistibly comical. But one lost the inclination
+to laugh when one saw his wife and his daughter swallowing particles of
+arsenic day and night, and heard them repeat emphatically as they broke
+their needles against the brass wire with which the little birds were
+mounted:
+
+"No! no! Monsieur Delobelle has no right to abandon the stage."
+
+Happy man, whose bulging eyes, always smiling condescendingly, and
+whose habit of reigning on the stage had procured for him for life that
+exceptional position of a spoiled and admired child-king! When he left
+the house, the shopkeepers on the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, with the
+predilection of the Parisian for everything and everybody connected with
+the theatre, saluted him respectfully. He was always so well dressed!
+And then he was so kind, so obliging! When you think that every Saturday
+night, he, Ruy Blas, Antony, Raphael in the 'Filles de Maybre,' Andres
+in the 'Pirates de la Savane,' sallied forth, with a bandbox under
+his arm, to carry the week's work of his wife and daughter to a flower
+establishment on the Rue St.-Denis!
+
+Why, even when performing such a commission as that, this devil of a
+fellow had such nobility of bearing, such native dignity, that the young
+woman whose duty it was to make up the Delobelle account was sorely
+embarrassed to hand to such an irreproachable gentleman the paltry
+stipend so laboriously earned.
+
+On those evenings, by the way, the actor did not return home to dinner.
+The women were forewarned.
+
+He always met some old comrade on the boulevard, some unlucky devil like
+himself--there are so many of them in that sacred profession!--whom he
+entertained at a restaurant or cafe. Then, with scrupulous fidelity--and
+very grateful they were to him--he would carry the rest of the money
+home, sometimes with a bouquet for his wife or a little present for
+Desiree, a nothing, a mere trifle. What would you have? Those are the
+customs of the stage. It is such a simple matter in a melodrama to toss
+a handful of louis through the window!
+
+"Ho! varlet, take this purse and hie thee hence to tell thy mistress I
+await her coming."
+
+And so, notwithstanding their marvellous courage, and although their
+trade was quite lucrative, the Delobelles often found themselves in
+straitened circumstances, especially in the dull season of the 'Articles
+de Paris.'
+
+Luckily the excellent Risler was at hand, always ready to accommodate
+his friends.
+
+Guillaume Risler, the third tenant on the landing, lived with his
+brother Frantz, who was fifteen years his junior. The two young Swiss,
+tall and fair, strong and ruddy, brought into the dismal, hard-working
+house glimpses of the country and of health. The elder was a draughtsman
+at the Fromont factory and was paying for the education of his brother,
+who attended Chaptal's lectures, pending his admission to the Ecole
+Centrale.
+
+On his arrival at Paris, being sadly perplexed as to the installation of
+his little household, Guillaume had derived from his neighbors, Mesdames
+Chebe and Delobelle, advice and information which were an indispensable
+aid to that ingenuous, timid, somewhat heavy youth, embarrassed by his
+foreign accent and manner. After a brief period of neighborhood and
+mutual services, the Risler brothers formed a part of both families.
+
+On holidays places were always made for them at one table or the other,
+and it was a great satisfaction to the two exiles to find in those poor
+households, modest and straitened as they were, a taste of affection and
+family life.
+
+The wages of the designer, who was very clever at his trade, enabled
+him to be of service to the Delobelles on rent-day, and to make his
+appearance at the Chebes' in the guise of the rich uncle, always laden
+with surprises and presents, so that the little girl, as soon as she saw
+him, would explore his pockets and climb on his knees.
+
+On Sunday he would take them all to the theatre; and almost every
+evening he would go with Messieurs Chebe and Delobelle to a brewery on
+the Rue Blondel, where he regaled them with beer and pretzels. Beer and
+pretzels were his only vice.
+
+For his own part, he knew no greater bliss than to sit before a foaming
+tankard, between his two friends, listening to their talk, and taking
+part only by a loud laugh or a shake of the head in their conversation,
+which was usually a long succession of grievances against society.
+
+A childlike shyness, and the Germanisms of speech which he never had
+laid aside in his life of absorbing toil, embarrassed him much in giving
+expression to his ideas. Moreover, his friends overawed him. They had
+in respect to him the tremendous superiority of the man who does nothing
+over the man who works; and M. Chebe, less generous than Delobelle, did
+not hesitate to make him feel it. He was very lofty with him, was M.
+Chebe! In his opinion, a man who worked, as Risler did, ten hours a day,
+was incapable, when he left his work, of expressing an intelligent idea.
+Sometimes the designer, coming home worried from the factory, would
+prepare to spend the night over some pressing work. You should have seen
+M. Chebe's scandalized expression then!
+
+"Nobody could make me follow such a business!" he would say, expanding
+his chest, and he would add, looking at Risler with the air of a
+physician making a professional call, "Just wait till you've had one
+severe attack."
+
+Delobelle was not so fierce, but he adopted a still loftier tone. The
+cedar does not see a rose at its foot. Delobelle did not see Risler at
+his feet.
+
+When, by chance, the great man deigned to notice his presence, he had a
+certain air of stooping down to him to listen, and to smile at his words
+as at a child's; or else he would amuse himself by dazzling him with
+stories of actresses, would give him lessons in deportment and the
+addresses of outfitters, unable to understand why a man who earned so
+much money should always be dressed like an usher at a primary
+school. Honest Risler, convinced of his inferiority, would try to earn
+forgiveness by a multitude of little attentions, obliged to furnish all
+the delicacy, of course, as he was the constant benefactor.
+
+Among these three households living on the same floor, little Chebe,
+with her goings and comings, formed the bond of union.
+
+At all times of day she would slip into the workroom of the Delobelles,
+amuse herself by watching their work and looking at all the insects,
+and, being already more coquettish than playful, if an insect had lost
+a wing in its travels, or a humming-bird its necklace of down, she would
+try to make herself a headdress of the remains, to fix that brilliant
+shaft of color among the ripples of her silky hair. It made Desiree
+and her mother smile to see her stand on tiptoe in front of the old
+tarnished mirror, with affected little shrugs and grimaces. Then, when
+she had had enough of admiring herself, the child would open the door
+with all the strength of her little fingers, and would go demurely,
+holding her head perfectly straight for fear of disarranging her
+headdress, and knock at the Rislers' door.
+
+No one was there in the daytime but Frantz the student, leaning over his
+books, doing his duty faithfully. But when Sidonie enters, farewell to
+study! Everything must be put aside to receive that lovely creature with
+the humming-bird in her hair, pretending to be a princess who had come
+to Chaptal's school to ask his hand in marriage from the director.
+
+It was really a strange sight to see that tall, overgrown boy playing
+with that little girl of eight, humoring her caprices, adoring her as he
+yielded to her, so that later, when he fell genuinely in love with her,
+no one could have said at what time the change began.
+
+Petted as she was in those two homes, little Chebe was very fond of
+running to the window on the landing. There it was that she found her
+greatest source of entertainment, a horizon always open, a sort of
+vision of the future toward which she leaned with eager curiosity and
+without fear, for children are not subject to vertigo.
+
+Between the slated roofs sloping toward one another, the high wall
+of the factory, the tops of the plane-trees in the garden, the
+many-windowed workshops appeared to her like a promised land, the
+country of her dreams.
+
+That Fromont establishment was to her mind the highest ideal of wealth.
+
+The place it occupied in that part of the Marais, which was at certain
+hours enveloped by its smoke and its din, Risler's enthusiasm, his
+fabulous tales concerning his employer's wealth and goodness and
+cleverness, had aroused that childish curiosity; and such portions as
+she could see of the dwelling-houses, the carved wooden blinds, the
+circular front steps, with the garden-seats before them, a great white
+bird-house with gilt stripes glistening in the sun, the blue-lined coupe
+standing in the courtyard, were to her objects of continual admiration.
+
+She knew all the habits of the family: At what hour the bell was rung,
+when the workmen went away, the Saturday payday which kept the cashier's
+little lamp lighted late in the evening, and the long Sunday afternoon,
+the closed workshops, the smokeless chimney, the profound silence which
+enabled her to hear Mademoiselle Claire at play in the garden, running
+about with her cousin Georges. From Risler she obtained details.
+
+"Show me the salon windows," she would say to him, "and Claire's room."
+
+Risler, delighted by this extraordinary interest in his beloved factory,
+would explain to the child from their lofty position the arrangement
+of the buildings, point out the print-shop, the gilding-shop, the
+designing-room where he worked, the engine-room, above which towered
+that enormous chimney blackening all the neighboring walls with its
+corrosive smoke, and which never suspected that a young life, concealed
+beneath a neighboring roof, mingled its inmost thoughts with its loud,
+indefatigable panting.
+
+At last one day Sidonie entered that paradise of which she had
+heretofore caught only a glimpse.
+
+Madame Fromont, to whom Risler often spoke of her little neighbor's
+beauty and intelligence, asked him to bring her to the children's ball
+she intended to give at Christmas. At first Monsieur Chebe replied by a
+curt refusal. Even in those days, the Fromonts, whose name was always on
+Rider's lips, irritated and humiliated him by their wealth. Moreover, it
+was to be a fancy ball, and M. Chebe--who did not sell wallpapers, not
+he!--could not afford to dress his daughter as a circus-dancer. But
+Risler insisted, declared that he would get everything himself, and at
+once set about designing a costume.
+
+It was a memorable evening.
+
+In Madame Chebe's bedroom, littered with pieces of cloth and pins and
+small toilet articles, Desiree Delobelle superintended Sidonie's toilet.
+The child, appearing taller because of her short skirt of red flannel
+with black stripes, stood before the mirror, erect and motionless, in
+the glittering splendor of her costume. She was charming. The waist,
+with bands of velvet laced over the white stomacher, the lovely, long
+tresses of chestnut hair escaping from a hat of plaited straw, all
+the trivial details of her Savoyard's costume were heightened by the
+intelligent features of the child, who was quite at her ease in the
+brilliant colors of that theatrical garb.
+
+The whole assembled neighborhood uttered cries of admiration. While some
+one went in search of Delobelle, the lame girl arranged the folds of
+the skirt, the bows on the shoes, and cast a final glance over her work,
+without laying aside her needle; she, too, was excited, poor child! by
+the intoxication of that festivity to which she was not invited.
+The great man arrived. He made Sidonie rehearse two or three stately
+curtseys which he had taught her, the proper way to walk, to stand, to
+smile with her mouth slightly open, and the exact position of the little
+finger. It was truly amusing to see the precision with which the child
+went through the drill.
+
+"She has dramatic blood in her veins!" exclaimed the old actor
+enthusiastically, unable to understand why that stupid Frantz was
+strongly inclined to weep.
+
+A year after that happy evening Sidonie could have told you what flowers
+there were in the reception rooms, the color of the furniture, and
+the music they were playing as she entered the ballroom, so deep an
+impression did her enjoyment make upon her. She forgot nothing, neither
+the costumes that made an eddying whirl about her, nor the childish
+laughter, nor all the tiny steps that glided over the polished floors.
+For a moment, as she sat on the edge of a great red-silk couch, taking
+from the plate presented to her the first sherbet of her life, she
+suddenly thought of the dark stairway, of her parents' stuffy little
+rooms, and it produced upon her mind the effect of a distant country
+which she had left forever.
+
+However, she was considered a fascinating little creature, and was much
+admired and petted. Claire Fromont, a miniature Cauchoise dressed in
+lace, presented her to her cousin Georges, a magnificent hussar who
+turned at every step to observe the effect of his sabre.
+
+"You understand, Georges, she is my friend. She is coming to play with
+us Sundays. Mamma says she may."
+
+And, with the artless impulsiveness of a happy child, she kissed little
+Chebe with all her heart.
+
+But the time came to go. For a long time, in the filthy street where the
+snow was melting, in the dark hall, in the silent room where her mother
+awaited her, the brilliant light of the salons continued to shine before
+her dazzled eyes.
+
+"Was it very fine? Did you have a charming time?" queried Madame Chebe
+in a low tone, unfastening the buckles of the gorgeous costume, one by
+one.
+
+And Sidonie, overcome with fatigue, made no reply, but fell asleep
+standing, beginning a lovely dream which was to last throughout her
+youth and cost her many tears.
+
+Claire Fromont kept her word. Sidonie often went to play in the
+beautiful gravelled garden, and was able to see at close range the
+carved blinds and the dovecot with its threads of gold. She came to know
+all the corners and hiding-places in the great factory, and took part in
+many glorious games of hide-and-seek behind the printing-tables in the
+solitude of Sunday afternoon. On holidays a plate was laid for her at
+the children's table.
+
+Everybody loved her, although she never exhibited much affection for any
+one. So long as she was in the midst of that luxury, she was conscious
+of softer impulses, she was happy and felt that she was embellished by
+her surroundings; but when she returned to her parents, when she saw the
+factory through the dirty panes of the window on the landing, she had an
+inexplicable feeling of regret and anger.
+
+And yet Claire Fromont treated her as a friend.
+
+Sometimes they took her to the Bois, to the Tuileries, in the famous
+blue-lined carriage, or into the country, to pass a whole week at
+Grandfather Gardinois's chateau, at Savigny-sur-Orge. Thanks to the
+munificence of Risler, who was very proud of his little one's success,
+she was always presentable and well dressed. Madame Chebe made it a
+point of honor, and the pretty, lame girl was always at hand to place
+her treasures of unused coquetry at her little friend's service.
+
+But M. Chebe, who was always hostile to the Fromonts, looked frowningly
+upon this growing intimacy. The true reason was that he himself never
+was invited; but he gave other reasons, and would say to his wife:
+
+"Don't you see that your daughter's heart is sad when she returns from
+that house, and that she passes whole hours dreaming at the window?"
+
+But poor Madame Chebe, who had been so unhappy ever since her marriage,
+had become reckless. She declared that one should make the most of the
+present for fear of the future, should seize happiness as it passes, as
+one often has no other support and consolation in life than the memory
+of a happy childhood.
+
+For once it happened that M. Chebe was right.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. THE FALSE PEARLS
+
+After two or three years of intimacy with Claire, of sharing her
+amusements, years during which Sidonie acquired the familiarity with
+luxury and the graceful manners of the children of the wealthy, the
+friendship was suddenly broken.
+
+Cousin Georges, whose guardian M. Fromont was, had entered college some
+time before. Claire in her turn took her departure for the convent with
+the outfit of a little queen; and at that very time the Chebes were
+discussing the question of apprenticing Sidonie to some trade. They
+promised to love each other as before and to meet twice a month, on the
+Sundays that Claire was permitted to go home.
+
+Indeed, little Chebe did still go down sometimes to play with her
+friends; but as she grew older she realized more fully the distance that
+separated them, and her clothes began to seem to her very simple for
+Madame Fromont's salon.
+
+When the three were alone, the childish friendship which made them
+equals prevented any feeling of embarrassment; but visitors came,
+girl friends from the convent, among others a tall girl, always richly
+dressed, whom her mother's maid used to bring to play with the little
+Fromonts on Sunday.
+
+As soon as she saw her coming up the steps, resplendent and disdainful,
+Sidonie longed to go away at once. The other embarrassed her with
+awkward questions. Where did she live? What did her parents do? Had she
+a carriage?
+
+As she listened to their talk of the convent and their friends, Sidonie
+felt that they lived in a different world, a thousand miles from her
+own; and a deathly sadness seized her, especially when, on her return
+home, her mother spoke of sending her as an apprentice to Mademoiselle
+Le Mire, a friend of the Delobelles, who conducted a large false-pearl
+establishment on the Rue du Roi-Dore.
+
+Risler insisted upon the plan of having the little one serve an
+apprenticeship. "Let her learn a trade," said the honest fellow. "Later
+I will undertake to set her up in business."
+
+Indeed, this same Mademoiselle Le Mire spoke of retiring in a few years.
+It was an excellent opportunity.
+
+One morning, a dull day in November, her father took her to the Rue du
+Rio-Dore, to the fourth floor of an old house, even older and blacker
+than her own home.
+
+On the ground floor, at the entrance to the hall, hung a number of signs
+with gilt letters: Depot for Travelling-Bags, Plated Chains, Children's
+Toys, Mathematical Instruments in Glass, Bouquets for Brides and
+Maids of Honor, Wild Flowers a Specialty; and above was a little dusty
+show-case, wherein pearls, yellow with age, glass grapes and cherries
+surrounded the pretentious name of Angelina Le Mire.
+
+What a horrible house!
+
+It had not even a broad landing like that of the Chebes, grimy with old
+age, but brightened by its window and the beautiful prospect presented
+by the factory. A narrow staircase, a narrow door, a succession of rooms
+with brick floors, all small and cold, and in the last an old maid
+with a false front and black thread mitts, reading a soiled copy of the
+'Journal pour Tous,' and apparently very much annoyed to be disturbed in
+her reading.
+
+Mademoiselle Le Mire (written in two words) received the father and
+daughter without rising, discoursed at great length of the rank she
+had lost, of her father, an old nobleman of Le Rouergue--it is most
+extraordinary how many old noblemen Le Rouergue has produced!--and of
+an unfaithful steward who had carried off their whole fortune.
+She instantly aroused the sympathies of M. Chebe, for whom decayed
+gentlefolk had an irresistible charm, and he went away overjoyed,
+promising his daughter to call for her at seven o'clock at night in
+accordance with the terms agreed upon.
+
+The apprentice was at once ushered into the still empty workroom.
+Mademoiselle Le Mire seated her in front of a great drawer filled with
+pearls, needles, and bodkins, with instalments of four-sou novels thrown
+in at random among them.
+
+It was Sidonie's business to sort the pearls and string them in
+necklaces of equal length, which were tied together to be sold to the
+small dealers. Then the young women would soon be there and they would
+show her exactly what she would have to do, for Mademoiselle Le Mire
+(always written in two words!) did not interfere at all, but overlooked
+her business from a considerable distance, from that dark room where she
+passed her life reading newspaper novels.
+
+At nine o'clock the work-women arrived, five tall, pale-faced, faded
+girls, wretchedly dressed, but with their hair becomingly arranged,
+after the fashion of poor working-girls who go about bare-headed through
+the streets of Paris.
+
+Two or three were yawning and rubbing their eyes, saying that they were
+dead with sleep.
+
+At last they went to work beside a long table where each had her own
+drawer and her own tools. An order had been received for mourning
+jewels, and haste was essential. Sidonie, whom the forewoman instructed
+in her task in a tone of infinite superiority, began dismally to sort a
+multitude of black pearls, bits of glass, and wisps of crape.
+
+The others, paying no attention to the little girl, chatted together as
+they worked. They talked of a wedding that was to take place that very
+day at St. Gervais.
+
+"Suppose we go," said a stout, red-haired girl, whose name was Malvina.
+"It's to be at noon. We shall have time to go and get back again if we
+hurry."
+
+And, at the lunch hour, the whole party rushed downstairs four steps at
+a time.
+
+Sidonie had brought her luncheon in a little basket, like a school-girl;
+with a heavy heart she sat at a corner of the table and ate alone for
+the first time in her life. Great God! what a sad and wretched thing
+life seemed to be; what a terrible revenge she would take hereafter for
+her sufferings there!
+
+At one o'clock the girls trooped noisily back, highly excited.
+
+"Did you see the white satin gown? And the veil of point d'Angleterre?
+There's a lucky girl!"
+
+Thereupon they repeated in the workroom the remarks they had made in
+undertones in the church, leaning against the rail, throughout the
+ceremony. That question of a wealthy marriage, of beautiful clothes,
+lasted all day long; nor did it interfere with their work-far from it.
+
+These small Parisian industries, which have to do with the most trivial
+details of the toilet, keep the work-girls informed as to the fashions
+and fill their minds with thoughts of luxury and elegance. To the poor
+girls who worked on Mademoiselle Le Mire's fourth floor, the blackened
+walls, the narrow street did not exist. They were always thinking of
+something else and passed their lives asking one another:
+
+"Malvina, if you were rich what would you do? For my part, I'd live on
+the Champs-Elysees." And the great trees in the square, the carriages
+that wheeled about there, coquettishly slackening their pace, appeared
+momentarily before their minds, a delicious, refreshing vision.
+
+Little Chebe, in her corner, listened without speaking, industriously
+stringing her black grapes with the precocious dexterity and taste she
+had acquired in Desiree's neighborhood. So that in the evening, when M.
+Chebe came to fetch his daughter, they praised her in the highest terms.
+
+Thereafter all her days were alike. The next day, instead of black
+pearls, she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at
+Mademoiselle Le Mire's they worked only in what was false, in tinsel,
+and that was where little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life.
+
+For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the
+others--found that they held aloof from her. Later, as she grew older,
+she was admitted to their friendship and their confidence, but without
+ever sharing their pleasures. She was too proud to go to see weddings
+at midday; and when she heard them talking of a ball at Vauxhall or the
+'Delices du Marais,' or of a nice little supper at Bonvalet's or at the
+'Quatre Sergents de la Rochelle,' she was always very disdainful.
+
+We looked higher than that, did we not, little Chebe?
+
+Moreover, her father called for her every evening. Sometimes, however,
+about the New Year, she was obliged to work late with the others, in
+order to complete pressing orders. In the gaslight those pale-faced
+Parisians, sorting pearls as white as themselves, of a dead, unwholesome
+whiteness, were a painful spectacle. There was the same fictitious
+glitter, the same fragility of spurious jewels. They talked of nothing
+but masked balls and theatres.
+
+"Have you seen Adele Page, in 'Les Trois Mousquetaires?' And Melingue?
+And Marie Laurent? Oh! Marie Laurent!"
+
+The actors' doublets, the embroidered costumes of the queens of
+melodrama, appeared before them in the white light of the necklaces
+forming beneath their fingers.
+
+In summer the work was less pressing. It was the dull season. In the
+intense heat, when through the drawn blinds fruit-sellers could be heard
+in the street, crying their mirabelles and Queen Claudes, the workgirls
+slept heavily, their heads on the table. Or perhaps Malvina would go and
+ask Mademoiselle Le Mire for a copy of the 'Journal pour Tous,' and read
+aloud to the others.
+
+But little Chebe did not care for the novels. She carried one in her
+head much more interesting than all that trash.
+
+The fact is, nothing could make her forget the factory. When she set
+forth in the morning on her father's arm, she always cast a glance in
+that direction. At that hour the works were just stirring, the chimney
+emitted its first puff of black smoke. Sidonie, as she passed, could
+hear the shouts of the workmen, the dull, heavy blows of the bars of
+the printing-press, the mighty, rhythmical hum of the machinery; and all
+those sounds of toil, blended in her memory with recollections of fetes
+and blue-lined carriages, haunted her persistently.
+
+They spoke louder than the rattle of the omnibuses, the street cries,
+the cascades in the gutters; and even in the workroom, when she was
+sorting the false pearls even at night, in her own home, when she went,
+after dinner, to breathe the fresh air at the window on the landing and
+to gaze at the dark, deserted factory, that murmur still buzzed in her
+ears, forming, as it were, a continual accompaniment to her thoughts.
+
+"The little one is tired, Madame Chebe. She needs diversion. Next Sunday
+I will take you all into the country."
+
+These Sunday excursions, which honest Risler organized to amuse Sidonie,
+served only to sadden her still more.
+
+On those days she must rise at four o'clock in the morning; for the poor
+must pay for all their enjoyments, and there was always a ribbon to
+be ironed at the last moment, or a bit of trimming to be sewn on in
+an attempt to rejuvenate the everlasting little lilac frock with white
+stripes which Madame Chebe conscientiously lengthened every year.
+
+They would all set off together, the Chebes, the Rislers, and the
+illustrious Delobelle. Only Desiree and her mother never were of the
+party. The poor, crippled child, ashamed of her deformity, never would
+stir from her chair, and Mamma Delobelle stayed behind to keep her
+company. Moreover, neither possessed a suitable gown in which to
+show herself out-of-doors in their great man's company; it would have
+destroyed the whole effect of his appearance.
+
+When they left the house, Sidonie would brighten up a little. Paris in
+the pink haze of a July morning, the railway stations filled with light
+dresses, the country flying past the car windows, and the healthful
+exercise, the bath in the pure air saturated with the water of the
+Seine, vivified by a bit of forest, perfumed by flowering meadows, by
+ripening grain, all combined to make her giddy for a moment. But that
+sensation was soon succeeded by disgust at such a commonplace way of
+passing her Sunday.
+
+It was always the same thing.
+
+They stopped at a refreshment booth, in close proximity to a very noisy
+and numerously attended rustic festival, for there must be an audience
+for Delobelle, who would saunter along, absorbed by his chimera, dressed
+in gray, with gray gaiters, a little hat over his ear, a light top coat
+on his arm, imagining that the stage represented a country scene in
+the suburbs of Paris, and that he was playing the part of a Parisian
+sojourning in the country.
+
+As for M. Chebe, who prided himself on being as fond of nature as
+the late Jean Jacques Rousseau, he did not appreciate it without the
+accompaniments of shooting-matches, wooden horses, sack races, and a
+profusion of dust and penny-whistles, which constituted also Madame
+Chebe's ideal of a country life.
+
+But Sidonie had a different ideal; and those Parisian Sundays passed in
+strolling through noisy village streets depressed her beyond measure.
+Her only pleasure in those throngs was the consciousness of being stared
+at. The veriest boor's admiration, frankly expressed aloud at her side,
+made her smile all day; for she was of those who disdain no compliment.
+
+Sometimes, leaving the Chebes and Delobelle in the midst of the fete,
+Risler would go into the fields with his brother and the "little one"
+in search of flowers for patterns for his wall-papers. Frantz, with his
+long arms, would pull down the highest branches of a hawthorn, or would
+climb a park wall to pick a leaf of graceful shape he had spied on the
+other side. But they reaped their richest harvests on the banks of the
+stream.
+
+There they found those flexible plants, with long swaying stalks, which
+made such a lovely effect on hangings, tall, straight reeds, and the
+volubilis, whose flower, opening suddenly as if in obedience to a
+caprice, resembles a living face, some one looking at you amid the
+lovely, quivering foliage. Risler arranged his bouquets artistically,
+drawing his inspiration from the very nature of the plants, trying to
+understand thoroughly their manner of life, which can not be divined
+after the withering of one day.
+
+Then, when the bouquet was completed, tied with a broad blade of grass
+as with a ribbon, and slung over Frantz's back, away they went. Risler,
+always engrossed in his art, looked about for subjects, for possible
+combinations, as they walked along.
+
+"Look there, little one--see that bunch of lily of the valley, with its
+white bells, among those eglantines. What do you think? Wouldn't that be
+pretty against a sea-green or pearl-gray background?"
+
+But Sidonie cared no more for lilies of the valley than for eglantine.
+Wild flowers always seemed to her like the flowers of the poor,
+something like her lilac dress.
+
+She remembered that she had seen flowers of a different sort at the
+house of M. Gardinois, at the Chateau de Savigny, in the hothouses, on
+the balconies, and all about the gravelled courtyard bordered with
+tall urns. Those were the flowers she loved; that was her idea of the
+country!
+
+The little stations in the outskirts of Paris are so terribly crowded
+and stuffy on those Sunday evenings in summer! Such artificial
+enjoyment, such idiotic laughter, such doleful ballads, sung in whispers
+by voices that no longer have the strength to roar! That was the time
+when M. Chebe was in his element.
+
+He would elbow his way to the gate, scold about the delay of the train,
+declaim against the station-agent, the company, the government; say to
+Delobelle in a loud voice, so as to be overheard by his neighbors:
+
+"I say--suppose such a thing as this should happen in America!" Which
+remark, thanks to the expressive by-play of the illustrious actor, and
+to the superior air with which he replied, "I believe you!" gave those
+who stood near to understand that these gentlemen knew exactly what
+would happen in America in such a case. Now, they were equally and
+entirely ignorant on that subject; but upon the crowd their words made
+an impression.
+
+Sitting beside Frantz, with half of his bundle of flowers on her knees,
+Sidonie would seem to be blotted out, as it were, amid the uproar,
+during the long wait for the evening trains. From the station, lighted
+by a single lamp, she could see the black clumps of trees outside,
+lighted here and there by the last illuminations of the fete, a dark
+village street, people continually coming in, and a lantern hanging on a
+deserted pier.
+
+From time to time, on the other side of the glass doors, a train would
+rush by without stopping, with a shower of hot cinders and the roar of
+escaping steam. Thereupon a tempest of shouts and stamping would arise
+in the station, and, soaring above all the rest, the shrill treble of M.
+Chebe, shrieking in his sea-gull's voice: "Break down the doors! break
+down the doors!"--a thing that the little man would have taken good care
+not to do himself, as he had an abject fear of gendarmes. In a moment
+the storm would abate. The tired women, their hair disarranged by the
+wind, would fall asleep on the benches. There were torn and ragged
+dresses, low-necked white gowns, covered with dust.
+
+The air they breathed consisted mainly of dust. It lay upon their
+clothes, rose at every step, obscured the light of the lamp, vexed one's
+eyes, and raised a sort of cloud before the tired faces. The cars which
+they entered at last, after hours of waiting, were saturated with it
+also. Sidonie would open the window, and look out at the dark fields, an
+endless line of shadow. Then, like innumerable stars, the first lanterns
+of the outer boulevards appeared near the fortifications.
+
+So ended the ghastly day of rest of all those poor creatures. The sight
+of Paris brought back to each one's mind the thought of the morrow's
+toil. Dismal as her Sunday had been, Sidonie began to regret that it
+had passed. She thought of the rich, to whom all the days of their lives
+were days of rest; and vaguely, as in a dream, the long park avenues of
+which she had caught glimpses during the day appeared to her thronged
+with those happy ones of earth, strolling on the fine gravel, while
+outside the gate, in the dust of the highroad, the poor man's Sunday
+hurried swiftly by, having hardly time to pause a moment to look and
+envy.
+
+Such was little Chebe's life from thirteen to seventeen.
+
+The years passed, but did not bring with them the slightest change.
+Madame Chebe's cashmere was a little more threadbare, the little lilac
+frock had undergone a few additional repairs, and that was all. But, as
+Sidonie grew older, Frantz, now become a young man, acquired a habit of
+gazing at her silently with a melting expression, of paying her loving
+attentions that were visible to everybody, and were unnoticed by none
+save the girl herself.
+
+Indeed, nothing aroused the interest of little Chebe. In the work-room
+she performed her task regularly, silently, without the slightest
+thought of the future or of saving. All that she did seemed to be done
+as if she were waiting for something.
+
+Frantz, on the other hand, had been working for some time with
+extraordinary energy, the ardor of those who see something at the end of
+their efforts; so that, at the age of twenty-four, he graduated second
+in his class from the Ecole Centrale, as an engineer.
+
+On that evening Risler had taken the Chebe family to the Gymnase, and
+throughout the evening he and Madame Chebe had been making signs and
+winking at each other behind the children's backs. And when they left
+the theatre Madame Chebe solemnly placed Sidonie's arm in Frantz's, as
+if she would say to the lovelorn youth, "Now settle matters--here is
+your chance."
+
+Thereupon the poor lover tried to settle matters.
+
+It is a long walk from the Gymnase to the Marais. After a very few
+steps the brilliancy of the boulevard is left behind, the streets become
+darker and darker, the passers more and more rare. Frantz began by
+talking of the play. He was very fond of comedies of that sort, in which
+there was plenty of sentiment.
+
+"And you, Sidonie?"
+
+"Oh! as for me, Frantz, you know that so long as there are fine
+costumes--"
+
+In truth she thought of nothing else at the theatre. She was not one
+of those sentimental creatures; a la Madame Bovary, who return from the
+play with love-phrases ready-made, a conventional ideal. No! the theatre
+simply made her long madly for luxury and fine raiment; she brought away
+from it nothing but new methods of arranging the hair, and patterns of
+gowns. The new, exaggerated toilettes of the actresses, their gait,
+even the spurious elegance of their speech, which seemed to her of the
+highest distinction, and with it all the tawdry magnificence of the
+gilding and the lights, the gaudy placard at the door, the long line of
+carriages, and all the somewhat unwholesome excitement that springs up
+about a popular play; that was what she loved, that was what absorbed
+her thoughts.
+
+"How well they acted their love-scene!" continued the lover.
+
+And, as he uttered that suggestive phrase, he bent fondly toward a
+little face surrounded by a white woollen hood, from which the hair
+escaped in rebellious curls.
+
+Sidonie sighed:
+
+"Oh! yes, the love-scene. The actress wore beautiful diamonds."
+
+There was a moment's silence. Poor Frantz had much difficulty in
+explaining himself. The words he sought would not come, and then, too,
+he was afraid. He fixed the time mentally when he would speak:
+
+"When we have passed the Porte Saint-Denis--when we have left the
+boulevard."
+
+But when the time arrived, Sidonie began to talk of such indifferent
+matters that his declaration froze on his lips, or else it was stopped
+by a passing carriage, which enabled their elders to overtake them.
+
+At last, in the Marais, he suddenly took courage:
+
+"Listen to me, Sidonie--I love you!"
+
+That night the Delobelles had sat up very late.
+
+It was the habit of those brave-hearted women to make their working-day
+as long as possible, to prolong it so far into the night that their lamp
+was among the last to be extinguished on the quiet Rue de Braque. They
+always sat up until the great man returned home, and kept a dainty
+little supper warm for him in the ashes on the hearth.
+
+In the days when he was an actor there was some reason for that custom;
+actors, being obliged to dine early and very sparingly, have a terrible
+gnawing at their vitals when they leave the theatre, and usually eat
+when they go home. Delobelle had not acted for a long time; but having,
+as he said, no right to abandon the stage, he kept his mania alive by
+clinging to a number of the strolling player's habits, and the supper on
+returning home was one of them, as was his habit of delaying his return
+until the last footlight in the boulevard theatres was extinguished. To
+retire without supping, at the hour when all other artists supped, would
+have been to abdicate, to abandon the struggle, and he would not abandon
+it, sacre bleu!
+
+On the evening in question the actor had not yet come in and the women
+were waiting for him, talking as they worked, and with great animation,
+notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. During the whole evening they
+had done nothing but talk of Frantz, of his success, of the future that
+lay before him.
+
+"Now," said Mamma Delobelle, "the only thing he needs is to find a good
+little wife."
+
+That was Desiree's opinion, too. That was all that was lacking now to
+Frantz's happiness, a good little wife, active and brave and accustomed
+to work, who would forget everything for him. And if Desiree spoke with
+great confidence, it was because she was intimately acquainted with the
+woman who was so well adapted to Frantz Risler's needs. She was only a
+year younger than he, just enough to make her younger than her husband
+and a mother to him at the same time.
+
+Pretty?
+
+No, not exactly, but attractive rather than ugly, notwithstanding her
+infirmity, for she was lame, poor child! And then she was clever and
+bright, and so loving! No one but Desiree knew how fondly that little
+woman loved Frantz, and how she had thought of him night and day for
+years. He had not noticed it himself, but seemed to have eyes for nobody
+but Sidonie, a gamine. But no matter! Silent love is so eloquent, such
+a mighty power lies hid in restrained feelings. Who knows? Perhaps some
+day or other:
+
+And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those
+long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many
+in her invalid's easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one
+of those wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and
+smiling, leaning on Frantz's arm with all the confidence of a beloved
+wife. As her fingers followed her thought, the little bird she had in
+her hand at the moment, smoothing his ruffled wings, looked as if he
+too were of the party and were about to fly far, far away, as joyous and
+light of heart as she.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open.
+
+"I do not disturb you?" said a triumphant voice.
+
+The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head.
+
+"Ah! it's Monsieur Frantz. Pray come in, Monsieur Frantz. We're waiting
+for father, as you see. These brigands of artists always stay out so
+late! Take a seat--you shall have supper with him."
+
+"Oh! no, thank you," replied Frantz, whose lips were still pale from
+the emotion he had undergone, "I can't stop. I saw a light and I just
+stepped in to tell you--to tell you some great news that will make you
+very happy, because I know that you love me--"
+
+"Great heavens, what is it?"
+
+"Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be
+married."
+
+"There! didn't I say that all he needed was a good little wife,"
+exclaimed Mamma Delobelle, rising and throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+Desiree had not the strength to utter a word. She bent still lower
+over her work, and as Frantz's eyes were fixed exclusively upon his
+happiness, as Mamma Delobelle did nothing but look at the clock to see
+whether her great man would return soon, no one noticed the lame girl's
+emotion, nor her pallor, nor the convulsive trembling of the little bird
+that lay in her hands with its head thrown back, like a bird with its
+death-wound.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. THE GLOW-WORMS OF SAVIGNY
+
+
+"SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE.
+
+"DEAR SMONIE:--We were sitting at table yesterday in the great
+dining-room which you remember, with the door wide open leading to the
+terrace, where the flowers are all in bloom. I was a little bored. Dear
+grandpapa had been cross all the morning, and poor mamma dared not say
+a word, being afraid of those frowning eyebrows which have always
+laid down the law for her. I was thinking what a pity it was to be so
+entirely alone, in the middle of the summer, in such a lovely spot, and
+that I should be very glad, now that I have left the convent, and am
+destined to pass whole seasons in the country, to have as in the old
+day, some one to run about the woods and paths with me.
+
+"To be sure, Georges comes occasionally, but he always arrives very
+late, just in time for dinner, and is off again with my father in the
+morning before I am awake. And then he is a serious-minded man now,
+is Monsieur Georges. He works at the factory, and business cares often
+bring frowns to his brow.
+
+"I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa
+turned abruptly to me:
+
+"'What has become of your little friend Sidonie? I should be glad to
+have her here for a time.'
+
+"You can imagine my delight. What happiness to meet again, to renew the
+pleasant friendship that was broken off by the fault of the events of
+life rather than by our own! How many things we shall have to tell
+each other! You, who alone had the knack of driving the frowns from my
+terrible grandpapa's brow, will bring us gayety, and I assure you we
+need it.
+
+"This lovely Savigny is so lonely! For instance, sometimes in the
+morning I choose to be a little coquettish. I dress myself, I make
+myself beautiful with my hair in curls and put on a pretty gown; I walk
+through all the paths, and suddenly I realize that I have taken all this
+trouble for the swans and ducks, my dog Kiss, and the cows, who do not
+even turn to look at me when I pass. Thereupon, in my wrath, I hurry
+home, put on a thick gown and busy myself on the farm, in the servants'
+quarters, everywhere. And really, I am beginning to believe that ennui
+has perfected me, and that I shall make an excellent housekeeper.
+
+"Luckily the hunting season will soon be here, and I rely upon that
+for a little amusement. In the first place, Georges and father, both
+enthusiastic sportsmen, will come oftener. And then you will be here,
+you know. For you will reply at once that you will come, won't you?
+Monsieur Risler said not long ago that you were not well. The air of
+Savigny will do you worlds of good.
+
+"Everybody here expects you. And I am dying with impatience.
+
+               "CLAIRE."
+
+Her letter written, Claire Fromont donned a large straw hat for the
+first days of August were warm and glorious--and went herself to drop
+it in the little box from which the postman collected the mail from the
+chateau every morning.
+
+It was on the edge of the park, at a turn in the road. She paused a
+moment to look at the trees by the roadside, at the neighboring meadows
+sleeping in the bright sunlight. Over yonder the reapers were gathering
+the last sheaves. Farther on they were ploughing. But all the melancholy
+of the silent toil had vanished, so far as the girl was concerned, so
+delighted was she at the thought of seeing her friend once more.
+
+No breeze came from the hills in the distance, no voice from the trees,
+to warn her by a presentiment, to prevent her from sending that fatal
+letter. And immediately upon her return she gave her attention to the
+preparation of a pretty bedroom for Sidonie adjoining her own.
+
+The letter did its errand faithfully. From the little green,
+vine-embowered gate of the chateau it found its way to Paris, and
+arrived that same evening, with its Savigny postmark and impregnated
+with the odor of the country, at the fifth-floor apartment on the Rue de
+Braque.
+
+What an event that was! They read it again and again; and for a whole
+week, until Sidonie's departure, it lay on the mantel-shelf beside
+Madame Chebe's treasures, the clock under a glass globe and the Empire
+cups. To Sidonie it was like a wonderful romance filled with tales of
+enchantment and promises, which she read without opening it, merely
+by gazing at the white envelope whereon Claire Fromont's monogram was
+engraved in relief.
+
+Little she thought of marriage now. The important question was, What
+clothes should she wear at the chateau? She must give her whole mind to
+that, to cutting and planning, trying on dresses, devising new ways of
+arranging her hair. Poor Frantz! How heavy his heart was made by these
+preparations! That visit to Savigny, which he had tried vainly to
+oppose, would cause a still further postponement of their wedding, which
+Sidonie-why, he did not know--persisted in putting off from day to day.
+He could not go to see her; and when she was once there, in the midst of
+festivities and pleasures, who could say how long she would remain?
+
+The lover in his despair always went to the Delobelles to confide his
+sorrows, but he never noticed how quickly Desiree rose as soon as he
+entered, to make room for him by her side at the work-table, and how she
+at once sat down again, with cheeks as red as fire and shining eyes.
+
+For some days past they had ceased to work at birds and insects for
+ornament. The mother and daughter were hemming pink flounces destined
+for Sidonie's frock, and the little cripple never had plied her needle
+with such good heart.
+
+In truth little Desiree was not Delobelle's daughter to no purpose.
+
+She inherited her father's faculty of retaining his illusions, of hoping
+on to the end and even beyond.
+
+While Frantz was dilating upon his woe, Desire was thinking that, when
+Sidonie was gone, he would come every day, if it were only to talk about
+the absent one; that she would have him there by her side, that they
+would sit up together waiting for "father," and that, perhaps, some
+evening, as he sat looking at her, he would discover the difference
+between the woman who loves you and the one who simply allows herself to
+be loved.
+
+Thereupon the thought that every stitch taken in the frock tended
+to hasten the departure which she anticipated with such impatience
+imparted extraordinary activity to her needle, and the unhappy lover
+ruefully watched the flounces and ruffles piling up about her, like
+little pink, white-capped waves.
+
+When the pink frock was finished, Mademoiselle Chebe started for
+Savigny.
+
+The chateau of M. Gardinois was built in the valley of the Orge, on the
+bank of that capriciously lovely stream, with its windmills, its little
+islands, its dams, and its broad lawns that end at its shores.
+
+The chateau, an old Louis-Quinze structure, low in reality, although
+made to appear high by a pointed roof, had a most depressing aspect,
+suggestive of aristocratic antiquity; broad steps, balconies with rusty
+balustrades, old urns marred by time, wherein the flowers stood out
+vividly against the reddish stone. As far as the eye could see, the
+walls stretched away, decayed and crumbling, descending gradually toward
+the stream. The chateau overlooked them, with its high, slated roofs,
+the farmhouse, with its red tiles, and the superb park, with its
+lindens, ash-trees, poplars and chestnuts growing confusedly together
+in a dense black mass, cut here and there by the arched openings of the
+paths.
+
+But the charm of the old place was the water, which enlivened its
+silence and gave character to its beautiful views. There were at
+Savigny, to say nothing of the river, many springs, fountains, and
+ponds, in which the sun sank to rest in all his glory; and they formed a
+suitable setting for that venerable mansion, green and mossy as it was,
+and slightly worn away, like a stone on the edge of a brook.
+
+Unluckily, at Savigny, as in most of those gorgeous Parisian summer
+palaces, which the parvenus in commerce and speculation have made their
+prey, the chatelains were not in harmony with the chateau.
+
+Since he had purchased his chateau, old Gardinois had done nothing but
+injure the beauty of the beautiful property chance had placed in
+his hands; cut down trees "for the view," filled his park with rough
+obstructions to keep out trespassers, and reserved all his solicitude
+for a magnificent kitchen-garden, which, as it produced fruit and
+vegetables in abundance, seemed to him more like his own part of the
+country--the land of the peasant.
+
+As for the great salons, where the panels with paintings of famous
+subjects were fading in the autumn fogs, as for the ponds overrun with
+water-lilies, the grottoes, the stone bridges, he cared for them only
+because of the admiration of visitors, and because of such elements was
+composed that thing which so flattered his vanity as an ex-dealer in
+cattle--a chateau!
+
+Being already old, unable to hunt or fish, he passed his time
+superintending the most trivial details of that large property. The
+grain for the hens, the price of the last load of the second crop of
+hay, the number of bales of straw stored in a magnificent circular
+granary, furnished him with matter for scolding for a whole day; and
+certain it is that, when one gazed from a distance at that lovely estate
+of Savigny, the chateau on the hillside, the river, like a mirror,
+flowing at its feet, the high terraces shaded by ivy, the supporting
+wall of the park following the majestic slope of the ground, one never
+would have suspected the proprietor's niggardliness and meanness of
+spirit.
+
+In the idleness consequent upon his wealth, M. Gardinois, being greatly
+bored in Paris, lived at Savigny throughout the year, and the Fromonts
+lived with him during the summer.
+
+Madame Fromont was a mild, dull woman, whom her father's brutal
+despotism had early molded to passive obedience for life. She maintained
+the same attitude with her husband, whose constant kindness and
+indulgence never had succeeded in triumphing over that humiliated,
+taciturn nature, indifferent to everything, and, in some sense,
+irresponsible. Having passed her life with no knowledge of business, she
+had become rich without knowing it and without the slightest desire
+to take advantage of it. Her fine apartments in Paris, her father's
+magnificent chateau, made her uncomfortable. She occupied as small
+a place as possible in both, filling her life with a single passion,
+order--a fantastic, abnormal sort of order, which consisted in brushing,
+wiping, dusting, and polishing the mirrors, the gilding and the
+door-knobs, with her own hands, from morning till night.
+
+When she had nothing else to clean, the strange woman would attack her
+rings, her watch-chain, her brooches, scrubbing the cameos and pearls,
+and, by dint of polishing the combination of her own name and her
+husband's, she had effaced all the letters of both. Her fixed idea
+followed her to Savigny. She picked up dead branches in the paths,
+scratched the moss from the benches with the end of her umbrella, and
+would have liked to dust the leaves and sweep down the old trees; and
+often, when in the train, she looked with envy at the little villas
+standing in a line along the track, white and clean, with their gleaming
+utensils, the pewter ball, and the little oblong gardens, which resemble
+drawers in a bureau. Those were her ideal of a country-house.
+
+M. Fromont, who came only occasionally and was always absorbed by his
+business affairs, enjoyed Savigny little more than she. Claire alone
+felt really at home in that lovely park. She was familiar with its
+smallest shrub. Being obliged to provide her own amusements, like all
+only children, she had become attached to certain walks, watched the
+flowers bloom, had her favorite path, her favorite tree, her favorite
+bench for reading. The dinner-bell always surprised her far away in the
+park. She would come to the table, out of breath but happy, flushed with
+the fresh air. The shadow of the hornbeams, stealing over that youthful
+brow, had imprinted a sort of gentle melancholy there, and the deep,
+dark green of the ponds, crossed by vague rays, was reflected in her
+eyes.
+
+Those lovely surroundings had in very truth shielded her from the
+vulgarity and the abjectness of the persons about her. M. Gardinois
+might deplore in her presence, for hours at a time, the perversity of
+tradesmen and servants, or make an estimate of what was being stolen
+from him each month, each week, every day, every minute; Madame Fromont
+might enumerate her grievances against the mice, the maggots, dust and
+dampness, all desperately bent upon destroying her property, and engaged
+in a conspiracy against her wardrobes; not a word of their foolish talk
+remained in Claire's mind. A run around the lawn, an hour's reading on
+the river-bank, restored the tranquillity of that noble and intensely
+active mind.
+
+Her grandfather looked upon her as a strange being, altogether out of
+place in his family. As a child she annoyed him with her great, honest
+eyes, her straightforwardness on all occasions, and also because he
+did not find in her a second edition of his own passive and submissive
+daughter.
+
+"That child will be a proud chit and an original, like her father," he
+would say in his ugly moods.
+
+How much better he liked that little Chebe girl who used to come now and
+then and play in the avenues at Savigny! In her, at least, he detected
+the strain of the common people like himself, with a sprinkling of
+ambition and envy, suggested even in those early days by a certain
+little smile at the corner of the mouth. Moreover, the child exhibited
+an ingenuous amazement and admiration in presence of his wealth, which
+flattered his parvenu pride; and sometimes, when he teased her, she
+would break out with the droll phrases of a Paris gamine, slang redolent
+of the faubourgs, seasoned by her pretty, piquant face, inclined to
+pallor, which not even superficiality could deprive of its distinction.
+So he never had forgotten her.
+
+On this occasion above all, when Sidonie arrived at Savigny after her
+long absence, with her fluffy hair, her graceful figure, her bright,
+mobile face, the whole effect emphasized by mannerisms suggestive of the
+shop-girl, she produced a decided sensation. Old Gardinois, wondering
+greatly to see a tall young woman in place of the child he was expecting
+to see, considered her prettier and, above all, better dressed than
+Claire.
+
+It was a fact that, when Mademoiselle Chebe had left the train and was
+seated in the great wagonette from the chateau, her appearance was not
+bad; but she lacked those details that constituted her friend's chief
+beauty and charm--a distinguished carriage, a contempt for poses, and,
+more than all else, mental tranquillity. Her prettiness was not unlike
+her gowns, of inexpensive materials, but cut according to the style of
+the day-rags, if you will, but rags of which fashion, that ridiculous
+but charming fairy, had regulated the color, the trimming, and the
+shape. Paris has pretty faces made expressly for costumes of that sort,
+very easy to dress becomingly, for the very reason that they belong to
+no type, and Mademoiselle Sidonie's face was one of these.
+
+What bliss was hers when the carriage entered the long avenue, bordered
+with velvety grass and primeval elms, and at the end Savigny awaiting
+her with its great gate wide open!
+
+And how thoroughly at ease she felt amid all those refinements of
+wealth! How perfectly that sort of life suited her! It seemed to her
+that she never had known any other.
+
+Suddenly, in the midst of her intoxication, arrived a letter from
+Frantz, which brought her back to the realities of her life, to
+her wretched fate as the future wife of a government clerk, which
+transported her, whether she would or no, to the mean little apartment
+they would occupy some day at the top of some dismal house, whose heavy
+atmosphere, dense with privation, she seemed already to breathe.
+
+Should she break her betrothal promise?
+
+She certainly could do it, as she had given no other pledge than her
+word. But when he had left her, who could say that she would not wish
+him back?
+
+In that little brain, turned by ambition, the strangest ideas chased one
+another. Sometimes, while Grandfather Gardinois, who had laid aside in
+her honor his old-fashioned hunting-jackets and swanskin waistcoats, was
+jesting with her, amusing himself by contradicting her in order to
+draw out a sharp reply, she would gaze steadily, coldly into his eyes,
+without replying. Ah! if only he were ten years younger! But the thought
+of becoming Madame Gardinois did not long occupy her. A new personage, a
+new hope came into her life.
+
+After Sidonie's arrival, Georges Fromont, who was seldom seen at Savigny
+except on Sundays, adopted the habit of coming to dinner almost every
+day.
+
+He was a tall, slender, pale youth, of refined appearance. Having no
+father or mother, he had been brought up by his uncle, M. Fromont,
+and was looked upon by him to succeed him in business, and probably
+to become Claire's husband. That ready-made future did not arouse any
+enthusiasm in Georges. In the first place business bored him. As for
+his cousin, the intimate good-fellowship of an education in common and
+mutual confidence existed between them, but nothing more, at least on
+his side.
+
+With Sidonie, on the contrary, he was exceedingly embarrassed and
+shy, and at the same time desirous of producing an effect--a totally
+different man, in short. She had just the spurious charm, a little free,
+which was calculated to attract a superficial nature, and it was not
+long before she discovered the impression that she produced upon him.
+
+When the two girls were walking together in the park, it was always
+Sidonie who remembered that it was time for the train from Paris to
+arrive. They would go together to the gate to meet the travellers, and
+Georges's first glance was always for Mademoiselle Chebe, who remained a
+little behind her friend, but with the poses and airs that go halfway to
+meet the eyes. That manoeuvring between them lasted some time. They did
+not mention love, but all the words, all the smiles they exchanged were
+full of silent avowals.
+
+One cloudy and threatening summer evening, when the two friends had left
+the table as soon as dinner was at an end and were walking in the long,
+shady avenue, Georges joined them. They were talking upon indifferent
+subjects, crunching the gravel beneath their idling footsteps, when
+Madame Fromont's voice, from the chateau, called Claire away. Georges
+and Sidonie were left alone. They continued to walk along the avenue,
+guided by the uncertain whiteness of the path, without speaking of
+drawing nearer to each other.
+
+A warm wind rustled among the leaves. The ruffled surface of the pond
+lapped softly against the arches of the little bridge; and the blossoms
+of the acacias and lindens, detached by the breeze, whirled about in
+circles, perfuming the electricity-laden air. They felt themselves
+surrounded by an atmosphere of storm, vibrant and penetrating. Dazzling
+flashes of heat passed before their troubled eyes, like those that
+played along the horizon.
+
+"Oh! what lovely glow-worms!" exclaimed Sidonie, embarrassed by the
+oppressive silence broken by so many mysterious sounds.
+
+On the edge of the greensward a blade of grass here and there was
+illuminated by a tiny, green, flickering light. She stooped to lift one
+on her glove. Georges knelt close beside her; and as they leaned down,
+their hair and cheeks touching, they gazed at each other for a moment by
+the light of the glow-worms. How weird and fascinating she seemed to him
+in that green light, which shone upon her face and died away in the
+fine network of her waving hair! He put his arm around her waist, and
+suddenly, feeling that she abandoned herself to him, he clasped her in a
+long, passionate embrace.
+
+"What are you looking for?" asked Claire, suddenly coming up in the
+shadow behind them.
+
+Taken by surprise, and with a choking sensation in his throat, Georges
+trembled so that he could not reply. Sidonie, on the other hand, rose
+with the utmost coolness, and said as she shook out her skirt:
+
+"The glow-worms. See how many of them there are tonight. And how they
+sparkle."
+
+Her eyes also sparkled with extraordinary brilliancy.
+
+"The storm makes them, I suppose," murmured Georges, still trembling.
+
+The storm was indeed near. At brief intervals great clouds of leaves and
+dust whirled from one end of the avenue to the other. They walked a few
+steps farther, then all three returned to the house. The young women
+took their work, Georges tried to read a newspaper, while Madame Fromont
+polished her rings and M. Gardinois and his son-in-law played billiards
+in the adjoining room.
+
+How long that evening seemed to Sidonie! She had but one wish, to be
+alone-alone with her thoughts.
+
+But, in the silence of her little bedroom, when she had put out
+her light, which interferes with dreams by casting too bright an
+illumination upon reality, what schemes, what transports of delight!
+Georges loved her, Georges Fromont, the heir of the factory! They would
+marry; she would be rich. For in that mercenary little heart the first
+kiss of love had awakened no ideas save those of ambition and a life of
+luxury.
+
+To assure herself that her lover was sincere, she tried to recall the
+scene under the trees to its most trifling details, the expression of
+his eyes, the warmth of his embrace, the vows uttered brokenly, lips
+to lips, it that weird light shed by the glow-worms, which one solemn
+moment had fixed forever in her heart.
+
+Oh! the glow-worms of Savigny!
+
+All night long they twinkled like stars before her closed eyes. The park
+was full of them, to the farthest limits of its darkest paths. There
+were clusters of them all along the lawns, on the trees, in the
+shrubbery. The fine gravel of the avenues, the waves of the river,
+seemed to emit green sparks, and all those microscopic flashes formed a
+sort of holiday illumination in which Savigny seemed to be enveloped in
+her honor, to celebrate the betrothal of Georges and Sidonie.
+
+When she rose the next day, her plan was formed. Georges loved her; that
+was certain. Did he contemplate marrying her? She had a suspicion that
+he did not, the clever minx! But that did not frighten her. She felt
+strong enough to triumph over that childish nature, at once weak and
+passionate. She had only to resist him, and that is exactly what she
+did.
+
+For some days she was cold and indifferent, wilfully blind and devoid of
+memory. He tried to speak to her, to renew the blissful moment, but she
+avoided him, always placing some one between them.
+
+Then he wrote to her.
+
+He carried his notes himself to a hollow in a rock near a clear spring
+called "The Phantom," which was in the outskirts of the park, sheltered
+by a thatched roof. Sidonie thought that a charming episode. In the
+evening she must invent some story, a pretext of some sort for going
+to "The Phantom" alone. The shadow of the trees across the path, the
+mystery of the night, the rapid walk, the excitement, made her heart
+beat deliciously. She would find the letter saturated with dew, with the
+intense cold of the spring, and so white in the moonlight that she would
+hide it quickly for fear of being surprised.
+
+And then, when she was alone, what joy to open it, to decipher those
+magic characters, those words of love which swam before her eyes,
+surrounded by dazzling blue and yellow circles, as if she were reading
+her letter in the bright sunlight.
+
+"I love you! Love me!" wrote Georges in every conceivable phrase.
+
+At first she did not reply; but when she felt that he was fairly caught,
+entirely in her power, she declared herself concisely:
+
+"I never will love any one but my husband."
+
+Ah! she was a true woman already, was little Chebe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. HOW LITTLE CHEBE'S STORY ENDED
+
+Meanwhile September arrived. The hunting season brought together a large,
+noisy, vulgar party at the chateau. There were long dinners at which the
+wealthy bourgeois lingered slothfully and wearily, prone to fall asleep
+like peasants. They went in carriages to meet the returning hunters in
+the cool air of the autumn evening. The mist arose from the fields, from
+which the crops had been gathered; and while the frightened game flew
+along the stubble with plaintive cries, the darkness seemed to emerge
+from the forests whose dark masses increased in size, spreading out over
+the fields.
+
+The carriage lamps were lighted, the hoods raised, and they drove
+quickly homeward with the fresh air blowing in their faces. The
+dining-hall, brilliantly illuminated, was filled with gayety and
+laughter.
+
+Claire Fromont, embarrassed by the vulgarity of those about her,
+hardly spoke at all. Sidonie was at her brightest. The drive had given
+animation to her pale complexion and Parisian eyes. She knew how to
+laugh, understood a little too much, perhaps, and seemed to the male
+guests the only woman in the party. Her success completed Georges's
+intoxication; but as his advances became more pronounced, she showed
+more and more reserve. Thereupon he determined that she should be his
+wife. He swore it to himself, with the exaggerated emphasis of weak
+characters, who seem always to combat beforehand the difficulties to
+which they know that they must yield some day.
+
+It was the happiest moment of little Chebe's life. Even aside from
+any ambitious project, her coquettish, false nature found a strange
+fascination in this intrigue, carried on mysteriously amid banquets and
+merry-makings.
+
+No one about them suspected anything. Claire was at that healthy and
+delightful period of youth when the mind, only partly open, clings to
+the things it knows with blind confidence, in complete ignorance of
+treachery and falsehood. M. Fromont thought of nothing but his business.
+His wife polished her jewels with frenzied energy. Only old Gardinois
+and his little, gimlet-like eyes were to be feared; but Sidonie
+entertained him, and even if he had discovered anything, he was not the
+man to interfere with her future.
+
+Her hour of triumph was near, when a sudden, unforeseen disaster blasted
+her hopes.
+
+One Sunday morning M. Fromont was brought back fatally wounded from a
+hunting expedition. A bullet intended for a deer had pierced his temple.
+The chateau was turned upside-down.
+
+All the hunters, among them the unknown bungler that had fired the fatal
+shot, started in haste for Paris. Claire, frantic with grief, entered
+the room where her father lay on his deathbed, there to remain; and
+Risler, being advised of the catastrophe, came to take Sidonie home.
+
+On the night before her departure she had a final meeting with Georges
+at The Phantom,--a farewell meeting, painful and stealthy, and made
+solemn by the proximity of death. They vowed, however, to love each
+other always; they agreed upon a method of writing to each other. Then
+they parted.
+
+It was a sad journey home.
+
+Sidonie returned abruptly to her every-day life, escorted by the
+despairing grief of Risler, to whom his dear master's death was an
+irreparable loss. On her arrival, she was compelled to describe her
+visit to the smallest detail; discuss the inmates of the chateau, the
+guests, the entertainments, the dinners, and the final catastrophe.
+What torture for her, when, absorbed as she was by a single, unchanging
+thought, she had so much need of silence and solitude! But there was
+something even more terrible than that.
+
+On the first day after her return Frantz resumed his former place; and
+the glances with which he followed her, the words he addressed to her
+alone, seemed to her exasperating beyond endurance.
+
+Despite all his shyness and distrust of himself, the poor fellow
+believed that he had some rights as an accepted and impatient lover,
+and little Chebe was obliged to emerge from her dreams to reply to that
+creditor, and to postpone once more the maturity of his claim.
+
+A day came, however, when indecision ceased to be possible. She had
+promised to marry Frantz when he had obtained a good situation; and
+now an engineer's berth in the South, at the smelting-furnaces of Grand
+Combe, was offered to him. That was sufficient for the support of a
+modest establishment.
+
+There was no way of avoiding the question. She must either keep her
+promise or invent an excuse for breaking it. But what excuse could she
+invent?
+
+In that pressing emergency, she thought of Desiree. Although the lame
+little girl had never confided in her, she knew of her great love for
+Frantz. Long ago she had detected it, with her coquette's eyes, bright
+and changing mirrors, which reflected all the thoughts of others without
+betraying any of her own. It may be that the thought that another woman
+loved her betrothed had made Frantz's love more endurable to her at
+first; and, just as we place statues on tombstones to make them appear
+less sad, Desiree's pretty, little, pale face at the threshold of that
+uninviting future had made it seem less forbidding to her.
+
+Now it provided--her with a simple and honorable pretext for freeing
+herself from her promise.
+
+"No! I tell you, mamma," she said to Madame Chebe one day, "I never will
+consent to make a friend like her unhappy. I should suffer too much from
+remorse,--poor Desiree! Haven't you noticed how badly she looks since I
+came home; what a beseeching way she has of looking at me? No, I won't
+cause her that sorrow; I won't take away her Frantz."
+
+Even while she admired her daughter's generous spirit, Madame Chebe
+looked upon that as a rather exaggerated sacrifice, and remonstrated
+with her.
+
+"Take care, my child; we aren't rich. A husband like Frantz doesn't turn
+up every day."
+
+"Very well! then I won't marry at all," declared Sidonie flatly, and,
+deeming her pretext an excellent one, she clung persistently to it.
+Nothing could shake her determination, neither the tears shed by Frantz,
+who was exasperated by her refusal to fulfil her promise, enveloped as
+it was in vague reasons which she would not even explain to him, nor the
+entreaties of Risler, in whose ear Madame Chebe had mysteriously mumbled
+her daughter's reasons, and who in spite of everything could not but
+admire such a sacrifice.
+
+"Don't revile her, I tell you! She's an angel!" he said to his brother,
+striving to soothe him.
+
+"Ah! yes, she is an angel," assented Madame Chebe with a sigh, so that
+the poor betrayed lover had not even the right to complain. Driven to
+despair, he determined to leave Paris, and as Grand Combe seemed too
+near in his frenzied longing for flight, he asked and obtained an
+appointment as overseer on the Suez Canal at Ismailia. He went away
+without knowing, or caring to know aught of, Desiree's love; and yet,
+when he went to bid her farewell, the dear little cripple looked up into
+his face with her shy, pretty eyes, in which were plainly written the
+words:
+
+"I love you, if she does not."
+
+But Frantz Risler did not know how to read what was written in those
+eyes.
+
+Fortunately, hearts that are accustomed to suffer have an infinite store
+of patience. When her friend had gone, the lame girl, with her charming
+morsel of illusion, inherited from her father and refined by her
+feminine nature, returned bravely to her work, saying to herself:
+
+"I will wait for him."
+
+And thereafter she spread the wings of her birds to their fullest
+extent, as if they were all going, one after another, to Ismailia in
+Egypt. And that was a long distance!
+
+Before sailing from Marseilles, young Risler wrote Sidonie a farewell
+letter, at once laughable and touching, wherein, mingling the most
+technical details with the most heartrending adieux, the unhappy
+engineer declared that he was about to set sail, with a broken heart,
+on the transport Sahib, "a sailing-ship and steamship combined,
+with engines of fifteen-hundred-horse power," as if he hoped that so
+considerable a capacity would make an impression on his ungrateful
+betrothed, and cause her ceaseless remorse. But Sidonie had very
+different matters on her mind.
+
+She was beginning to be disturbed by Georges's silence. Since she left
+Savigny she had heard from him only once. All her letters were left
+unanswered. To be sure, she knew through Risler that Georges was very
+busy, and that his uncle's death had thrown the management of the
+factory upon him, imposing upon him a responsibility that was beyond his
+strength. But to abandon her without a word!
+
+From the window on the landing, where she had resumed her silent
+observations--for she had so arranged matters as not to return to
+Mademoiselle Le Mire--little Chebe tried to distinguish her lover,
+watched him as he went to and fro across the yards and among the
+buildings; and in the afternoon, when it was time for the train to
+start for Savigny, she saw him enter his carriage to go to his aunt and
+cousin, who were passing the early months of their period of mourning at
+the grandfather's chateau in the country.
+
+All this excited and alarmed her; and the proximity of the factory
+rendered Georges's avoidance of her even more apparent. To think that
+by raising her voice a little she could make him turn toward the place
+where she stood! To think that they were separated only by a wall! And
+yet, at that moment they were very far apart.
+
+Do you remember, little Chebe, that unhappy winter evening when the
+excellent Risler rushed into your parents' room with an extraordinary
+expression of countenance, exclaiming, "Great news!"?
+
+Great news, indeed! Georges Fromont had just informed him that, in
+accordance with his uncle's last wishes, he was to marry his cousin
+Claire, and that, as he was certainly unequal to the task of carrying on
+the business alone, he had resolved to take him, Risler, for a partner,
+under the firm name of FROMONT JEUNE AND RISLER AINE.
+
+How did you succeed, little Chebe, in maintaining your self-possession
+when you learned that the factory had eluded your grasp and that another
+woman had taken your place? What a terrible evening!--Madame Chebe sat
+by the table mending; M. Chebe before the fire drying his clothes, which
+were wet through by his having walked a long distance in the rain. Oh!
+that miserable room, overflowing with gloom and ennui! The lamp gave a
+dim light. The supper, hastily prepared, had left in the room the odor
+of the poor man's kitchen. And Risler, intoxicated with joy, talking
+with increasing animation, laid great plans!
+
+All these things tore your heart, and made the treachery still
+more horrible by the contrast between the riches that eluded your
+outstretched hand and the ignoble mediocrity in which you were doomed to
+pass your life.
+
+Sidonie was seriously ill for a long while. As she lay in bed, whenever
+the window-panes rattled behind the curtains, the unhappy creature
+fancied that Georges's wedding-coaches were driving through the
+street; and she had paroxysms of nervous excitement, without words and
+inexplicable, as if a fever of wrath were consuming her.
+
+At last, time and youthful strength, her mother's care, and, more than
+all, the attentions of Desiree, who now knew of the sacrifice her friend
+had made for her, triumphed over the disease. But for a long while
+Sidonie was very weak, oppressed by a deadly melancholy, by a constant
+longing to weep, which played havoc with her nervous system.
+
+Sometimes she talked of travelling, of leaving Paris. At other times
+she insisted that she must enter a convent. Her friends were sorely
+perplexed, and strove to discover the cause of that singular state of
+mind, which was even more alarming than her illness; when she suddenly
+confessed to her mother the secret of her melancholy.
+
+She loved the elder Risler! She never had dared to whisper it; but it
+was he whom she had always loved and not Frantz.
+
+This news was a surprise to everybody, to Risler most of all; but little
+Chebe was so pretty, her eyes were so soft when she glanced at him, that
+the honest fellow instantly became as fond of her as a fool! Indeed,
+it may be that love had lain in his heart for a long time without his
+realizing it.
+
+And that is how it happened that, on the evening of her wedding-day,
+young Madame Risler, in her white wedding-dress, gazed with a smile of
+triumph at the window on the landing which had been the narrow setting
+of ten years of her life. That haughty smile, in which there was a touch
+of profound pity and of scorn as well, such scorn as a parvenu feels for
+his poor beginnings, was evidently addressed to the poor sickly child
+whom she fancied she saw up at that window, in the depths of the past
+and the darkness. It seemed to say to Claire, pointing at the factory:
+
+"What do you say to this little Chebe? She is here at last, you see!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. NOON--THE MARAIS IS BREAKFASTING.
+
+Sitting near the door, on a stone which once served as a horse-block for
+equestrians, Risler watches with a smile the exit from the factory.
+He never loses his enjoyment of the outspoken esteem of all these
+good people whom he knew when he was insignificant and humble like
+themselves. The "Good-day, Monsieur Risler," uttered by so many
+different voices, all in the same affectionate tone, warms his heart.
+The children accost him without fear, the long-bearded designers,
+half-workmen, half-artists, shake hands with him as they pass, and
+address him familiarly as "thou." Perhaps there is a little too much
+familiarity in all this, for the worthy man has not yet begun to realize
+the prestige and authority of his new station; and there was some one
+who considered this free-and-easy manner very humiliating. But that some
+one can not see him at this moment, and the master takes advantage of
+the fact to bestow a hearty greeting upon the old bookkeeper, Sigismond,
+who comes out last of all, erect and red-faced, imprisoned in a high
+collar and bareheaded--whatever the weather--for fear of apoplexy.
+
+He and Risler are fellow-countrymen. They have for each other a profound
+esteem, dating from their first employment at the factory, from that
+time, long, long ago, when they breakfasted together at the little
+creamery on the corner, to which Sigismond Planus goes alone now and
+selects his refreshment for the day from the slate hanging on the wall.
+
+But stand aside! The carriage of Fromont Jeune drives through the
+gateway. He has been out on business all the morning; and the partners,
+as they walk toward the pretty little house in which they both live at
+the end of the garden, discuss matters of business in a friendly way.
+
+"I have been at Prochasson's," says Fromont. "They showed me some new
+patterns, pretty ones too, I assure you. We must be on our guard. They
+are dangerous rivals."
+
+But Risler is not at all anxious. He is strong in his talent, his
+experience; and then--but this is strictly confidential--he is on the
+track of a wonderful invention, an improved printing-press, something
+that--but we shall see. Still talking, they enter the garden, which is
+as carefully kept as a public park, with round-topped acacias almost as
+old as the buildings, and magnificent ivies that hide the high, black
+walls.
+
+Beside Fromont jeune, Risler Aine has the appearance of a clerk making
+his report to his employer. At every step he stops to speak, for his
+gait is heavy, his mind works slowly, and words have much difficulty in
+finding their way to his lips. Oh, if he could see the little flushed
+face up yonder, behind the window on the second floor, watching
+everything so attentively!
+
+Madame Risler is waiting for her husband to come to breakfast, and waxes
+impatient over the good man's moderation. She motions to him with her
+hand:
+
+"Come, come!" but Risler does not notice it. His attention is engrossed
+by the little Fromont, daughter of Claire and Georges, who is taking a
+sun-bath, blooming like a flower amid her lace in her nurse's arms. How
+pretty she is! "She is your very picture, Madame Chorche."
+
+"Do you think so, my dear Risler? Why, everybody says she looks like her
+father."
+
+"Yes, a little. But--"
+
+And there they all stand, the father and mother, Risler and the nurse,
+gravely seeking resemblances in that miniature model of a human being,
+who stares at them out of her little eyes, blinking with the noise
+and glare. Sidonie, at her open window, leans out to see what they are
+doing, and why her husband does not come up.
+
+At that moment Risler has taken the tiny creature in his arms, the whole
+fascinating bundle of white draperies and light ribbons, and is trying
+to make it laugh and crow with baby-talk and gestures worthy of a
+grandfather. How old he looks, poor man! His tall body, which he
+contorts for the child's amusement, his hoarse voice, which becomes a
+low growl when he tries to soften it, are absurd and ridiculous.
+
+Above, the wife taps the floor with her foot and mutters between her
+teeth:
+
+"The idiot!"
+
+At last, weary of waiting, she sends a servant to tell Monsieur that
+breakfast is served; but the game is so far advanced that Monsieur does
+not see how he can go away, how he can interrupt these explosions of
+laughter and little bird-like cries. He succeeds at last, however,
+in giving the child back to its nurse, and enters the hall, laughing
+heartily. He is laughing still when he enters the dining-room; but a
+glance from his wife stops him short.
+
+Sidonie is seated at table before the chafing-dish, already filled. Her
+martyr-like attitude suggests a determination to be cross.
+
+"Oh! there you are. It's very lucky!"
+
+Risler took his seat, a little ashamed.
+
+"What would you have, my love? That child is so--"
+
+"I have asked you before now not to speak to me in that way. It isn't
+good form."
+
+"What, not when we're alone?"
+
+"Bah! you will never learn to adapt yourself to our new fortune. And
+what is the result? No one in this place treats me with any respect.
+Pere Achille hardly touches his hat to me when I pass his lodge. To be
+sure, I'm not a Fromont, and I haven't a carriage."
+
+"Come, come, little one, you know perfectly well that you can use Madame
+Chorche's coupe. She always says it is at our disposal."
+
+"How many times must I tell you that I don't choose to be under any
+obligation to that woman?"
+
+"O Sidonie"
+
+"Oh! yes, I know, it's all understood. Madame Fromont is the good Lord
+himself. Every one is forbidden to touch her. And I must make up my
+mind to be a nobody in my own house, to allow myself to be humiliated,
+trampled under foot."
+
+"Come, come, little one--"
+
+Poor Risler tries to interpose, to say a word in favor of his dear
+Madame "Chorche." But he has no tact. This is the worst possible method
+of effecting a reconciliation; and Sidonie at once bursts forth:
+
+"I tell you that that woman, with all her calm airs, is proud and
+spiteful. In the first place, she detests me, I know that. So long as I
+was poor little Sidonie and she could toss me her broken dolls and old
+clothes, it was all right, but now that I am my own mistress as well
+as she, it vexes her and humiliates her. Madame gives me advice with
+a lofty air, and criticises what I do. I did wrong to have a maid. Of
+course! Wasn't I in the habit of waiting on myself? She never loses a
+chance to wound me. When I call on her on Wednesdays, you should hear
+the tone in which she asks me, before everybody, how 'dear Madame Chebe'
+is. Oh! yes. I'm a Chebe and she's a Fromont. One's as good as the
+other, in my opinion. My grandfather was a druggist. What was hers? A
+peasant who got rich by money-lending. I'll tell her so one of these
+days, if she shows me too much of her pride; and I'll tell her, too,
+that their little imp, although they don't suspect it, looks just like
+that old Pere Gardinois, and heaven knows he isn't handsome."
+
+"Oh!" exclaims Risler, unable to find words to reply.
+
+"Oh! yes, of course! I advise you to admire their child. She's always
+ill. She cries all night like a little cat. It keeps me awake. And
+afterward, through the day, I have mamma's piano and her scales--tra, la
+la la! If the music were only worth listening to!"
+
+Risler has taken the wise course. He does not say a word until he sees
+that she is beginning to calm down a little, when he completes the
+soothing process with compliments.
+
+"How pretty we are to-day! Are we going out soon to make some calls,
+eh?"
+
+He resorts to this mode of address to avoid the more familiar form,
+which is so offensive to her.
+
+"No, I am not going to make calls," Sidonie replies with a certain
+pride. "On the contrary, I expect to receive them. This is my day."
+
+In response to her husband's astounded, bewildered expression she
+continues:
+
+"Why, yes, this is my day. Madame Fromont has one; I can have one also,
+I fancy."
+
+"Of course, of course," said honest Risler, looking about with some
+little uneasiness. "So that's why I saw so many flowers everywhere, on
+the landing and in the drawing-room."
+
+"Yes, my maid went down to the garden this morning. Did I do wrong? Oh!
+you don't say so, but I'm sure you think I did wrong. 'Dame'! I thought
+the flowers in the garden belonged to us as much as to the Fromonts."
+
+"Certainly they do--but you--it would have been better perhaps--"
+
+"To ask leave? That's it-to humble myself again for a few paltry
+chrysanthemums and two or three bits of green. Besides, I didn't
+make any secret of taking the flowers; and when she comes up a little
+later--"
+
+"Is she coming? Ah! that's very kind of her."
+
+Sidonie turned upon him indignantly.
+
+"What's that? Kind of her? Upon my word, if she doesn't come, it would
+be the last straw. When I go every Wednesday to be bored to death in her
+salon with a crowd of affected, simpering women!"
+
+She did not say that those same Wednesdays of Madame Fromont's were very
+useful to her, that they were like a weekly journal of fashion, one of
+those composite little publications in which you are told how to enter
+and to leave a room, how to bow, how to place flowers in a jardiniere
+and cigars in a case, to say nothing of the engravings, the procession
+of graceful, faultlessly attired men and women, and the names of the
+best modistes. Nor did Sidonie add that she had entreated all those
+friends of Claire's, of whom she spoke so scornfully, to come to see her
+on her own day, and that the day was selected by them.
+
+Will they come? Will Madame Fromont Jeune insult Madame Risler Aine
+by absenting herself on her first Friday? The thought makes her almost
+feverish with anxiety.
+
+"For heaven's sake, hurry!" she says again and again. "Good heavens! how
+long you are at your, breakfast!"
+
+It is a fact that it is one of honest Risler's ways to eat slowly, and
+to light his pipe at the table while he sips his coffee. To-day he must
+renounce these cherished habits, must leave the pipe in its case because
+of the smoke, and, as soon as he has swallowed the last mouthful, run
+hastily and dress, for his wife insists that he must come up during the
+afternoon and pay his respects to the ladies.
+
+What a sensation in the factory when they see Risler Aine come in, on a
+week-day, in a black frock-coat and white cravat!
+
+"Are you going to a wedding, pray?" cries Sigismond, the cashier, behind
+his grating.
+
+And Risler, not without a feeling of pride, replies:
+
+"This is my wife's reception day!"
+
+Soon everybody in the place knows that it is Sidonie's day; and Pere
+Achille, who takes care of the garden, is not very well pleased to find
+that the branches of the winter laurels by the gate are broken.
+
+Before taking his seat at the table upon which he draws, in the bright
+light from the tall windows, Risler has taken off his fine frock-coat,
+which embarrasses him, and has turned up his clean shirt-sleeves; but
+the idea that his wife is expecting company preoccupies and disturbs
+him; and from time to time he puts on his coat and goes up to her.
+
+"Has no one come?" he asks timidly.
+
+"No, Monsieur, no one."
+
+In the beautiful red drawing-room--for they have a drawing-room in red
+damask, with a console between the windows and a pretty table in the
+centre of the light-flowered carpet--Sidonie has established herself in
+the attitude of a woman holding a reception, a circle of chairs of
+many shapes around her. Here and there are books, reviews, a little
+work-basket in the shape of a gamebag, with silk tassels, a bunch of
+violets in a glass vase, and green plants in the jardinieres. Everything
+is arranged exactly as in the Fromonts' apartments on the floor below;
+but the taste, that invisible line which separates the distinguished
+from the vulgar, is not yet refined. You would say it was a passable
+copy of a pretty genre picture. The hostess's attire, even, is too new;
+she looks more as if she were making a call than as if she were at home.
+In Risler's eyes everything is superb, beyond reproach; he is preparing
+to say so as he enters the salon, but, in face of his wife's wrathful
+glance, he checks himself in terror.
+
+"You see, it's four o'clock," she says, pointing to the clock with an
+angry gesture. "No one will come. But I take it especially ill of Claire
+not to come up. She is at home--I am sure of it--I can hear her."
+
+Indeed, ever since noon, Sidonie has listened intently to the slightest
+sounds on the floor below, the child's crying, the closing of doors.
+Risler attempts to go down again in order to avoid a renewal of the
+conversation at breakfast; but his wife will not allow him to do so. The
+very least he can do is to stay with her when everybody else abandons
+her, and so he remains there, at a loss what to say, rooted to the
+spot, like those people who dare not move during a storm for fear of
+attracting the lightning. Sidonie moves excitedly about, going in and
+out of the salon, changing the position of a chair, putting it back
+again, looking at herself as she passes the mirror, and ringing for her
+maid to send her to ask Pere Achille if no one has inquired for her.
+That Pere Achille is such a spiteful creature! Perhaps when people have
+come, he has said that she was out.
+
+But no, the concierge has not seen any one.
+
+Silence and consternation. Sidonie is standing at the window on the
+left, Risler at the one on the right. From there they can see the little
+garden, where the darkness is gathering, and the black smoke which the
+chimney emits beneath the lowering clouds. Sigismond's window is the
+first to show a light on the ground floor; the cashier trims his lamp
+himself with painstaking care, and his tall shadow passes in front
+of the flame and bends double behind the grating. Sidonie's wrath is
+diverted a moment by these familiar details.
+
+Suddenly a small coupe drives into the garden and stops in front of
+the door. At last some one is coming. In that pretty whirl of silk and
+flowers and jet and flounces and furs, as it runs quickly up the step,
+Sidonie has recognized one of the most fashionable frequenters of the
+Fromont salon, the wife of a wealthy dealer in bronzes. What an honor
+to receive a call from such an one! Quick, quick! the family takes
+its position, Monsieur in front of the hearth, Madame in an easychair,
+carelessly turning the leaves of a magazine. Wasted pose! The fair
+caller did not come to see Sidonie; she has stopped at the floor below.
+
+Ah! if Madame Georges could hear what her neighbor says of her and her
+friends!
+
+At that moment the door opens and "Mademoiselle Planus" is announced.
+She is the cashier's sister, a poor old maid, humble and modest, who
+has made it her duty to make this call upon the wife of her brother's
+employer, and who is amazed at the warm welcome she receives. She is
+surrounded and made much of. "How kind of you to come! Draw up to the
+fire." They overwhelm her with attentions and show great interest in
+her slightest word. Honest Risler's smiles are as warm as his thanks.
+Sidonie herself displays all her fascinations, overjoyed to exhibit
+herself in her glory to one who was her equal in the old days, and to
+reflect that the other, in the room below, must hear that she has had
+callers. So she makes as much noise as possible, moving chairs, pushing
+the table around; and when the lady takes her leave, dazzled, enchanted,
+bewildered, she escorts her to the landing with a great rustling of
+flounces, and calls to her in a very loud voice, leaning over the rail,
+that she is at home every Friday. "You understand, every Friday."
+
+Now it is dark. The two great lamps in the salon are lighted. In the
+adjoining room they hear the servant laying the table. It is all over.
+Madame Fromont Jeune will not come.
+
+Sidonie is pale with rage.
+
+"Just fancy, that minx can't come up eighteen steps! No doubt Madame
+thinks we're not grand enough for her. Ah! but I'll have my revenge."
+
+As she pours forth her wrath in unjust words, her voice becomes coarse,
+takes on the intonations of the faubourg, an accent of the common people
+which betrays the ex-apprentice of Mademoiselle Le Mire.
+
+Risler is unlucky enough to make a remark.
+
+"Who knows? Perhaps the child is ill."
+
+She turns upon him in a fury, as if she would like to bite him.
+
+"Will you hold your tongue about that brat? After all, it's your fault
+that this has happened to me. You don't know how to make people treat me
+with respect."
+
+And as she closed the door of her bedroom violently, making the globes
+on the lamps tremble, as well as all the knick-knacks on the etageres,
+Risler, left alone, stands motionless in the centre of the salon,
+looking with an air of consternation at his white cuffs, his broad
+patent-leather shoes, and mutters mechanically:
+
+"My wife's reception day!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE TRUE PEARL AND THE FALSE
+
+"What can be the matter? What have I done to her?" Claire Fromont very
+often wondered when she thought of Sidonie.
+
+She was entirely ignorant of what had formerly taken place between her
+friend and Georges at Savigny. Her own life was so upright, her mind
+so pure, that it was impossible for her to divine the jealous,
+mean-spirited ambition that had grown up by her side within the past
+fifteen years. And yet the enigmatical expression in that pretty face
+as it smiled upon her gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness which
+she could not understand. An affectation of politeness, strange enough
+between friends, was suddenly succeeded by an ill-dissembled anger, a
+cold, stinging tone, in presence of which Claire was as perplexed as
+by a difficult problem. Sometimes, too, a singular presentiment, the
+ill-defined intuition of a great misfortune, was mingled with her
+uneasiness; for all women have in some degree a kind of second sight,
+and, even in the most innocent, ignorance of evil is suddenly illumined
+by visions of extraordinary lucidity.
+
+From time to time, as the result of a conversation somewhat longer
+than usual, or of one of those unexpected meetings when faces taken by
+surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen, Madame Fromont reflected
+seriously concerning this strange little Sidonie; but the active, urgent
+duties of life, with its accompaniment of affections and preoccupations,
+left her no time for dwelling upon such trifles.
+
+To all women comes a time when they encounter such sudden windings in
+the road that their whole horizon changes and all their points of view
+become transformed.
+
+Had Claire been a young girl, the falling away of that friendship bit by
+bit, as if torn from her by an unkindly hand, would have been a source
+of great regret to her. But she had lost her father, the object of her
+greatest, her only youthful affection; then she had married. The
+child had come, with its thrice welcome demands upon her every moment.
+Moreover, she had with her her mother, almost in her dotage, still
+stupefied by her husband's tragic death. In a life so fully occupied,
+Sidonie's caprices received but little attention; and it had hardly
+occurred to Claire Fromont to be surprised at her marriage to Risler.
+He was clearly too old for her; but, after all, what difference did it
+make, if they loved each other?
+
+As for being vexed because little Chebe had attained that lofty
+position, had become almost her equal, her superior nature was incapable
+of such pettiness. On the contrary, she would have been glad with all
+her heart to know that that young wife, whose home was so near her
+own, who lived the same life, so to speak, and had been her playmate
+in childhood, was happy and highly esteemed. Being most kindly disposed
+toward her, she tried to teach her, to instruct her in the ways of
+society, as one might instruct an attractive provincial, who fell but
+little short of being altogether charming.
+
+Advice is not readily accepted by one pretty young woman from another.
+When Madame Fromont gave a grand dinner-party, she took Madame Risler to
+her bedroom, and said to her, smiling frankly in order not to vex her:
+"You have put on too many jewels, my dear. And then, you know, with a
+high dress one doesn't wear flowers in the hair." Sidonie blushed, and
+thanked her friend, but wrote down an additional grievance against her
+in the bottom of her heart.
+
+In Claire's circle her welcome was decidedly cold. The Faubourg
+Saint-Germain has its pretensions; but do not imagine that the
+Marais has none! Those wives and daughters of mechanics, of wealthy
+manufacturers, knew little Chebe's story; indeed, they would have
+guessed it simply by her manner of making her appearance and by her
+demeanor among them.
+
+Sidonie's efforts were unavailing. She retained the manners of a
+shop-girl. Her slightly artificial amiability, sometimes too humble, was
+as unpleasant as the spurious elegance of the shop; and her disdainful
+attitudes recalled the superb airs of the head saleswomen in the great
+dry-goods establishments, arrayed in black silk gowns, which they take
+off in the dressing-room when they go away at night--who stare with an
+imposing air, from the vantage-point of their mountains of curls, at the
+poor creatures who venture to discuss prices.
+
+She felt that she was being examined and criticised, and her modesty was
+compelled to place itself upon a war footing. Of the names mentioned
+in her presence, the amusements, the entertainments, the books of which
+they talked to her, she knew nothing. Claire did her best to help her,
+to keep her on the surface, with a friendly hand always outstretched;
+but many of these ladies thought Sidonie pretty; that was enough to make
+them bear her a grudge for seeking admission to their circle. Others,
+proud of their husbands' standing and of their wealth, could not invent
+enough unspoken affronts and patronizing phrases to humiliate the little
+parvenue.
+
+Sidonie included them all in a single phrase: "Claire's friends--that is
+to say, my enemies!" But she was seriously incensed against but one.
+
+The two partners had no suspicion of what was taking place between their
+wives. Risler, continually engrossed in his press, sometimes remained
+at his draughting-table until midnight. Fromont passed his days abroad,
+lunched at his club, was almost never at the factory. He had his reasons
+for that.
+
+Sidonie's proximity disturbed him. His capricious passion for her, that
+passion that he had sacrificed to his uncle's last wishes, recurred too
+often to his memory with all the regret one feels for the irreparable;
+and, conscious that he was weak, he fled. His was a pliable nature,
+without sustaining purpose, intelligent enough to appreciate his
+failings, too weak to guide itself. On the evening of Risler's
+wedding--he had been married but a few months himself--he had
+experienced anew, in that woman's presence, all the emotion of the
+stormy evening at Savigny. Thereafter, without self-examination, he
+avoided seeing her again or speaking with her. Unfortunately, as they
+lived in the same house, as their wives saw each other ten times a
+day, chance sometimes brought them together; and this strange thing
+happened--that the husband, wishing to remain virtuous, deserted his
+home altogether and sought distraction elsewhere.
+
+Claire was not astonished that it was so. She had become accustomed,
+during her father's lifetime, to the constant comings and goings of a
+business life; and during her husband's absences, zealously performing
+her duties as wife and mother, she invented long tasks, occupations of
+all sorts, walks for the child, prolonged, peaceful tarryings in the
+sunlight, from which she would return home, overjoyed with the little
+one's progress, deeply impressed with the gleeful enjoyment of all
+infants in the fresh air, but with a touch of their radiance in the
+depths of her serious eyes.
+
+Sidonie also went out a great deal. It often happened, toward night,
+that Georges's carriage, driving through the gateway, would compel
+Madame Risler to step hastily aside as she was returning in a gorgeous
+costume from a triumphal promenade. The boulevard, the shop-windows, the
+purchases, made after long deliberation as if to enjoy to the full the
+pleasure of purchasing, detained her very late. They would exchange a
+bow, a cold glance at the foot of the staircase; and Georges would hurry
+into his apartments, as into a place of refuge, concealing beneath a
+flood of caresses, bestowed upon the child his wife held out to him, the
+sudden emotion that had seized him.
+
+Sidonie, for her part, seemed to have forgotten everything, and to have
+retained no other feeling but contempt for that weak, cowardly creature.
+Moreover, she had many other things to think about.
+
+Her husband had just had a piano placed in her red salon, between the
+windows.
+
+After long hesitation she had decided to learn to sing, thinking that
+it was rather late to begin to play the piano; and twice a week Madame
+Dobson, a pretty, sentimental blonde, came to give her lessons from
+twelve o'clock to one. In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and
+o-oo, persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows
+open, gave the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school.
+
+And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises,
+an inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings,
+with everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real
+woman. But her ambition confined itself to a superficial aspect of
+things.
+
+"Claire Fromont plays the piano; I will sing. She is considered a
+refined and distinguished woman, and I intend that people shall say the
+same of me."
+
+Without a thought of improving her education, Sidonie passed her life
+running about among milliners and dressmakers. "What are people going
+to wear this winter?" was her cry. She was attracted by the gorgeous
+displays in the shop-windows, by everything that caught the eye of the
+passers-by.
+
+The one thing that Sidonie envied Claire more than all else was the
+child, the luxurious plaything, beribboned from the curtains of its
+cradle to its nurse's cap. She did not think of the sweet, maternal
+duties, demanding patience and self-abnegation, of the long rockings
+when sleep would not come, of the laughing awakenings sparkling with
+fresh water. No! she saw in the child naught but the daily walk. It is
+such a pretty sight, the little bundle of finery, with floating ribbons
+and long feathers, that follows young mothers through the crowded
+streets.
+
+When she wanted company she had only her parents or her husband. She
+preferred to go out alone. The excellent Risler had such an absurd way
+of showing his love for her, playing with her as if she were a doll,
+pinching her chin and her cheek, capering about her, crying, "Hou! hou!"
+or staring at her with his great, soft eyes like an affectionate and
+grateful dog. That senseless love, which made of her a toy, a
+mantel ornament, made her ashamed. As for her parents, they were an
+embarrassment to her in presence of the people she wished to know, and
+immediately after her marriage she almost got rid of them by hiring a
+little house for them at Montrouge. That step had cut short the frequent
+invasions of Monsieur Chebe and his long frock-coat, and the endless
+visits of good Madame Chebe, in whom the return of comfortable
+circumstances had revived former habits of gossip and of indolence.
+
+Sidonie would have been very glad to rid herself of the Delobelles in
+the same way, for their proximity annoyed her. But the Marais was a
+central location for the old actor, because the boulevard theatres were
+so near; then, too, Desiree, like all sedentary persons, clung to the
+familiar outlook, and her gloomy courtyard, dark at four o'clock in
+winter, seemed to her like a friend, like a familiar face which the sun
+lighted up at times as if it were smiling at her. As she was unable
+to get rid of them, Sidonie had adopted the course of ceasing to visit
+them.
+
+In truth, her life would have been lonely and depressing enough, had
+it not been for the distractions which Claire Fromont procured for her.
+Each time added fuel to her wrath. She would say to herself:
+
+"Must everything come to me through her?"
+
+And when, just at dinner-time, a box at the theatre or an invitation
+for the evening was sent to her from the floor below, while she was
+dressing, overjoyed at the opportunity to exhibit herself, she thought
+of nothing but crushing her rival. But such opportunities became more
+rare as Claire's time was more and more engrossed by her child. When
+Grandfather Gardinois came to Paris, however, he never failed to bring
+the two families together. The old peasant's gayety, for its freer
+expansion, needed little Sidonie, who did not take alarm at his
+jests. He would take them all four to dine at Philippe's, his favorite
+restaurant, where he knew all the patrons, the waiters and the steward,
+would spend a lot of money, and then take them to a reserved box at the
+Opera-Comique or the Palais-Royal.
+
+At the theatre he laughed uproariously, talked familiarly with the
+box-openers, as he did with the waiters at Philippe's, loudly demanded
+footstools for the ladies, and when the performance was over insisted
+on having the topcoats and fur wraps of his party first of all, as if he
+were the only three-million parvenu in the audience.
+
+For these somewhat vulgar entertainments, from which her husband usually
+excused himself, Claire, with her usual tact, dressed very plainly and
+attracted no attention. Sidonie, on the contrary, in all her finery, in
+full view of the boxes, laughed with all her heart at the grandfather's
+anecdotes, happy to have descended from the second or third gallery, her
+usual place in the old days, to that lovely proscenium box, adorned with
+mirrors, with a velvet rail that seemed made expressly for her light
+gloves, her ivory opera-glass, and her spangled fan. The tawdry glitter
+of the theatre, the red and gold of the hangings, were genuine splendor
+to her. She bloomed among them like a pretty paper flower in a filigree
+jardiniere.
+
+One evening, at the performance of a successful play at the
+Palais-Royal, among all the noted women who were present, painted
+celebrities wearing microscopic hats and armed with huge fans, their
+rouge-besmeared faces standing out from the shadow of the boxes in the
+gaudy setting of their gowns, Sidonie's behavior, her toilette, the
+peculiarities of her laugh and her expression attracted much attention.
+All the opera-glasses in the hall, guided by the magnetic current that
+is so powerful under the great chandeliers, were turned one by one upon
+the box in which she sat. Claire soon became embarrassed, and modestly
+insisted upon changing places with her husband, who, unluckily, had
+accompanied them that evening.
+
+Georges, youthful and elegant, sitting beside Sidonie, seemed
+her natural companion, while Risler Allie, always so placid and
+self-effacing, seemed in his proper place beside Claire Fromont, who in
+her dark clothes suggested the respectable woman incog. at the Bal de
+l'Opera.
+
+Upon leaving the theatre each of the partners offered his arm to his
+neighbor. A box-opener, speaking to Sidonie, referred to Georges as
+"your husband," and the little woman beamed with delight.
+
+"Your husband!"
+
+That simple phrase was enough to upset her and set in motion a multitude
+of evil currents in the depths of her heart. As they passed through the
+corridors and the foyer, she watched Risler and Madame "Chorche" walking
+in front of them. Claire's refinement of manner seemed to her to be
+vulgarized and annihilated by Risler's shuffling gait. "How ugly he must
+make me look when we are walking together!" she said to herself. And her
+heart beat fast as she thought what a charming, happy, admired couple
+they would have made, she and this Georges Fromont, whose arm was
+trembling beneath her own.
+
+Thereupon, when the blue-lined carriage drove up to the door of the
+theatre, she began to reflect, for the first time, that, when all was
+said, Claire had stolen her place and that she would be justified in
+trying to recover it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. THE BREWERY ON THE RUE BLONDEL
+
+After his marriage Risler had given up the brewery. Sidonie would have
+been glad to have him leave the house in the evening for a fashionable
+club, a resort of wealthy, well-dressed men; but the idea of his
+returning, amid clouds of pipe-smoke, to his friends of earlier days,
+Sigismond, Delobelle, and her own father, humiliated her and made her
+unhappy. So he ceased to frequent the place; and that was something of
+a sacrifice. It was almost a glimpse of his native country, that brewery
+situated in a remote corner of Paris. The infrequent carriages, the
+high, barred windows of the ground floors, the odor of fresh drugs, of
+pharmaceutical preparations, imparted to that narrow little Rue Blondel
+a vague resemblance to certain streets in Basle or Zurich.
+
+The brewery was managed by a Swiss and crowded with men of that
+nationality. When the door was opened, through the smoke-laden
+atmosphere, dense with the accents of the North, one had a vision of
+a vast, low room with hams hanging from the rafters, casks of beer
+standing in a row, the floor ankle-deep with sawdust, and on the counter
+great salad-bowls filled with potatoes as red as chestnuts, and baskets
+of pretzels fresh from the oven, their golden knots sprinkled with white
+salt.
+
+For twenty years Risler had had his pipe there, a long pipe marked with
+his name in the rack reserved for the regular customers. He had also
+his table, at which he was always joined by several discreet, quiet
+compatriots, who listened admiringly, but without comprehending them,
+to the endless harangues of Chebe and Delobelle. When Risler ceased his
+visits to the brewery, the two last-named worthies likewise turned their
+backs upon it, for several excellent reasons. In the first place, M.
+Chebe now lived a considerable distance away. Thanks to the generosity
+of his children, the dream of his whole life was realized at last.
+
+"When I am rich," the little man used to say in his cheerless rooms
+in the Marais, "I will have a house of my own, at the gates of Paris,
+almost in the country, a little garden which I will plant and water
+myself. That will be better for my health than all the excitement of the
+capital."
+
+Well, he had his house now, but he did not enjoy himself in it. It was
+at Montrouge, on the road that runs around the city. "A small chalet,
+with garden," said the advertisement, printed on a placard which gave an
+almost exact idea of the dimensions of the property. The papers were new
+and of rustic design, the paint perfectly fresh; a water-butt planted
+beside a vine-clad arbor played the part of a pond. In addition to all
+these advantages, only a hedge separated this paradise from another
+"chalet with garden" of precisely the same description, occupied by
+Sigismond Planus the cashier, and his sister. To Madame Chebe that was
+a most precious circumstance. When the good woman was bored, she would
+take a stock of knitting and darning and go and sit in the old maid's
+arbor, dazzling her with the tale of her past splendors. Unluckily, her
+husband had not the same source of distraction.
+
+However, everything went well at first. It was midsummer, and M. Chebe,
+always in his shirt-sleeves, was busily employed in getting settled.
+Each nail to be driven in the house was the subject of leisurely
+reflections, of endless discussions. It was the same with the garden.
+He had determined at first to make an English garden of it, lawns always
+green, winding paths shaded by shrubbery. But the trouble of it was that
+it took so long for the shrubbery to grow.
+
+"I have a mind to make an orchard of it," said the impatient little man.
+
+And thenceforth he dreamed of nothing but vegetables, long lines of
+beans, and peach-trees against the wall. He dug for whole mornings,
+knitting his brows in a preoccupied way and wiping his forehead
+ostentatiously before his wife, so that she would say:
+
+"For heaven's sake, do rest a bit--you're killing yourself."
+
+The result was that the garden was a mixture: flowers and fruit, park
+and kitchen garden; and whenever he went into Paris M. Chebe was careful
+to decorate his buttonhole with a rose from his rose-bushes.
+
+While the fine weather lasted, the good people did not weary of admiring
+the sunsets behind the fortifications, the long days, the bracing
+country air. Sometimes, in the evening, when the windows were open,
+they sang duets; and in presence of the stars in heaven, which began to
+twinkle simultaneously with the lanterns on the railway around the city,
+Ferdinand would become poetical. But when the rain came and he could not
+go out, what misery! Madame Chebe, a thorough Parisian, sighed for
+the narrow streets of the Marais, her expeditions to the market of
+Blancs-Manteaux, and to the shops of the quarter.
+
+As she sat by the window, her usual place for sewing and observation,
+she would gaze at the damp little garden, where the volubilis and the
+nasturtiums, stripped of their blossoms, were dropping away from the
+lattices with an air of exhaustion, at the long, straight line of the
+grassy slope of the fortifications, still fresh and green, and, a
+little farther on, at the corner of a street, the office of the Paris
+omnibuses, with all the points of their route inscribed in enticing
+letters on the green walls. Whenever one of the omnibuses lumbered away
+on its journey, she followed it with her eyes, as a government clerk at
+Cayenne or Noumea gazes after the steamer about to return to France; she
+made the trip with it, knew just where it would stop, at what point it
+would lurch around a corner, grazing the shop-windows with its wheels.
+
+As a prisoner, M. Chebe became a terrible trial. He could not work in
+the garden. On Sundays the fortifications were deserted; he could no
+longer strut about among the workingmen's families dining on the grass,
+and pass from group to group in a neighborly way, his feet encased
+in embroidered slippers, with the authoritative demeanor of a wealthy
+landowner of the vicinity. This he missed more than anything else,
+consumed as he was by the desire to make people think about him. So
+that, having nothing to do, having no one to pose before, no one to
+listen to his schemes, his stories, the anecdote of the accident to the
+Duc d'Orleans--a similar accident had happened to him in his youth,
+you remember--the unfortunate Ferdinand overwhelmed his wife with
+reproaches.
+
+"Your daughter banishes us--your daughter is ashamed of us!"
+
+She heard nothing but that "Your daughter--your daughter--your
+daughter!" For, in his anger with Sidonie, he denied her, throwing
+upon his wife the whole responsibility for that monstrous and unnatural
+child. It was a genuine relief for poor Madame Chebe when her husband
+took an omnibus at the office to go and hunt up Delobelle--whose hours
+for lounging were always at his disposal--and pour into his bosom all
+his rancor against his son-in-law and his daughter.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle also bore Risler a grudge, and freely said of
+him: "He is a dastard."
+
+The great man had hoped to form an integral part of the new household,
+to be the organizer of festivities, the 'arbiter elegantiarum'. Instead
+of which, Sidonie received him very coldly, and Risler no longer even
+took him to the brewery. However, the actor did not complain too loud,
+and whenever he met his friend he overwhelmed him with attentions and
+flattery; for he had need of him.
+
+Weary of awaiting the discerning manager, seeing that the engagement he
+had longed for so many years did not come, it had occurred to Delobelle
+to purchase a theatre and manage it himself. He counted upon Risler for
+the funds. Opportunely enough, a small theatre on the boulevard happened
+to be for sale, as a result of the failure of its manager. Delobelle
+mentioned it to Risler, at first very vaguely, in a wholly hypothetical
+form--"There would be a good chance to make a fine stroke." Risler
+listened with his usual phlegm, saying, "Indeed, it would be a good
+thing for you." And to a more direct suggestion, not daring to answer,
+"No," he took refuge behind such phrases as "I will see"--"Perhaps
+later"--"I don't say no"--and finally uttered the unlucky words "I must
+see the estimates."
+
+For a whole week the actor had delved away at plans and figures, seated
+between his wife and daughter, who watched him in admiration, and
+intoxicated themselves with this latest dream. The people in the house
+said, "Monsieur Delobelle is going to buy a theatre." On the boulevard,
+in the actors' cafes, nothing was talked of but this transaction.
+Delobelle did not conceal the fact that he had found some one to
+advance the funds; the result being that he was surrounded by a crowd
+of unemployed actors, old comrades who tapped him familiarly on the
+shoulder and recalled themselves to his recollection--"You know, old
+boy." He promised engagements, breakfasted at the cafe, wrote letters
+there, greeted those who entered with the tips of his fingers, held very
+animated conversations in corners; and already two threadbare authors
+had read to him a drama in seven tableaux, which was "exactly what he
+wanted" for his opening piece. He talked about "my theatre!" and his
+letters were addressed, "Monsieur Delobelle, Manager."
+
+When he had composed his prospectus and made his estimates, he went to
+the factory to see Risler, who, being very busy, made an appointment to
+meet him in the Rue Blondel; and that same evening, Delobelle, being the
+first to arrive at the brewery, established himself at their old table,
+ordered a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited. He waited a long
+while, with his eye on the door, trembling with impatience. Whenever any
+one entered, the actor turned his head. He had spread his papers on
+the table, and pretended to be reading them, with animated gestures and
+movements of the head and lips.
+
+It was a magnificent opportunity, unique in its way. He already fancied
+himself acting--for that was the main point--acting, in a theatre of his
+own, roles written expressly for him, to suit his talents, in which he
+would produce all the effect of--
+
+Suddenly the door opened, and M. Chebe made his appearance amid the
+pipe-smoke. He was as surprised and annoyed to find Delobelle there as
+Delobelle himself was by his coming. He had written to his son-in-law
+that morning that he wished to speak with him on a matter of very
+serious importance, and that he would meet him at the brewery. It was an
+affair of honor, entirely between themselves, from man to man. The real
+fact concerning this affair of honor was that M. Chebe had given notice
+of his intention to leave the little house at Montrouge, and had hired
+a shop with an entresol in the Rue du Mail, in the midst of a business
+district. A shop? Yes, indeed! And now he was a little alarmed regarding
+his hasty step, anxious to know how his son-in-law would take it,
+especially as the shop cost much more than the Montrouge house, and
+there were some repairs to be made at the outset. As he had long
+been acquainted with his son-in-law's kindness of heart, M. Chebe had
+determined to appeal to him at once, hoping to lead him into his game
+and throw upon him the responsibility for this domestic change. Instead
+of Risler he found Delobelle.
+
+They looked askance at each other, with an unfriendly eye, like two
+dogs meeting beside the same dish. Each divined for whom the other was
+waiting, and they did not try to deceive each other.
+
+"Isn't my son-in-law here?" asked M. Chebe, eying the documents spread
+over the table, and emphasizing the words "my son-in-law," to indicate
+that Risler belonged to him and to nobody else.
+
+"I am waiting for him," Delobelle replied, gathering up his papers.
+
+He pressed his lips together, as he added with a dignified, mysterious,
+but always theatrical air:
+
+"It is a matter of very great importance."
+
+"So is mine," declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a
+porcupine's quills.
+
+As he spoke, he took his seat on the bench beside Delobelle, ordered a
+pitcher and two glasses as the former had done, then sat erect with his
+hands in his pockets and his back against the wall, waiting in his turn.
+The two empty glasses in front of them, intended for the same absentee,
+seemed to be hurling defiance at each other.
+
+But Risler did not come.
+
+The two men, drinking in silence, lost their patience and fidgeted about
+on the bench, each hoping that the other would tire of waiting.
+
+At last their ill-humor overflowed, and naturally poor Risler received
+the whole flood.
+
+"What an outrage to keep a man of my years waiting so long!" began M.
+Chebe, who never mentioned his great age except upon such occasions.
+
+"I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us," replied M.
+Delobelle.
+
+And the other:
+
+"No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner."
+
+"And such company!" scornfully exclaimed the illustrious actor, in whose
+mind bitter memories were awakened.
+
+"The fact is--" continued M. Chebe.
+
+They drew closer to each other and talked. The hearts of both were full
+in respect to Sidonie and Risler. They opened the flood-gates. That
+Risler, with all his good-nature, was an egotist pure and simple, a
+parvenu. They laughed at his accent and his bearing, they mimicked
+certain of his peculiarities. Then they talked about his household,
+and, lowering their voices, they became confidential, laughed familiarly
+together, were friends once more.
+
+M. Chebe went very far: "Let him beware! he has been foolish enough to
+send the father and mother away from their daughter; if anything happens
+to her, he can't blame us. A girl who hasn't her parents' example before
+her eyes, you understand--"
+
+"Certainly--certainly," said Delobelle; "especially as Sidonie has
+become a great flirt. However, what can you expect? He will get no more
+than he deserves. No man of his age ought to--Hush! here he is!"
+
+Risler had entered the room, and was walking toward them, distributing
+hand-shakes all along the benches.
+
+There was a moment of embarrassment between the three friends. Risler
+excused himself as well as he could. He had been detained at home;
+Sidonie had company--Delobelle touched M. Chebe's foot under the
+table--and, as he spoke, the poor man, decidedly perplexed by the two
+empty glasses that awaited him, wondered in front of which of the two he
+ought to take his seat.
+
+Delobelle was generous.
+
+"You have business together, Messieurs; do not let me disturb you."
+
+He added in a low tone, winking at Risler:
+
+"I have the papers."
+
+"The papers?" echoed Risler, in a bewildered tone.
+
+"The estimates," whispered the actor.
+
+Thereupon, with a great show of discretion, he withdrew within himself,
+and resumed the reading of his documents, his head in his hands and his
+fingers in his ears.
+
+The two others conversed by his side, first in undertones, then louder,
+for M. Chebe's shrill, piercing voice could not long be subdued.--He
+wasn't old enough to be buried, deuce take it!--He should have died of
+ennui at Montrouge.--What he must have was the bustle and life of the
+Rue de Mail or the Rue du Sentier--of the business districts.
+
+"Yes, but a shop? Why a shop?" Risler timidly ventured to ask.
+
+"Why a shop?--why a shop?" repeated M. Chebe, red as an Easter egg, and
+raising his voice to its highest pitch. "Why, because I'm a merchant,
+Monsieur Risler, a merchant and son of a merchant. Oh! I see what you're
+coming at. I have no business. But whose fault is it? If the people who
+shut me up at Montrouge, at the gates of Bicetre, like a paralytic, had
+had the good sense to furnish me with the money to start in business--"
+
+At that point Risler succeeded in silencing him, and thereafter
+only snatches of the conversation could be heard: "a more convenient
+shop--high ceilings--better air--future plans--enormous business--I will
+speak when the time comes--many people will be astonished."
+
+As he caught these fragments of sentences, Delobelle became more and
+more absorbed in his estimates, presenting the eloquent back of the man
+who is not listening. Risler, sorely perplexed, slowly sipped his beer
+from time to time to keep himself, in countenance.
+
+At last, when M. Chebe had grown calm, and with good reason, his
+son-in-law turned with a smile to the illustrious Delobelle, and met the
+stern, impassive glance which seemed to say, "Well! what of me?"
+
+"Ah! Mon Dieu!--that is true," thought the poor fellow.
+
+Changing at once his chair and his glass, he took his seat opposite the
+actor. But M. Chebe had not Delobelle's courtesy. Instead of discreetly
+moving away, he took his glass and joined the others, so that the great
+man, unwilling to speak before him, solemnly replaced his documents in
+his pocket a second time, saying to Risler:
+
+"We will talk this over later."
+
+Very much later, in truth, for M. Chebe had reflected:
+
+"My son-in-law is so good-natured! If I leave him with this swindler,
+who knows what he may get out of him?"
+
+And he remained on guard. The actor was furious. It was impossible to
+postpone the matter to some other day, for Risler told them that he was
+going the next day to spend the next month at Savigny.
+
+"A month at Savigny!" exclaimed M. Chebe, incensed at the thought of his
+son-in-law escaping him. "How about business?"
+
+"Oh! I shall come to Paris every day with Georges. Monsieur Gardinois is
+very anxious to see his little Sidonie."
+
+M. Chebe shook his head. He considered it very imprudent. Business is
+business. A man ought to be on the spot, always on the spot, in the
+breach. Who could say?--the factory might take fire in the night. And he
+repeated sententiously: "The eye of the master, my dear fellow, the eye
+of the master," while the actor--who was little better pleased by this
+intended departure--opened his great eyes; giving them an expression at
+once cunning and authoritative, the veritable expression of the eye of
+the master.
+
+At last, about midnight, the last Montrouge omnibus bore away the
+tyrannical father-in-law, and Delobelle was able to speak.
+
+"Let us first look at the prospectus," he said, preferring not to attack
+the question of figures at once; and with his eyeglasses on his nose, he
+began, in a declamatory tone, always upon the stage: "When one considers
+coolly the decrepitude which dramatic art has reached in France, when
+one measures the distance that separates the stage of Moliere--"
+
+There were several pages like that. Risler listened, puffing at his
+pipe, afraid to stir, for the reader looked at him every moment over his
+eyeglasses, to watch the effect of his phrases. Unfortunately, right
+in the middle of the prospectus, the cafe closed. The lights were
+extinguished; they must go.--And the estimates?--It was agreed that they
+should read them as they walked along. They stopped at every gaslight.
+The actor displayed his figures. So much for the hall, so much for
+the lighting, so much for poor-rates, so much for the actors. On that
+question of the actors he was firm.
+
+"The best point about the affair," he said, "is that we shall have
+no leading man to pay. Our leading man will be Bibi." (When Delobelle
+mentioned himself, he commonly called himself Bibi.) "A leading man is
+paid twenty thousand francs, and as we have none to pay, it's just as
+if you put twenty thousand francs in your pocket. Tell me, isn't that
+true?"
+
+Risler did not reply. He had the constrained manner, the wandering eyes
+of the man whose thoughts are elsewhere. The reading of the estimates
+being concluded, Delobelle, dismayed to find that they were drawing
+near the corner of the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes, put the question
+squarely. Would Risler advance the money, yes or no?
+
+"Well!--no," said Risler, inspired by heroic courage, which he owed
+principally to the proximity of the factory and to the thought that the
+welfare of his family was at stake.
+
+Delobelle was astounded. He had believed that the business was as good
+as done, and he stared at his companion, intensely agitated, his eyes as
+big as saucers, and rolling his papers in his hand.
+
+"No," Risler continued, "I can't do what you ask, for this reason."
+
+Thereupon the worthy man, slowly, with his usual heaviness of speech,
+explained that he was not rich. Although a partner in a wealthy house,
+he had no available funds. Georges and he drew a certain sum from the
+concern each month; then, when they struck a balance at the end of the
+year they divided the profits. It had cost him a good deal to begin
+housekeeping: all his savings. It was still four months before the
+inventory. Where was he to obtain the 30,000 francs to be paid down at
+once for the theatre? And then, beyond all that, the affair could not be
+successful.
+
+"Why, it must succeed. Bibi will be there!" As he spoke, poor Bibi drew
+himself up to his full height; but Risler was determined, and all Bibi's
+arguments met the same refusal--"Later, in two or three years, I don't
+say something may not be done."
+
+The actor fought for a long time, yielding his ground inch by inch. He
+proposed revising his estimates. The thing might be done cheaper. "It
+would still be too dear for me," Risler interrupted. "My name doesn't
+belong to me. It is a part of the firm. I have no right to pledge it.
+Imagine my going into bankruptcy!" His voice trembled as he uttered the
+word.
+
+"But if everything is in my name," said Delobelle, who had no
+superstition. He tried everything, invoked the sacred interests of
+art, went so far as to mention the fascinating actresses whose alluring
+glances--Risler laughed aloud.
+
+"Come, come, you rascal! What's that you're saying? You forget that
+we're both married men, and that it is very late and our wives
+are expecting us. No ill-will, eh?--This is not a refusal, you
+understand.--By the way, come and see me after the inventory. We will
+talk it over again. Ah! there's Pere Achille putting out his gas.--I
+must go in. Good-night."
+
+It was after one o'clock when the actor returned home. The two women
+were waiting for him, working as usual, but with a sort of feverish
+activity which was strange to them. Every moment the great scissors that
+Mamma Delobelle used to cut the brass wire were seized with strange fits
+of trembling, and Desiree's little fingers, as she mounted an insect,
+moved so fast that it made one dizzy to watch them. Even the long
+feathers of the little birds scattered about on the table before her
+seemed more brilliant, more richly colored, than on other days. It was
+because a lovely visitor named Hope had called upon them that evening.
+She had made the tremendous effort required to climb five dark flights
+of stairs, and had opened the door of the little room to cast a luminous
+glance therein. However much you may have been deceived in life, those
+magic gleams always dazzle you.
+
+"Oh! if your father could only succeed!" said Mamma Delobelle from time
+to time, as if to sum up a whole world of happy thoughts to which her
+reverie abandoned itself.
+
+"He will succeed, mamma, never fear. Monsieur Risler is so kind, I will
+answer for him. And Sidonie is very fond of us, too, although since she
+was married she does seem to neglect her old friends a little. But we
+must make allowance for the difference in our positions. Besides, I
+never shall forget what she did for me."
+
+And, at the thought of what Sidonie had done for her, the little
+cripple applied herself with even more feverish energy to her work. Her
+electrified fingers moved with redoubled swiftness. You would have
+said that they were running after some fleeing, elusive thing, like
+happiness, for example, or the love of some one who loves you not.
+
+"What was it that she did for you?" her mother would naturally have
+asked her; but at that moment she was only slightly interested in what
+her daughter said. She was thinking exclusively of her great man.
+
+"No! do you think so, my dear? Just suppose your father should have a
+theatre of his own and act again as in former days. You don't remember;
+you were too small then. But he had tremendous success, no end of
+recalls. One night, at Alencon, the subscribers to the theatre gave
+him a gold wreath. Ah! he was a brilliant man in those days, so
+lighthearted, so glad to be alive. Those who see him now don't know him,
+poor man, misfortune has changed him so. Oh, well! I feel sure that all
+that's necessary is a little success to make him young and happy again.
+And then there's money to be made managing theatres. The manager at
+Nantes had a carriage. Can you imagine us with a carriage? Can you
+imagine it, I say? That's what would be good for you. You could go out,
+leave your armchair once in a while. Your father would take us into
+the country. You would see the water and the trees you have had such a
+longing to see."
+
+"Oh! the trees," murmured the pale little recluse, trembling from head
+to foot.
+
+At that moment the street door of the house was closed violently, and M.
+Delobelle's measured step echoed in the vestibule. There was a moment of
+speechless, breathless anguish. The women dared not look at each other,
+and mamma's great scissors trembled so that they cut the wire crooked.
+
+The poor devil had unquestionably received a terrible blow. His
+illusions crushed, the humiliation of a refusal, the jests of his
+comrades, the bill at the cafe where he had breakfasted on credit during
+the whole period of his managership, a bill which must be paid--all
+these things occurred to him in the silence and gloom of the five
+flights he had to climb. His heart was torn. Even so, the actor's nature
+was so strong in him that he deemed it his duty to envelop his distress,
+genuine as it was, in a conventional tragic mask.
+
+As he entered, he paused, cast an ominous glance around the work-room,
+at the table covered with work, his little supper waiting for him in
+a corner, and the two dear, anxious faces looking up at him with
+glistening eyes. He stood a full minute without speaking--and you know
+how long a minute's silence seems on the stage; then he took three steps
+forward, sank upon a low chair beside the table, and exclaimed in a
+hissing voice:
+
+"Ah! I am accursed!"
+
+At the same time he dealt the table such a terrible blow with his fist
+that the "birds and insects for ornament" flew to the four corners of
+the room. His terrified wife rose and timidly approached him, while
+Desiree half rose in her armchair with an expression of nervous agony
+that distorted all her features.
+
+Lolling in his chair, his arms hanging despondently by his sides, his
+head on his chest, the actor soliloquized--a fragmentary soliloquy,
+interrupted by sighs and dramatic hiccoughs, overflowing with
+imprecations against the pitiless, selfish bourgeois, those monsters to
+whom the artist gives his flesh and blood for food and drink.
+
+Then he reviewed his whole theatrical life, his early triumphs, the
+golden wreath from the subscribers at Alencon, his marriage to this
+"sainted woman," and he pointed to the poor creature who stood by his
+side, with tears streaming from her eyes, and trembling lips, nodding
+her head dotingly at every word her husband said.
+
+In very truth, a person who never had heard of the illustrious Delobelle
+could have told his history in detail after that long monologue. He
+recalled his arrival in Paris, his humiliations, his privations. Alas!
+he was not the one who had known privation. One had but to look at his
+full, rotund face beside the thin, drawn faces of the two women. But the
+actor did not look so closely.
+
+"Oh!" he said, continuing to intoxicate himself with declamatory
+phrases, "oh! to have struggled so long. For ten years, fifteen years,
+have I struggled on, supported by these devoted creatures, fed by them."
+
+"Papa, papa, hush," cried Desiree, clasping her hands.
+
+"Yes, fed by them, I say--and I do not blush for it. For I accept all
+this devotion in the name of sacred art. But this is too much. Too much
+has been put upon me. I renounce the stage!"
+
+"Oh! my dear, what is that you say?" cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to
+his side.
+
+"No, leave me. I have reached the end of my strength. They have slain
+the artist in me. It is all over. I renounce the stage."
+
+If you had seen the two women throw their arms about him then, implore
+him to struggle on, prove to him that he had no right to give up, you
+could not have restrained your tears. But Delobelle resisted.
+
+He yielded at last, however, and promised to continue the fight a little
+while, since it was their wish; but it required many an entreaty and
+caress to carry the point.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. AT SAVIGNY
+
+It was a great misfortune, that sojourn of the two families at Savigny
+for a month.
+
+After an interval of two years Georges and Sidonie found themselves
+side by side once more on the old estate, too old not to be always like
+itself, where the stones, the ponds, the trees, always the same, seemed
+to cast derision upon all that changes and passes away. A renewal of
+intercourse under such circumstances must have been disastrous to two
+natures that were not of a very different stamp, and far more virtuous
+than those two.
+
+As for Claire, she never had been so happy; Savigny never had seemed so
+lovely to her. What joy to walk with her child over the greensward where
+she herself had walked as a child; to sit, a young mother, upon the
+shaded seats from which her own mother had looked on at her childish
+games years before; to go, leaning on Georges's arm, to seek out the
+nooks where they had played together. She felt a tranquil contentment,
+the overflowing happiness of placid lives which enjoy their bliss in
+silence; and all day long her skirts swept along the paths, guided by
+the tiny footsteps of the child, her cries and her demands upon her
+mother's care.
+
+Sidonie seldom took part in these maternal promenades. She said that
+the chatter of children tired her, and therein she agreed with old
+Gardinois, who seized upon any pretext to annoy his granddaughter.
+He believed that he accomplished that object by devoting himself
+exclusively to Sidonie, and arranging even more entertainments for her
+than on her former visit. The carriages that had been shut up in the
+carriage-house for two years, and were dusted once a week because
+the spiders spun their webs on the silk cushions, were placed at her
+disposal. The horses were harnessed three times a day, and the gate was
+continually turning on its hinges. Everybody in the house followed this
+impulse of worldliness. The gardener paid more attention to his flowers
+because Madame Risler selected the finest ones to wear in her hair at
+dinner. And then there were calls to be made. Luncheon parties were
+given, gatherings at which Madame Fromont Jeune presided, but at which
+Sidonie, with her lively manners, shone supreme. Indeed, Claire often
+left her a clear field. The child had its hours for sleeping and riding
+out, with which no amusements could interfere. The mother was compelled
+to remain away, and it often happened that she was unable to go with
+Sidonie to meet the partners when they came from Paris at night.
+
+"You will make my excuses," she would say, as the went up to her room.
+
+Madame Risler was triumphant. A picture of elegant indolence, she would
+drive away behind the galloping horses, unconscious of the swiftness of
+their pace, without a thought in her mind.
+
+Other carriages were always waiting at the station. Two or three times
+she heard some one near her whisper, "That is Madame Fromont Jeune,"
+and, indeed, it was a simple matter for people to make the mistake,
+seeing the three return together from the station, Sidonie sitting
+beside Georges on the back seat, laughing and talking with him, and
+Risler facing them, smiling contentedly with his broad hands spread flat
+upon his knees, but evidently feeling a little out of place in that fine
+carriage. The thought that she was taken for Madame Fromont made her
+very proud, and she became a little more accustomed to it every day. On
+their arrival at the chateau, the two families separated until dinner;
+but, in the presence of his wife sitting tranquilly beside the sleeping
+child, Georges Fromont, too young to be absorbed by the joys of
+domesticity, was continually thinking of the brilliant Sidonie, whose
+voice he could hear pouring forth triumphant roulades under the trees in
+the garden.
+
+While the whole chateau was thus transformed in obedience to the whims
+of a young woman, old Gardinois continued to lead the narrow life of
+a discontented, idle, impotent 'parvenu'. The most successful means of
+distraction he had discovered was espionage. The goings and comings of
+his servants, the remarks that were made about him in the kitchen,
+the basket of fruit and vegetables brought every morning from the
+kitchen-garden to the pantry, were objects of continual investigation.
+
+For the purposes of this constant spying upon his household, he made
+use of a stone bench set in the gravel behind an enormous Paulownia.
+He would sit there whole days at a time, neither reading nor thinking,
+simply watching to see who went in or out. For the night he had invented
+something different. In the great vestibule at the main entrance, which
+opened upon the front steps with their array of bright flowers, he had
+caused an opening to be made leading to his bedroom on the floor above.
+An acoustic tube of an improved type was supposed to convey to his
+ears every sound on the ground floor, even to the conversation of the
+servants taking the air on the steps.
+
+Unluckily, the instrument was so powerful that it exaggerated all the
+noises, confused them and prolonged them, and the powerful, regular
+ticking of a great clock, the cries of a paroquet kept in one of the
+lower rooms, the clucking of a hen in search of a lost kernel of corn,
+were all Monsieur Gardinois could hear when he applied his ear to the
+tube. As for voices, they reached him in the form of a confused buzzing,
+like the muttering of a crowd, in which it was impossible to distinguish
+anything. He had nothing to show for the expense of the apparatus, and
+he concealed his wonderful tube in a fold of his bed-curtains.
+
+One night Gardinois, who had fallen asleep, was awakened suddenly by
+the creaking of a door. It was an extraordinary thing at that hour. The
+whole house hold was asleep. Nothing could be heard save the footsteps
+of the watch-dogs on the sand, or their scratching at the foot of a
+tree in which an owl was screeching. An excellent opportunity to use
+his listening-tube! Upon putting it to his ear, M. Gardinois was assured
+that he had made no mistake. The sounds continued. One door was opened,
+then another. The bolt of the front door was thrown back with an
+effort. But neither Pyramus nor Thisbe, not even Kiss, the formidable
+Newfoundland, had made a sign. He rose softly to see who those strange
+burglars could be, who were leaving the house instead of entering it;
+and this is what he saw through the slats of his blind:
+
+A tall, slender young man, with Georges's figure and carriage,
+arm-in-arm with a woman in a lace mantilla. They stopped first at the
+bench by the Paulownia, which was in full bloom.
+
+It was a superb moonlight night. The moon, silvering the treetops, made
+numberless flakes of light amid the dense foliage. The terraces, white
+with moonbeams, where the Newfoundlands in their curly coats went to
+and fro, watching the night butterflies, the smooth, deep waters of
+the ponds, all shone with a mute, calm brilliance, as if reflected in
+a silver mirror. Here and there glow-worms twinkled on the edges of the
+greensward.
+
+The two promenaders remained for a moment beneath the shade of the
+Paulownia, sitting silent on the bench, lost in the dense darkness which
+the moon makes where its rays do not reach. Suddenly they appeared in
+the bright light, wrapped in a languishing embrace; then walked slowly
+across the main avenue, and disappeared among the trees.
+
+"I was sure of it!" said old Gardinois, recognizing them. Indeed, what
+need had he to recognize them? Did not the silence of the dogs, the
+aspect of the sleeping house, tell him more clearly than anything else
+could, what species of impudent crime, unknown and unpunished, haunted
+the avenues in his park by night? Be that as it may, the old peasant
+was overjoyed by his discovery. He returned to bed without a
+light, chuckling to himself, and in the little cabinet filled with
+hunting-implements, whence he had watched them, thinking at first that
+he had to do with burglars, the moon's rays shone upon naught save the
+fowling-pieces hanging on the wall and the boxes of cartridges of all
+sizes.
+
+Sidonie and Georges had taken up the thread of their love at the corner
+of the same avenue. The year that had passed, marked by hesitation, by
+vague struggles, by fruitless resistance, seemed to have been only a
+preparation for their meeting. And it must be said that, when once the
+fatal step was taken, they were surprised at nothing so much as the
+fact that they had postponed it so long. Georges Fromont especially was
+seized by a mad passion. He was false to his wife, his best friend; he
+was false to Risler, his partner, the faithful companion of his every
+hour.
+
+He felt a constant renewal, a sort of overflow of remorse, wherein his
+passion was intensified by the magnitude of his sin. Sidonie became his
+one engrossing thought, and he discovered that until then he had not
+lived. As for her, her love was made up of vanity and spite. The thing
+that she relished above all else was Claire's degradation in her eyes.
+Ah! if she could only have said to her, "Your husband loves me--he is
+false to you with me," her pleasure would have been even greater. As for
+Risler, in her view he richly deserved what had happened to him. In her
+old apprentice's jargon, in which she still thought, even if she did not
+speak it, the poor man was only "an old fool," whom she had taken as a
+stepping-stone to fortune. "An old fool" is made to be deceived!
+
+During the day Savigny belonged to Claire, to the child who ran about
+upon the gravel, laughing at the birds and the clouds, and who grew
+apace. The mother and child had for their own the daylight, the paths
+filled with sunbeams. But the blue nights were given over to sin, to
+that sin firmly installed in the chateau, which spoke in undertones,
+crept noiselessly behind the closed blinds, and in face of which
+the sleeping house became dumb and blind, and resumed its stony
+impassibility, as if it were ashamed to see and hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. SIGISMOND PLANUS TREMBLES FOR HIS CASH-BOX.
+
+
+"Carriage, my dear Chorche?--I--have a carriage? What for?"
+
+"I assure you, my dear Risler, that it is quite essential for you. Our
+business, our relations, are extending every day; the coupe is no longer
+enough for us. Besides, it doesn't look well to see one of the partners
+always in his carriage and the other on foot. Believe me, it is a
+necessary outlay, and of course it will go into the general expenses of
+the firm. Come, resign yourself to the inevitable."
+
+It was genuine resignation. It seemed to Risler as if he were stealing
+something in taking the money for such an unheard-of luxury as a
+carriage; however, he ended by yielding to Georges's persistent
+representations, thinking as he did so:
+
+"This will make Sidonie very happy!"
+
+The poor fellow had no suspicion that Sidonie herself, a month before,
+had selected at Binder's the coupe which Georges insisted upon giving
+her, and which was to be charged to expense account in order not to
+alarm the husband.
+
+Honest Risler was so plainly created to be deceived. His inborn
+uprightness, the implicit confidence in men and things, which was the
+foundation of his transparent nature, had been intensified of late
+by preoccupation resulting from his pursuit of the Risler Press,
+an invention destined to revolutionize the wall-paper industry and
+representing in his eyes his contribution to the partnership assets.
+When he laid aside his drawings and left his little work-room on the
+first floor, his face invariably wore the absorbed look of the man who
+has his life on one side, his anxieties on another. What a delight it
+was to him, therefore, to find his home always tranquil, his wife always
+in good humor, becomingly dressed and smiling.
+
+Without undertaking to explain the change to himself, he recognized
+that for some time past the "little one" had not been as before in her
+treatment of him. She allowed him to resume his old habits: the pipe at
+dessert, the little nap after dinner, the appointments at the brewery
+with Chebe and Delobelle. Their apartments also were transformed,
+embellished.
+
+A grand piano by a famous maker made its appearance in the salon in
+place of the old one, and Madame Dobson, the singing-teacher, came no
+longer twice a week, but every day, music-roll in hand.
+
+Of a curious type was that young woman of American extraction, with hair
+of an acid blond, like lemon-pulp, over a bold forehead and metallic
+blue eyes. As her husband would not allow her to go on the stage, she
+gave lessons, and sang in some bourgeois salons. As a result of living
+in the artificial world of compositions for voice and piano, she had
+contracted a species of sentimental frenzy.
+
+She was romance itself. In her mouth the words "love" and "passion"
+seemed to have eighty syllables, she uttered them with so much
+expression. Oh, expression! That was what Mistress Dobson placed before
+everything, and what she tried, and tried in vain, to impart to her
+pupil.
+
+'Ay Chiquita,' upon which Paris fed for several seasons, was then at the
+height of its popularity. Sidonie studied it conscientiously, and all
+the morning she could be heard singing:
+
+          "On dit que tu te maries,
+          Tu sais que j'en puis mourir."
+
+          [They say that thou'rt to marry
+          Thou know'st that I may die.]
+
+"Mouri-i-i-i-i-r!" the expressive Madame Dobson would interpose, while
+her hands wandered feebly over the piano-keys; and die she would,
+raising her light blue eyes to the ceiling and wildly throwing back her
+head. Sidonie never could accomplish it. Her mischievous eyes, her
+lips, crimson with fulness of life, were not made for such AEolian-harp
+sentimentalities. The refrains of Offenbach or Herve, interspersed with
+unexpected notes, in which one resorts to expressive gestures for aid,
+to a motion of the head or the body, would have suited her better; but
+she dared not admit it to her sentimental instructress. By the way,
+although she had been made to sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le
+Mire's, her voice was still fresh and not unpleasing.
+
+Having no social connections, she came gradually to make a friend of her
+singing-mistress. She would keep her to breakfast, take her to drive in
+the new coupe and to assist in her purchases of gowns and jewels. Madame
+Dobson's sentimental and sympathetic tone led one to repose confidence
+in her. Her continual repinings seemed too long to attract other
+repinings. Sidonie told her of Georges, of their relations, attempting
+to palliate her offence by blaming the cruelty of her parents in
+marrying her by force to a man much older than herself. Madame Dobson at
+once showed a disposition to assist them; not that the little woman was
+venal, but she had a passion for passion, a taste for romantic intrigue.
+As she was unhappy in her own home, married to a dentist who beat her,
+all husbands were monsters in her eyes, and poor Risler especially
+seemed to her a horrible tyrant whom his wife was quite justified in
+hating and deceiving.
+
+She was an active confidant and a very useful one. Two or three times a
+week she would bring tickets for a box at the Opera or the Italiens, or
+some one of the little theatres which enjoy a temporary vogue, and cause
+all Paris to go from one end of Paris to the other for a season. In
+Risler's eyes the tickets came from Madame Dobson; she had as many as
+she chose to the theatres where operas were given. The poor wretch had
+no suspicion that one of those boxes for an important "first night" had
+often cost his partner ten or fifteen Louis.
+
+In the evening, when his wife went away, always splendidly attired, he
+would gaze admiringly at her, having no suspicion of the cost of her
+costumes, certainly none of the man who paid for them, and would await
+her return at his table by the fire, busy with his drawings, free from
+care, and happy to be able to say to himself, "What a good time she is
+having!"
+
+On the floor below, at the Fromonts', the same comedy was being played,
+but with a transposition of parts. There it was the young wife who sat
+by the fire. Every evening, half an hour after Sidonie's departure, the
+great gate swung open to give passage to the Fromont coupe conveying
+Monsieur to his club. What would you have? Business has its demands. All
+the great deals are arranged at the club, around the bouillotte table,
+and a man must go there or suffer the penalty of seeing his business
+fall off. Claire innocently believed it all. When her husband had gone,
+she felt sad for a moment. She would have liked so much to keep him with
+her or to go out leaning on his arm, to seek enjoyment with him. But the
+sight of the child, cooing in front of the fire and kicking her little
+pink feet while she was being undressed, speedily soothed the mother.
+Then the eloquent word "business," the merchant's reason of state, was
+always at hand to help her to resign herself.
+
+Georges and Sidonie met at the theatre. Their feeling at first when they
+were together was one of satisfied vanity. People stared at them a
+great deal. She was really pretty now, and her irregular but attractive
+features, which required the aid of all the eccentricities of the
+prevailing style in order to produce their full effect, adapted
+themselves to them so perfectly that you would have said they were
+invented expressly for her. In a few moments they went away, and Madame
+Dobson was left alone in the box. They had hired a small suite on the
+Avenue Gabriel, near the 'rond-point' of the Champs Elysees--the
+dream of the young women at the Le Mire establishment--two luxuriously
+furnished, quiet rooms, where the silence of the wealthy quarter,
+disturbed only by passing carriages, formed a blissful surrounding for
+their love.
+
+Little by little, when she had become accustomed to her sin, she
+conceived the most audacious whims. From her old working-days she had
+retained in the depths of her memory the names of public balls, of
+famous restaurants, where she was eager to go now, just as she
+took pleasure in causing the doors to be thrown open for her at the
+establishments of the great dressmakers, whose signs only she had known
+in her earlier days. For what she sought above all else in this liaison
+was revenge for the sorrows and humiliations of her youth. Nothing
+delighted her so much, for example, when returning from an evening
+drive in the Bois, as a supper at the Cafe Anglais with the sounds of
+luxurious vice around her. From these repeated excursions she brought
+back peculiarities of speech and behavior, equivocal songs, and a
+style of dress that imported into the bourgeois atmosphere of the old
+commercial house an accurate reproduction of the most advanced type of
+the Paris cocotte of that period.
+
+At the factory they began to suspect something. The women of the people,
+even the poorest, are so quick at picking a costume to pieces! When
+Madame Risler went out, about three o'clock, fifty pairs of sharp,
+envious eyes, lying in ambush at the windows of the polishing-shop,
+watched her pass, penetrating to the lowest depths of her guilty
+conscience through her black velvet dolman and her cuirass of sparkling
+jet.
+
+Although she did not suspect it, all the secrets of that mad brain were
+flying about her like the ribbons that played upon her bare neck; and
+her daintily-shod feet, in their bronzed boots with ten buttons, told
+the story of all sorts of clandestine expeditions, of the carpeted
+stairways they ascended at night on their way to supper, and the warm
+fur robes in which they were wrapped when the coupe made the circuit of
+the lake in the darkness dotted with lanterns.
+
+The work-women laughed sneeringly and whispered:
+
+"Just look at that Tata Bebelle! A fine way to dress to go out. She
+don't rig herself up like that to go to mass, that's sure! To think that
+it ain't three years since she used to start for the shop every morning
+in an old waterproof, and two sous' worth of roasted chestnuts in her
+pockets to keep her fingers warm. Now she rides in her carriage."
+
+And amid the talc dust and the roaring of the stoves, red-hot in winter
+and summer alike, more than one poor girl reflected on the caprice of
+chance in absolutely transforming a woman's existence, and began to
+dream vaguely of a magnificent future which might perhaps be in store
+for herself without her suspecting it.
+
+In everybody's opinion Risler was a dishonored husband. Two
+assistants in the printing-room--faithful patrons of the Folies
+Dramatiques--declared that they had seen Madame Risler several times at
+their theatre, accompanied by some escort who kept out of sight at the
+rear of the box. Pere Achille, too, told of amazing things. That Sidonie
+had a lover, that she had several lovers, in fact, no one entertained a
+doubt. But no one had as yet thought of Fromont jeune.
+
+And yet she showed no prudence whatever in her relations with him. On
+the contrary, she seemed to make a parade of them; it may be that that
+was what saved them. How many times she accosted him boldly on the
+steps to agree upon a rendezvous for the evening! How many times she
+had amused herself in making him shudder by looking into his eyes before
+every one! When the first confusion had passed, Georges was grateful
+to her for these exhibitions of audacity, which he attributed to the
+intensity of her passion. He was mistaken.
+
+What she would have liked, although she did not admit it to herself,
+would have been to have Claire see them, to have her draw aside the
+curtain at her window, to have her conceive a suspicion of what was
+passing. She needed that in order to be perfectly happy: that her rival
+should be unhappy. But her wish was ungratified; Claire Fromont noticed
+nothing and lived, as did Risler, in imperturbable serenity.
+
+Only Sigismond, the old cashier, was really ill at ease. And yet he was
+not thinking of Sidonie when, with his pen behind his ear, he paused a
+moment in his work and gazed fixedly through his grating at the drenched
+soil of the little garden. He was thinking solely of his master, of
+Monsieur "Chorche," who was drawing a great deal of money now for his
+current expenses and sowing confusion in all his books. Every time
+it was some new excuse. He would come to the little wicket with an
+unconcerned air:
+
+"Have you a little money, my good Planus? I was worsted again at
+bouillotte last night, and I don't want to send to the bank for such a
+trifle."
+
+Sigismond Planus would open his cash-box, with an air of regret, to get
+the sum requested, and he would remember with terror a certain day when
+Monsieur Georges, then only twenty years old, had confessed to his uncle
+that he owed several thousand francs in gambling debts. The elder man
+thereupon conceived a violent antipathy for the club and contempt for
+all its members. A rich tradesman who was a member happened to come to
+the factory one day, and Sigismond said to him with brutal frankness:
+
+"The devil take your 'Cercle du Chateau d'Eau!' Monsieur Georges has
+left more than thirty thousand francs there in two months."
+
+The other began to laugh.
+
+"Why, you're greatly mistaken, Pere Planus--it's at least three months
+since we have seen your master."
+
+The cashier did not pursue the conversation; but a terrible thought took
+up its abode in his mind, and he turned it over and over all day long.
+
+If Georges did not go to the club, where did he pass his evenings? Where
+did he spend so much money?
+
+There was evidently a woman at the bottom of the affair.
+
+As soon as that idea occurred to him, Sigismond Planus began to tremble
+seriously for his cash-box. That old bear from the canton of Berne,
+a confirmed bachelor, had a terrible dread of women in general and
+Parisian women in particular. He deemed it his duty, first of all, in
+order to set his conscience at rest, to warn Risler. He did it at first
+in rather a vague way.
+
+"Monsieur Georges is spending a great deal of money," he said to him one
+day.
+
+Risler exhibited no surprise.
+
+"What do you expect me to do, my old Sigismond? It is his right."
+
+And the honest fellow meant what he said. In his eyes Fromont jeune
+was the absolute master of the establishment. It would have been a fine
+thing, and no mistake, for him, an ex-draughtsman, to venture to
+make any comments. The cashier dared say no more until the day when a
+messenger came from a great shawl-house with a bill for six thousand
+francs for a cashmere shawl.
+
+He went to Georges in his office.
+
+"Shall I pay it, Monsieur?"
+
+Georges Fromont was a little annoyed. Sidonie had forgotten to tell him
+of this latest purchase; she used no ceremony with him now.
+
+"Pay it, pay it, Pere Planus," he said, with a shade of embarrassment,
+and added: "Charge it to the account of Fromont jeune. It is a
+commission intrusted to me by a friend."
+
+That evening, as Sigismond was lighting his little lamp, he saw Risler
+crossing the garden, and tapped on the window to call him.
+
+"It's a woman," he said, under his breath. "I have the proof of it now."
+
+As he uttered the awful words "a woman" his voice shook with alarm and
+was drowned in the great uproar of the factory. The sounds of the
+work in progress had a sinister meaning to the unhappy cashier at that
+moment. It seemed to him as if all the whirring machinery, the great
+chimney pouring forth its clouds of smoke, the noise of the workmen at
+their different tasks--as if all this tumult and bustle and fatigue
+were for the benefit of a mysterious little being, dressed in velvet and
+adorned with jewels.
+
+Risler laughed at him and refused to believe him. He had long been
+acquainted with his compatriot's mania for detecting in everything the
+pernicious influence of woman. And yet Planus's words sometimes recurred
+to his thoughts, especially in the evening when Sidonie, after all the
+commotion attendant upon the completion of her toilette, went away to
+the theatre with Madame Dobson, leaving the apartment empty as soon as
+her long train had swept across the threshold. Candles burning in front
+of the mirrors, divers little toilette articles scattered about and
+thrown aside, told of extravagant caprices and a reckless expenditure of
+money. Risler thought nothing of all that; but, when he heard Georges's
+carriage rolling through the courtyard, he had a feeling of discomfort
+at the thought of Madame Fromont passing her evenings entirely alone.
+Poor woman! Suppose what Planus said were true!
+
+Suppose Georges really had a second establishment! Oh, it would be
+frightful!
+
+Thereupon, instead of beginning to work, he would go softly downstairs
+and ask if Madame were visible, deeming it his duty to keep her company.
+
+The little girl was always in bed, but the little cap, the blue shoes,
+were still lying in front of the fire. Claire was either reading or
+working, with her silent mother beside her, always rubbing or dusting
+with feverish energy, exhausting herself by blowing on the case of her
+watch, and nervously taking the same thing up and putting it down again
+ten times in succession, with the obstinate persistence of mania.
+Nor was honest Risler a very entertaining companion; but that did not
+prevent the young woman from welcoming him kindly. She knew all that was
+said about Sidonie in the factory; and although she did not believe half
+of it, the sight of the poor man, whom his wife left alone so often,
+moved her heart to pity. Mutual compassion formed the basis of that
+placid friendship, and nothing could be more touching than these two
+deserted ones, one pitying the other and each trying to divert the
+other's thoughts.
+
+Seated at the small, brightly lighted table in the centre of the salon,
+Risler would gradually yield to the influence of the warmth of the
+fire and the harmony of his surroundings. He found there articles of
+furniture with which he had been familiar for twenty years, the portrait
+of his former employer; and his dear Madame Chorche, bending over some
+little piece of needle work at his side, seemed to him even younger and
+more lovable among all those old souvenirs. From time to time she would
+rise to go and look at the child sleeping in the adjoining room, whose
+soft breathing they could hear in the intervals of silence. Without
+fully realizing it, Risler felt more comfortable and warmer there than
+in his own apartment; for on certain days those attractive rooms, where
+the doors were forever being thrown open for hurried exits or returns,
+gave him the impression of a hall without doors or windows, open to
+the four winds. His rooms were a camping-ground; this was a home. A
+care-taking hand caused order and refinement to reign everywhere. The
+chairs seemed to be talking together in undertones, the fire burned with
+a delightful sound, and Mademoiselle Fromont's little cap retained
+in every bow of its blue ribbons suggestions of sweet smiles and baby
+glances.
+
+And while Claire was thinking that such an excellent man deserved a
+better companion in life, Risler, watching the calm and lovely face
+turned toward him, the intelligent, kindly eyes, asked himself who
+the hussy could be for whom Georges Fromont neglected such an adorable
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. THE INVENTORY
+
+The house in which old Planus lived at Montrouge adjoined the one which
+the Chebes had occupied for some time. There was the same ground floor
+with three windows, and a single floor above, the same garden with its
+latticework fence, the same borders of green box. There the old cashier
+lived with his sister. He took the first omnibus that left the office in
+the morning, returned at dinner-time, and on Sundays remained at home,
+tending his flowers and his poultry. The old maid was his housekeeper
+and did all the cooking and sewing. A happier couple never lived.
+
+Celibates both, they were bound together by an equal hatred of marriage.
+The sister abhorred all men, the brother looked upon all women with
+suspicion; but they adored each other, each considering the other an
+exception to the general perversity of the sex.
+
+In speaking of him she always said: "Monsieur Planus, my brother!"--and
+he, with the same affectionate solemnity, interspersed all his sentences
+with "Mademoiselle Planus, my sister!" To those two retiring and
+innocent creatures, Paris, of which they knew nothing, although they
+visited it every day, was a den of monsters of two varieties, bent upon
+doing one another the utmost possible injury; and whenever, amid the
+gossip of the quarter, a conjugal drama came to their ears, each of
+them, beset by his or her own idea, blamed a different culprit.
+
+"It is the husband's fault," would be the verdict of "Mademoiselle
+Planus, my sister."
+
+"It is the wife's fault," "Monsieur Planus, my brother," would reply.
+
+"Oh! the men--"
+
+"Oh! the women--"
+
+That was their one never-failing subject of discussion in those rare
+hours of idleness which old Sigismond set aside in his busy day, which
+was as carefully ruled off as his account-books. For some time past
+the discussions between the brother and sister had been marked by
+extraordinary animation. They were deeply interested in what was taking
+place at the factory. The sister was full of pity for Madame Fromont
+and considered her husband's conduct altogether outrageous; as for
+Sigismond, he could find no words bitter enough for the unknown trollop
+who sent bills for six-thousand-franc shawls to be paid from his
+cashbox. In his eyes, the honor and fair fame of the old house he had
+served since his youth were at stake.
+
+"What will become of us?" he repeated again and again. "Oh! these
+women--"
+
+One day Mademoiselle Planus sat by the fire with her knitting, waiting
+for her brother.
+
+The table had been laid for half an hour, and the old lady was beginning
+to be worried by such unheard-of tardiness, when Sigismond entered with
+a most distressed face, and without a word, which was contrary to all
+his habits.
+
+He waited until the door was shut tight, then said in a low voice, in
+response to his sister's disturbed and questioning expression:
+
+"I have some news. I know who the woman is who is doing her best to ruin
+us."
+
+Lowering his voice still more, after glancing about at the silent
+walls of their little dining-room, he uttered a name so unexpected that
+Mademoiselle Planus made him repeat it.
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"It is the truth."
+
+And, despite his grief, he had almost a triumphant air.
+
+His old sister could not believe it. Such a refined, polite person, who
+had received her with so much cordiality!--How could any one imagine
+such a thing?
+
+"I have proofs," said Sigismond Planus.
+
+Thereupon he told her how Pere Achille had met Sidonie and Georges
+one night at eleven o'clock, just as they entered a small furnished
+lodging-house in the Montmartre quarter; and he was a man who never
+lied. They had known him for a long while. Besides, others had met them.
+Nothing else was talked about at the factory. Risler alone suspected
+nothing.
+
+"But it is your duty to tell him," declared Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+The cashier's face assumed a grave expression.
+
+"It is a very delicate matter. In the first place, who knows whether
+he would believe me? There are blind men so blind that--And then, by
+interfering between the two partners, I risk the loss of my place. Oh!
+the women--the women! When I think how happy Risler might have been.
+When I sent for him to come to Paris with his brother, he hadn't a sou;
+and to-day he is at the head of one of the first houses in Paris. Do
+you suppose that he would be content with that? Oh! no, of course not!
+Monsieur must marry. As if any one needed to marry! And, worse yet, he
+marries a Parisian woman, one of those frowsy-haired chits that are the
+ruin of an honest house, when he had at his hand a fine girl, of almost
+his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you
+might say!"
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister," to whose physical structure he
+alluded, had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, "Oh! the men, the
+men!" but she was silent. It was a very delicate question, and perhaps,
+if Risler had chosen in time, he might have been the only one.
+
+Old Sigismond continued:
+
+"And this is what we have come to. For three months the leading
+wall-paper factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that
+good-for-nothing. You should see how the money flies. All day long I do
+nothing but open my wicket to meet Monsieur Georges's calls. He always
+applies to me, because at his banker's too much notice would be taken of
+it, whereas in our office money comes and goes, comes in and goes out.
+But look out for the inventory! We shall have some pretty figures to
+show at the end of the year. The worst part of the whole business is
+that Risler won't listen to anything. I have warned him several times:
+'Look out, Monsieur Georges is making a fool of himself for some woman.'
+He either turns away with a shrug, or else he tells me that it is none
+of his business and that Fromont Jeune is the master. Upon my word, one
+would almost think--one would almost think--"
+
+The cashier did not finish his sentence; but his silence was pregnant
+with unspoken thoughts.
+
+The old maid was appalled; but, like most women under such
+circumstances, instead of seeking a remedy for the evil, she wandered
+off into a maze of regrets, conjectures, and retrospective lamentations.
+What a misfortune that they had not known it sooner when they had the
+Chebes for neighbors. Madame Chebe was such an honorable woman. They
+might have put the matter before her so that she would keep an eye on
+Sidonie and talk seriously to her.
+
+"Indeed, that's a good idea," Sigismond interrupted. "You must go to
+the Rue du Mail and tell her parents. I thought at first of writing to
+little Frantz. He always had a great deal of influence over his brother,
+and he's the only person on earth who could say certain things to him.
+But Frantz is so far away. And then it would be such a terrible thing to
+do. I can't help pitying that unlucky Risler, though. No! the best way
+is to tell Madame Chebe. Will you undertake to do it, sister?"
+
+It was a dangerous commission. Mademoiselle Planus made some objections,
+but she never had been able to resist her brother's wishes, and the
+desire to be of service to their old friend Risler assisted materially
+in persuading her.
+
+Thanks to his son-in-law's kindness, M. Chebe had succeeded in
+gratifying his latest whim. For three months past he had been living
+at his famous warehouse on the Rue du Mail, and a great sensation was
+created in the quarter by that shop without merchandise, the shutters
+of which were taken down in the morning and put up again at night, as
+in wholesale houses. Shelves had been placed all around the walls, there
+was a new counter, a safe, a huge pair of scales. In a word, M. Chebe
+possessed all the requisites of a business of some sort, but did not
+know as yet just what business he would choose.
+
+He pondered the subject all day as he walked to and fro across the shop,
+encumbered with several large pieces of bedroom furniture which they had
+been unable to get into the back room; he pondered it, too, as he stood
+on his doorstep, with his pen behind his ear, and feasted his eyes
+delightedly on the hurly-burly of Parisian commerce. The clerks who
+passed with their packages of samples under their arms, the vans of the
+express companies, the omnibuses, the porters, the wheelbarrows, the
+great bales of merchandise at the neighboring doors, the packages of
+rich stuffs and trimmings which were dragged in the mud before being
+consigned to those underground regions, those dark holes stuffed with
+treasures, where the fortune of business lies in embryo--all these
+things delighted M. Chebe.
+
+He amused himself guessing at the contents of the bales and was first at
+the fray when some passer-by received a heavy package upon his feet,
+or the horses attached to a dray, spirited and restive, made the long
+vehicle standing across the street an obstacle to circulation. He had,
+moreover, the thousand-and-one distractions of the petty tradesman
+without customers, the heavy showers, the accidents, the thefts, the
+disputes.
+
+At the end of the day M. Chebe, dazed, bewildered, worn out by the labor
+of other people, would stretch himself out in his easy-chair and say to
+his wife, as he wiped his forehead:
+
+"That's the kind of life I need--an active life."
+
+Madame Chebe would smile softly without replying. Accustomed as she
+was to all her husband's whims, she had made herself as comfortable
+as possible in a back room with an outlook upon a dark yard, consoling
+herself with reflections on the former prosperity of her parents and her
+daughter's wealth; and, being always neatly dressed, she had succeeded
+already in acquiring the respect of neighbors and tradesmen.
+
+She asked nothing more than not to be confounded with the wives of
+workingmen, often less poor than herself, and to be allowed to retain,
+in spite of everything, a petty bourgeois superiority. That was her
+constant thought; and so the back room in which she lived, and where
+it was dark at three in the afternoon, was resplendent with order and
+cleanliness. During the day the bed became a couch, an old shawl did
+duty as a tablecloth, the fireplace, hidden by a screen, served as a
+pantry, and the meals were cooked in modest retirement on a stove no
+larger than a foot-warmer. A tranquil life--that was the dream of the
+poor woman, who was continually tormented by the whims of an uncongenial
+companion.
+
+In the early days of his tenancy, M. Chebe had caused these words to be
+inscribed in letters a foot long on the fresh paint of his shop-front:
+
+          COMMISSION--EXPORTATION
+
+No specifications. His neighbors sold tulle, broadcloth, linen; he was
+inclined to sell everything, but could not make up his mind just what.
+With what arguments did his indecision lead him to favor Madame Chebe as
+they sat together in the evening!
+
+"I don't know anything about linen; but when you come to broadcloth,
+I understand that. Only, if I go into broadcloths I must have a man to
+travel; for the best kinds come from Sedan and Elbeuf. I say nothing
+about calicoes; summer is the time for them. As for tulle, that's out of
+the question; the season is too far advanced."
+
+He usually brought his discourse to a close with the words:
+
+"The night will bring counsel--let us go to bed."
+
+And to bed he would go, to his wife's great relief.
+
+After three or four months of this life, M. Chebe began to tire of it.
+The pains in the head, the dizzy fits gradually returned. The quarter
+was noisy and unhealthy: besides, business was at a standstill. Nothing
+was to be done in any line, broadcloths, tissues, or anything else.
+
+It was just at the period of this new crisis that "Mademoiselle Planus,
+my sister," called to speak about Sidonie.
+
+The old maid had said to herself on the way, "I must break it gently."
+But, like all shy people, she relieved herself of her burden in the
+first words she spoke after entering the house.
+
+It was a stunning blow. When she heard the accusation made against her
+daughter, Madame Chebe rose in indignation. No one could ever make her
+believe such a thing. Her poor Sidonie was the victim of an infamous
+slander.
+
+M. Chebe, for his part, adopted a very lofty tone, with significant
+phrases and motions of the head, taking everything to himself as was his
+custom. How could any one suppose that his child, a Chebe, the daughter
+of an honorable business man known for thirty years on the street, was
+capable of Nonsense!
+
+Mademoiselle Planus insisted. It was a painful thing to her to be
+considered a gossip, a hawker of unsavory stories. But they had
+incontestable proofs. It was no longer a secret to anybody.
+
+"And even suppose it were true," cried M. Chebe, furious at her
+persistence. "Is it for us to worry about it? Our daughter is married.
+She lives a long way from her parents. It is for her husband, who is
+much older than she, to advise and guide her. Does he so much as think
+of doing it?"
+
+Upon that the little man began to inveigh against his son-in-law, that
+cold-blooded Swiss, who passed his life in his office devising
+machines, refused to accompany his wife into society, and preferred his
+old-bachelor habits, his pipe and his brewery, to everything else.
+
+You should have seen the air of aristocratic disdain with which M. Chebe
+pronounced the word "brewery!" And yet almost every evening he went
+there to meet Risler, and overwhelmed him with reproaches if he once
+failed to appear at the rendezvous.
+
+Behind all this verbiage the merchant of the Rue du
+Mail--"Commission-Exportation"--had a very definite idea. He wished to
+give up his shop, to retire from business, and for some time he had been
+thinking of going to see Sidonie, in order to interest her in his new
+schemes. That was not the time, therefore, to make disagreeable scenes,
+to prate about paternal authority and conjugal honor. As for Madame
+Chebe, being somewhat less confident than before of her daughter's
+virtue, she took refuge in the most profound silence. The poor
+woman wished that she were deaf and blind--that she never had known
+Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+Like all persons who have been very unhappy, she loved a benumbed
+existence with a semblance of tranquillity, and ignorance seemed to her
+preferable to everything. As if life were not sad enough, good heavens!
+And then, after all, Sidonie had always been a good girl; why should she
+not be a good woman?
+
+Night was falling. M. Chebe rose gravely to close the shutters of the
+shop and light a gas-jet which illumined the bare walls, the empty,
+polished shelves, and the whole extraordinary place, which reminded
+one strongly of the day following a failure. With his lips closed
+disdainfully, in his determination to remain silent, he seemed to say to
+the old lady, "Night has come--it is time for you to go home." And all
+the while they could hear Madame Chebe sobbing in the back room, as she
+went to and fro preparing supper.
+
+Mademoiselle Planus got no further satisfaction from her visit.
+
+"Well?" queried old Sigismond, who was impatiently awaiting her return.
+
+"They wouldn't believe me, and politely showed me the door."
+
+She had tears in her eyes at the thought of her humiliation.
+
+The old man's face flushed, and he said in a grave voice, taking his
+sister's hand:
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, I ask your pardon for having made you
+take this step; but the honor of the house of Fromont was at stake."
+
+From that moment Sigismond became more and more depressed. His cash-box
+no longer seemed to him safe or secure. Even when Fromont Jeune did not
+ask him for money, he was afraid, and he summed up all his apprehensions
+in four words which came continually to his lips when talking with his
+sister:
+
+"I ha no gonfidence," he would say, in his hoarse Swiss patois.
+
+Thinking always of his cash-box, he dreamed sometimes that it had broken
+apart at all the joints, and insisted on remaining open, no matter how
+much he turned the key; or else that a high wind had scattered all the
+papers, notes, cheques, and bills, and that he ran after them all over
+the factory, tiring himself out in the attempt to pick them up.
+
+In the daytime, as he sat behind his grating in the silence of his
+office, he imagined that a little white mouse had eaten its way through
+the bottom of the box and was gnawing and destroying all its contents,
+growing plumper and prettier as the work of destruction went on.
+
+So that, when Sidonie appeared on the steps about the middle of the
+afternoon, in her pretty Parisian plumage, old Sigismond shuddered with
+rage. In his eyes it was the ruin of the house that stood there, ruin in
+a magnificent costume, with its little coupe at the door, and the placid
+bearing of a happy coquette.
+
+Madame Risler had no suspicion that, at that window on the ground
+floor, sat an untiring foe who watched her slightest movements, the most
+trivial details of her life, the going and coming of her music-teacher,
+the arrival of the fashionable dressmaker in the morning, all the boxes
+that were brought to the house, and the laced cap of the employe of the
+Magasin du Louvre, whose heavy wagon stopped at the gate with a jingling
+of bells, like a diligence drawn by stout horses which were dragging the
+house of Fromont to bankruptcy at break-neck speed.
+
+Sigismond counted the packages, weighed them with his eye as they
+passed, and gazed inquisitively into Risler's apartments through the
+open windows. The carpets that were shaken with a great noise, the
+jardinieres that were brought into the sunlight filled with fragile,
+unseasonable flowers, rare and expensive, the gorgeous hangings--none of
+these things escaped his notice.
+
+The new acquisitions of the household stared him in the face, reminding
+him of some request for a large amount.
+
+But the one thing that he studied more carefully than all else was
+Risler's countenance.
+
+In his view that woman was in a fair way to change his friend, the
+best, the most upright of men, into a shameless villain. There was no
+possibility of doubt that Risler knew of his dishonor, and submitted to
+it. He was paid to keep quiet.
+
+Certainly there was something monstrous in such a supposition. But it
+is the tendency of innocent natures, when they are made acquainted with
+evil for the first time, to go at once too far, beyond reason. When he
+was once convinced of the treachery of Georges and Sidonie, Risler's
+degradation seemed to the cashier less impossible of comprehension. On
+what other theory could his indifference, in the face of his partner's
+heavy expenditures, be explained?
+
+The excellent Sigismond, in his narrow, stereotyped honesty, could
+not understand the delicacy of Risler's heart. At the same time, the
+methodical bookkeeper's habit of thought and his clear-sightedness
+in business were a thousand leagues from that absent-minded, flighty
+character, half-artist, half-inventor. He judged him by himself, having
+no conception of the condition of a man with the disease of invention,
+absorbed by a fixed idea. Such men are somnambulists. They look, but do
+not see, their eyes being turned within.
+
+It was Sigismond's belief that Risler did see. That belief made the
+old cashier very unhappy. He began by staring at his friend whenever
+he entered the counting-room; then, discouraged by his immovable
+indifference, which he believed to be wilful and premeditated, covering
+his face like a mask, he adopted the plan of turning away and fumbling
+among his papers to avoid those false glances, and keeping his eyes
+fixed on the garden paths or the interlaced wires of the grating when
+he spoke to him. Even his words were confused and distorted, like his
+glances. No one could say positively to whom he was talking.
+
+No more friendly smiles, no more reminiscences as they turned over the
+leaves of the cash-book together.
+
+"This was the year you came to the factory. Your first increase of pay.
+Do you remember? We dined at Douix's that day. And then the Cafe des
+Aveugles in the evening, eh? What a debauch!"
+
+At last Risler noticed the strange coolness that had sprung up between
+Sigismond and himself. He mentioned it to his wife.
+
+For some time past she had felt that antipathy prowling about her.
+Sometimes, as she crossed the courtyard, she was oppressed, as it were,
+by malevolent glances which caused her to turn nervously toward the old
+cashier's corner. This estrangement between the friends alarmed her,
+and she very quickly determined to put her husband on his guard against
+Planus's unpleasant remarks.
+
+"Don't you see that he is jealous of you, of your position? A man who
+was once his equal, now his superior, he can't stand that. But why
+bother one's head about all these spiteful creatures? Why, I am
+surrounded by them here."
+
+Risler looked at her with wide-open eyes:--"You?"
+
+"Why, yes, it is easy enough to see that all these people detest me.
+They bear little Chebe a grudge because she has become Madame Risler
+Aine. Heaven only knows all the outrageous things that are said about
+me! And your cashier doesn't keep his tongue in his pocket, I assure
+you. What a spiteful fellow he is!"
+
+These few words had their effect. Risler, indignant, but too proud
+to complain, met coldness with coldness. Those two honest men, each
+intensely distrustful of the other, could no longer meet without a
+painful sensation, so that, after a while, Risler ceased to go to the
+counting-room at all. It was not difficult for him, as Fromont Jeune had
+charge of all financial matters. His month's allowance was carried to
+him on the thirtieth of each month. This arrangement afforded Sidonie
+and Georges additional facilities, and opportunity for all sorts of
+underhand dealing.
+
+She thereupon turned her attention to the completion of her programme of
+a life of luxury. She lacked a country house. In her heart she detested
+the trees, the fields, the country roads that cover you with dust. "The
+most dismal things on earth," she used to say. But Claire Fromont passed
+the summer at Savigny. As soon as the first fine days arrived, the
+trunks were packed and the curtains taken down on the floor below; and
+a great furniture van, with the little girl's blue bassinet rocking
+on top, set off for the grandfather's chateau. Then, one morning, the
+mother, grandmother, child, and nurse, a medley of white gowns and light
+veils, would drive away behind two fast horses toward the sunny lawns
+and the pleasant shade of the avenues.
+
+At that season Paris was ugly, depopulated; and although Sidonie loved
+it even in the summer, which heats it like a furnace, it troubled her
+to think that all the fashion and wealth of Paris were driving by the
+seashore under their light umbrellas, and would make their outing an
+excuse for a thousand new inventions, for original styles of the most
+risque sort, which would permit one to show that one has a pretty ankle
+and long, curly chestnut hair of one's own.
+
+The seashore bathing resorts! She could not think of them; Risler could
+not leave Paris.
+
+How about buying a country house? They had not the means. To be sure,
+there was the lover, who would have asked nothing better than to
+gratify this latest whim; but a country house cannot be concealed like a
+bracelet or a shawl. The husband must be induced to accept it. That was
+not an easy matter; however, they might venture to try it with Risler.
+
+To pave the way, she talked to him incessantly about a little nook in
+the country, not too expensive, very near Paris. Risler listened with
+a smile. He thought of the high grass, of the orchard filled with fine
+fruit-trees, being already tormented by the longing to possess which
+comes with wealth; but, as he was prudent, he said:
+
+"We will see, we will see. Let us wait till the end of the year."
+
+The end of the year, that is to say, the striking of the balance-sheet.
+
+The balance-sheet! That is the magic word. All through the year we go
+on and on in the eddying whirl of business. Money comes and goes,
+circulates, attracts other money, vanishes; and the fortune of the firm,
+like a slippery, gleaming snake, always in motion, expands, contracts,
+diminishes, or increases, and it is impossible to know our condition
+until there comes a moment of rest. Not until the inventory shall
+we know the truth, and whether the year, which seems to have been
+prosperous, has really been so.
+
+The account of stock is usually taken late in December, between
+Christmas and New Year's Day. As it requires much extra labor to prepare
+it, everybody works far into the night. The whole establishment is
+alert. The lamps remain lighted in the offices long after the doors are
+closed, and seem to share in the festal atmosphere peculiar to that
+last week of the year, when so many windows are illuminated for family
+gatherings. Every one, even to the least important 'employe' of the
+firm, is interested in the results of the inventory. The increases of
+salary, the New Year's presents, depend upon those blessed figures. And
+so, while the vast interests of a wealthy house are trembling in the
+balance, the wives and children and aged parents of the clerks, in their
+fifth-floor tenements or poor apartments in the suburbs, talk of nothing
+but the inventory, the results of which will make themselves felt
+either by a greatly increased need of economy or by some purchase, long
+postponed, which the New Year's gift will make possible at last.
+
+On the premises of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, Sigismond Planus is
+the god of the establishment at that season, and his little office a
+sanctuary where all the clerks perform their devotions. In the silence
+of the sleeping factory, the heavy pages of the great books rustle as
+they are turned, and names called aloud cause search to be made in other
+books. Pens scratch. The old cashier, surrounded by his lieutenants, has
+a businesslike, awe-inspiring air. From time to time Fromont Jeune, on
+the point of going out in his carriage, looks in for a moment, with a
+cigar in his mouth, neatly gloved and ready for the street. He walks
+slowly, on tiptoe, puts his face to the grating:
+
+"Well!--are you getting on all right?"
+
+Sigismond gives a grunt, and the young master takes his leave, afraid to
+ask any further questions. He knows from the cashier's expression that
+the showing will be a bad one.
+
+In truth, since the days of the Revolution, when there was fighting in
+the very courtyard of the factory, so pitiable an inventory never
+had been seen in the Fromont establishment. Receipts and expenditures
+balanced each other. The general expense account had eaten up
+everything, and, furthermore, Fromont Jeune was indebted to the firm
+in a large sum. You should have seen old Planus's air of consternation
+when, on the 31st of December, he went up to Georges's office to make
+report of his labors.
+
+Georges took a very cheerful view of the matter. Everything would go
+better next year. And to restore the cashier's good humor he gave him
+an extraordinary bonus of a thousand francs, instead of the five hundred
+his uncle used always to give. Everybody felt the effects of that
+generous impulse, and, in the universal satisfaction, the deplorable
+results of the yearly accounting were very soon forgotten. As for
+Risler, Georges chose to take it upon himself to inform him as to the
+situation.
+
+When he entered his partner's little closet, which was lighted from
+above by a window in the ceiling, so that the light fell directly upon
+the subject of the inventor's meditations, Fromont hesitated a moment,
+filled with shame and remorse for what he was about to do.
+
+The other, when he heard the door, turned joyfully toward his partner.
+
+"Chorche, Chorche, my dear fellow--I have got it, our press. There are
+still a few little things to think out. But no matter! I am sure now
+of my invention: you will see--you will see! Ah! the Prochassons can
+experiment all they choose. With the Risler Press we will crush all
+rivalry."
+
+"Bravo, my comrade!" replied Fromont Jeune. "So much for the future; but
+you don't seem to think about the present. What about this inventory?"
+
+"Ah, yes! to be sure. I had forgotten all about it. It isn't very
+satisfactory, is it?"
+
+He said that because of the somewhat disturbed and embarrassed
+expression on Georges's face.
+
+"Why, yes, on the contrary, it is very satisfactory indeed," was the
+reply. "We have every reason to be satisfied, especially as this is our
+first year together. We have forty thousand francs each for our share of
+the profits; and as I thought you might need a little money to give your
+wife a New Year's present--"
+
+Ashamed to meet the eyes of the honest man whose confidence he was
+betraying, Fromont jeune placed a bundle of cheques and notes on the
+table.
+
+Risler was deeply moved for a moment. So much money at one time for him!
+His mind dwelt upon the generosity of these Fromonts, who had made him
+what he was; then he thought of his little Sidonie, of the longing which
+she had so often expressed and which he would now be able to gratify.
+
+With tears in his eyes and a happy smile on his lips, he held out both
+hands to his partner.
+
+"I am very happy! I am very happy!"
+
+That was his favorite phrase on great occasions. Then he pointed to the
+bundles of bank notes spread out before him in the narrow bands which
+are used to confine those fugitive documents, always ready to fly away.
+
+"Do you know what that is?" he said to Georges, with an air of triumph.
+"That is Sidonie's house in the country!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. A LETTER
+
+
+   "TO M. FRANTZ RISLER,
+
+   "Engineer of the Compagnie Francaise,
+   "Ismailia, Egypt.
+
+   "Frantz, my boy, it is old Sigismond who is writing to you. If I
+   knew better how to put my ideas on paper, I should have a very long
+   story to tell you. But this infernal French is too hard, and
+   Sigismond Planus is good for nothing away from his figures. So I
+   will come to the point at once.
+
+   "Affairs in your brother's house are not as they should be. That
+   woman is false to him with his partner. She has made her husband a
+   laughing-stock, and if this goes on she will cause him to be looked
+   upon as a rascal. Frantz, my boy, you must come home at once. You
+   are the only one who can speak to Risler and open his eyes about
+   that little Sidonie. He would not believe any of us. Ask leave of
+   absence at once, and come.
+
+   "I know that you have your bread to earn out there, and your future
+   to assure; but a man of honor should think more of the name his
+   parents gave him than of anything else. And I tell you that if you
+   do not come at once, a time will come when the name of Risler will
+   be so overwhelmed with shame that you will not dare to bear it.
+
+                  "SIGISMOND PLANUS,
+                       "Cashier."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGE
+
+Those persons who live always in doors, confined by work or infirmity to
+a chair by the window, take a deep interest in the people who pass, just
+as they make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls, roofs,
+and windows.
+
+Nailed to their place, they live in the life of the streets; and the
+busy men and women who pass within their range of vision, sometimes
+every day at the same hour, do not suspect that they serve as the
+mainspring of other lives, that interested eyes watch for their coming
+and miss them if they happen to go to their destination by another road.
+
+The Delobelles, left to themselves all day, indulged in this sort of
+silent observation. Their window was narrow, and the mother, whose eyes
+were beginning to weaken as the result of hard usage, sat near the light
+against the drawn muslin curtain; her daughter's large armchair was
+a little farther away. She announced the approach of their daily
+passers-by. It was a diversion, a subject of conversation; and the long
+hours of toil seemed shorter, marked off by the regular appearance
+of people who were as busy as they. There were two little sisters, a
+gentleman in a gray overcoat, a child who was taken to school and taken
+home again, and an old government clerk with a wooden leg, whose step on
+the sidewalk had a sinister sound.
+
+They hardly ever saw him; he passed after dark, but they heard him, and
+the sound always struck the little cripple's ears like a harsh echo
+of her own mournful thoughts. All these street friends unconsciously
+occupied a large place in the lives of the two women. If it rained, they
+would say:
+
+"They will get wet. I wonder whether the child got home before the
+shower." And when the season changed, when the March sun inundated the
+sidewalks or the December snow covered them with its white mantle and
+its patches of black mud, the appearance of a new garment on one of
+their friends caused the two recluses to say to themselves, "It is
+summer," or, "winter has come."
+
+Now, on a certain evening in May, one of those soft, luminous evenings
+when life flows forth from the houses into the street through the open
+windows, Desiree and her mother were busily at work with needles and
+fingers, exhausting the daylight to its last ray, before lighting the
+lamp. They could hear the shouts of children playing in the yards, the
+muffled notes of pianos, and the voice of a street peddler, drawing his
+half-empty wagon. One could smell the springtime in the air, a vague
+odor of hyacinth and lilac.
+
+Mamma Delobelle had laid aside her work, and, before closing the window,
+leaned upon the sill listening to all these noises of a great toiling
+city, taking delight in walking through the streets when its day's work
+was ended. From time to time she spoke to her daughter, without turning
+her head.
+
+"Ah! there's Monsieur Sigismond. How early he leaves the factory
+to-night! It may be because the days are lengthening so fast, but I
+don't think it can be seven o'clock. Who can that man be with the old
+cashier?--What a funny thing!--One would say--Why, yes!--One would say
+it was Monsieur Frantz. But that isn't possible. Monsieur Frantz is a
+long way from here at this moment; and then he had no beard. That man
+looks like him all the same! Just look, my dear."
+
+But "my dear" does not leave her chair; she does not even stir. With
+her eyes staring into vacancy, her needle in the air, arrested in its
+pretty, industrious movement, she has gone away to the blue country,
+that wonderful country whither one may go at will, without thought of
+any infirmity. The name "Frantz," uttered mechanically by her mother,
+because of a chance resemblance, represented to her a whole lifetime
+of illusions, of fervent hopes, ephemeral as the flush that rose to her
+cheeks when, on returning home at night, he used to come and chat with
+her a moment. How far away that was already! To think that he used to
+live in the little room near hers, that they used to hear his step on
+the stairs and the noise made by his table when he dragged it to the
+window to draw! What sorrow and what happiness she used to feel when he
+talked to her of Sidonie, sitting on the low chair at her knees, while
+she mounted her birds and her insects.
+
+As she worked, she used to cheer and comfort him, for Sidonie had caused
+poor Frantz many little griefs before the last great one. His tone when
+he spoke of Sidonie, the sparkle in his eyes when he thought of her,
+fascinated Desiree in spite of everything, so that when he went away
+in despair, he left behind him a love even greater than that he carried
+with him--a love which the unchanging room, the sedentary, stagnant
+life, kept intact with all its bitter perfume, whereas his would
+gradually fade away and vanish in the fresh air of the outer world.
+
+It grows darker and darker. A great wave of melancholy envelops the poor
+girl with the falling darkness of that balmy evening. The blissful gleam
+from the past dies away as the last glimmer of daylight vanishes in the
+narrow recess of the window, where her mother still stands leaning on
+the sill.
+
+Suddenly the door opens. Some one is there whose features can not be
+distinguished. Who can it be? The Delobelles never receive calls. The
+mother, who has turned her head, thinks at first that some one has come
+from the shop to get the week's work.
+
+"My husband has just gone to your place, Monsieur. We have nothing here.
+Monsieur Delobelle has taken everything."
+
+The man comes forward without speaking, and as he approaches the window
+his features can be distinguished. He is a tall, solidly built fellow
+with a bronzed face, a thick, red beard, and a deep voice, and is a
+little slow of speech.
+
+"Ah! so you don't know me, Mamma Delobelle?"
+
+"Oh! I knew you at once, Monsieur Frantz," said Desiree, very calmly, in
+a cold, sedate tone.
+
+"Merciful heavens! it's Monsieur Frantz."
+
+Quickly Mamma Delobelle runs to the lamp, lights it, and closes the
+window.
+
+"What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?" How coolly she says it, the
+little rascal! "I knew you at once." Ah, the little iceberg! She will
+always be the same.
+
+A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her
+hand as it lies in Frantz's is white and cold.
+
+She seems to him improved, even more refined than before. He seems to
+her superb, as always, with a melancholy, weary expression in the depths
+of his eyes, which makes him more of a man than when he went away.
+
+His weariness is due to his hurried journey, undertaken immediately on
+his receipt of Sigismond's letter. Spurred on by the word dishonor, he
+had started instantly, without awaiting his leave of absence, risking
+his place and his future prospects; and, hurrying from steamships to
+railways, he had not stopped until he reached Paris. Reason enough for
+being weary, especially when one has travelled in eager haste to reach
+one's destination, and when one's mind has been continually beset by
+impatient thoughts, making the journey ten times over in incessant doubt
+and fear and perplexity.
+
+His melancholy began further back. It began on the day when the woman he
+loved refused to marry him, to become, six months later, the wife of his
+brother; two terrible blows in close succession, the second even more
+painful than the first. It is true that, before entering into that
+marriage, Risler had written to him to ask his permission to be happy,
+and had written in such touching, affectionate terms that the violence
+of the blow was somewhat diminished; and then, in due time, life in a
+strange country, hard work, and long journeys had softened his grief.
+Now only a vast background of melancholy remains; unless, indeed, the
+hatred and wrath by which he is animated at this moment against the
+woman who is dishonoring his brother may be a remnant of his former
+love.
+
+But no! Frantz Risler thinks only of avenging the honor of the Rislers.
+He comes not as a lover, but as a judge; and Sidonie may well look to
+herself.
+
+The judge had gone straight to the factory on leaving the train, relying
+upon the surprise, the unexpectedness, of his arrival to disclose to him
+at a glance what was taking place.
+
+Unluckily he had found no one. The blinds of the little house at the
+foot of the garden had been closed for two weeks. Pere Achille informed
+him that the ladies were at their respective country seats where the
+partners joined them every evening.
+
+Fromont Jeune had left the factory very early; Risler Aine had just
+gone. Frantz decided to speak to old Sigismond. But it was Saturday, the
+regular pay-day, and he must needs wait until the long line of workmen,
+extending from Achille's lodge to the cashier's grated window, had
+gradually dispersed.
+
+Although very impatient and very depressed, the excellent youth, who had
+lived the life of a Paris workingman from his childhood, felt a thrill
+of pleasure at finding himself once more in the midst of the animated
+scenes peculiar to that time and place. Upon all those faces, honest or
+vicious, was an expression of satisfaction that the week was at an end.
+You felt that, so far as they were concerned, Sunday began at seven
+o'clock Saturday evening, in front of the cashier's little lamp.
+
+One must have lived among workingmen to realize the full charm of that
+one day's rest and its solemnity. Many of these poor creatures, bound
+fast to unhealthful trades, await the coming of the blessed Sunday like
+a puff of refreshing air, essential to their health and their life. What
+an overflow of spirits, therefore, what a pressing need of noisy mirth!
+It seems as if the oppression of the week's labor vanishes with the
+steam from the machinery, as it escapes in a hissing cloud of vapor over
+the gutters.
+
+One by one the workmen moved away from the grating, counting the
+money that glistened in their black hands. There were disappointments,
+mutterings, remonstrances, hours missed, money drawn in advance; and
+above the tinkling of coins, Sigismond's voice could be heard, calm
+and relentless, defending the interests of his employers with a zeal
+amounting to ferocity.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all the dramas of pay-day, the false accents
+and the true. He knew that one man's wages were expended for his family,
+to pay the baker and the druggist, or for his children's schooling.
+
+Another wanted his money for the wine-shop or for something even worse.
+And the melancholy, downcast shadows passing to and fro in front of the
+factory gateway--he knew what they were waiting for--that they were
+all on the watch for a father or a husband, to hurry him home with
+complaining or coaxing words.
+
+Oh! the barefooted children, the tiny creatures wrapped in old shawls,
+the shabby women, whose tear-stained faces were as white as the linen
+caps that surmounted them.
+
+Oh! the lurking vice that prowls about on pay-day, the candles that
+are lighted in the depths of dark alleys, the dirty windows of the
+wine-shops where the thousand-and-one poisonous concoctions of alcohol
+display their alluring colors.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all these forms of misery; but never had they
+seemed to him so depressing, so harrowing as on that evening.
+
+When the last man was paid, Sigismond came out of his office. The two
+friends recognized each other and embraced; and in the silence of the
+factory, at rest for twenty-four hours and deathly still in all its
+empty buildings, the cashier explained to Frantz the state of affairs.
+He described Sidonie's conduct, her mad extravagance, the total wreck
+of the family honor. The Rislers had bought a country house at Asnieres,
+formerly the property of an actress, and had set up a sumptuous
+establishment there. They had horses and carriages, and led a luxurious,
+gay life. The thing that especially disturbed honest Sigismond was the
+self restraint of Fromont jeune. For some time he had drawn almost no
+money from the strong-box, and yet Sidonie was spending more than ever.
+
+"I haf no gonfidence!" said the unhappy cashier, shaking his head, "I
+haf no gonfidence!"
+
+Lowering his voice he added:
+
+"But your brother, my little Frantz, your brother? Who can explain his
+actions? He goes about through it all with his eyes in the air,
+his hands in his pockets, his mind on his famous invention, which
+unfortunately doesn't move fast. Look here! do you want me to give you
+my opinion?--He's either a knave or a fool."
+
+They were walking up and down the little garden as they talked, stopping
+for a moment, then resuming their walk. Frantz felt as if he were living
+in a horrible dream. The rapid journey, the sudden change of scene and
+climate, the ceaseless flow of Sigismond's words, the new idea that
+he had to form of Risler and Sidonie--the same Sidonie he had loved so
+dearly--all these things bewildered him and almost drove him mad.
+
+It was late. Night was falling. Sigismond proposed to him to go to
+Montrouge for the night; he declined on the plea of fatigue, and when he
+was left alone in the Marais, at that dismal and uncertain hour when
+the daylight has faded and the gas is still unlighted, he walked
+instinctively toward his old quarters on the Rue de Braque.
+
+At the hall door hung a placard: Bachelor's Chamber to let.
+
+It was the same room in which he had lived so long with his brother. He
+recognized the map fastened to the wall by four pins, the window on
+the landing, and the Delobelles' little sign: 'Birds and Insects for
+Ornament.'
+
+Their door was ajar; he had only to push it a little in order to enter
+the room.
+
+Certainly there was not in all Paris a surer refuge for him, a spot
+better fitted to welcome and console his perturbed spirit, than that
+hard-working familiar fireside. In his present agitation and perplexity
+it was like the harbor with its smooth, deep water, the sunny, peaceful
+quay, where the women work while awaiting their husbands and fathers,
+though the wind howls and the sea rages. More than all else, although he
+did not realize that it was so, it was a network of steadfast affection,
+that miraculous love-kindness which makes another's love precious to us
+even when we do not love that other.
+
+That dear little iceberg of a Desiree loved him so dearly. Her eyes
+sparkled so even when talking of the most indifferent things with him.
+As objects dipped in phosphorus shine with equal splendor, so the most
+trivial words she said illuminated her pretty, radiant face. What a
+blissful rest it was for him after Sigismond's brutal disclosures!
+
+They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was
+setting the table.
+
+"You will dine with us, won't you, Monsieur Frantz? Father has gone to
+take back the work; but he will surely come home to dinner."
+
+He will surely come home to dinner!
+
+The good woman said it with a certain pride.
+
+In fact, since the failure of his managerial scheme, the illustrious
+Delobelle no longer took his meals abroad, even on the evenings when he
+went to collect the weekly earnings. The unlucky manager had eaten so
+many meals on credit at his restaurant that he dared not go there again.
+By way of compensation, he never failed, on Saturday, to bring home with
+him two or three unexpected, famished guests--"old comrades"--"unlucky
+devils." So it happened that, on the evening in question, he appeared
+upon the stage escorting a financier from the Metz theatre and a comique
+from the theatre at Angers, both waiting for an engagement.
+
+The comique, closely shaven, wrinkled, shrivelled by the heat from the
+footlights, looked like an old street-arab; the financier wore cloth
+shoes, and no linen, so far as could be seen.
+
+"Frantz!--my Frantz!" cried the old strolling player in a melodramatic
+voice, clutching the air convulsively with his hands. After a long and
+energetic embrace he presented his guests to one another.
+
+"Monsieur Robricart, of the theatre at Metz.
+
+"Monsieur Chaudezon, of the theatre at Angers.
+
+"Frantz Risler, engineer."
+
+In Delobelle's mouth that word "engineer" assumed vast proportions!
+
+Desiree pouted prettily when she saw her father's friends. It would have
+been so nice to be by themselves on a day like to-day. But the great man
+snapped his fingers at the thought. He had enough to do to unload his
+pockets. First of all, he produced a superb pie "for the ladies," he
+said, forgetting that he adored pie. A lobster next made its appearance,
+then an Arles sausage, marrons glaces and cherries, the first of the
+season!
+
+While the financier enthusiastically pulled up the collar of his
+invisible shirt, while the comique exclaimed "gnouf! gnouf!" with a
+gesture forgotten by Parisians for ten years, Desiree thought with
+dismay of the enormous hole that impromptu banquet would make in the
+paltry earnings of the week, and Mamma Delobelle, full of business,
+upset the whole buffet in order to find a sufficient number of plates.
+
+It was a very lively meal. The two actors ate voraciously, to the great
+delight of Delobelle, who talked over with them old memories of their
+days of strolling. Fancy a collection of odds and ends of scenery,
+extinct lanterns, and mouldy, crumbling stage properties.
+
+In a sort of vulgar, meaningless, familiar slang, they recalled their
+innumerable triumphs; for all three of them, according to their own
+stories, had been applauded, laden with laurel-wreaths, and carried in
+triumph by whole cities.
+
+While they talked they ate as actors usually eat, sitting with their
+faces turned three-fourths toward the audience, with the unnatural haste
+of stage guests at a pasteboard supper, alternating words and mouthfuls,
+seeking to produce an effect by their manner of putting down a glass
+or moving a chair, and expressing interest, amazement, joy, terror,
+surprise, with the aid of a skilfully handled knife and fork. Madame
+Delobelle listened to them with a smiling face.
+
+One can not be an actor's wife for thirty years without becoming
+somewhat accustomed to these peculiar mannerisms.
+
+But one little corner of the table was separated from the rest of the
+party as by a cloud which intercepted the absurd remarks, the
+hoarse laughter, the boasting. Frantz and Desiree talked together in
+undertones, hearing naught of what was said around them. Things that
+happened in their childhood, anecdotes of the neighborhood, a whole
+ill-defined past which derived its only value from the mutual memories
+evoked, from the spark that glowed in the eyes of both-those were the
+themes of their pleasant chat.
+
+Suddenly the cloud was torn aside, and Delobelle's terrible voice
+interrupted the dialogue.
+
+"Have you not seen your brother?" he asked, in order to avoid the
+appearance of neglecting him too much. "And you have not seen his wife,
+either? Ah! you will find her a Madame. Such toilettes, my dear fellow,
+and such chic! I assure you. They have a genuine chateau at Asnieres.
+The Chebes are there also. Ah! my old friend, they have all left us
+behind. They are rich, they look down on old friends. Never a word,
+never a call. For my part, you understand, I snap my fingers at them,
+but it really wounds these ladies."
+
+"Oh, papa!" said Desiree hastily, "you know very well that we are too
+fond of Sidonie to be offended with her."
+
+The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist.
+
+"Why, then, you do wrong. You ought to be offended with people who seek
+always to wound and humiliate you."
+
+He still had upon his mind the refusal to furnish funds for his
+theatrical project, and he made no secret of his wrath.
+
+"If you knew," he said to Frantz, "if you knew how money is being
+squandered over yonder! It is a great pity. And nothing substantial,
+nothing sensible. I who speak to you, asked your brother for a paltry
+sum to assure my future and himself a handsome profit. He flatly
+refused. Parbleu! Madame requires too much. She rides, goes to the races
+in her carriage, and drives her husband at the same rate as her little
+phaeton on the quay at Asnieres. Between you and me, I don't think that
+our good friend Risler is very happy. That woman makes him believe black
+is white."
+
+The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the
+financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional
+grimaces, 'ha-has!' and 'hum-hums!' and all the usual pantomime
+expressive of thoughts too deep for words.
+
+Frantz was struck dumb. Do what he would, the horrible certainty
+assailed him on all sides. Sigismond had spoken in accordance with his
+nature, Delobelle with his. The result was the same.
+
+Fortunately the dinner was drawing near its close. The three actors
+left the table and betook themselves to the brewery on the Rue Blondel.
+Frantz remained with the two women.
+
+As he sat beside her, gentle and affectionate in manner, Desiree was
+suddenly conscious of a great outflow of gratitude to Sidonie. She said
+to herself that, after all, it was to her generosity that she owed this
+semblance of happiness, and that thought gave her courage to defend her
+former friend.
+
+"You see, Monsieur Frantz, you mustn't believe all my father told you
+about your sister-in-law. Dear papa! he always exaggerates a little. For
+my own part, I am very sure that Sidonie is incapable of all the evil
+she is accused of. I am sure that her heart has remained the same; and
+that she is still fond of her friends, although she does neglect them a
+little. Such is life, you know. Friends drift apart without meaning to.
+Isn't that true, Monsieur Frantz?"
+
+Oh! how pretty she was in his eyes, while she talked in that strain. He
+never had taken so much notice of the refined features, the aristocratic
+pallor of her complexion; and when he left her that evening, deeply
+touched by the warmth she had displayed in defending Sidonie, by all the
+charming feminine excuses she put forward for her friend's silence
+and neglect, Frantz Risler reflected, with a feeling of selfish and
+ingenuous pleasure, that the child had loved him once, and that perhaps
+she loved him still, and kept for him in the bottom of her heart that
+warm, sheltered spot to which we turn as to the sanctuary when life has
+wounded us.
+
+All night long in his old room, lulled by the imaginary movement of the
+vessel, by the murmur of the waves and the howling of the wind which
+follow long sea voyages, he dreamed of his youthful days, of little
+Chebe and Desiree Delobelle, of their games, their labors, and of the
+Ecole Centrale, whose great, gloomy buildings were sleeping near at
+hand, in the dark streets of the Marais.
+
+And when daylight came, and the sun shining in at his bare window vexed
+his eyes and brought him back to a realization of the duty that lay
+before him and to the anxieties of the day, he dreamed that it was time
+to go to the School, and that his brother, before going down to the
+factory, opened the door and called to him:
+
+"Come, lazybones! Come!"
+
+That dear, loving voice, too natural, too real for a dream, made him
+open his eyes without more ado.
+
+Risler was standing by his bed, watching his awakening with a charming
+smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
+from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more,
+he could find nothing better to say than, "I am very happy, I am very
+happy!"
+
+Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the
+factory to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his
+press. Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that
+his brother was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de
+Braque, and he had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little
+vexed that he had not been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had
+defrauded him of the first evening. His regret on that account came to
+the surface every moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in
+which everything that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted
+by innumerable questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of
+affection and joy. Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and
+the pleasure it had given him to be in their old room once more.
+
+"All right, all right," said Risler, "but I sha'n't let you alone
+now--you are coming to Asnieres at once. I give myself leave of absence
+today. All thought of work is out of the question now that you have
+come, you understand. Ah! won't the little one be surprised and glad! We
+talk about you so often! What joy! what joy!"
+
+The poor fellow fairly beamed with happiness; he, the silent man,
+chattered like a magpie, gazed admiringly at his Frantz and remarked
+upon his growth. The pupil of the Ecole Centrale had had a fine physique
+when he went away, but his features had acquired greater firmness,
+his shoulders were broader, and it was a far cry from the tall,
+studious-looking boy who had left Paris two years before, for Ismailia,
+to this handsome, bronzed corsair, with his serious yet winning face.
+
+While Risler was gazing at him, Frantz, on his side, was closely
+scrutinizing his brother, and, finding him the same as always, as
+ingenuous, as loving, and as absent-minded as times, he said to himself:
+
+"No! it is not possible--he has not ceased to be an honest man."
+
+Thereupon, as he reflected upon what people had dared to imagine, all
+his wrath turned against that hypocritical, vicious woman, who deceived
+her husband so impudently and with such absolute impunity that she
+succeeded in causing him to be considered her confederate. Oh! what a
+terrible reckoning he proposed to have with her; how pitilessly he would
+talk to her!
+
+"I forbid you, Madame--understand what I say--I forbid you to dishonor
+my brother!"
+
+He was thinking of that all the way, as he watched the still leafless
+trees glide along the embankment of the Saint-Germain railway. Sitting
+opposite him, Risler chattered, chattered without pause. He talked about
+the factory, about their business. They had gained forty thousand francs
+each the last year; but it would be a different matter when the Press
+was at work. "A rotary press, my little Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal,
+capable of printing a pattern in twelve to fifteen colors at a single
+turn of the wheel--red on pink, dark green on light green, without the
+least running together or absorption, without a line lapping over its
+neighbor, without any danger of one shade destroying or overshadowing
+another. Do you understand that, little brother? A machine that is an
+artist like a man. It means a revolution in the wallpaper trade."
+
+"But," queried Frantz with some anxiety, "have you invented this Press
+of yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?"
+
+"Invented!--perfected! To-morrow I will show you all my plans. I have
+also invented an automatic crane for hanging the paper on the rods
+in the drying-room. Next week I intend to take up my quarters in
+the factory, up in the garret, and have my first machine made there
+secretly, under my own eyes. In three months the patents must be taken
+out and the Press must be at work. You'll see, my little Frantz, it will
+make us all rich-you can imagine how glad I shall be to be able to make
+up to these Fromonts for a little of what they have done for me. Ah!
+upon my word, the Lord has been too good to me."
+
+Thereupon he began to enumerate all his blessings. Sidonie was the best
+of women, a little love of a wife, who conferred much honor upon him.
+They had a charming home. They went into society, very select society.
+The little one sang like a nightingale, thanks to Madame Dobson's
+expressive method. By the way, this Madame Dobson was another most
+excellent creature. There was just one thing that disturbed poor Risler,
+that was his incomprehensible misunderstanding with Sigismond. Perhaps
+Frantz could help him to clear up that mystery.
+
+"Oh! yes, I will help you, brother," replied Frantz through his clenched
+teeth; and an angry flush rose to his brow at the idea that any one
+could have suspected the open-heartedness, the loyalty, that were
+displayed before him in all their artless spontaneity. Luckily he, the
+judge, had arrived; and he proposed to restore everything to its proper
+place.
+
+Meanwhile, they were drawing near the house at Asnieres. Frantz had
+noticed at a distance a fanciful little turreted affair, glistening with
+a new blue slate roof. It seemed to him to have been built expressly for
+Sidonie, a fitting cage for that capricious, gaudy-plumaged bird.
+
+It was a chalet with two stories, whose bright mirrors and pink-lined
+curtains could be seen from the railway, shining resplendent at the far
+end of a green lawn, where an enormous pewter ball was suspended.
+
+The river was near at hand, still wearing its Parisian aspect, filled
+with chains, bathing establishments, great barges, and multitudes
+of little, skiffs, with a layer of coal dust on their pretentious,
+freshly-painted names, tied to the pier and rocking to the slightest
+motion of the water. From her windows Sidonie could see the restaurants
+on the beach, silent through the week, but filled to overflowing on
+Sunday with a motley, noisy crowd, whose shouts of laughter, mingled
+with the dull splash of oars, came from both banks to meet in midstream
+in that current of vague murmurs, shouts, calls, laughter, and singing
+that floats without ceasing up and down the Seine on holidays for a
+distance of ten miles.
+
+During the week she saw shabbily-dressed idlers sauntering along the
+shore, men in broad-brimmed straw hats and flannel shirts, women who sat
+on the worn grass of the sloping bank, doing nothing, with the dreamy
+eyes of a cow at pasture. All the peddlers, hand-organs, harpists;
+travelling jugglers, stopped there as at a quarantine station. The quay
+was crowded with them, and as they approached, the windows in the
+little houses near by were always thrown open, disclosing white
+dressing-jackets, half-buttoned, heads of dishevelled hair, and an
+occasional pipe, all watching these paltry strolling shows, as if with
+a sigh of regret for Paris, so near at hand. It was a hideous and
+depressing sight.
+
+The grass, which had hardly begun to grow, was already turning yellow
+beneath the feet of the crowd. The dust was black; and yet, every
+Thursday, the cocotte aristocracy passed through on the way to the
+Casino, with a great show of rickety carriages and borrowed postilions.
+All these things gave pleasure to that fanatical Parisian, Sidonie; and
+then, too, in her childhood, she had heard a great deal about Asnieres
+from the illustrious Delobelle, who would have liked to have, like so
+many of his profession, a little villa in those latitudes, a cozy nook
+in the country to which to return by the midnight train, after the play
+is done.
+
+All these dreams of little Chebe, Sidonie Risler had realized.
+
+The brothers went to the gate opening on the quay, in which the key was
+usually left. They entered, making their way among trees and shrubs of
+recent growth. Here and there the billiard-room, the gardener's lodge, a
+little greenhouse, made their appearance, like the pieces of one of
+the Swiss chalets we give to children to play with; all very light and
+fragile, hardly more than resting on the ground, as if ready to fly away
+at the slightest breath of bankruptcy or caprice: the villa of a cocotte
+or a pawnbroker.
+
+Frantz looked about in some bewilderment. In the distance, opening on a
+porch surrounded by vases of flowers, was the salon with its long blinds
+raised. An American easy-chair, folding-chairs, a small table from which
+the coffee had not been removed, could be seen near the door. Within
+they heard a succession of loud chords on the piano and the murmur of
+low voices.
+
+"I tell you Sidonie will be surprised," said honest Risler, walking
+softly on the gravel; "she doesn't expect me until tonight. She and
+Madame Dobson are practising together at this moment."
+
+Pushing the door open suddenly, he cried from the threshold in his loud,
+good-natured voice:
+
+"Guess whom I've brought."
+
+Madame Dobson, who was sitting alone at the piano, jumped up from her
+stool, and at the farther end of the grand salon Georges and Sidonie
+rose hastily behind the exotic plants that reared their heads above a
+table, of whose delicate, slender lines they seemed a prolongation.
+
+"Ah! how you frightened me!" said Sidonie, running to meet Risler.
+
+The flounces of her white peignoir, through which blue ribbons were
+drawn, like little patches of blue sky among the clouds, rolled
+in billows over the carpet, and, having already recovered from her
+embarrassment, she stood very straight, with an affable expression and
+her everlasting little smile, as she kissed her husband and offered her
+forehead to Frantz, saying:
+
+"Good morning, brother."
+
+Risler left them confronting each other, and went up to Fromont Jeune,
+whom he was greatly surprised to find there.
+
+"What, Chorche, you here? I supposed you were at Savigny."
+
+"Yes, to be sure, but--I came--I thought you stayed at Asnieres Sundays.
+I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business."
+
+Thereupon, entangling himself in his words, he began to talk hurriedly
+of an important order. Sidonie had disappeared after exchanging a few
+unmeaning words with the impassive Frantz. Madame Dobson continued
+her tremolos on the soft pedal, like those which accompany critical
+situations at the theatre.
+
+In very truth, the situation at that moment was decidedly strained.
+But Risler's good-humor banished all constraint. He apologized to his
+partner for not being at home, and insisted upon showing Frantz the
+house. They went from the salon to the stable, from the stable to the
+carriage-house, the servants' quarters, and the conservatory. Everything
+was new, brilliant, gleaming, too small, and inconvenient.
+
+"But," said Risler, with a certain pride, "it cost a heap of money!"
+
+He persisted in compelling admiration of Sidonie's purchase even to its
+smallest details, exhibited the gas and water fixtures on every
+floor, the improved system of bells, the garden seats, the English
+billiard-table, the hydropathic arrangements, and accompanied his
+exposition with outbursts of gratitude to Fromont Jeune, who, by taking
+him into partnership, had literally placed a fortune in his hands.
+
+At each new effusion on Risler's part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly,
+ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz's face.
+
+The breakfast was lacking in gayety.
+
+Madame Dobson talked almost without interruption, overjoyed to be
+swimming in the shallows of a romantic love-affair. Knowing, or rather
+believing that she knew her friend's story from beginning to end, she
+understood the lowering wrath of Frantz, a former lover furious at
+finding his place filled, and the anxiety of Georges, due to the
+appearance of a rival; and she encouraged one with a glance, consoled
+the other with a smile, admired Sidonie's tranquil demeanor, and
+reserved all her contempt for that abominable Risler, the vulgar,
+uncivilized tyrant. She made an effort to prevent any of those horrible
+periods of silence, when the clashing knives and forks mark time in such
+an absurd and embarrassing way.
+
+As soon as breakfast was at an end Fromont Jeune announced that he must
+return to Savigny. Risler did not venture to detain him, thinking that
+his dear Madame Chorche would pass her Sunday all alone; and so, without
+an opportunity to say a word to his mistress, the lover went away in
+the bright sunlight to take an afternoon train, still attended by the
+husband, who insisted upon escorting him to the station.
+
+Madame Dobson sat for a moment with Frantz and Sidonie under a little
+arbor which a climbing vine studded with pink buds; then, realizing
+that she was in the way, she returned to the salon, and as before, while
+Georges was there, began to play and sing softly and with expression.
+In the silent garden, that muffled music, gliding between the branches,
+seemed like the cooing of birds before the storm.
+
+At last they were alone. Under the lattice of the arbor, still bare and
+leafless, the May sun shone too bright. Sidonie shaded her eyes with
+her hand as she watched the people passing on the quay. Frantz likewise
+looked out, but in another direction; and both of them, affecting to be
+entirely independent of each other, turned at the same instant with the
+same gesture and moved by the same thought.
+
+"I have something to say to you," he said, just as she opened her mouth.
+
+"And I to you," she replied gravely; "but come in here; we shall be more
+comfortable."
+
+And they entered together a little summer-house at the foot of the
+garden.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. EXPLANATION
+
+By slow degrees Sidonie sank to her former level, yes, even lower. From
+the rich, well-considered bourgeoise to which her marriage had raised
+her, she descended the ladder to the rank of a mere toy. 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 employees 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."
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 4.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. THE DAY OF RECKONING
+
+The great clock of Saint-Gervais struck one in the morning. It was so
+cold that the fine snow, flying through the air, hardened as it fell,
+covering the pavements with a slippery, white blanket.
+
+Risler, wrapped in his cloak, was hastening home from the brewery
+through the deserted streets of the Marais. He had been celebrating, in
+company with his two faithful borrowers, Chebe and Delobelle, his first
+moment of leisure, the end of that almost endless period of seclusion
+during which he had been superintending the manufacture of his press,
+with all the searchings, the joys, and the disappointments of the
+inventor. It had been long, very long. At the last moment he had
+discovered a defect. The crane did not work well; and he had had to
+revise his plans and drawings. At last, on that very day, the new
+machine had been tried. Everything had succeeded to his heart's desire.
+The worthy man was triumphant. It seemed to him that he had paid a debt,
+by giving the house of Fromont the benefit of a new machine, which would
+lessen the labor, shorten the hours of the workmen, and at the same time
+double the profits and the reputation of the factory. He indulged in
+beautiful dreams as he plodded along. His footsteps rang out proudly,
+emphasized by the resolute and happy trend of his thoughts.
+
+Quickening his pace, he reached the corner of Rue des
+Vieilles-Haudriettes. A long line of carriages was standing in front of
+the factory, and the light of their lanterns in the street, the shadows
+of the drivers seeking shelter from the snow in the corners and angles
+that those old buildings have retained despite the straightening of the
+sidewalks, gave an animated aspect to that deserted, silent quarter.
+
+"Yes, yes! to be sure," thought the honest fellow, "we have a ball at
+our house." He remembered that Sidonie was giving a grand musical and
+dancing party, which she had excused him from attending, by the way,
+knowing that he was very busy.
+
+Shadows passed and repassed behind the fluttering veil of the curtains;
+the orchestra seemed to follow the movements of those stealthy
+apparitions with the rising and falling of its muffled notes. The
+guests were dancing. Risler let his eyes rest for a moment on that
+phantasmagoria of the ball, and fancied that he recognized Sidonie's
+shadow in a small room adjoining the salon.
+
+She was standing erect in her magnificent costume, in the attitude of
+a pretty woman before her mirror. A shorter shadow behind her, Madame
+Dobson doubtless, was repairing some accident to the costume, re-tieing
+the knot of a ribbon tied about her neck, its long ends floating down to
+the flounces of the train. It was all very indistinct, but the woman's
+graceful figure was recognizable in those faintly traced outlines, and
+Risler tarried long admiring her.
+
+The contrast on the first floor was most striking. There was no light
+visible, with the exception of a little lamp shining through the lilac
+hangings of the bedroom. Risler noticed that circumstance, and as the
+little girl had been ailing a few days before, he felt anxious about
+her, remembering Madame Georges's strange agitation when she passed him
+so hurriedly in the afternoon; and he retraced his steps as far as Pere
+Achille's lodge to inquire.
+
+The lodge was full. Coachmen were warming themselves around the stove,
+chatting and laughing amid the smoke from their pipes. When Risler
+appeared there was profound silence, a cunning, inquisitive, significant
+silence. They had evidently been speaking of him.
+
+"Is the Fromont child still sick?" he asked.
+
+"No, not the child, Monsieur."
+
+"Monsieur Georges sick?"
+
+"Yes, he was taken when he came home to-night. I went right off to
+get the doctor. He said that it wouldn't amount to anything--that all
+Monsieur needed was rest."
+
+As Risler closed the door Pere Achille added, under his breath, with the
+half-fearful, half-audacious insolence of an inferior, who would like to
+be listened to and yet not distinctly heard:
+
+"Ah! 'dame', they're not making such a show on the first floor as they
+are on the second."
+
+This is what had happened.
+
+Fromont jeune, on returning home during the evening, had found his
+wife with such a changed, heartbroken face, that he at once divined a
+catastrophe. But he had become so accustomed in the past two years to
+sin with impunity that it did not for one moment occur to him that his
+wife could have been informed of his conduct. Claire, for her part, to
+avoid humiliating him, was generous enough to speak only of Savigny.
+
+"Grandpapa refused," she said.
+
+The miserable man turned frightfully pale.
+
+"I am lost--I am lost!" he muttered two or three times in the wild
+accents of fever; and his sleepless nights, a last terrible scene which
+he had had with Sidonie, trying to induce her not to give this party
+on the eve of his downfall, M. Gardinois' refusal, all these maddening
+things which followed so closely on one another's heels and had agitated
+him terribly, culminated in a genuine nervous attack. Claire took pity
+on him, put him to bed, and established herself by his side; but her
+voice had lost that affectionate intonation which soothes and persuades.
+There was in her gestures, in the way in which she arranged the pillow
+under the patient's head and prepared a quieting draught, a strange
+indifference, listlessness.
+
+"But I have ruined you!" Georges said from time to time, as if to rouse
+her from that apathy which made him uncomfortable. She replied with a
+proud, disdainful gesture. Ah! if he had done only that to her!
+
+At last, however, his nerves became calmer, the fever subsided, and he
+fell asleep.
+
+She remained to attend to his wants.
+
+"It is my duty," she said to herself.
+
+Her duty. She had reached that point with the man whom she had adored so
+blindly, with the hope of a long and happy life together.
+
+At that moment the ball in Sidonie's apartments began to become very
+animated. The ceiling trembled rhythmically, for Madame had had all the
+carpets removed from her salons for the greater comfort of the dancers.
+Sometimes, too, the sound of voices reached Claire's ears in waves,
+and frequent tumultuous applause, from which one could divine the great
+number of the guests, the crowded condition of the rooms.
+
+Claire was lost in thought. She did not waste time in regrets, in
+fruitless lamentations. She knew that life was inflexible and that
+all the arguments in the world will not arrest the cruel logic of its
+inevitable progress. She did not ask herself how that man had succeeded
+in deceiving her so long--how he could have sacrificed the honor and
+happiness of his family for a mere caprice. That was the fact, and all
+her reflections could not wipe it out, could not repair the irreparable.
+The subject that engrossed her thoughts was the future. A new existence
+was unfolding before her eyes, dark, cruel, full of privation and toil;
+and, strangely enough, the prospect of ruin, instead of terrifying her,
+restored all her courage. The idea of the change of abode made
+necessary by the economy they would be obliged to practise, of work made
+compulsory for Georges and perhaps for herself, infused an indefinable
+energy into the distressing calmness of her despair. What a heavy burden
+of souls she would have with her three children: her mother, her child,
+and her husband! The feeling of responsibility prevented her giving way
+too much to her misfortune, to the wreck of her love; and in proportion
+as she forgot herself in the thought of the weak creatures she had to
+protect she realized more fully the meaning of the word "sacrifice," so
+vague on careless lips, so serious when it becomes a rule of life.
+
+Such were the poor woman's thoughts during that sad vigil, a vigil of
+arms and tears, while she was preparing her forces for the great battle.
+Such was the scene lighted by the modest little lamp which Risler had
+seen from below, like a star fallen from the radiant chandeliers of the
+ballroom.
+
+Reassured by Pere Achille's reply, the honest fellow thought of going
+up to his bedroom, avoiding the festivities and the guests, for whom he
+cared little.
+
+On such occasions he used a small servants' staircase communicating with
+the counting-room. So he walked through the many-windowed workshops,
+which the moon, reflected by the snow, made as light as at noonday. He
+breathed the atmosphere of the day of toil, a hot, stifling atmosphere,
+heavy with the odor of boiled talc and varnish. The papers spread out
+on the dryers formed long, rustling paths. On all sides tools were lying
+about, and blouses hanging here and there ready for the morrow. Risler
+never walked through the shops without a feeling of pleasure.
+
+Suddenly he spied a light in Planus's office, at the end of that long
+line of deserted rooms. The old cashier was still at work, at one
+o'clock in the morning! That was really most extraordinary.
+
+Risler's first impulse was to retrace his steps. In fact, since his
+unaccountable falling-out with Sigismond, since the cashier had adopted
+that attitude of cold silence toward him, he had avoided meeting him.
+His wounded friendship had always led him to shun an explanation; he had
+a sort of pride in not asking Planus why he bore him ill-will. But, on
+that evening, Risler felt so strongly the need of cordial sympathy, of
+pouring out his heart to some one, and then it was such an excellent
+opportunity for a tete-a-tete with his former friend, that he did not
+try to avoid him but boldly entered the counting-room.
+
+The cashier was sitting there, motionless, among heaps of papers and
+great books, which he had been turning over, some of which had fallen to
+the floor. At the sound of his employer's footsteps he did not even lift
+his eyes. He had recognized Risler's step. The latter, somewhat abashed,
+hesitated a moment; then, impelled by one of those secret springs which
+we have within us and which guide us, despite ourselves, in the path of
+our destiny, he walked straight to the cashier's grating.
+
+"Sigismond," he said in a grave voice.
+
+The old man raised his head and displayed a shrunken face down which two
+great tears were rolling, the first perhaps that that animate column of
+figures had ever shed in his life.
+
+"You are weeping, old man? What troubles you?"
+
+And honest Risler, deeply touched, held out his hand to his friend, who
+hastily withdrew his. That movement of repulsion was so instinctive, so
+brutal, that all Risler's emotion changed to indignation.
+
+He drew himself up with stern dignity.
+
+"I offer you my hand, Sigismond Planus!" he said.
+
+"And I refuse to take it," said Planus, rising.
+
+There was a terrible pause, during which they heard the muffled music
+of the orchestra upstairs and the noise of the ball, the dull, wearing
+noise of floors shaken by the rhythmic movement of the dance.
+
+"Why do you refuse to take my hand?" demanded Risler simply, while the
+grating upon which he leaned trembled with a metallic quiver.
+
+Sigismond was facing him, with both hands on his desk, as if to
+emphasize and drive home what he was about to say in reply.
+
+"Why? Because you have ruined the house; because in a few hours a
+messenger from the Bank will come and stand where you are, to collect a
+hundred thousand francs; and because, thanks to you, I haven't a sou in
+the cash-box--that's the reason why!"
+
+Risler was stupefied.
+
+"I have ruined the house--I?"
+
+"Worse than that, Monsieur. You have allowed it to be ruined by your
+wife, and you have arranged with her to benefit by our ruin and your
+dishonor. Oh! I can see your game well enough. The money your wife has
+wormed out of the wretched Fromont, the house at Asnieres, the diamonds
+and all the rest is invested in her name, of course, out of reach of
+disaster; and of course you can retire from business now."
+
+"Oh--oh!" exclaimed Risler in a faint voice, a restrained voice rather,
+that was insufficient for the multitude of thoughts it strove to
+express; and as he stammered helplessly he drew the grating toward him
+with such force that he broke off a piece of it. Then he staggered, fell
+to the floor, and lay there motionless, speechless, retaining only, in
+what little life was still left in him, the firm determination not to
+die until he had justified himself. That determination must have been
+very powerful; for while his temples throbbed madly, hammered by the
+blood that turned his face purple, while his ears were ringing and
+his glazed eyes seemed already turned toward the terrible unknown, the
+unhappy man muttered to himself in a thick voice, like the voice of a
+shipwrecked man speaking with his mouth full of water in a howling gale:
+"I must live! I must live!"
+
+When he recovered consciousness, he was sitting on the cushioned bench
+on which the workmen sat huddled together on pay-day, his cloak on the
+floor, his cravat untied, his shirt open at the neck, cut by Sigismond's
+knife. Luckily for him, he had cut his hands when he tore the grating
+apart; the blood had flowed freely, and that accident was enough to
+avert an attack of apoplexy. On opening his eyes, he saw on either side
+old Sigismond and Madame Georges, whom the cashier had summoned in his
+distress. As soon as Risler could speak, he said to her in a choking
+voice:
+
+"Is this true, Madame Chorche--is this true that he just told me?"
+
+She had not the courage to deceive him, so she turned her eyes away.
+
+"So," continued the poor fellow, "so the house is ruined, and I--"
+
+"No, Risler, my friend. No, not you."
+
+"My wife, was it not? Oh! it is horrible! This is how I have paid my
+debt of gratitude to you. But you, Madame Chorche, you could not have
+believed that I was a party to this infamy?"
+
+"No, my friend, no; be calm. I know that you are the most honorable man
+on earth."
+
+He looked at her a moment, with trembling lips and clasped hands, for
+there was something child-like in all the manifestations of that artless
+nature.
+
+"Oh! Madame Chorche, Madame Chorche," he murmured. "When I think that I
+am the one who has ruined you."
+
+In the terrible blow which overwhelmed him, and by which his heart,
+overflowing with love for Sidonie, was most deeply wounded, he refused
+to see anything but the financial disaster to the house of Fromont,
+caused by his blind devotion to his wife. Suddenly he stood erect.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us not give way to emotion. We must see about
+settling our accounts."
+
+Madame Fromont was frightened.
+
+"Risler, Risler--where are you going?"
+
+She thought that he was going up to Georges' room.
+
+Risler understood her and smiled in superb disdain.
+
+"Never fear, Madame. Monsieur Georges can sleep in peace. I have
+something more urgent to do than avenge my honor as a husband. Wait for
+me here. I will come back."
+
+He darted toward the narrow staircase; and Claire, relying upon his
+word, remained with Planus during one of those supreme moments of
+uncertainty which seem interminable because of all the conjectures with
+which they are thronged.
+
+A few moments later the sound of hurried steps, the rustling of silk
+filled the dark and narrow staircase. Sidonie appeared first, in ball
+costume, gorgeously arrayed and so pale that the jewels that glistened
+everywhere on her dead-white flesh seemed more alive than she, as if
+they were scattered over the cold marble of a statue. The breathlessness
+due to dancing, the trembling of intense excitement and her rapid
+descent, caused her to shake from head to foot, and her floating
+ribbons, her ruffles, her flowers, her rich and fashionable attire
+drooped tragically about her. Risler followed her, laden with
+jewel-cases, caskets, and papers. Upon reaching his apartments he
+had pounced upon his wife's desk, seized everything valuable that it
+contained, jewels, certificates, title-deeds of the house at Asnieres;
+then, standing in the doorway, he had shouted into the ballroom:
+
+"Madame Risler!"
+
+She had run quickly to him, and that brief scene had in no wise
+disturbed the guests, then at the height of the evening's enjoyment.
+When she saw her husband standing in front of the desk, the drawers
+broken open and overturned on the carpet with the multitude of trifles
+they contained, she realized that something terrible was taking place.
+
+"Come at once," said Risler; "I know all."
+
+She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her
+by the arm with such force that Frantz's words came to her mind: "It
+will kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first." As she was afraid
+of death, she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had
+not even the strength to lie.
+
+"Where are we going?" she asked, in a low voice.
+
+Risler did not answer. She had only time to throw over her shoulders,
+with the care for herself that never failed her, a light tulle veil,
+and he dragged her, pushed her, rather, down the stairs leading to the
+counting-room, which he descended at the same time, his steps close upon
+hers, fearing that his prey would escape.
+
+"There!" he said, as he entered the room. "We have stolen, we make
+restitution. Look, Planus, you can raise money with all this stuff." And
+he placed on the cashier's desk all the fashionable plunder with which
+his arms were filled--feminine trinkets, trivial aids to coquetry,
+stamped papers.
+
+Then he turned to his wife:
+
+"Take off your jewels! Come, be quick."
+
+She complied slowly, opened reluctantly the clasps of bracelets and
+buckles, and above all the superb fastening of her diamond necklace on
+which the initial of her name-a gleaming S-resembled a sleeping serpent,
+imprisoned in a circle of gold. Risler, thinking that she was too slow,
+ruthlessly broke, the fragile fastenings. Luxury shrieked beneath his
+fingers, as if it were being whipped.
+
+"Now it is my turn," he said; "I too must give up everything. Here is my
+portfolio. What else have I? What else have I?"
+
+He searched his pockets feverishly.
+
+"Ah! my watch. With the chain it will bring four-thousand francs. My
+rings, my wedding-ring. Everything goes into the cash-box, everything.
+We have a hundred thousand francs to pay this morning. As soon as it is
+daylight we must go to work, sell out and pay our debts. I know some one
+who wants the house at Asnieres. That can be settled at once."
+
+He alone spoke and acted. Sigismond and Madame Georges watched him
+without speaking. As for Sidonie, she seemed unconscious, lifeless.
+The cold air blowing from the garden through the little door, which
+was opened at the time of Risler's swoon, made her shiver, and she
+mechanically drew the folds of her scarf around her shoulders, her eyes
+fixed on vacancy, her thoughts wandering. Did she not hear the violins
+of her ball, which reached their ears in the intervals of silence, like
+bursts of savage irony, with the heavy thud of the dancers shaking the
+floors? An iron hand, falling upon her, aroused her abruptly from her
+torpor. Risler had taken her by the arm, and, leading her before his
+partner's wife, he said:
+
+"Down on your knees!"
+
+Madame Fromont drew back, remonstrating:
+
+"No, no, Risler, not that."
+
+"It must be," said the implacable Risler. "Restitution, reparation!
+Down on your knees then, wretched woman!" And with irresistible force he
+threw Sidonie at Claire's feet; then, still holding her arm;
+
+"You will repeat after me, word for word, what I say: Madame--"
+
+Sidonie, half dead with fear, repeated faintly: "Madame--"
+
+"A whole lifetime of humility and submission--"
+
+"A whole lifetime of humil--No, I can not!" she exclaimed, springing to
+her feet with the agility of a deer; and, wresting herself from Risler's
+grasp, through that open door which had tempted her from the beginning
+of this horrible scene, luring her out into the darkness of the night to
+the liberty obtainable by flight, she rushed from the house, braving the
+falling snow and the wind that stung her bare shoulders.
+
+"Stop her, stop her!--Risler, Planus, I implore you! In pity's name do
+not let her go in this way," cried Claire.
+
+Planus stepped toward the door.
+
+Risler detained him.
+
+"I forbid you to stir! I ask your pardon, Madame, but we have more
+important matters than this to consider. Madame Risler concerns us no
+longer. We have to save the honor of the house of Fromont, which alone
+is at stake, which alone fills my thoughts at this moment."
+
+Sigismond put out his hand.
+
+"You are a noble man, Risler. Forgive me for having suspected you."
+
+Risler pretended not to hear him.
+
+"A hundred thousand francs to pay, you say? How much is there left in
+the strong-box?"
+
+He sat bravely down behind the gratin, looking over the books
+of account, the certificates of stock in the funds, opening the
+jewel-cases, estimating with Planus, whose father had been a jeweller,
+the value of all those diamonds, which he had once so admired on his
+wife, having no suspicion of their real value.
+
+Meanwhile Claire, trembling from head to foot, looked out through the
+window at the little garden, white with snow, where Sidonie's footsteps
+were already effaced by the fast-falling flakes, as if to bear witness
+that that precipitate departure was without hope of return.
+
+Up-stairs they were still dancing. The mistress of the house was
+supposed to be busy with the preparations for supper, while she was
+flying, bare-headed, forcing back sobs and shrieks of rage.
+
+Where was she going? She had started off like a mad woman, running
+across the garden and the courtyard of the factory, and under the dark
+arches, where the cruel, freezing wind blew in eddying circles. Pere
+Achille did not recognize her; he had seen so many shadows wrapped in
+white pass his lodge that night.
+
+The young woman's first thought was to join the tenor Cazaboni, whom
+at the last she had not dared to invite to her ball; but he lived at
+Montmartre, and that was very far away for her to go, in that garb; and
+then, would he be at home? Her parents would take her in, doubtless; but
+she could already hear Madame Chebe's lamentations and the little man's
+sermon under three heads. Thereupon she thought of Delobelle, her old
+Delobelle. In the downfall of all her splendors she remembered the man
+who had first initiated her into fashionable life, who had given her
+lessons in dancing and deportment when she was a little girl, laughed at
+her pretty ways, and taught her to look upon herself as beautiful before
+any one had ever told her that she was so. Something told her that that
+fallen star would take her part against all others. She entered one of
+the carriages standing at the gate and ordered the driver to take her to
+the actor's lodgings on the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
+
+For some time past Mamma Delobelle had been making straw hats for
+export-a dismal trade if ever there was one, which brought in barely two
+francs fifty for twelve hours' work.
+
+And Delobelle continued to grow fat in the same degree that his "sainted
+wife" grew thin. At the very moment when some one knocked hurriedly at
+his door he had just discovered a fragrant soup 'au fromage', which
+had been kept hot in the ashes on the hearth. The actor, who had been
+witnessing at Beaumarchais some dark-browed melodrama drenched with gore
+even to the illustrated headlines of its poster, was startled by that
+knock at such an advanced hour.
+
+"Who is there?" he asked in some alarm.
+
+"It is I, Sidonie. Open the door quickly."
+
+She entered the room, shivering all over, and, throwing aside her wrap,
+went close to the stove where the fire was almost extinct. She began to
+talk at once, to pour out the wrath that had been stifling her for an
+hour, and while she was describing the scene in the factory, lowering
+her voice because of Madame Delobelle, who was asleep close by, the
+magnificence of her costume in that poor, bare, fifth floor, the
+dazzling whiteness of her disordered finery amid the heaps of coarse
+hats and the wisps of straw strewn about the room, all combined to
+produce the effect of a veritable drama, of one of those terrible
+upheavals of life when rank, feelings, fortunes are suddenly jumbled
+together.
+
+"Oh! I never shall return home. It is all over. Free--I am free!"
+
+"But who could have betrayed you to your husband?" asked the actor.
+
+"It was Frantz! I am sure it was Frantz. He wouldn't have believed it
+from anybody else. Only last evening a letter came from Egypt. Oh!
+how he treated me before that woman! To force me to kneel! But I'll be
+revenged. Luckily I took something to revenge myself with before I came
+away."
+
+And the smile of former days played about the corners of her pale lips.
+
+The old strolling player listened to it all with deep interest.
+Notwithstanding his compassion for that poor devil of a Risler, and
+for Sidonie herself, for that matter, who seemed to him, in theatrical
+parlance, "a beautiful culprit," he could not help viewing the affair
+from a purely scenic standpoint, and finally cried out, carried away by
+his hobby:
+
+"What a first-class situation for a fifth act!"
+
+She did not bear him. Absorbed by some evil thought, which made her
+smile in anticipation, she stretched out to the fire her dainty shoes,
+saturated with snow, and her openwork stockings.
+
+"Well, what do you propose to do now?" Delobelle asked after a pause.
+
+"Stay here till daylight and get a little rest. Then I will see."
+
+"I have no bed to offer you, my poor girl. Mamma Delobelle has gone to
+bed."
+
+"Don't you worry about me, my dear Delobelle. I'll sleep in that
+armchair. I won't be in your way, I tell you!"
+
+The actor heaved a sigh.
+
+"Ah! yes, that armchair. It was our poor Zizi's. She sat up many a night
+in it, when work was pressing. Ah, me! those who leave this world are
+much the happiest."
+
+He had always at hand such selfish, comforting maxims. He had no sooner
+uttered that one than he discovered with dismay that his soup would soon
+be stone-cold. Sidonie noticed his movement.
+
+"Why, you were just eating your supper, weren't you? Pray go on."
+
+"'Dame'! yes, what would you have? It's part of the trade, of the hard
+existence we fellows have. For you see, my girl, I stand firm. I haven't
+given up. I never will give up."
+
+What still remained of Desiree's soul in that wretched household in
+which she had lived twenty years must have shuddered at that terrible
+declaration. He never would give up!
+
+"No matter what people may say," continued Delobelle, "it's the noblest
+profession in the world. You are free; you depend upon nobody. Devoted
+to the service of glory and the public! Ah! I know what I would do in
+your place. As if you were born to live with all those bourgeois--the
+devil! What you need is the artistic life, the fever of success, the
+unexpected, intense emotion."
+
+As he spoke he took his seat, tucked his napkin in his neck, and helped
+himself to a great plateful of soup.
+
+"To say nothing of the fact that your triumphs as a pretty woman would
+in no wise interfere with your triumph as an actress. By the way, do you
+know, you must take a few lessons in elocution. With your voice, your
+intelligence, your charms, you would have a magnificent prospect."
+
+Then he added abruptly, as if to initiate her into the joys of the
+dramatic art:
+
+"But it occurs to me that perhaps you have not supped! Excitement makes
+one hungry; sit there, and take this soup. I am sure that you haven't
+eaten soup 'au fromage' for a long while."
+
+He turned the closet topsy-turvy to find her a spoon and a napkin; and
+she took her seat opposite him, assisting him and laughing a little at
+the difficulties attending her entertainment. She was less pale already,
+and there was a pretty sparkle in her eyes, composed of the tears of a
+moment before and the present gayety.
+
+The strolling actress! All her happiness in life was lost forever:
+honor, family, wealth. She was driven from her house, stripped,
+dishonored. She had undergone all possible humiliations and disasters.
+That did not prevent her supping with a wonderful appetite and joyously
+holding her own under Delobelle's jocose remarks concerning her vocation
+and her future triumphs. She felt light-hearted and happy, fairly
+embarked for the land of Bohemia, her true country. What more would
+happen to her? Of how many ups and downs was her new, unforeseen, and
+whimsical existence to consist? She thought about that as she fell
+asleep in Desiree's great easy-chair; but she thought of her revenge,
+too--her cherished revenge which she held in her hand, all ready for
+use, and so unerring, so fierce!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. THE NEW EMPLOYEE OF THE HOUSE OF FROMONT
+
+It was broad daylight when Fromont Jeune awoke. All night long, between
+the drama that was being enacted below him and the festivity in joyous
+progress above, he slept with clenched fists, the deep sleep of complete
+prostration like that of a condemned man on the eve of his execution or
+of a defeated General on the night following his disaster; a sleep from
+which one would wish never to awake, and in which, in the absence of all
+sensation, one has a foretaste of death.
+
+The bright light streaming through his curtains, made more dazzling
+by the deep snow with which the garden and the surrounding roofs were
+covered, recalled him to the consciousness of things as they were. He
+felt a shock throughout his whole being, and, even before his mind
+began to work, that vague impression of melancholy which misfortunes,
+momentarily forgotten, leave in their place. All the familiar noises of
+the factory, the dull throbbing of the machinery, were in full activity.
+So the world still existed! and by slow degrees the idea of his own
+responsibility awoke in him.
+
+"To-day is the day," he said to himself, with an involuntary movement
+toward the dark side of the room, as if he longed to bury himself anew
+in his long sleep.
+
+The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the
+Angelus.
+
+"Noon! Already! How I have slept!"
+
+He felt some little remorse and a great sense of relief at the thought
+that the drama of settling-day had passed off without him. What had they
+done downstairs? Why did they not call him?
+
+He rose, drew the curtains aside, and saw Risler and Sigismond talking
+together in the garden. And it was so long since they had spoken to each
+other! What in heaven's name had happened? When he was ready to go down
+he found Claire at the door of his room.
+
+"You must not go out," she said.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Stay here. I will explain it to you."
+
+"But what's the matter? Did any one come from the Bank?"
+
+"Yes, they came--the notes are paid."
+
+"Paid?"
+
+"Risler obtained the money. He has been rushing about with Planus since
+early morning. It seems that his wife had superb jewels. The diamond
+necklace alone brought twenty thousand francs. He has also sold their
+house at Asnieres with all it contained; but as time was required to
+record the deed, Planus and his sister advanced the money."
+
+She turned away from him as she spoke. He, on his side, hung his head to
+avoid her glance.
+
+"Risler is an honorable man," she continued, "and when he learned from
+whom his wife received all her magnificent things--"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Georges in dismay. "He knows?"
+
+"All," Claire replied, lowering her voice.
+
+The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly:
+
+"Why, then--you?"
+
+"Oh! I knew it all before Risler. Remember, that when I came home last
+night, I told you I had heard very cruel things down at Savigny, and
+that I would have given ten years of my life not to have taken that
+journey."
+
+"Claire!"
+
+Moved by a mighty outburst of affection, he stepped toward his wife; but
+her face was so cold, so sad, so resolute, her despair was so plainly
+written in the stern indifference of her whole bearing, that he dared
+not take her in his arms as he longed to do, but simply murmured under
+his breath:
+
+"Forgive!--forgive!"
+
+"You must think me strangely calm," said the brave woman; "but I shed
+all my tears yesterday. You may have thought that I was weeping over our
+ruin; you were mistaken. While one is young and strong as we are, such
+cowardly conduct is not permissible. We are armed against want and can
+fight it face to face. No, I was weeping for our departed happiness,
+for you, for the madness that led you to throw away your only, your true
+friend."
+
+She was lovely, lovelier than Sidonie had ever been, as she spoke thus,
+enveloped by a pure light which seemed to fall upon her from a great
+height, like the radiance of a fathomless, cloudless sky; whereas the
+other's irregular features had always seemed to owe their brilliancy,
+their saucy, insolent charm to the false glamour of the footlights
+in some cheap theatre. The touch of statuesque immobility formerly
+noticeable in Claire's face was vivified by anxiety, by doubt, by all
+the torture of passion; and like those gold ingots which have their full
+value only when the Mint has placed its stamp upon them, those beautiful
+features stamped with the effigy of sorrow had acquired since the
+preceding day an ineffaceable expression which perfected their beauty.
+
+Georges gazed at her in admiration. She seemed to him more alive, more
+womanly, and worthy of adoration because of their separation and all
+the obstacles that he now knew to stand between them. Remorse, despair,
+shame entered his heart simultaneously with this new love, and he would
+have fallen on his knees before her.
+
+"No, no, do not kneel," said Claire; "if you knew of what you remind me,
+if you knew what a lying face, distorted with hatred, I saw at my feet
+last night!"
+
+"Ah! but I am not lying," replied Georges with a shudder. "Claire, I
+implore you, in the name of our child--"
+
+At that moment some one knocked at the door.
+
+"Rise, I beg of you! You see that life has claims upon us," she said in
+a low voice and with a bitter smile; then she asked what was wanted.
+
+Monsieur Risler had sent for Monsieur to come down to the office.
+
+"Very well," she said; "say that he will come."
+
+Georges approached the door, but she stopped him.
+
+"No, let me go. He must not see you yet."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I wish you to stay here. You have no idea of the indignation and wrath
+of that poor man, whom you have deceived. If you had seen him last
+night, crushing his wife's wrists!"
+
+As she said it she looked him in the face with a curiosity most cruel to
+herself; but Georges did not wince, and replied simply:
+
+"My life belongs to him."
+
+"It belongs to me, too; and I do not wish you to go down. There has been
+scandal enough in my father's house. Remember that the whole factory is
+aware of what is going on. Every one is watching us, spying upon us. It
+required all the authority of the foremen to keep the men busy to-day,
+to compel them to keep their inquisitive looks on their work."
+
+"But I shall seem to be hiding."
+
+"And suppose it were so! That is just like a man. They do not recoil
+from the worst crimes: betraying a wife, betraying a friend; but the
+thought that they may be accused of being afraid touches them more
+keenly than anything. Moreover, listen to what I say. Sidonie has gone;
+she has gone forever; and if you leave this house I shall think that you
+have gone to join her."
+
+"Very well, I will stay," said Georges. "I will do whatever you wish."
+
+Claire descended into Planus' office.
+
+To see Risler striding to and fro, with his hands behind his back, as
+calm as usual, no one would ever have suspected all that had taken place
+in his life since the night before. As for Sigismond, he was fairly
+beaming, for he saw nothing in it all beyond the fact that the notes had
+been paid at maturity and that the honor of the firm was safe.
+
+When Madame Fromont appeared, Risler smiled sadly and shook his head.
+
+"I thought that you would prefer to come down in his place; but you are
+not the one with whom I have to deal. It is absolutely necessary that I
+should see Georges and talk with him. We have paid the notes that
+fell due this morning; the crisis has passed; but we must come to an
+understanding about many matters."
+
+"Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer."
+
+"Why, Madame Chorche, there's not a minute to lose. Oh! I suspect that
+you fear I may give way to an outbreak of anger. Have no fear--let him
+have no fear. You know what I told you, that the honor of the house
+of Fromont is to be assured before my own. I have endangered it by my
+fault. First of all, I must repair the evil I have done or allowed to be
+done."
+
+"Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I
+know it well."
+
+"Oh! Madame, if you could see him! he's a saint," said poor Sigismond,
+who, not daring to speak to his friend, was determined at all events to
+express his remorse.
+
+"But aren't you afraid?" continued Claire. "Human endurance has its
+limits. It may be that in presence of the man who has injured you so--"
+
+Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and
+said:
+
+"You dear creature, who speak of nothing but the injury done to me! Do
+you not know that I hate him as bitterly for his falseness to you? But
+nothing of that sort has any existence for me at this moment. You see
+in me simply a business man who wishes to have an understanding with
+his partner for the good of the firm. So let him come down without the
+slightest fear, and if you dread any outbreak on my part, stay here with
+us. I shall need only to look at my old master's daughter to be reminded
+of my promise and my duty."
+
+"I trust you, my friend," said Claire; and she went up to bring her
+husband.
+
+The first minute of the interview was terrible. Georges was deeply
+moved, humiliated, pale as death. He would have preferred a hundred
+times over to be looking into the barrel of that man's pistol at
+twenty paces, awaiting his fire, instead of appearing before him as an
+unpunished culprit and being compelled to confine his feelings within
+the commonplace limits of a business conversation.
+
+Risler pretended not to look at him, and continued to pace the floor as
+he talked:
+
+"Our house is passing through a terrible crisis. We have averted the
+disaster for to-day; but this is not the last of our obligations. That
+cursed invention has kept my mind away from the business for a long
+while. Luckily, I am free now, and able to attend to it. But you must
+give your attention to it as well. The workmen and clerks have followed
+the example of their employers to some extent. Indeed, they have become
+extremely negligent and indifferent. This morning, for the first time in
+a year, they began work at the proper time. I expect that you will
+make it your business to change all that. As for me, I shall work at my
+drawings again. Our patterns are old-fashioned. We must have new ones
+for the new machines. I have great confidence in our presses. The
+experiments have succeeded beyond my hopes. We unquestionably have
+in them a means of building up our business. I didn't tell you sooner
+because I wished to surprise you; but we have no more surprises for each
+other, have we, Georges?"
+
+There was such a stinging note of irony in his voice that Claire
+shuddered, fearing an outbreak; but he continued, in his natural tone.
+
+"Yes, I think I can promise that in six months the Risler Press will
+begin to show magnificent results. But those six months will be very
+hard to live through. We must limit ourselves, cut down our expenses,
+save in every way that we can. We have five draughtsmen now; hereafter
+we will have but two. I will undertake to make the absence of the others
+of no consequence by working at night myself. Furthermore, beginning
+with this month, I abandon my interest in the firm. I will take my
+salary as foreman as I took it before, and nothing more."
+
+Fromont attempted to speak, but a gesture from his wife restrained him,
+and Risler continued:
+
+"I am no longer your partner, Georges. I am once more the clerk that I
+never should have ceased to be. From this day our partnership articles
+are cancelled. I insist upon it, you understand; I insist upon it. We
+will remain in that relation to each other until the house is out of
+difficulty and I can--But what I shall do then concerns me alone. This
+is what I wanted to say to you, Georges. You must give your attention
+to the factory diligently; you must show yourself, make it felt that you
+are master now, and I believe there will turn out to be, among all our
+misfortunes, some that can be retrieved."
+
+During the silence that followed, they heard the sound of wheels in the
+garden, and two great furniture vans stopped at the door.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Risler, "but I must leave you a moment. Those
+are the vans from the public auction rooms; they have come to take away
+my furniture from upstairs."
+
+"What! you are going to sell your furniture too?" asked Madame Fromont.
+
+"Certainly--to the last piece. I am simply giving it back to the firm.
+It belongs to it."
+
+"But that is impossible," said Georges. "I can not allow that."
+
+Risler turned upon him indignantly.
+
+"What's that? What is it that you can't allow?"
+
+Claire checked him with an imploring gesture.
+
+"True--true!" he muttered; and he hurried from the room to escape the
+sudden temptation to give vent to all that was in his heart.
+
+The second floor was deserted. The servants, who had been paid and
+dismissed in the morning, had abandoned the apartments to the disorder
+of the day following a ball; and they wore the aspect peculiar to places
+where a drama has been enacted, and which are left in suspense, as it
+were, between the events that have happened and those that are still
+to happen. The open doors, the rugs lying in heaps in the corners, the
+salvers laden with glasses, the preparations for the supper, the table
+still set and untouched, the dust from the dancing on all the furniture,
+its odor mingled with the fumes of punch, of withered flowers, of
+rice-powder--all these details attracted Risler's notice as he entered.
+
+In the disordered salon the piano was open, the bacchanal from 'Orphee
+aux Enfers' on the music-shelf, and the gaudy hangings surrounding that
+scene of desolation, the chairs overturned, as if in fear, reminded one
+of the saloon of a wrecked packet-boat, of one of those ghostly nights
+of watching when one is suddenly informed, in the midst of a fete at
+sea, that the ship has sprung a leak, that she is taking in water in
+every part.
+
+The men began to remove the furniture. Risler watched them at work
+with an indifferent air, as if he were in a stranger's house. That
+magnificence which had once made him so happy and proud inspired in him
+now an insurmountable disgust. But, when he entered his wife's bedroom,
+he was conscious of a vague emotion.
+
+It was a large room, hung with blue satin under white lace. A veritable
+cocotte's nest. There were torn and rumpled tulle ruffles lying about,
+bows, and artificial flowers. The wax candles around the mirror had
+burned down to the end and cracked the candlesticks; and the bed, with
+its lace flounces and valances, its great curtains raised and drawn
+back, untouched in the general confusion, seemed like the bed of a
+corpse, a state bed on which no one would ever sleep again.
+
+Risler's first feeling upon entering the room was one of mad
+indignation, a longing to fall upon the things before him, to tear and
+rend and shatter everything. Nothing, you see, resembles a woman so much
+as her bedroom. Even when she is absent, her image still smiles in
+the mirrors that have reflected it. A little something of her, of her
+favorite perfume, remains in everything she has touched. Her attitudes
+are reproduced in the cushions of her couch, and one can follow her
+goings and comings between the mirror and the toilette table in the
+pattern of the carpet. The one thing above all others in that room that
+recalled Sidonie was an 'etagere' covered with childish toys, petty,
+trivial knickknacks, microscopic fans, dolls' tea-sets, gilded shoes,
+little shepherds and shepherdesses facing one another, exchanging cold,
+gleaming, porcelain glances. That 'etagere' was Sidonie's very soul,
+and her thoughts, always commonplace, petty, vain, and empty, resembled
+those gewgaws. Yes, in very truth, if Risler, while he held her in his
+grasp last night, had in his frenzy broken that fragile little head, a
+whole world of 'etagere' ornaments would have come from it in place of a
+brain.
+
+The poor man was thinking sadly of all these things amid the ringing of
+hammers and the heavy footsteps of the furniture-movers, when he heard
+an interloping, authoritative step behind him, and Monsieur Chebe
+appeared, little Monsieur Chebe, flushed and breathless, with flames
+darting from his eyes. He assumed, as always, a very high tone with his
+son-in-law.
+
+"What does this mean? What is this I hear? Ah! so you're moving, are
+you?"
+
+"I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe--I am selling out."
+
+The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish.
+
+"You are selling out? What are you selling, pray?"
+
+"I am selling everything," said Risler in a hollow voice, without even
+looking at him.
+
+"Come, come, son-in-law, be reasonable. God knows I don't say that
+Sidonie's conduct--But, for my part, I know nothing about it. I never
+wanted to know anything. Only I must remind you of your dignity. People
+wash their dirty linen in private, deuce take it! They don't make
+spectacles of themselves as you've been doing ever since morning. Just
+see everybody at the workshop windows; and on the porch, too! Why,
+you're the talk of the quarter, my dear fellow."
+
+"So much the better. The dishonor was public, the reparation must be
+public, too."
+
+This apparent coolness, this indifference to all his observations,
+exasperated Monsieur Chebe. He suddenly changed his tactics, and
+adopted, in addressing his son-in-law, the serious, peremptory tone
+which one uses with children or lunatics.
+
+"Well, I say that you haven't any right to take anything away from
+here. I remonstrate formally, with all my strength as a man, with all
+my authority as a father. Do you suppose I am going to let you drive
+my child into the street. No, indeed! Oh! no, indeed! Enough of such
+nonsense as that! Nothing more shall go out of these rooms."
+
+And Monsieur Chebe, having closed the door, planted himself in front of
+it with a heroic gesture. Deuce take it! his own interest was at stake
+in the matter. The fact was that when his child was once in the gutter
+he ran great risk of not having a feather bed to sleep on himself. He
+was superb in that attitude of an indignant father, but he did not keep
+it long. Two hands, two vises, seized his wrists, and he found himself
+in the middle of the room, leaving the doorway clear for the workmen.
+
+"Chebe, my boy, just listen," said Risler, leaning over him. "I am
+at the end of my forbearance. Since this morning I have been making
+superhuman efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now
+to make my anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls! I
+am quite capable of killing some one. Come! Be off at once!--"
+
+There was such an intonation in his son-in-law's voice, and the way that
+son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe
+was fully convinced. He even stammered an apology. Certainly Risler had
+good reason for acting as he had. All honorable people would be on his
+side. And he backed toward the door as he spoke. When he reached it, he
+inquired timidly if Madame Chebe's little allowance would be continued.
+
+"Yes," was Risler's reply, "but never go beyond it, for my position here
+is not what it was. I am no longer a partner in the house."
+
+Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
+expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
+happened to him--exactly like that of the Duc d'Orleans, you know--was
+not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
+observation. Surely some one had changed his son-in-law. Was this really
+Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word and talked
+of nothing less than killing people?
+
+He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
+stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.
+
+When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them
+for the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus's office to
+hand it to Madame Georges.
+
+"You can let the apartment," he said, "it will be so much added to the
+income of the factory."
+
+"But you, my friend?"
+
+"Oh! I don't need much. An iron bed up under the eaves. That's all a
+clerk needs. For, I repeat, I am nothing but a clerk from this time on.
+A useful clerk, by the way, faithful and courageous, of whom you will
+have no occasion to complain, I promise you."
+
+Georges, who was going over the books with Planus, was so affected
+at hearing the poor fellow talk in that strain that he left his seat
+precipitately. He was suffocated by his sobs. Claire, too, was deeply
+moved; she went to the new clerk of the house of Fromont and said to
+him:
+
+"Risler, I thank you in my father's name."
+
+At that moment Pere Achille appeared with the mail.
+
+Risler took the pile of letters, opened them tranquilly one by one, and
+passed them over to Sigismond.
+
+"Here's an order for Lyon. Why wasn't it answered at Saint-Etienne?"
+
+He plunged with all his energy into these details, and he brought to
+them a keen intelligence, due to the constant straining of the mind
+toward peace and forgetfulness.
+
+Suddenly, among those huge envelopes, stamped with the names of business
+houses, the paper of which and the manner of folding suggested the
+office and hasty despatch, he discovered one smaller one, carefully
+sealed, and hidden so cunningly between the others that at first he
+did not notice it. He recognized instantly that long, fine, firm
+writing,--To Monsieur Risler--Personal. It was Sidonie's writing!
+When he saw it he felt the same sensation he had felt in the bedroom
+upstairs.
+
+All his love, all the hot wrath of the betrayed husband poured back
+into his heart with the frantic force that makes assassins. What was she
+writing to him? What lie had she invented now? He was about to open the
+letter; then he paused. He realized that, if he should read that,
+it would be all over with his courage; so he leaned over to the old
+cashier, and said in an undertone:
+
+"Sigismond, old friend, will you do me a favor?"
+
+"I should think so!" said the worthy man enthusiastically. He was so
+delighted to hear his friend speak to him in the kindly voice of the old
+days.
+
+"Here's a letter someone has written me which I don't wish to read now.
+I am sure it would interfere with my thinking and living. You must keep
+it for me, and this with it."
+
+He took from his pocket a little package carefully tied, and handed it
+to him through the grating.
+
+"That is all I have left of the past, all I have left of that woman.
+I have determined not to see her, nor anything that reminds me of her,
+until my task here is concluded, and concluded satisfactorily,--I need
+all my intelligence, you understand. You will pay the Chebes' allowance.
+If she herself should ask for anything, you will give her what she
+needs. But you will never mention my name. And you will keep this
+package safe for me until I ask you for it."
+
+Sigismond locked the letter and the package in a secret drawer of
+his desk with other valuable papers. Risler returned at once to his
+correspondence; but all the time he had before his eyes the slender
+English letters traced by a little hand which he had so often and so
+ardently pressed to his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. CAFE CHANTANT
+
+What a rare, what a conscientious clerk did that new employe of the
+house of Fromont prove himself!
+
+Every day his lamp was the first to appear at, and the last to disappear
+from, the windows of the factory. A little room had been arranged for
+him under the eaves, exactly like the one he had formerly occupied with
+Frantz, a veritable Trappist's cell, furnished with an iron cot and a
+white wooden table, that stood under his brother's portrait. He led the
+same busy, regular, quiet life as in those old days.
+
+He worked constantly, and had his meals brought from the same little
+creamery. But, alas! the disappearance forever of youth and hope
+deprived those memories of all their charm. Luckily he still had Frantz
+and Madame "Chorche," the only two human beings of whom he could think
+without a feeling of sadness. Madame "Chorche" was always at hand,
+always trying to minister to his comfort, to console him; and Frantz
+wrote to him often, without mentioning Sidonie, by the way. Risler
+supposed that some one had told Frantz of the disaster that had befallen
+him, and he too avoided all allusion to the subject in his letters.
+"Oh! when I can send for him to come home!" That was his dream, his sole
+ambition: to restore the factory and recall his brother.
+
+Meanwhile the days succeeded one another, always the same to him in the
+restless activity of business and the heartrending loneliness of his
+grief. Every morning he walked through the workshops, where the profound
+respect he inspired and his stern, silent countenance had reestablished
+the orderly conditions that had been temporarily disturbed. In the
+beginning there had been much gossip, and various explanations of
+Sidonie's departure had been made. Some said that she had eloped with
+a lover, others that Risler had turned her out. The one fact that upset
+all conjectures was the attitude of the two partners toward each other,
+apparently as unconstrained as before. Sometimes, however, when they
+were talking together in the office, with no one by, Risler would
+suddenly start convulsively, as a vision of the crime passed before his
+eyes.
+
+Then he would feel a mad longing to spring upon the villain, seize him
+by the throat, strangle him without mercy; but the thought of
+Madame "Chorche" was always there to restrain him. Should he be less
+courageous, less master of himself than that young wife? Neither Claire,
+nor Fromont, nor anybody else suspected what was in his mind. They could
+barely detect a severity, an inflexibility in his conduct, which were
+not habitual with him. Risler awed the workmen now; and those of them
+upon whom his white hair, blanched in one night, his drawn, prematurely
+old features did not impose respect, quailed before his strange glance-a
+glance from eyes of a bluish-black like the color of a gun-barrel.
+Whereas he had always been very kind and affable with the workmen, he
+had become pitilessly severe in regard to the slightest infraction of
+the rules. It seemed as if he were taking vengeance upon himself for
+some indulgence in the past, blind, culpable indulgence, for which he
+blamed himself.
+
+Surely he was a marvellous employe, was this new officer in the house of
+Fromont.
+
+Thanks to him, the factory bell, notwithstanding the quavering of its
+old, cracked voice, had very soon resumed its authority; and the man who
+guided the whole establishment denied himself the slightest recreation.
+Sober as an apprentice, he left three-fourths of his salary with Planus
+for the Chebes' allowance, but he never asked any questions about them.
+Punctually on the last day of the month the little man appeared to
+collect his little income, stiff and formal in his dealings with
+Sigismond, as became an annuitant on duty. Madame Chebe had tried to
+obtain an interview with her son-in-law, whom she pitied and loved; but
+the mere appearance of her palm-leaf shawl on the steps put Sidonie's
+husband to flight.
+
+In truth, the courage with which he armed himself was more apparent than
+real. The memory of his wife never left him. What had become of her?
+What was she doing? He was almost angry with Planus for never mentioning
+her. That letter, above all things, that letter which he had had the
+courage not to open, disturbed him. He thought of it continually. Ah!
+had he dared, how he would have liked to ask Sigismond for it!
+
+One day the temptation was too strong. He was alone in the office. The
+old cashier had gone out to luncheon, leaving the key in his drawer, a
+most extraordinary thing. Risler could not resist. He opened the
+drawer, moved the papers, and searched for his letter. It was not there.
+Sigismond must have put it away even more carefully, perhaps with a
+foreboding of what actually happened. In his heart Risler was not sorry
+for his disappointment; for he well knew that, had he found the letter,
+it would have been the end of the resigned and busy life which he
+imposed upon himself with so much difficulty.
+
+Through the week it was all very well. Life was endurable, absorbed by
+the innumerable duties of the factory, and so fatiguing that, when night
+came, Risler fell on his bed like a lifeless mass. But Sunday was long
+and sad. The silence of the deserted yards and workshops opened a far
+wider field to his thoughts. He tried to busy himself, but he missed
+the encouragement of the others' work. He alone was busy in that great,
+empty factory whose very breath was arrested. The locked doors, the
+closed blinds, the hoarse voice of Pere Achille playing with his dog
+in the deserted courtyard, all spoke of solitude. And the whole
+neighborhood also produced the same effect. In the streets, which seemed
+wider because of their emptiness, and where the passers-by were few
+and silent, the bells ringing for vespers had a melancholy sound,
+and sometimes an echo of the din of Paris, rumbling wheels, a belated
+hand-organ, the click of a toy-peddler's clappers, broke the silence, as
+if to make it even more noticeable.
+
+Risler would try to invent new combinations of flowers and leaves, and,
+while he handled his pencil, his thoughts, not finding sufficient food
+there, would escape him, would fly back to his past happiness, to his
+hopeless misfortunes, would suffer martyrdom, and then, on returning,
+would ask the poor somnambulist, still seated at his table: "What have
+you done in my absence?" Alas! he had done nothing.
+
+Oh! the long, heartbreaking, cruel Sundays! Consider that, mingled with
+all these perplexities in his mind, was the superstitious reverence
+of the common people for holy days, for the twenty-four hours of rest,
+wherein one recovers strength and courage. If he had gone out, the sight
+of a workingman with his wife and child would have made him weep, but
+his monastic seclusion gave him other forms of suffering, the despair
+of recluses, their terrible outbreaks of rebellion when the god to whom
+they have consecrated themselves does not respond to their sacrifices.
+Now, Risler's god was work, and as he no longer found comfort or
+serenity therein, he no longer believed in it, but cursed it.
+
+Often in those hours of mental struggle the door of the draughting-room
+would open gently and Claire Fromont would appear. The poor man's
+loneliness throughout those long Sunday afternoons filled her with
+compassion, and she would come with her little girl to keep him
+company, knowing by experience how contagious is the sweet joyousness of
+children. The little one, who could now walk alone, would slip from
+her mother's arms to run to her friend. Risler would hear the little,
+hurrying steps. He would feel the light breath behind him, and instantly
+he would be conscious of a soothing, rejuvenating influence. She would
+throw her plump little arms around his neck with affectionate warmth,
+with her artless, causeless laugh, and a kiss from that little mouth
+which never had lied. Claire Fromont, standing in the doorway, would
+smile as she looked at them.
+
+"Risler, my friend," she would say, "you must come down into the garden
+a while,--you work too hard. You will be ill."
+
+"No, no, Madame,--on the contrary, work is what saves me. It keeps me
+from thinking."
+
+Then, after a long pause, she would continue:
+
+"Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget."
+
+Risler would shake his head.
+
+"Forget? Is that possible? There are some things beyond one's strength.
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets."
+
+The child almost always succeeded in dragging him down to the garden.
+He must play ball, or in the sand, with her; but her playfellow's
+awkwardness and lack of enthusiasm soon impressed the little girl. Then
+she would become very sedate, contenting herself with walking gravely
+between the hedges of box, with her hand in her friend's. After a moment
+Risler would entirely forget that she was there; but, although he did
+not realize it, the warmth of that little hand in his had a magnetic,
+softening effect upon his diseased mind.
+
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets!
+
+Poor Claire herself knew something about it; for she had never
+forgotten, notwithstanding her great courage and the conception she
+had formed of her duty. To her, as to Risler; her surroundings were a
+constant reminder of her sufferings. The objects amid which she lived
+pitilessly reopened the wound that was ready to close. The staircase,
+the garden, the courtyard, all those dumb witnesses of her husband's
+sin, assumed on certain days an implacable expression. Even the careful
+precaution her husband took to spare her painful reminders, the way in
+which he called attention to the fact that he no longer went out in the
+evening, and took pains to tell her where he had been during the
+day, served only to remind her the more forcibly of his wrong-doing.
+Sometimes she longed to ask him to forbear,--to say to him: "Do not
+protest too much." Faith was shattered within her, and the horrible
+agony of the priest who doubts, and seeks at the same time to remain
+faithful to his vows, betrayed itself in her bitter smile, her cold,
+uncomplaining gentleness.
+
+Georges was wofully unhappy. He loved his wife now. The nobility of her
+character had conquered him. There was admiration in his love, and--why
+not say it?--Claire's sorrow filled the place of the coquetry which was
+contrary to her nature, the lack of which had always been a defect in
+her husband's eyes. He was one of that strange type of men who love to
+make conquests. Sidonie, capricious and cold as she was, responded to
+that whim of his heart. After parting from her with a tender farewell,
+he found her indifferent and forgetful the next day, and that continual
+need of wooing her back to him took the place of genuine passion.
+Serenity in love bored him as a voyage without storms wearies a sailor.
+On this occasion he had been very near shipwreck with his wife, and the
+danger had not passed even yet. He knew that Claire was alienated
+from him and devoted entirely to the child, the only link between them
+thenceforth. Their separation made her seem lovelier, more desirable,
+and he exercised all his powers of fascination to recapture her. He
+knew how hard a task it would be, and that he had no ordinary, frivolous
+nature to deal with. But he did not despair. Sometimes a vague gleam in
+the depths of the mild and apparently impassive glance with which she
+watched his efforts, bade him hope.
+
+As for Sidonie, he no longer thought of her. Let no one be astonished at
+that abrupt mental rupture. Those two superficial beings had nothing to
+attach them securely to each other. Georges was incapable of receiving
+lasting impressions unless they were continually renewed; Sidonie, for
+her part, had no power to inspire any noble or durable sentiment. It was
+one of those intrigues between a cocotte and a coxcomb, compounded of
+vanity and of wounded self-love, which inspire neither devotion nor
+constancy, but tragic adventures, duels, suicides which are rarely
+fatal, and which end in a radical cure. Perhaps, had he seen her again,
+he might have had a relapse of his disease; but the impetus of flight
+had carried Sidonie away so swiftly and so far that her return was
+impossible. At all events, it was a relief for him to be able to live
+without lying; and the new life he was leading, a life of hard work
+and self-denial, with the goal of success in the distance, was not
+distasteful to him. Luckily; for the courage and determination of both
+partners were none too much to put the house on its feet once more.
+
+The poor house of Fromont had sprung leaks on all sides. So Pere Planus
+still had wretched nights, haunted by the nightmare of notes maturing
+and the ominous vision of the little blue man. But, by strict economy,
+they always succeeded in paying.
+
+Soon four Risler Presses were definitively set up and used in the work
+of the factory. People began to take a deep interest in them and in
+the wall-paper trade. Lyons, Caen, Rixbeim, the great centres of the
+industry, were much disturbed concerning that marvellous "rotary and
+dodecagonal" machine. One fine day the Prochassons appeared, and offered
+three hundred thousand francs simply for an interest in the patent
+rights.
+
+"What shall we do?" Fromont Jeune asked Risler Aine.
+
+The latter shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+
+"Decide for yourself. It doesn't concern me. I am only an employe."
+
+The words, spoken coldly, without anger, fell heavily upon Fromont's
+bewildered joy, and reminded him of the gravity of a situation which he
+was always on the point of forgetting.
+
+But when he was alone with his dear Madame "Chorche," Risler advised her
+not to accept the Prochassons' offer.
+
+"Wait,--don't be in a hurry. Later you will have a better offer."
+
+He spoke only of them in that affair in which his own share was so
+glorious. She felt that he was preparing to cut himself adrift from
+their future.
+
+Meanwhile orders came pouring in and accumulated on their hands. The
+quality of the paper, the reduced price because of the improved methods
+of manufacture, made competition impossible. There was no doubt that a
+colossal fortune was in store for the house of Fromont. The factory had
+resumed its former flourishing aspect and its loud, business-like hum.
+Intensely alive were all the great buildings and the hundreds of workmen
+who filled them. Pere Planus never raised his nose from his desk; one
+could see him from the little garden, leaning over his great ledgers,
+jotting down in magnificently molded figures the profits of the Risler
+press.
+
+Risler still worked as before, without change or rest. The return of
+prosperity brought no alteration in his secluded habits, and from the
+highest window on the topmost floor of the house he listened to the
+ceaseless roar of his machines. He was no less gloomy, no less silent.
+One day, however, it became known at the factory that the press, a
+specimen of which had been sent to the great Exposition at Manchester,
+had received the gold medal, whereby its success was definitely
+established. Madame Georges called Risler into the garden at the
+luncheon hour, wishing to be the first to tell him the good news.
+
+For the moment a proud smile relaxed his prematurely old, gloomy
+features. His inventor's vanity, his pride in his renown, above all, the
+idea of repairing thus magnificently the wrong done to the family by his
+wife, gave him a moment of true happiness. He pressed Claire's hands and
+murmured, as in the old days:
+
+"I am very happy! I am very happy!"
+
+But what a difference in tone! He said it without enthusiasm,
+hopelessly, with the satisfaction of a task accomplished, and nothing
+more.
+
+The bell rang for the workmen to return, and Risler went calmly upstairs
+to resume his work as on other days.
+
+In a moment he came down again. In spite of all, that news had excited
+him more than he cared to show. He wandered about the garden, prowled
+around the counting-room, smiling sadly at Pere Planus through the
+window.
+
+"What ails him?" the old cashier wondered. "What does he want of me?"
+
+At last, when night came and it was time to close the office, Risler
+summoned courage to go and speak to him.
+
+"Planus, my old friend, I should like--"
+
+He hesitated a moment.
+
+"I should like you to give me the--letter, you know, the little letter
+and the package."
+
+Sigismond stared at him in amazement. In his innocence, he had imagined
+that Risler never thought of Sidonie, that he had entirely forgotten
+her.
+
+"What--you want--?"
+
+"Ah! I have well earned it; I can think of myself a little now. I have
+thought enough of others."
+
+"You are right," said Planus. "Well, this is what we'll do. The letter
+and package are at my house at Montrouge. If you choose, we will go
+and dine together at the Palais-Royal, as in the good old times. I will
+stand treat. We'll water your medal with a bottle of wine; something
+choice! Then we'll go to the house together. You can get your trinkets,
+and if it's too late for you to go home, Mademoiselle Planus, my sister,
+shall make up a bed for you, and you shall pass the night with us. We
+are very comfortable there--it's in the country. To-morrow morning at
+seven o'clock we'll come back to the factory by the first omnibus. Come,
+old fellow, give me this pleasure. If you don't, I shall think you still
+bear your old Sigismond a grudge."
+
+Risler accepted. He cared little about celebrating the award of his
+medal, but he desired to gain a few hours before opening the little
+letter he had at last earned the right to read.
+
+He must dress. That was quite a serious matter, for he had lived in a
+workman's jacket during the past six months. And what an event in the
+factory! Madame Fromont was informed at once.
+
+"Madame, Madame! Monsieur Risler is going out!"
+
+Claire looked at him from her window, and that tall form, bowed by
+sorrow, leaning on Sigismond's arm, aroused in her a profound, unusual
+emotion which she remembered ever after.
+
+In the street people bowed to Risler with great interest. Even their
+greetings warmed his heart. He was so much in need of kindness! But the
+noise of vehicles made him a little dizzy.
+
+"My head is spinning," he said to Planus:
+
+"Lean hard on me, old fellow-don't be afraid."
+
+And honest Planus drew himself up, escorting his friend with the
+artless, unconventional pride of a peasant of the South bearing aloft
+his village saint.
+
+At last they arrived at the Palais-Royal.
+
+The garden was full of people. They had come to hear the music, and were
+trying to find seats amid clouds of dust and the scraping of chairs. The
+two friends hurried into the restaurant to avoid all that turmoil. They
+established themselves in one of the large salons on the first floor,
+whence they could see the green trees, the promenaders, and the water
+spurting from the fountain between the two melancholy flower-gardens.
+To Sigismond it was the ideal of luxury, that restaurant, with gilding
+everywhere, around the mirrors, in the chandelier and even on the
+figured wallpaper. The white napkin, the roll, the menu of a table
+d'hote dinner filled his soul with joy. "We are comfortable here, aren't
+we?" he said to Risler.
+
+And he exclaimed at each of the courses of that banquet at two francs
+fifty, and insisted on filling his friend's plate.
+
+"Eat that--it's good."
+
+The other, notwithstanding his desire to do honor to the fete, seemed
+preoccupied and gazed out-of-doors.
+
+"Do you remember, Sigismond?" he said, after a pause.
+
+The old cashier, engrossed in his memories of long ago, of Risler's
+first employment at the factory, replied:
+
+"I should think I do remember--listen! The first time we dined together
+at the Palais-Royal was in February, 'forty-six, the year we put in the
+planches-plates at the factory."
+
+Risler shook his head.
+
+"Oh! no--I mean three years ago. It was in that room just opposite that
+we dined on that memorable evening."
+
+And he pointed to the great windows of the salon of Cafe Vefour,
+gleaming in the rays of the setting sun like the chandeliers at a
+wedding feast.
+
+"Ah! yes, true," murmured Sigismond, abashed. What an unlucky idea of
+his to bring his friend to a place that recalled such painful things!
+
+Risler, not wishing to cast a gloom upon their banquet, abruptly raised
+his glass.
+
+"Come! here's your health, my old comrade."
+
+He tried to change the subject. But a moment later he himself led the
+conversation back to it again, and asked Sigismond, in an undertone, as
+if he were ashamed:
+
+"Have you seen her?"
+
+"Your wife? No, never."
+
+"She hasn't written again?"
+
+"No--never again."
+
+"But you must have heard of her. What has she been doing these six
+months? Does she live with her parents?"
+
+"No."
+
+Risler turned pale.
+
+He hoped that Sidonie would have returned to her mother, that she would
+have worked, as he had worked, to forget and atone. He had often thought
+that he would arrange his life according to what he should learn of
+her when he should have the right to speak of her; and in one of those
+far-off visions of the future, which have the vagueness of a dream, he
+sometimes fancied himself living in exile with the Chebes in an unknown
+land, where nothing would remind him of his past shame. It was not a
+definite plan, to be sure; but the thought lived in the depths of his
+mind like a hope, caused by the need that all human creatures feel of
+finding their lost happiness.
+
+"Is she in Paris?" he asked, after a few moments' reflection.
+
+"No. She went away three months ago. No one knows where she has gone."
+
+Sigismond did not add that she had gone with her Cazaboni, whose name
+she now bore, that they were making the circuit of the provincial cities
+together, that her mother was in despair, never saw her, and heard
+of her only through Delobelle. Sigismond did not deem it his duty to
+mention all that, and after his last words he held his peace.
+
+Risler, for his part, dared ask no further questions.
+
+While they sat there, facing each other, both embarrassed by the long
+silence, the military band began to play under the trees in the garden.
+They played one of those Italian operatic overtures which seem to have
+been written expressly for public open-air resorts; the swiftly-flowing
+notes, as they rise into the air, blend with the call of the swallows
+and the silvery plash of the fountain. The blaring brass brings out in
+bold relief the mild warmth of the closing hours of those summer days,
+so long and enervating in Paris; it seems as if one could hear nothing
+else. The distant rumbling of wheels, the cries of children playing, the
+footsteps of the promenaders are wafted away in those resonant, gushing,
+refreshing waves of melody, as useful to the people of Paris as the
+daily watering of their streets. On all sides the faded flowers, the
+trees white with dust, the faces made pale and wan by the heat, all the
+sorrows, all the miseries of a great city, sitting dreamily, with bowed
+head, on the benches in the garden, feel its comforting, refreshing
+influence. The air is stirred, renewed by those strains that traverse
+it, filling it with harmony.
+
+Poor Risler felt as if the tension upon all his nerves were relaxed.
+
+"A little music does one good," he said, with glistening eyes. "My heart
+is heavy, old fellow," he added, in a lower tone; "if you knew--"
+
+They sat without speaking, their elbows resting on the window-sill,
+while their coffee was served.
+
+Then the music ceased, the garden became deserted. The light that had
+loitered in the corners crept upward to the roofs, cast its last rays
+upon the highest windowpanes, followed by the birds, the swallows, which
+saluted the close of day with a farewell chirp from the gutter where
+they were huddled together.
+
+"Now, where shall we go?" said Planus, as they left the restaurant.
+
+"Wherever you wish."
+
+On the first floor of a building on the Rue Montpensier, close at hand,
+was a cafe chantant, where many people entered.
+
+"Suppose we go in," said Planus, desirous of banishing his friend's
+melancholy at any cost, "the beer is excellent."
+
+Risler assented to the suggestion; he had not tasted beer for six
+months.
+
+It was a former restaurant transformed into a concert-hall. There were
+three large rooms, separated by gilded pillars, the partitions having
+been removed; the decoration was in the Moorish style, bright red, pale
+blue, with little crescents and turbans for ornament.
+
+Although it was still early, the place was full; and even before
+entering one had a feeling of suffocation, simply from seeing the crowds
+of people sitting around the tables, and at the farther end, half-hidden
+by the rows of pillars, a group of white-robed women on a raised
+platform, in the heat and glare of the gas.
+
+Our two friends had much difficulty in finding seats, and had to be
+content with a place behind a pillar whence they could see only half of
+the platform, then occupied by a superb person in black coat and yellow
+gloves, curled and waxed and oiled, who was singing in a vibrating
+voice--
+
+          Mes beaux lions aux crins dores,
+          Du sang des troupeaux alteres,
+          Halte la!--Je fais sentinello!
+
+          [My proud lions with golden manes
+          Who thirst for the blood of my flocks,
+          Stand back!--I am on guard!]
+
+The audience--small tradesmen of the quarter with their wives and
+daughters-seemed highly enthusiastic: especially the women. He
+represented so perfectly the ideal of the shopkeeper imagination, that
+magnificent shepherd of the desert, who addressed lions with such an
+air of authority and tended his flocks in full evening dress. And
+so, despite their bourgeois bearing, their modest costumes and their
+expressionless shop-girl smiles, all those women, made up their little
+mouths to be caught by the hook of sentiment, and cast languishing
+glances upon the singer. It was truly comical to see that glance at the
+platform suddenly change and become contemptuous and fierce as it fell
+upon the husband, the poor husband tranquilly drinking a glass of beer
+opposite his wife: "You would never be capable of doing sentry duty
+in the very teeth of lions, and in a black coat too, and with yellow
+gloves!"
+
+And the husband's eye seemed to reply:
+
+"Ah! 'dame', yes, he's quite a dashing buck, that fellow."
+
+Being decidedly indifferent to heroism of that stamp, Risler and
+Sigismond were drinking their beer without paying much attention to the
+music, when, at the end of the song, amid the applause and cries and
+uproar that followed it, Pere Planus uttered an exclamation:
+
+"Why, that is odd; one would say--but no, I'm not mistaken. It is he,
+it's Delobelle!"
+
+It was, in fact, the illustrious actor, whom he had discovered in the
+front row near the platform. His gray head was turned partly away from
+them. He was leaning carelessly against a pillar, hat in hand, in his
+grand make-up as leading man: dazzlingly white linen, hair curled with
+the tongs, black coat with a camellia in the buttonhole, like the
+ribbon of an order. He glanced at the crowd from time to time with a
+patronizing air: but his eyes were most frequently turned toward the
+platform, with encouraging little gestures and smiles and pretended
+applause, addressed to some one whom Pere Planus could not see from his
+seat.
+
+There was nothing very extraordinary in the presence of the illustrious
+Delobelle at a cafe concert, as he spent all his evenings away from
+home; and yet the old cashier felt vaguely disturbed, especially when he
+discovered in the same row a blue cape and a pair of steely eyes. It was
+Madame Dobson, the sentimental singing-teacher. The conjunction of those
+two faces amid the pipe-smoke and the confusion of the crowd, produced
+upon Sigismond the effect of two ghosts evoked by a bad dream. He was
+afraid for his friend, without knowing exactly why; and suddenly it
+occurred to him to take him away.
+
+"Let us go, Risler. The heat here is enough to kill one."
+
+Just as they rose--for Risler was no more desirous to stay than to
+go--the orchestra, consisting of a piano and several violins, began a
+peculiar refrain. There was a flutter of curiosity throughout the room,
+and cries of "Hush! hush! sit down!"
+
+They were obliged to resume their seats. Risler, too, was beginning to
+be disturbed.
+
+"I know that tune," he said to himself. "Where have I heard it?"
+
+A thunder of applause and an exclamation from Planus made him raise his
+eyes.
+
+"Come, come, let us go," said the cashier, trying to lead him away.
+
+But it was too late.
+
+Risler had already seen his wife come forward to the front of the stage
+and curtsey to the audience with a ballet-dancer's smile.
+
+She wore a white gown, as on the night of the ball; but her whole
+costume was much less rich and shockingly immodest.
+
+The dress was barely caught together at the shoulders; her hair floated
+in a blond mist low over her eyes, and around her neck was a necklace of
+pearls too large to be real, alternated with bits of tinsel. Delobelle
+was right: the Bohemian life was better suited to her. Her beauty
+had gained an indefinably reckless expression, which was its most
+characteristic feature, and made her a perfect type of the woman who
+has escaped from all restraint, placed herself at the mercy of every
+accident, and is descending stage by stage to the lowest depths of the
+Parisian hell, from which nothing is powerful enough to lift her and
+restore her to the pure air and the light.
+
+And how perfectly at ease she seemed in her strolling life! With what
+self-possession she walked to the front of the stage! Ah! could she have
+seen the desperate, terrible glance fixed upon her down there in
+the hall, concealed behind a pillar, her smile would have lost
+that equivocal placidity, her voice would have sought in vain those
+wheedling, languorous tones in which she warbled the only song Madame
+Dobson had ever been able to teach her:
+
+          Pauv' pitit Mamz'elle Zizi,
+          C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li.
+
+Risler had risen, in spite of Planus's efforts. "Sit down! sit down!"
+the people shouted. The wretched man heard nothing. He was staring at
+his wife.
+
+          C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne
+          La tete a li,
+
+Sidonie repeated affectedly.
+
+For a moment he wondered whether he should not leap on the platform
+and kill her. Red flames shot before his eyes, and he was blinded with
+frenzy.
+
+Then, suddenly, shame and disgust seized upon him and he rushed from
+the hall, overturning chairs and tables, pursued by the terror and
+imprecations of all those scandalized bourgeois.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. SIDONIE'S VENGEANCE
+
+Never had Sigismond Planus returned home so late without giving his
+sister warning, during the twenty years and more that he had lived at
+Montrouge. Consequently Mademoiselle Planus was greatly worried. Living
+in community of ideas and of everything else with her brother, having
+but one mind for herself and for him, the old maid had felt for several
+months the rebound of all the cashier's anxiety and indignation; and
+the effect was still noticeable in her tendency to tremble and
+become agitated on slight provocation. At the slightest tardiness on
+Sigismond's part, she would think:
+
+"Ah! mon Dieu! If only nothing has happened at the factory!"
+
+That is the reason why on the evening in question, when the hens and
+chickens were all asleep on their perches, and the dinner had been
+removed untouched, Mademoiselle Planus was sitting in the little
+ground-floor living-room, waiting, in great agitation.
+
+At last, about eleven o'clock, some one rang. A timid, melancholy ring,
+in no wise resembling Sigismond's vigorous pull.
+
+"Is it you, Monsieur Planus?" queried the old lady from behind the door.
+
+It was he; but he was not alone. A tall, bent old man accompanied him,
+and, as they entered, bade her good-evening in a slow, hesitating voice.
+Not till then did Mademoiselle Planus recognize Risler Aine, whom she
+had not seen since the days of the New Year's calls, that is to say,
+some time before the dramas at the factory. She could hardly restrain an
+exclamation of pity; but the grave taciturnity of the two men told her
+that she must be silent.
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, you will put clean sheets on my bed.
+Our friend Risler does us the honor to pass the night with us."
+
+The sister hastened away to prepare the bedroom with an almost
+affectionate zeal; for, as we know, beside "Monsieur Planus, my
+brother," Risler was the only man excepted from the general reprobation
+in which she enveloped the whole male sex.
+
+Upon leaving the cafe concert, Sidonie's husband had had a moment of
+frantic excitement. He leaned on Planus's arm, every nerve in his body
+strained to the utmost. At that moment he had no thought of going to
+Montrouge to get the letter and the package.
+
+"Leave me--go away," he said to Sigismond. "I must be alone."
+
+But the other knew better than to abandon him thus to his despair.
+Unnoticed by Risler, he led him away from the factory, and as his
+affectionate heart suggested to the old cashier what he had best say to
+his friend, he talked to him all the time of Frantz, his little Frantz
+whom he loved so dearly.
+
+"That was genuine affection, genuine and trustworthy. No treachery to
+fear with such hearts as that!"
+
+While they talked they left behind them the noisy streets of the centre
+of Paris. They walked along the quays, skirted the Jardin des Plantes,
+plunged into Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Risler followed where the other
+led. Sigismond's words did him so much good!
+
+In due time they came to the Bievre, bordered at that point with
+tanneries whose tall drying-houses with open sides were outlined in blue
+against the sky; and then the ill-defined plains of Montsouris, vast
+tracts of land scorched and stripped of vegetation by the fiery breath
+that Paris exhales around its daily toil, like a monstrous dragon, whose
+breath of flame and smoke suffers no vegetation within its range.
+
+From Montsouris to the fortifications of Montrouge is but a step. When
+they had reached that point, Planus had no great difficulty in taking
+his friend home with him. He thought, and justly, that his tranquil
+fireside, the spectacle of a placid, fraternal, devoted affection, would
+give the wretched man's heart a sort of foretaste of the happiness that
+was in store for him with his brother Frantz. And, in truth, the charm
+of the little household began to work as soon as they arrived.
+
+"Yes, yes, you are right, old fellow," said Risler, pacing the floor of
+the living-room, "I mustn't think of that woman any more. She's like
+a dead woman to me now. I have nobody left in the world but my little
+Frantz; I don't know yet whether I shall send for him to come home, or
+go out and join him; the one thing that is certain is that we are going
+to stay together. Ah! I longed so to have a son! Now I have found one.
+I want no other. When I think that for a moment I had an idea of killing
+myself! Nonsense! it would make Madame What-d'ye-call-her, yonder, too
+happy. On the contrary, I mean to live--to live with my Frantz, and for
+him, and for nothing else."
+
+"Bravo!" said Sigismond, "that's the way I like to hear you talk."
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus came to say that the room was ready.
+
+Risler apologized for the trouble he was causing them.
+
+"You are so comfortable, so happy here. Really, it's too bad to burden
+you with my melancholy."
+
+"Ah! my old friend, you can arrange just such happiness as ours for
+yourself," said honest Sigismond with beaming face. "I have my sister,
+you have your brother. What do we lack?"
+
+Risler smiled vaguely. He fancied himself already installed with Frantz
+in a quiet little quakerish house like that.
+
+Decidedly, that was an excellent idea of Pere Planus.
+
+"Come to bed," he said triumphantly. "We'll go and show you your room."
+
+Sigismond Planus's bedroom was on the ground floor, a large room simply
+but neatly furnished; with muslin curtains at the windows and the bed,
+and little squares of carpet on the polished floor, in front of the
+chairs. The dowager Madame Fromont herself could have found nothing to
+say as to the orderly and cleanly aspect of the place. On a shelf or
+two against the wall were a few books: Manual of Fishing, The Perfect
+Country Housewife, Bayeme's Book-keeping. That was the whole of the
+intellectual equipment of the room.
+
+Pere Planus glanced proudly around. The glass of water was in its place
+on the walnut table, the box of razors on the dressing-case.
+
+"You see, Risler. Here is everything you need. And if you should want
+anything else, the keys are in all the drawers--you have only to turn
+them. Just see what a beautiful view you get from here. It's a little
+dark just now, but when you wake up in the morning you'll see; it is
+magnificent."
+
+He opened the widow. Great drops of rain were beginning to fall, and
+lightning flashes rending the darkness disclosed the long, silent
+line of the fortifications, with telegraph poles at intervals, or the
+frowning door of a casemate. Now and then the footsteps of a patrol
+making the rounds, the clash of muskets or swords, reminded them that
+they were within the military zone.
+
+That was the outlook so vaunted by Planus--a melancholy outlook if ever
+there were one.
+
+"And now good-night. Sleep well!"
+
+But, as the old cashier was leaving the room, his friend called him
+back:
+
+"Sigismond."
+
+"Here!" said Sigismond, and he waited.
+
+Risler blushed slightly and moved his lips like a man who is about to
+speak; then, with a mighty effort, he said:
+
+"No, no-nothing. Good-night, old man."
+
+In the dining-room the brother and sister talked together a long while
+in low tones. Planus described the terrible occurrence of the evening,
+the meeting with Sidonie; and you can imagine the--"Oh! these
+women!" and "Oh! these men?" At last, when they had locked the little
+garden-door, Mademoiselle Planus went up to her room, and Sigismond made
+himself as comfortable as possible in a small cabinet adjoining.
+
+About midnight the cashier was aroused by his sister calling him in a
+terrified whisper:
+
+"Monsieur Planus, my brother?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"No. What?"
+
+"Oh! it was awful. Something like a deep sigh, but so loud and so sad!
+It came from the room below."
+
+They listened. Without, the rain was falling in torrents, with the
+dreary rustling of leaves that makes the country seem so lonely.
+
+"That is only the wind," said Planus.
+
+"I am sure not. Hush! Listen!"
+
+Amid the tumult of the storm, they heard a wailing sound, like a sob, in
+which a name was pronounced with difficulty:
+
+"Frantz! Frantz!"
+
+It was terrible and pitiful.
+
+When Christ on the Cross sent up to heaven His despairing cry: 'Eli,
+eli, lama sabachthani', they who heard him must have felt the same
+species of superstitious terror that suddenly seized upon Mademoiselle
+Planus.
+
+"I am afraid!" she whispered; "suppose you go and look--"
+
+"No, no, we will let him alone. He is thinking of his brother. Poor
+fellow! It's the very thought of all others that will do him the most
+good."
+
+And the old cashier went to sleep again.
+
+The next morning he woke as usual when the drums beat the reveille
+in the fortifications; for the little family, surrounded by barracks,
+regulated its life by the military calls. The sister had already risen
+and was feeding the poultry. When she saw Sigismond she came to him in
+agitation.
+
+"It is very strange," she said, "I hear nothing stirring in Monsieur
+Risler's room. But the window is wide open."
+
+Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend's door.
+
+"Risler! Risler!"
+
+He called in great anxiety:
+
+"Risler, are you there? Are you asleep?"
+
+There was no reply. He opened the door.
+
+The room was cold. It was evident that the damp air had been blowing
+in all night through the open window. At the first glance at the
+bed, Sigismond thought: "He hasn't been in bed"--for the clothes were
+undisturbed and the condition of the room, even in the most trivial
+details, revealed an agitated vigil: the still smoking lamp, which he
+had neglected to extinguish, the carafe, drained to the last drop by
+the fever of sleeplessness; but the thing that filled the cashier with
+dismay was to find the bureau drawer wide open in which he had carefully
+bestowed the letter and package entrusted to him by his friend.
+
+The letter was no longer there. The package lay on the table, open,
+revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen. With her high-necked
+frock, her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed
+pose of an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle
+Le Mire's apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day.
+And that was the reason why Risler had kept that photograph, as a
+souvenir, not of his wife, but of the "little one."
+
+Sigismond was in great dismay.
+
+"This is my fault," he said to himself. "I ought to have taken away the
+keys. But who would have supposed that he was still thinking of her? He
+had sworn so many times that that woman no longer existed for him."
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation
+written on her face.
+
+"Monsieur Risler has gone!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Gone? Why, wasn't the garden-gate locked?"
+
+"He must have climbed over the wall. You can see his footprints."
+
+They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure.
+
+"It was the letter!" thought Planus.
+
+Evidently that letter from his wife must have made some extraordinary
+revelation to Risler; and, in order not to disturb his hosts, he had
+made his escape noiselessly through the window, like a burglar. Why?
+With what aim in view?
+
+"You will see, sister," said poor Planus, as he dressed with all haste,
+"you will see that that hussy has played him still another trick." And
+when his sister tried to encourage him, he recurred to his favorite
+refrain:
+
+"I haf no gonfidence!"
+
+As soon as he was dressed, he darted out of the house.
+
+Risler's footprints could be distinguished on the wet ground as far as
+the gate of the little garden. He must have gone before daylight, for
+the beds of vegetables and flowers were trampled down at random by deep
+footprints with long spaces between; there were marks of heels on the
+garden-wall and the mortar was crumbled slightly on top. The brother and
+sister went out on the road skirting the fortifications. There it was
+impossible to follow the footprints. They could tell nothing more than
+that Risler had gone in the direction of the Orleans road.
+
+"After all," Mademoiselle Planus ventured to say, "we are very foolish
+to torment ourselves about him; perhaps he has simply gone back to the
+factory."
+
+Sigismond shook his head. Ah! if he had said all that he thought!
+
+"Return to the house, sister. I will go and see."
+
+And with the old "I haf no gonfidence" he rushed away like a hurricane,
+his white mane standing even more erect than usual.
+
+At that hour, on the road near the fortifications, was an endless
+procession of soldiers and market-gardeners, guard-mounting, officers'
+horses out for exercise, sutlers with their paraphernalia, all the
+bustle and activity that is seen in the morning in the neighborhood
+of forts. Planus was striding along amid the tumult, when suddenly he
+stopped. At the foot of the bank, on the left, in front of a small,
+square building, with the inscription.
+
+               CITY OF PARIS,
+            ENTRANCE TO THE QUARRIES,
+
+On the rough plaster, he saw a crowd assembled, and soldiers' and
+custom-house officers' uniforms, mingled with the shabby, dirty blouses
+of barracks-loafers. The old man instinctively approached. A customs
+officer, seated on the stone step below a round postern with iron bars,
+was talking with many gestures, as if he were acting out his narrative.
+
+"He was where I am," he said. "He had hanged himself sitting, by pulling
+with all his strength on the rope! It's clear that he had made up his
+mind to die, for he had a razor in his pocket that he would have used in
+case the rope had broken."
+
+A voice in the crowd exclaimed: "Poor devil!" Then another, a tremulous
+voice, choking with emotion, asked timidly:
+
+"Is it quite certain that he's dead?"
+
+Everybody looked at Planus and began to laugh.
+
+"Well, here's a greenhorn," said the officer. "Don't I tell you that
+he was all blue this morning, when we cut him down to take him to the
+chasseurs' barracks!"
+
+The barracks were not far away; and yet Sigismond Planus had the
+greatest difficulty in the world in dragging himself so far. In vain
+did he say to himself that suicides are of frequent occurrence in Paris,
+especially in those regions; that not a day passes that a dead body
+is not found somewhere along that line of fortifications, as upon
+the shores of a tempestuous sea,--he could not escape the terrible
+presentiment that had oppressed his heart since early morning.
+
+"Ah! you have come to see the man that hanged himself," said the
+quartermaster-sergeant at the door of the barracks. "See! there he is."
+
+The body had been laid on a table supported by trestles in a sort of
+shed. A cavalry cloak that had been thrown over it covered it from head
+to foot, and fell in the shroud-like folds which all draperies assume
+that come in contact with the rigidity of death. A group of officers
+and several soldiers in duck trousers were looking on at a distance,
+whispering as if in a church; and an assistant-surgeon was writing a
+report of the death on a high window-ledge. To him Sigismond spoke.
+
+"I should like very much to see him," he said softly.
+
+"Go and look."
+
+He walked to the table, hesitated a minute, then, summoning courage,
+uncovered a swollen face, a tall, motionless body in its rain-soaked
+garments.
+
+"She has killed you at last, my old comrade!" murmured Planus, and fell
+on his knees, sobbing bitterly.
+
+The officers had come forward, gazing curiously at the body, which was
+left uncovered.
+
+"Look, surgeon," said one of them. "His hand is closed, as if he were
+holding something in it."
+
+"That is true," the surgeon replied, drawing nearer. "That sometimes
+happens in the last convulsions.
+
+"You remember at Solferino, Commandant Bordy held his little daughter's
+miniature in his hand like that? We had much difficulty in taking it
+from him."
+
+As he spoke he tried to open the poor, tightly-closed dead hand.
+
+"Look!" said he, "it is a letter that he is holding so tight."
+
+He was about to read it; but one of the officers took it from his hands
+and passed it to Sigismond, who was still kneeling.
+
+"Here, Monsieur. Perhaps you will find in this some last wish to be
+carried out."
+
+Sigismond Planus rose. As the light in the room was dim, he walked with
+faltering step to the window, and read, his eyes filled with tears:
+
+"Well, yes, I love you, I love you, more than ever and forever! What
+is the use of struggling and fighting against fate? Our sin is stronger
+than we..."
+
+It was the letter which Frantz had written to his sister-in-law a year
+before, and which Sidonie had sent to her husband on the day following
+their terrible scene, to revenge herself on him and his brother at the
+same time.
+
+Risler could have survived his wife's treachery, but that of his brother
+had killed him.
+
+When Sigismond understood, he was petrified with horror. He stood
+there, with the letter in his hand, gazing mechanically through the open
+window.
+
+The clock struck six.
+
+Yonder, over Paris, whose dull roar they could hear although they could
+not see the city, a cloud of smoke arose, heavy and hot, moving slowly
+upward, with a fringe of red and black around its edges, like the
+powder-smoke on a field of battle. Little by little, steeples, white
+buildings, a gilded cupola, emerged from the mist, and burst forth in a
+splendid awakening.
+
+Then the thousands of tall factory chimneys, towering above that sea of
+clustered roofs, began with one accord to exhale their quivering vapor,
+with the energy of a steamer about to sail. Life was beginning anew.
+Forward, ye wheels of time! And so much the worse for him who lags
+behind!
+
+Thereupon old Planus gave way to a terrible outburst of wrath.
+
+"Ah! harlot-harlot!" he cried, shaking his fist; and no one could say
+whether he was addressing the woman or the city of Paris.
+
+
+     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     A man may forgive, but he never forgets
+     Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered
+     Affectation of indifference
+     Always smiling condescendingly
+     Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity
+     Clashing knives and forks mark time
+     Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!
+     Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
+     Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+     Exaggerated dramatic pantomime
+     Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen
+     He fixed the time mentally when he would speak
+     Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away
+     Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs
+     No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were
+     Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous
+     She was of those who disdain no compliment
+     Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter
+     Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works
+     Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings
+     The poor must pay for all their enjoyments
+     The groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture
+     Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come
+     Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
+     Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips
+     Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet
+
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, entire
+#67 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy
+#8 in our series by Alphonse Daudet
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
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+Title: Fromont and Risler, entire
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+Author: Alphonse Daudet
+
+Release Date: April, 2003  [Etext #3980]
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+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+
+With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio representing
+Naturalism in fiction.  He adopted the watchwords of that school, and by
+private friendship, no less than by a common profession of faith, was one
+of them.  But the students of the future, while recognizing an obvious
+affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to find Daudet's name
+conjoined with theirs.
+
+Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School.  But, above all, he
+was an impressionist.  All that can be observed--the individual picture,
+scene, character--Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all his
+novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing firmness
+of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of the
+sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
+Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to.  Feverish as his
+method of writing was--true to his Southern character he took endless
+pains to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from
+beginning to end.  He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and
+it is from this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth
+and the taste of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and
+women.  In the earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to
+episode or from scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner of
+the Goncourts.  But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the same
+school, but not of the same family.  Zola is methodical, Daudet
+spontaneous.  Zola works with documents, Daudet from the living fact.
+Zola is objective, Daudet with equal scope and fearlessness shows more
+personal feeling and hence more delicacy.  And in style also Zola is
+vast, architectural; Daudet slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive.
+And finally, in their philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of vice
+and wrong, but Daudet wins a love for what is good and true.
+
+Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840.  His father
+had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
+child, lost his property.  Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
+post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais.  In November, 1857, he settled
+in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest.  The
+autobiography, 'Le Petit Chose' (1868), gives graphic details about this
+period.  His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
+Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread.  He
+had secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the Corps
+Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the
+'Figaro', when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers.  Returning,
+he married toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose
+literary talent comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own.  After the
+death of the Duc de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to
+literature and published 'Lettres de mon Moulin' (1868), which also made
+his name favorably known.  He now turned from fiction to the drama, and
+it was not until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his
+vocation as a novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris
+and the humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without
+souring it.  Daudet's genial satire, 'Tartarin de Tarascon', appeared in
+1872; but with the Parisian romance 'Fromont jeune et Risler aine',
+crowned by the Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost
+rank of French novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts
+it, "the dawn of his popularity."
+
+How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
+translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with natural
+pride.  The book must be read to be appreciated.  "Risler, a self-made,
+honest man, raises himself socially into a society against the
+corruptness of which he has no defence and from which he escapes only by
+suicide.  Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and heartless
+woman; Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic simplicity
+of Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing."
+
+Success followed now after success.  'Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
+Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L'Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
+(1884); Tartarin sur des Alces (1886); L'Immortel (1888); Port Tarascon
+(1890); Rose et Ninette (1892); La petite Parvisse (1895); and Soutien de
+Famille (1899)'; such is the long list of the great life-artist.  In Le
+Nabab we find obvious traces of Daudet's visits to Algiers and Corsica-
+Mora is the Duc de Morny.  Sapho is the most concentrated of his novels,
+with never a divergence, never a break, in its development.  And of the
+theme--legitimate marriage contra common-law--what need be said except
+that he handled it in a manner most acceptable to the aesthetic and least
+offensive to the moral sense?
+
+L'Immortel is a satire springing from personal reasons; L'Evangeliste and
+Rose et Ninette--the latter on the divorce problem--may be classed as
+clever novels; but had Daudet never written more than 'Fromont et
+Risler', 'Tartarin sur les Alces', and 'Port Tarascon', these would keep
+him in lasting remembrance.
+
+We must not omit to mention also many 'contes' and his 'Trente ans de
+Paris (A travers ma vie et mes livres), Souvenirs d'un Homme de lettres
+(1888), and Notes sur la Vie (1899)'.
+
+Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897
+
+                                        LECONTE DE LISLE
+                                   de l'Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A WEDDING-PARTY AT THE CAFE VEFOUR
+
+"Madame Chebe!"
+
+"My boy--"
+
+"I am so happy!"
+
+This was the twentieth time that day that the good Risler had said that
+he was happy, and always with the same emotional and contented manner,
+in the same low, deep voice-the voice that is held in check by emotion
+and does not speak too loud for fear of suddenly breaking into violent
+tears.
+
+Not for the world would Risler have wept at that moment--imagine a newly-
+made husband giving way to tears in the midst of the wedding-festival!
+And yet he had a strong inclination to do so.  His happiness stifled him,
+held him by the throat, prevented the words from coming forth.  All that
+he could do was to murmur from time to time, with a slight trembling of
+the lips, "I am happy; I am happy!"
+
+Indeed, he had reason to be happy.
+
+Since early morning the poor man had fancied that he was being whirled
+along in one of those magnificent dreams from which one fears lest he may
+awake suddenly with blinded eyes; but it seemed to him as if this dream
+would never end.  It had begun at five o'clock in the morning, and at ten
+o'clock at night, exactly ten o'clock by Vefour's clock, he was still
+dreaming.
+
+How many things had happened during that day, and how vividly he
+remembered the most trivial details.
+
+He saw himself, at daybreak, striding up and down his bachelor quarters,
+delight mingled with impatience, clean-shaven, his coat on, and two pairs
+of white gloves in his pocket.  Then there were the wedding-coaches, and
+in the foremost one--the one with white horses, white reins, and a yellow
+damask lining--the bride, in her finery, floated by like a cloud.  Then
+the procession into the church, two by two, the white veil in advance,
+ethereal, and dazzling to behold.  The organ, the verger, the cure's
+sermon, the tapers casting their light upon jewels and spring gowns, and
+the throng of people in the sacristy, the tiny white cloud swallowed up,
+surrounded, embraced, while the bridegroom distributed hand-shakes among
+all the leading tradesmen of Paris, who had assembled to do him honor.
+And the grand crash from the organ at the close, made more solemn by the
+fact that the church door was thrown wide open, so that the whole street
+took part in the family ceremony--the music passing through the vestibule
+at the same time with the procession--the exclamations of the crowd, and
+a burnisher in an ample lute-string apron remarking in a loud voice, "The
+groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture."  That is
+the kind of thing that makes you proud when you happen to be the
+bridegroom.
+
+And then the breakfast at the factory, in a workroom adorned with
+hangings and flowers; the drive in the Bois--a concession to the wishes
+of his mother-in-law, Madame Chebe, who, being the petty Parisian
+bourgeoise that she was, would not have deemed her daughter legally
+married without a drive around the lake and a visit to the Cascade.
+Then the return for dinner, as the lamps were being lighted along the
+boulevard, where people turned to look after the wedding-party, a typical
+well-to-do bourgeois wedding-party, as it drove up to the grand entrance
+at Vefour's with all the style the livery horses could command.
+
+Risler had reached that point in his dream.
+
+And now the worthy man, dazed with fatigue and well-being, glanced
+vaguely about that huge table of twenty-four covers, curved in the shape
+of a horseshoe at the ends, and surrounded by smiling, familiar faces,
+wherein he seemed to see his happiness reflected in every eye.  The
+dinner was drawing near its close.  The wave of private conversation
+flowed around the table.  Faces were turned toward one another, black
+sleeves stole behind waists adorned with bunches of asclepias, a childish
+face laughed over a fruit ice, and the dessert at the level of the
+guests' lips encompassed the cloth with animation, bright colors, and
+light.
+
+Ah, yes!  Risler was very happy.
+
+Except his brother Frantz, everybody he loved was there.  First of all,
+sitting opposite him, was Sidonie--yesterday little Sidonie, to-day his
+wife.  For the ceremony of dinner she had laid aside her veil; she had
+emerged from her cloud.  Now, above the smooth, white silk gown, appeared
+a pretty face of a less lustrous and softer white, and the crown of hair-
+beneath that other crown so carefully bestowed--would have told you of a
+tendency to rebel against life, of little feathers fluttering for an
+opportunity to fly away.  But husbands do not see such things as those.
+
+Next to Sidonie and Frantz, the person whom Risler loved best in the
+world was Madame Georges Fromont, whom he called "Madame Chorche," the
+wife of his partner and the daughter of the late Fromont, his former
+employer and his god.  He had placed her beside him, and in his manner of
+speaking to her one could read affection and deference.  She was a very
+young woman, of about the same age as Sidonie, but of a more regular,
+quiet and placid type of beauty.  She talked little, being out of her
+element in that conglomerate assemblage; but she tried to appear affable.
+
+On Risler's other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride's mother, radiant and
+gorgeous in her green satin gown, which gleamed like a shield.  Ever
+since the morning the good woman's every thought had been as brilliant as
+that robe of emblematic hue.  At every moment she said to herself: "My
+daughter is marrying Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, of Rue des Vieilles
+Haudriettes!"  For, in her mind, it was not Risler alone whom her
+daughter took for her husband, but the whole sign of the establishment,
+illustrious in the commercial annals of Paris; and whenever she mentally
+announced that glorious event, Madame Chebe sat more erect than ever,
+stretching the silk of the bodice until it almost cracked.
+
+What a contrast to the attitude of Monsieur Chebe, who was seated at a
+short distance.  In different households, as a general rule, the same
+causes produce altogether different results.  That little man, with the
+high forehead of a visionary, as inflated and hollow as a ball, was as
+fierce in appearance as his wife was radiant.  That was nothing unusual,
+by the way, for Monsieur Chebe was in a frenzy the whole year long.
+On this particular evening, however, he did not wear his customary woe-
+begone, lack-lustre expression, nor the full-skirted coat, with the
+pockets sticking out behind, filled to repletion with samples of oil,
+wine, truffles, or vinegar, according as he happened to be dealing in one
+or the other of those articles.  His black coat, new and magnificent,
+made a fitting pendant to the green gown; but unfortunately his thoughts
+were of the color of his coat.  Why had they not seated him beside the
+bride, as was his right?  Why had they given his seat to young Fromont?
+And there was old Gardinois, the Fromonts' grandfather, what business had
+he by Sidonie's side?  Ah!  that was how it was to be!  Everything for
+the Fromonts and nothing for the Chebes!  And yet people are amazed that
+there are such things as revolutions!
+
+Luckily the little man had by his side, to vent his anger upon, his
+friend Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who listened to him with his
+serene and majestic holiday countenance.
+
+Strangely enough, the bride herself had something of that same
+expression.  On that pretty and youthful face, which happiness enlivened
+without making glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupation;
+and, at times, the corners of her lips quivered with a smile, as if she
+were talking to herself.
+
+With that same little smile she replied to the somewhat pronounced
+pleasantries of Grandfather Gardinois, who sat by her side.
+
+"This Sidonie, on my word!" said the good man, with a laugh.  "When I
+think that not two months ago she was talking about going into a convent.
+We all know what sort of convents such minxes as she go to!  As the
+saying is in our province: The Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under
+the bed!"
+
+And everybody at the table laughed heartily at the rustic jests of the
+old Berrichon peasant, whose colossal fortune filled the place of
+manliness, of education, of kindness of heart, but not of wit; for he had
+plenty of that, the rascal--more than all his bourgeois fellow-guests
+together.  Among the very rare persons who inspired a sympathetic feeling
+in his breast, little Chebe, whom he had known as an urchin, appealed
+particularly to him; and she, for her part, having become rich too
+recently not to venerate wealth, talked to her right-hand neighbor with a
+very perceptible air of respect and coquetry.
+
+With her left-hand-neighbor, on the contrary, Georges Fromont, her
+husband's partner, she exhibited the utmost reserve.  Their conversation
+was restricted to the ordinary courtesies of the table; indeed there was
+a sort of affectation of indifference between them.
+
+Suddenly there was that little commotion among the guests which indicates
+that they are about to rise: the rustling of silk, the moving of chairs,
+the last words of conversations, the completion of a laugh, and in that
+half-silence Madame Chebe, who had become communicative, observed in a
+very loud tone to a provincial cousin, who was gazing in an ecstasy of
+admiration at the newly made bride's reserved and tranquil demeanor, as
+she stood with her arm in Monsieur Gardinois's:
+
+"You see that child, cousin--well, no one has ever been able to find out
+what her thoughts were."
+
+Thereupon the whole party rose and repaired to the grand salon.
+
+While the guests invited for the ball were arriving and mingling with the
+dinner-guests, while the orchestra was tuning up, while the cavaliers,
+eyeglass in position, strutted before the impatient, white-gowned
+damsels, the bridegroom, awed by so great a throng, had taken refuge with
+his friend Planus--Sigismond Planus, cashier of the house of Fromont for
+thirty years--in that little gallery decorated with flowers and hung with
+a paper representing shrubbery and clambering vines, which forms a sort
+of background of artificial verdure to Vefour's gilded salons.
+
+"Sigismond, old friend--I am very happy."
+
+And Sigismond too was happy; but Risler did not give him time to say so.
+Now that he was no longer in dread of weeping before his guests, all the
+joy in his heart overflowed.
+
+"Just think of it, my friend!--It's so extraordinary that a young girl
+like Sidonie would consent to marry me.  For you know I'm not handsome.
+I didn't need to have that impudent creature tell me so this morning to
+know it.  And then I'm forty-two--and she such a dear little thing!
+There were so many others she might have chosen, among the youngest and
+the richest, to say nothing of my poor Frantz, who loved her so.  But,
+no, she preferred her old Risler.  And it came about so strangely.  For a
+long time I noticed that she was sad, greatly changed.  I felt sure there
+was some disappointment in love at the bottom of it.  Her mother and I
+looked about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be.
+One morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, 'You are
+the man she loves, my dear friend!'--And I was the man--I was the man!
+Bless my soul!  Whoever would have suspected such a thing?  And to think
+that in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune--
+a partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie--Oh!"
+
+At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple
+whirled into the small salon.  They were Risler's bride and his partner,
+Georges Fromont.  Equally young and attractive, they were talking in
+undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.
+
+"You lie!"  said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.
+
+And the other, paler than she, replied:
+
+"I do not lie.  It was my uncle who insisted upon this marriage.  He was
+dying--you had gone away.  I dared not say no."
+
+Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration.
+
+"How pretty she is!  How well they dance!"
+
+But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked
+quickly to him.
+
+"What!  You here?  What are you doing?  They are looking everywhere for
+you.  Why aren't you in there?"
+
+As she spoke she retied his cravat with a pretty, impatient gesture.
+That enchanted Risler, who smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his
+eye, too overjoyed at feeling the touch of that little gloved hand on his
+neck, to notice that she was trembling to the ends of her slender
+fingers.
+
+"Give me your arm," she said to him, and they returned together to the
+salons.  The white bridal gown with its long train made the badly cut,
+awkwardly worn black coat appear even more uncouth; but a coat can not be
+retied like a cravat; she must needs take it as it was.  As they passed
+along, returning the salutations of all the guests who were so eager to
+smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of satisfied
+vanity.  Unhappily it did not last.  In a corner of the room sat a young
+and attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who looked on at
+the dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of a first
+maternity.  As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the corner
+where she sat and compelled Sidonie to sit beside her.  Needless to say
+that it was Madame "Chorche."  To whom else would he have spoken with
+such affectionate respect?  In what other hand than hers could he have
+placed his little Sidonie's, saying: "You will love her dearly, won't
+you?  You are so good.  She needs your advice, your knowledge of the
+world."
+
+"Why, my dear Risler," Madame Georges replied, "Sidonie and I are old
+friends.  We have reason to be fond of each other still."
+
+And her calm, straightforward glance strove unsuccessfully to meet that
+of her old friend.
+
+With his ignorance of women, and his habit of treating Sidonie as a
+child, Risler continued in the same tone:
+
+"Take her for your model, little one.  There are not two people in the
+world like Madame Chorche.  She has her poor father's heart.  A true
+Fromont!"
+
+Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed without replying, while an
+imperceptible shudder ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the topmost
+bit of orange-blossom in her crown.  But honest Risler saw nothing.
+The excitement, the dancing, the music, the flowers, the lights made
+him drunk, made him mad.  He believed that every one breathed the same
+atmosphere of bliss beyond compare which enveloped him.  He had no
+perception of the rivalries, the petty hatreds that met and passed one
+another above all those bejewelled foreheads.
+
+He did not notice Delobelle, standing with his elbow on the mantel, one
+hand in the armhole of his waistcoat and his hat upon his hip, weary of
+his eternal attitudinizing, while the hours slipped by and no one thought
+of utilizing his talents.  He did not notice M. Chebe, who was prowling
+darkly between the two doors, more incensed than ever against the
+Fromonts.  Oh! those Fromonts!--How large a place they filled at that
+wedding!  They were all there with their wives, their children, their
+friends, their friends' friends.  One would have said that one of
+themselves was being married.  Who had a word to say of the Rislers or
+the Chebes?  Why, he--he, the father, had not even been presented!--
+And the little man's rage was redoubled by the attitude of Madame Chebe,
+smiling maternally upon one and all in her scarab-hued dress.
+
+Furthermore, there were at this, as at almost all wedding-parties, two
+distinct currents which came together but without mingling.  One of the
+two soon gave place to the other.  The Fromonts, who irritated Monsieur
+Chebe so much and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president
+of the Chamber of Commerce, the syndic of the solicitors, a famous
+chocolate-manufacturer and member of the Corps Legislatif, and the old
+millionaire Gardinois, all retired shortly after midnight.  Georges
+Fromont and his wife entered their carriage behind them.  Only the Risler
+and Chebe party remained, and the festivity at once changed its aspect,
+becoming more uproarious.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle, disgusted to see that no one called upon him
+for anything, decided to call upon himself for something, and began in a
+voice as resonant as a gong the monologue from Ruy Blas: "Good appetite,
+Messieurs!" while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with
+chocolate and glasses of punch.  Inexpensive little costumes were
+displayed upon the benches, overjoyed to produce their due effect at
+last; and here and there divers young shop-clerks, consumed with conceit,
+amused themselves by venturing upon a quadrille.
+
+The bride had long wished to take her leave.  At last she disappeared
+with Risler and Madame Chebe.  As for Monsieur Chebe, who had recovered
+all his importance, it was impossible to induce him to go.  Some one must
+be there to do the honors, deuce take it!  And I assure you that the
+little man assumed the responsibility!  He was flushed, lively,
+frolicsome, noisy, almost seditious.  On the floor below he could be
+heard talking politics with Vefour's headwaiter, and making most
+audacious statements.
+
+Through the deserted streets the wedding-carriage, the tired coachman
+holding the white reins somewhat loosely, rolled heavily toward the
+Marais.
+
+Madame Chebe talked continuously, enumerating all the splendors of that
+memorable day, rhapsodizing especially over the dinner, the commonplace
+menu of which had been to her the highest display of magnificence.
+Sidonie mused in the darkness of the carriage, and Risler, sitting
+opposite her, even though he no longer said, "I am very happy," continued
+to think it with all his heart.  Once he tried to take possession of a
+little white hand that rested against the closed window, but it was
+hastily withdrawn, and he sat there without moving, lost in mute
+admiration.
+
+
+They drove through the Halles and the Rue de Rambuteau, thronged with
+kitchen-gardeners' wagons; and, near the end of the Rue des Francs-
+Bourgeois, they turned the corner of the Archives into the Rue de Braque.
+There they stopped first, and Madame Chebe alighted at her door, which
+was too narrow for the magnificent green silk frock, so that it vanished
+in the hall with rustlings of revolt and with all its folds muttering.
+A few minutes later, a tall, massive portal on the Rue des Vieilles-
+Haudriettes, bearing on the escutcheon that betrayed the former family
+mansion, beneath half-effaced armorial bearings, a sign in blue letters,
+Wall Papers, was thrown wide open to allow the wedding-carriage to pass
+through.
+
+Thereupon the bride, hitherto motionless and like one asleep, seemed to
+wake suddenly, and if all the lights in the vast buildings, workshops or
+storehouses, which surrounded the courtyard, had not been extinguished,
+Risler might have seen that pretty, enigmatical face suddenly lighted by
+a smile of triumph.  The wheels revolved less noisily on the fine gravel
+of a garden, and soon stopped before the stoop of a small house of two
+floors.  It was there that the young Fromonts lived, and Risler and his
+wife were to take up their abode on the floor above.  The house had an
+aristocratic air.  Flourishing commerce avenged itself therein for the
+dismal street and the out-of-the-way quarter.  There was a carpet on the
+stairway leading to their apartment, and on all sides shone the gleaming
+whiteness of marble, the reflection of mirrors and of polished copper.
+
+While Risler was parading his delight through all the rooms of the new
+apartment, Sidonie remained alone in her bedroom.  By the light of the
+little blue lamp hanging from the ceiling, she glanced first of all at
+the mirror, which gave back her reflection from head to foot, at all her
+luxurious surroundings, so unfamiliar to her; then, instead of going to
+bed, she opened the window and stood leaning against the sill, motionless
+as a statue.
+
+The night was clear and warm.  She could see distinctly the whole
+factory, its innumerable unshaded windows, its glistening panes, its tall
+chimney losing itself in the depths of the sky, and nearer at hand the
+lovely little garden against the ancient wall of the former mansion.  All
+about were gloomy, miserable roofs and squalid streets.  Suddenly she
+started.  Yonder, in the darkest, the ugliest of all those attics
+crowding so closely together, leaning against one another, as if
+overweighted with misery, a fifth-floor window stood wide open, showing
+only darkness within.  She recognized it at once.  It was the window of
+the landing on which her parents lived.
+
+The window on the landing!
+
+How many things the mere name recalled!  How many hours, how many days
+she had passed there, leaning on that damp sill, without rail or balcony,
+looking toward the factory.  At that moment she fancied that she could
+see up yonder little Chebe's ragged person, and in the frame made by that
+poor window, her whole child life, her deplorable youth as a Parisian
+street arab, passed before her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+LITTLE CHEBE'S STORY
+
+In Paris the common landing is like an additional room, an enlargement of
+their abodes, to poor families confined in their too small apartments.
+They go there to get a breath of air in summer, and there the women talk
+and the children play.
+
+When little Chebe made too much noise in the house, her mother would say
+to her: "There there!  you bother me, go and play on the landing."  And
+the child would go quickly enough.
+
+This landing, on the upper floor of an old house in which space had not
+been spared, formed a sort of large lobby, with a high ceiling, guarded
+on the staircase side by a wrought-iron rail, lighted by a large window
+which looked out upon roofs, courtyards, and other windows, and, farther
+away, upon the garden of the Fromont factory, which was like a green
+oasis among the huge old walls.
+
+There was nothing very cheerful about it, but the child liked it much
+better than her own home.  Their rooms were dismal, especially when it
+rained and Ferdinand did not go out.
+
+With his brain always smoking with new ideas, which unfortunately never
+came to anything, Ferdinand Chebe was one of those slothful, project-
+devising bourgeois of when there are so many in Paris.  His wife, whom he
+had dazzled at first, had soon detected his utter insignificance, and had
+ended by enduring patiently and with unchanged demeanor his continual
+dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed them.
+
+Of the dot of eighty thousand francs which she had brought him, and which
+he had squandered in his absurd schemes, only a small annuity remained,
+which still gave them a position of some importance in the eyes of their
+neighbors, as did Madame Chebe's cashmere, which had been rescued from
+every wreck, her wedding laces and two diamond studs, very tiny and very
+modest, which Sidonie sometimes begged her mother to show her, as they
+lay in the drawer of the bureau, in an old-fashioned white velvet case,
+on which the jeweller's name, in gilt letters, thirty years old, was
+gradually fading.  That was the only bit of luxury in that poor
+annuitant's abode.
+
+For a very long time M. Chebe had sought a place which would enable him
+to eke out their slender income.  But he sought it only in what he called
+standing business, his health forbidding any occupation that required him
+to be seated.
+
+It seemed that, soon after his marriage, when he was in a flourishing
+business and had a horse and tilbury of his own, the little man had had
+one day a serious fall.  That fall, to which he referred upon every
+occasion, served as an excuse for his indolence.
+
+One could not be with M. Chebe five minutes before he would say in a
+confidential tone:
+
+"You know of the accident that happened to the Duc d'Orleans?"
+
+And then he would add, tapping his little bald pate "The same thing
+happened to me in my youth."
+
+Since that famous fall any sort of office work made him dizzy, and he had
+found himself inexorably confined to standing business.  Thus, he had
+been in turn a broker in wines, in books, in truffles, in clocks, and in
+many other things beside.  Unluckily, he tired of everything, never
+considered his position sufficiently exalted for a former business man
+with a tilbury, and, by gradual degrees, by dint of deeming every sort of
+occupation beneath him, he had grown old and incapable, a genuine idler
+with low tastes, a good-for-nothing.
+
+Artists are often rebuked for their oddities, for the liberties they take
+with nature, for that horror of the conventional which impels them to
+follow by-paths; but who can ever describe all the absurd fancies, all
+the idiotic eccentricities with which a bourgeois without occupation can
+succeed in filling the emptiness of his life?  M. Chebe imposed upon
+himself certain rules concerning his goings and comings, and his walks
+abroad.  While the Boulevard Sebastopol was being built, he went twice a
+day "to see how it was getting on."
+
+No one knew better than he the fashionable shops and the bargains; and
+very often Madame Chebe, annoyed to see her husband's idiotic face at the
+window while she was energetically mending the family linen, would rid
+herself of him by giving him an errand to do.  "You know that place, on
+the corner of such a street, where they sell such nice cakes.  They would
+be nice for our dessert."
+
+And the husband would go out, saunter along the boulevard by the shops,
+wait for the omnibus, and pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth
+three sous, which he would bring home in triumph, wiping his forehead.
+
+M. Chebe adored the summer, the Sundays, the great footraces in the dust
+at Clamart or Romainville, the excitement of holidays and the crowd.  He
+was one of those who went about for a whole week before the fifteenth of
+August, gazing at the black lamps and their frames, and the scaffoldings.
+Nor did his wife complain.  At all events, she no longer had that chronic
+grumbler prowling around her chair for whole days, with schemes for
+gigantic enterprises, combinations that missed fire in advance,
+lamentations concerning the past, and a fixed determination not to work
+at anything to earn money.
+
+She no longer earned anything herself, poor woman; but she knew so well
+how to save, her wonderful economy made up so completely for everything
+else, that absolute want, although a near neighbor of such impecuniosity
+as theirs, never succeeded in making its way into those three rooms,
+which were always neat and clean, or in destroying the carefully mended
+garments or the old furniture so well concealed beneath its coverings.
+
+Opposite the Chebes' door, whose copper knob gleamed in bourgeois fashion
+upon the landing, were two other and smaller ones.
+
+On the first, a visiting-card, held in place by four nails, according to
+the custom in vogue among industrial artists, bore the name of
+
+                                 RISLER
+                         DESIGNER OF PATTERNS.
+
+On the other was a small square of leather, with these words in gilt
+letters:
+
+                           MESDAMES DELOBELLE
+                    BIRDS AND INSECTS FOR ORNAMENT.
+
+The Delobelles' door was often open, disclosing a large room with a brick
+floor, where two women, mother and daughter, the latter almost a child,
+each as weary and as pale as the other, worked at one of the thousand
+fanciful little trades which go to make up what is called the 'Articles
+de Paris'.
+
+It was then the fashion to ornament hats and ballgowns with the lovely
+little insects from South America that have the brilliant coloring of
+jewels and reflect the light like diamonds.  The Delobelles had adopted
+that specialty.
+
+A wholesale house, to which consignments were made directly from the
+Antilles, sent to them, unopened, long, light boxes from which, when the
+lid was removed, arose a faint odor, a dust of arsenic through which
+gleamed the piles of insects, impaled before being shipped, the birds
+packed closely together, their wings held in place by a strip of thin
+paper.  They must all be mounted--the insects quivering upon brass wire,
+the humming-birds with their feathers ruffled; they must be cleansed and
+polished, the beak in a bright red, claw repaired with a silk thread,
+dead eyes replaced with sparkling pearls, and the insect or the bird
+restored to an appearance of life and grace.  The mother prepared the
+work under her daughter's direction; for Desiree, though she was still a
+mere girl, was endowed with exquisite taste, with a fairy-like power of
+invention, and no one could, insert two pearl eyes in those tiny heads or
+spread their lifeless wings so deftly as she.  Happy or unhappy, Desiree
+always worked with the same energy.  From dawn until well into the night
+the table was covered with work.  At the last ray of daylight, when the
+factory bells were ringing in all the neighboring yards, Madame Delobelle
+lighted the lamp, and after a more than frugal repast they returned to
+their work.  Those two indefatigable women had one object, one fixed
+idea, which prevented them from feeling the burden of enforced vigils.
+That idea was the dramatic renown of the illustrious Delobelle.  After he
+had left the provincial theatres to pursue his profession in Paris,
+Delobelle waited for an intelligent manager, the ideal and providential
+manager who discovers geniuses, to seek him out and offer him a role
+suited to his talents.  He might, perhaps, especially at the beginning,
+have obtained a passably good engagement at a theatre of the third order,
+but Delobelle did not choose to lower himself.
+
+He preferred to wait, to struggle, as he said!  And this is how he
+awaited the struggle.
+
+In the morning in his bedroom, often in his bed, he rehearsed roles in
+his former repertory; and the Delobelle ladies trembled with emotion when
+they heard behind the partition tirades from 'Antony' or the 'Medecin des
+Enfants', declaimed in a sonorous voice that blended with the thousand-
+and-one noises of the great Parisian bee-hive.  Then, after breakfast,
+the actor would sally forth for the day; would go to "do his boulevard,"
+that is to say, to saunter to and fro between the Chateau d'Eau and the
+Madeline, with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, his hat a little
+on one side-always gloved, and brushed, and glossy.
+
+That question of dress was of great importance in his eyes.  It was one
+of the greatest elements of success, a bait for the manager--the famous,
+intelligent manager--who never would dream of engaging a threadbare,
+shabbily dressed man.
+
+So the Delobelle ladies took good care that he lacked nothing; and you
+can imagine how many birds and insects it required to fit out a blade of
+that temper!  The actor thought it the most natural thing in the world.
+
+In his view, the labors, the privations of his wife and daughter were
+not, strictly speaking, for his benefit, but for the benefit of that
+mysterious and unknown genius, whose trustee he considered himself to be.
+
+There was a certain analogy between the position of the Chebe family and
+that of the Delobelles.  But the latter household was less depressing.
+The Chebes felt that their petty annuitant existence was fastened upon
+them forever, with no prospect of amelioration, always the same; whereas,
+in the actor's family, hope and illusion often opened magnificent vistas.
+
+The Chebes were like people living in a blind alley; the Delobelles on a
+foul little street, where there was no light or air, but where a great
+boulevard might some day be laid out.  And then, too, Madame Chebe no
+longer believed in her husband, whereas, by virtue of that single magic
+word, "Art!" her neighbor never had doubted hers.
+
+And yet for years and years Monsieur Delobelle had been unavailingly
+drinking vermouth with dramatic agents, absinthe with leaders of claques,
+bitters with vaudevillists, dramatists, and the famous what's-his-name,
+author of several great dramas.  Engagements did not always follow.  So
+that, without once appearing on the boards, the poor man had progressed
+from jeune premier to grand premier roles, then to the financiers, then
+to the noble fathers, then to the buffoons--
+
+He stopped there!
+
+On two or three occasions his friends had obtained for him a chance to
+earn his living as manager of a club or a cafe as an inspector in great
+warehouses, at the 'Phares de la Bastille' or the 'Colosse de Rhodes.'
+All that was necessary was to have good manners.  Delobelle was not
+lacking in that respect, God knows!  And yet every suggestion that was
+made to him the great man met with a heroic refusal.
+
+"I have no right to abandon the stage!"  he would then assert.
+
+In the mouth of that poor devil, who had not set foot on the boards for
+years, it was irresistibly comical.  But one lost the inclination to
+laugh when one saw his wife and his daughter swallowing particles of
+arsenic day and night, and heard them repeat emphatically as they broke
+their needles against the brass wire with which the little birds were
+mounted:
+
+"No! no!  Monsieur Delobelle has no right to abandon the stage."
+
+Happy man, whose bulging eyes, always smiling condescendingly, and whose
+habit of reigning on the stage had procured for him for life that
+exceptional position of a spoiled and admired child-king!  When he left
+the house, the shopkeepers on the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, with the
+predilection of the Parisian for everything and everybody connected with
+the theatre, saluted him respectfully.  He was always so well dressed!
+And then he was so kind, so obliging!  When you think that every Saturday
+night, he, Ruy Blas, Antony, Raphael in the 'Filles de Maybre,' Andres in
+the 'Pirates de la Savane,' sallied forth, with a bandbox under his arm,
+to carry the week's work of his wife and daughter to a flower
+establishment on the Rue St.-Denis!
+
+Why, even when performing such a commission as that, this devil of a
+fellow had such nobility of bearing, such native dignity, that the young
+woman whose duty it was to make up the Delobelle account was sorely
+embarrassed to hand to such an irreproachable gentleman the paltry
+stipend so laboriously earned.
+
+On those evenings, by the way, the actor did not return home to dinner.
+The women were forewarned.
+
+He always met some old comrade on the boulevard, some unlucky devil like
+himself--there are so many of them in that sacred profession!--whom he
+entertained at a restaurant or cafe.  Then, with scrupulous fidelity--and
+very grateful they were to him--he would carry the rest of the money
+home, sometimes with a bouquet for his wife or a little present for
+Desiree, a nothing, a mere trifle.  What would you have?  Those are the
+customs of the stage.  It is such a simple matter in a melodrama to toss
+a handful of louis through the window!
+
+"Ho!  varlet, take this purse and hie thee hence to tell thy mistress I
+await her coming."
+
+And so, notwithstanding their marvellous courage, and although their
+trade was quite lucrative, the Delobelles often found themselves in
+straitened circumstances, especially in the dull season of the 'Articles
+de Paris.'
+
+Luckily the excellent Risler was at hand, always ready to accommodate his
+friends.
+
+Guillaume Risler, the third tenant on the landing, lived with his brother
+Frantz, who was fifteen years his junior.  The two young Swiss, tall and
+fair, strong and ruddy, brought into the dismal, hard-working house
+glimpses of the country and of health.  The elder was a draughtsman at
+the Fromont factory and was paying for the education of his brother, who
+attended Chaptal's lectures, pending his admission to the Ecole Centrale.
+
+On his arrival at Paris, being sadly perplexed as to the installation of
+his little household, Guillaume had derived from his neighbors, Mesdames
+Chebe and Delobelle, advice and information which were an indispensable
+aid to that ingenuous, timid, somewhat heavy youth, embarrassed by his
+foreign accent and manner.  After a brief period of neighborhood and
+mutual services, the Risler brothers formed a part of both families.
+
+On holidays places were always made for them at one table or the other,
+and it was a great satisfaction to the two exiles to find in those poor
+households, modest and straitened as they were, a taste of affection and
+family life.
+
+The wages of the designer, who was very clever at his trade, enabled him
+to be of service to the Delobelles on rent-day, and to make his
+appearance at the Chebes' in the guise of the rich uncle, always laden
+with surprises and presents, so that the little girl, as soon as she saw
+him, would explore his pockets and climb on his knees.
+
+On Sunday he would take them all to the theatre; and almost every evening
+he would go with Messieurs Chebe and Delobelle to a brewery on the Rue
+Blondel, where he regaled them with beer and pretzels.  Beer and pretzels
+were his only vice.
+
+For his own part, he knew no greater bliss than to sit before a foaming
+tankard, between his two friends, listening to their talk, and taking
+part only by a loud laugh or a shake of the head in their conversation,
+which was usually a long succession of grievances against society.
+
+A childlike shyness, and the Germanisms of speech which he never had laid
+aside in his life of absorbing toil, embarrassed him much in giving
+expression to his ideas.  Moreover, his friends overawed him.  They had
+in respect to him the tremendous superiority of the man who does nothing
+over the man who works; and M. Chebe, less generous than Delobelle, did
+not hesitate to make him feel it.  He was very lofty with him, was M.
+Chebe!  In his opinion, a man who worked, as Risler did, ten hours a
+day, was incapable, when he left his work, of expressing an intelligent
+idea.  Sometimes the designer, coming home worried from the factory,
+would prepare to spend the night over some pressing work.  You should
+have seen M. Chebe's scandalized expression then!
+
+"Nobody could make me follow such a business!"  he would say, expanding
+his chest, and he would add, looking at Risler with the air of a
+physician making a professional call, "Just wait till you've had one
+severe attack."
+
+Delobelle was not so fierce, but he adopted a still loftier tone.  The
+cedar does not see a rose at its foot.  Delobelle did not see Risler at
+his feet.
+
+When, by chance, the great man deigned to notice his presence, he had a
+certain air of stooping down to him to listen, and to smile at his words
+as at a child's; or else he would amuse himself by dazzling him with
+stories of actresses, would give him lessons in deportment and the
+addresses of outfitters, unable to understand why a man who earned so
+much money should always be dressed like an usher at a primary school.
+Honest Risler, convinced of his inferiority, would try to earn
+forgiveness by a multitude of little attentions, obliged to furnish all
+the delicacy, of course, as he was the constant benefactor.
+
+Among these three households living on the same floor, little Chebe,
+with her goings and comings, formed the bond of union.
+
+At all times of day she would slip into the workroom of the Delobelles,
+amuse herself by watching their work and looking at all the insects, and,
+being already more coquettish than playful, if an insect had lost a wing
+in its travels, or a humming-bird its necklace of down, she would try to
+make herself a headdress of the remains, to fix that brilliant shaft of
+color among the ripples of her silky hair.  It made Desiree and her
+mother smile to see her stand on tiptoe in front of the old tarnished
+mirror, with affected little shrugs and grimaces.  Then, when she had had
+enough of admiring herself, the child would open the door with all the
+strength of her little fingers, and would go demurely, holding her head
+perfectly straight for fear of disarranging her headdress, and knock at
+the Rislers' door.
+
+No one was there in the daytime but Frantz the student, leaning over his
+books, doing his duty faithfully.  But when Sidonie enters, farewell to
+study!  Everything must be put aside to receive that lovely creature with
+the humming-bird in her hair, pretending to be a princess who had come to
+Chaptal's school to ask his hand in marriage from the director.
+
+It was really a strange sight to see that tall, overgrown boy playing
+with that little girl of eight, humoring her caprices, adoring her as he
+yielded to her, so that later, when he fell genuinely in love with her,
+no one could have said at what time the change began.
+
+Petted as she was in those two homes, little Chebe was very fond of
+running to the window on the landing.  There it was that she found her
+greatest source of entertainment, a horizon always open, a sort of vision
+of the future toward which she leaned with eager curiosity and without
+fear, for children are not subject to vertigo.
+
+Between the slated roofs sloping toward one another, the high wall of the
+factory, the tops of the plane-trees in the garden, the many-windowed
+workshops appeared to her like a promised land, the country of her
+dreams.
+
+That Fromont establishment was to her mind the highest ideal of wealth.
+
+The place it occupied in that part of the Marais, which was at certain
+hours enveloped by its smoke and its din, Risler's enthusiasm, his
+fabulous tales concerning his employer's wealth and goodness and
+cleverness, had aroused that childish curiosity; and such portions as she
+could see of the dwelling-houses, the carved wooden blinds, the circular
+front steps, with the garden-seats before them, a great white bird-house
+with gilt stripes glistening in the sun, the blue-lined coupe standing in
+the courtyard, were to her objects of continual admiration.
+
+She knew all the habits of the family: At what hour the bell was rung,
+when the workmen went away, the Saturday payday which kept the cashier's
+little lamp lighted late in the evening, and the long Sunday afternoon,
+the closed workshops, the smokeless chimney, the profound silence which
+enabled her to hear Mademoiselle Claire at play in the garden, running
+about with her cousin Georges.  From Risler she obtained details.
+
+"Show me the salon windows," she would say to him, "and Claire's room."
+
+Risler, delighted by this extraordinary interest in his beloved factory,
+would explain to the child from their lofty position the arrangement of
+the buildings, point out the print-shop, the gilding-shop, the designing-
+room where he worked, the engine-room, above which towered that enormous
+chimney blackening all the neighboring walls with its corrosive smoke,
+and which never suspected that a young life, concealed beneath a
+neighboring roof, mingled its inmost thoughts with its loud,
+indefatigable panting.
+
+At last one day Sidonie entered that paradise of which she had heretofore
+caught only a glimpse.
+
+Madame Fromont, to whom Risler often spoke of her little neighbor's
+beauty and intelligence, asked him to bring her to the children's ball
+she intended to give at Christmas.  At first Monsieur Chebe replied by a
+curt refusal.  Even in those days, the Fromonts, whose name was always on
+Rider's lips, irritated and humiliated him by their wealth.  Moreover, it
+was to be a fancy ball, and M. Chebe--who did not sell wallpapers, not
+he!--could not afford to dress his daughter as a circus-dancer.  But
+Risler insisted, declared that he would get everything himself, and at
+once set about designing a costume.
+
+It was a memorable evening.
+
+In Madame Chebe's bedroom, littered with pieces of cloth and pins and
+small toilet articles, Desiree Delobelle superintended Sidonie's toilet.
+The child, appearing taller because of her short skirt of red flannel
+with black stripes, stood before the mirror, erect and motionless, in the
+glittering splendor of her costume.  She was charming.  The waist, with
+bands of velvet laced over the white stomacher, the lovely, long tresses
+of chestnut hair escaping from a hat of plaited straw, all the trivial
+details of her Savoyard's costume were heightened by the intelligent
+features of the child, who was quite at her ease in the brilliant colors
+of that theatrical garb.
+
+The whole assembled neighborhood uttered cries of admiration.  While some
+one went in search of Delobelle, the lame girl arranged the folds of the
+skirt, the bows on the shoes, and cast a final glance over her work,
+without laying aside her needle; she, too, was excited, poor child!  by
+the intoxication of that festivity to which she was not invited.  The
+great man arrived.  He made Sidonie rehearse two or three stately
+curtseys which he had taught her, the proper way to walk, to stand, to
+smile with her mouth slightly open, and the exact position of the little
+finger.  It was truly amusing to see the precision with which the child
+went through the drill.
+
+"She has dramatic blood in her veins!"  exclaimed the old actor
+enthusiastically, unable to understand why that stupid Frantz was
+strongly inclined to weep.
+
+A year after that happy evening Sidonie could have told you what flowers
+there were in the reception rooms, the color of the furniture, and the
+music they were playing as she entered the ballroom, so deep an
+impression did her enjoyment make upon her.  She forgot nothing, neither
+the costumes that made an eddying whirl about her, nor the childish
+laughter, nor all the tiny steps that glided over the polished floors.
+For a moment, as she sat on the edge of a great red-silk couch, taking
+from the plate presented to her the first sherbet of her life, she
+suddenly thought of the dark stairway, of her parents' stuffy little
+rooms, and it produced upon her mind the effect of a distant country
+which she had left forever.
+
+However, she was considered a fascinating little creature, and was much
+admired and petted.  Claire Fromont, a miniature Cauchoise dressed in
+lace, presented her to her cousin Georges, a magnificent hussar who
+turned at every step to observe the effect of his sabre.
+
+"You understand, Georges, she is my friend.  She is coming to play with
+us Sundays.  Mamma says she may."
+
+And, with the artless impulsiveness of a happy child, she kissed little
+Chebe with all her heart.
+
+But the time came to go.  For a long time, in the filthy street where the
+snow was melting, in the dark hall, in the silent room where her mother
+awaited her, the brilliant light of the salons continued to shine before
+her dazzled eyes.
+
+"Was it very fine?  Did you have a charming time?"  queried Madame Chebe
+in a low tone, unfastening the buckles of the gorgeous costume, one by
+one.
+
+And Sidonie, overcome with fatigue, made no reply, but fell asleep
+standing, beginning a lovely dream which was to last throughout her youth
+and cost her many tears.
+
+Claire Fromont kept her word.  Sidonie often went to play in the
+beautiful gravelled garden, and was able to see at close range the carved
+blinds and the dovecot with its threads of gold.  She came to know all
+the corners and hiding-places in the great factory, and took part in many
+glorious games of hide-and-seek behind the printing-tables in the
+solitude of Sunday afternoon.  On holidays a plate was laid for her at
+the children's table.
+
+Everybody loved her, although she never exhibited much affection for any
+one.  So long as she was in the midst of that luxury, she was conscious
+of softer impulses, she was happy and felt that she was embellished by
+her surroundings; but when she returned to her parents, when she saw the
+factory through the dirty panes of the window on the landing, she had an
+inexplicable feeling of regret and anger.
+
+And yet Claire Fromont treated her as a friend.
+
+Sometimes they took her to the Bois, to the Tuileries, in the famous
+blue-lined carriage, or into the country, to pass a whole week at
+Grandfather Gardinois's chateau, at Savigny-sur-Orge.  Thanks to the
+munificence of Risler, who was very proud of his little one's success,
+she was always presentable and well dressed.  Madame Chebe made it a
+point of honor, and the pretty, lame girl was always at hand to place her
+treasures of unused coquetry at her little friend's service.
+
+But M. Chebe, who was always hostile to the Fromonts, looked frowningly
+upon this growing intimacy.  The true reason was that he himself never
+was invited; but he gave other reasons, and would say to his wife:
+
+"Don't you see that your daughter's heart is sad when she returns from
+that house, and that she passes whole hours dreaming at the window?"
+
+But poor Madame Chebe, who had been so unhappy ever since her marriage,
+had become reckless.  She declared that one should make the most of the
+present for fear of the future, should seize happiness as it passes, as
+one often has no other support and consolation in life than the memory of
+a happy childhood.
+
+For once it happened that M. Chebe was right.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE FALSE PEARLS
+
+After two or three years of intimacy with Claire, of sharing her
+amusements, years during which Sidonie acquired the familiarity with
+luxury and the graceful manners of the children of the wealthy, the
+friendship was suddenly broken.
+
+Cousin Georges, whose guardian M. Fromont was, had entered college some
+time before.  Claire in her turn took her departure for the convent with
+the outfit of a little queen; and at that very time the Chebes were
+discussing the question of apprenticing Sidonie to some trade.  They
+promised to love each other as before and to meet twice a month, on the
+Sundays that Claire was permitted to go home.
+
+Indeed, little Chebe did still go down sometimes to play with her
+friends; but as she grew older she realized more fully the distance that
+separated them, and her clothes began to seem to her very simple for
+Madame Fromont's salon.
+
+When the three were alone, the childish friendship which made them equals
+prevented any feeling of embarrassment; but visitors came, girl friends
+from the convent, among others a tall girl, always richly dressed, whom
+her mother's maid used to bring to play with the little Fromonts on
+Sunday.
+
+As soon as she saw her coming up the steps, resplendent and disdainful,
+Sidonie longed to go away at once.  The other embarrassed her with
+awkward questions.  Where did she live?  What did her parents do?  Had
+she a carriage?
+
+As she listened to their talk of the convent and their friends, Sidonie
+felt that they lived in a different world, a thousand miles from her own;
+and a deathly sadness seized her, especially when, on her return home,
+her mother spoke of sending her as an apprentice to Mademoiselle Le Mire,
+a friend of the Delobelles, who conducted a large false-pearl
+establishment on the Rue du Roi-Dore.
+
+Risler insisted upon the plan of having the little one serve an
+apprenticeship.  "Let her learn a trade," said the honest fellow.
+"Later I will undertake to set her up in business."
+
+Indeed, this same Mademoiselle Le Mire spoke of retiring in a few years.
+It was an excellent opportunity.
+
+One morning, a dull day in November, her father took her to the Rue du
+Rio-Dore, to the fourth floor of an old house, even older and blacker
+than her own home.
+
+On the ground floor, at the entrance to the hall, hung a number of signs
+with gilt letters: Depot for Travelling-Bags, Plated Chains, Children's
+Toys, Mathematical Instruments in Glass, Bouquets for Brides and Maids of
+Honor, Wild Flowers a Specialty; and above was a little dusty show-case,
+wherein pearls, yellow with age, glass grapes and cherries surrounded the
+pretentious name of Angelina Le Mire.
+
+What a horrible house!
+
+It had not even a broad landing like that of the Chebes, grimy with old
+age, but brightened by its window and the beautiful prospect presented by
+the factory.  A narrow staircase, a narrow door, a succession of rooms
+with brick floors, all small and cold, and in the last an old maid with a
+false front and black thread mitts, reading a soiled copy of the 'Journal
+pour Tous,' and apparently very much annoyed to be disturbed in her
+reading.
+
+Mademoiselle Le Mire (written in two words) received the father and
+daughter without rising, discoursed at great length of the rank she had
+lost, of her father, an old nobleman of Le Rouergue--it is most
+extraordinary how many old noblemen Le Rouergue has produced!--and of an
+unfaithful steward who had carried off their whole fortune.  She
+instantly aroused the sympathies of M. Chebe, for whom decayed gentlefolk
+had an irresistible charm, and he went away overjoyed, promising his
+daughter to call for her at seven o'clock at night in accordance with the
+terms agreed upon.
+
+The apprentice was at once ushered into the still empty workroom.
+Mademoiselle Le Mire seated her in front of a great drawer filled with
+pearls, needles, and bodkins, with instalments of four-sou novels thrown
+in at random among them.
+
+It was Sidonie's business to sort the pearls and string them in necklaces
+of equal length, which were tied together to be sold to the small
+dealers.  Then the young women would soon be there and they would show
+her exactly what she would have to do, for Mademoiselle Le Mire (always
+written in two words!) did not interfere at all, but overlooked her
+business from a considerable distance, from that dark room where she
+passed her life reading newspaper novels.
+
+At nine o'clock the work-women arrived, five tall, pale-faced, faded
+girls, wretchedly dressed, but with their hair becomingly arranged, after
+the fashion of poor working-girls who go about bare-headed through the
+streets of Paris.
+
+Two or three were yawning and rubbing their eyes, saying that they were
+dead with sleep.
+
+At last they went to work beside a long table where each had her own
+drawer and her own tools.  An order had been received for mourning
+jewels, and haste was essential.  Sidonie, whom the forewoman instructed
+in her task in a tone of infinite superiority, began dismally to sort a
+multitude of black pearls, bits of glass, and wisps of crape.
+
+The others, paying no attention to the little girl, chatted together as
+they worked.  They talked of a wedding that was to take place that very
+day at St. Gervais.
+
+"Suppose we go," said a stout, red-haired girl, whose name was Malvina.
+"It's to be at noon.  We shall have time to go and get back again if we
+hurry."
+
+And, at the lunch hour, the whole party rushed downstairs four steps at a
+time.
+
+Sidonie had brought her luncheon in a little basket, like a school-girl;
+with a heavy heart she sat at a corner of the table and ate alone for the
+first time in her life.  Great God!  what a sad and wretched thing life
+seemed to be; what a terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her
+sufferings there!
+
+At one o'clock the girls trooped noisily back, highly excited.
+
+"Did you see the white satin gown?  And the veil of point d'Angleterre?
+There's a lucky girl!"
+
+Thereupon they repeated in the workroom the remarks they had made in
+undertones in the church, leaning against the rail, throughout the
+ceremony.  That question of a wealthy marriage, of beautiful clothes,
+lasted all day long; nor did it interfere with their work-far from it.
+
+These small Parisian industries, which have to do with the most trivial
+details of the toilet, keep the work-girls informed as to the fashions
+and fill their minds with thoughts of luxury and elegance.  To the poor
+girls who worked on Mademoiselle Le Mire's fourth floor, the blackened
+walls, the narrow street did not exist.  They were always thinking of
+something else and passed their lives asking one another:
+
+"Malvina, if you were rich what would you do?  For my part, I'd live on
+the Champs-Elysees."  And the great trees in the square, the carriages
+that wheeled about there, coquettishly slackening their pace, appeared
+momentarily before their minds, a delicious, refreshing vision.
+
+Little Chebe, in her corner, listened without speaking, industriously
+stringing her black grapes with the precocious dexterity and taste she
+had acquired in Desiree's neighborhood.  So that in the evening, when M.
+Chebe came to fetch his daughter, they praised her in the highest terms.
+
+Thereafter all her days were alike.  The next day, instead of black
+pearls, she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at
+Mademoiselle Le Mire's they worked only in what was false, in tinsel,
+and that was where little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life.
+
+For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the
+others--found that they held aloof from her.  Later, as she grew older,
+she was admitted to their friendship and their confidence, but without
+ever sharing their pleasures.  She was too proud to go to see weddings
+at midday; and when she heard them talking of a ball at Vauxhall or the
+'Delices du Marais,' or of a nice little supper at Bonvalet's or at the
+'Quatre Sergents de la Rochelle,' she was always very disdainful.
+
+We looked higher than that, did we not, little Chebe?
+
+Moreover, her father called for her every evening.  Sometimes, however,
+about the New Year, she was obliged to work late with the others, in
+order to complete pressing orders.  In the gaslight those pale-faced
+Parisians, sorting pearls as white as themselves, of a dead, unwholesome
+whiteness, were a painful spectacle.  There was the same fictitious
+glitter, the same fragility of spurious jewels.  They talked of nothing
+but masked balls and theatres.
+
+"Have you seen Adele Page, in 'Les Trois Mousquetaires?'  And Melingue?
+And Marie Laurent?  Oh!  Marie Laurent!"
+
+The actors' doublets, the embroidered costumes of the queens of
+melodrama, appeared before them in the white light of the necklaces
+forming beneath their fingers.
+
+In summer the work was less pressing.  It was the dull season.  In the
+intense heat, when through the drawn blinds fruit-sellers could be heard
+in the street, crying their mirabelles and Queen Claudes, the workgirls
+slept heavily, their heads on the table.  Or perhaps Malvina would go and
+ask Mademoiselle Le Mire for a copy of the 'Journal pour Tous,' and read
+aloud to the others.
+
+But little Chebe did not care for the novels.  She carried one in her
+head much more interesting than all that trash.
+
+The fact is, nothing could make her forget the factory.  When she set
+forth in the morning on her father's arm, she always cast a glance in
+that direction.  At that hour the works were just stirring, the chimney
+emitted its first puff of black smoke.  Sidonie, as she passed, could
+hear the shouts of the workmen, the dull, heavy blows of the bars of the
+printing-press, the mighty, rhythmical hum of the machinery; and all
+those sounds of toil, blended in her memory with recollections of fetes
+and blue-lined carriages, haunted her persistently.
+
+They spoke louder than the rattle of the omnibuses, the street cries, the
+cascades in the gutters; and even in the workroom, when she was sorting
+the false pearls even at night, in her own home, when she went, after
+dinner, to breathe the fresh air at the window on the landing and to gaze
+at the dark, deserted factory, that murmur still buzzed in her ears,
+forming, as it were, a continual accompaniment to her thoughts.
+
+"The little one is tired, Madame Chebe.  She needs diversion.  Next
+Sunday I will take you all into the country."
+
+These Sunday excursions, which honest Risler organized to amuse Sidonie,
+served only to sadden her still more.
+
+On those days she must rise at four o'clock in the morning; for the poor
+must pay for all their enjoyments, and there was always a ribbon to be
+ironed at the last moment, or a bit of trimming to be sewn on in an
+attempt to rejuvenate the everlasting little lilac frock with white
+stripes which Madame Chebe conscientiously lengthened every year.
+
+They would all set off together, the Chebes, the Rislers, and the
+illustrious Delobelle.  Only Desiree and her mother never were of the
+party.  The poor, crippled child, ashamed of her deformity, never would
+stir from her chair, and Mamma Delobelle stayed behind to keep her
+company.  Moreover, neither possessed a suitable gown in which to show
+herself out-of-doors in their great man's company; it would have
+destroyed the whole effect of his appearance.
+
+When they left the house, Sidonie would brighten up a little.  Paris in
+the pink haze of a July morning, the railway stations filled with light
+dresses, the country flying past the car windows, and the healthful
+exercise, the bath in the pure air saturated with the water of the Seine,
+vivified by a bit of forest, perfumed by flowering meadows, by ripening
+grain, all combined to make her giddy for a moment.  But that sensation
+was soon succeeded by disgust at such a commonplace way of passing her
+Sunday.
+
+It was always the same thing.
+
+They stopped at a refreshment booth, in close proximity to a very noisy
+and numerously attended rustic festival, for there must be an audience
+for Delobelle, who would saunter along, absorbed by his chimera, dressed
+in gray, with gray gaiters, a little hat over his ear, a light top coat
+on his arm, imagining that the stage represented a country scene in the
+suburbs of Paris, and that he was playing the part of a Parisian
+sojourning in the country.
+
+As for M. Chebe, who prided himself on being as fond of nature as the
+late Jean Jacques Rousseau, he did not appreciate it without the
+accompaniments of shooting-matches, wooden horses, sack races, and a
+profusion of dust and penny-whistles, which constituted also Madame
+Chebe's ideal of a country life.
+
+But Sidonie had a different ideal; and those Parisian Sundays passed in
+strolling through noisy village streets depressed her beyond measure.
+Her only pleasure in those throngs was the consciousness of being stared
+at.  The veriest boor's admiration, frankly expressed aloud at her side,
+made her smile all day; for she was of those who disdain no compliment.
+
+Sometimes, leaving the Chebes and Delobelle in the midst of the fete,
+Risler would go into the fields with his brother and the "little one" in
+search of flowers for patterns for his wall-papers.  Frantz, with his
+long arms, would pull down the highest branches of a hawthorn, or would
+climb a park wall to pick a leaf of graceful shape he had spied on the
+other side.  But they reaped their richest harvests on the banks of the
+stream.
+
+There they found those flexible plants, with long swaying stalks, which
+made such a lovely effect on hangings, tall, straight reeds, and the
+volubilis, whose flower, opening suddenly as if in obedience to a
+caprice, resembles a living face, some one looking at you amid the
+lovely, quivering foliage.  Risler arranged his bouquets artistically,
+drawing his inspiration from the very nature of the plants, trying to
+understand thoroughly their manner of life, which can not be divined
+after the withering of one day.
+
+Then, when the bouquet was completed, tied with a broad blade of grass as
+with a ribbon, and slung over Frantz's back, away they went.  Risler,
+always engrossed in his art, looked about for subjects, for possible
+combinations, as they walked along.
+
+"Look there, little one--see that bunch of lily of the valley, with its
+white bells, among those eglantines.  What do you think?  Wouldn't that
+be pretty against a sea-green or pearl-gray background?"
+
+But Sidonie cared no more for lilies of the valley than for eglantine.
+Wild flowers always seemed to her like the flowers of the poor, something
+like her lilac dress.
+
+She remembered that she had seen flowers of a different sort at the house
+of M. Gardinois, at the Chateau de Savigny, in the hothouses, on the
+balconies, and all about the gravelled courtyard bordered with tall urns.
+Those were the flowers she loved; that was her idea of the country!
+
+The little stations in the outskirts of Paris are so terribly crowded and
+stuffy on those Sunday evenings in summer!  Such artificial enjoyment,
+such idiotic laughter, such doleful ballads, sung in whispers by voices
+that no longer have the strength to roar!  That was the time when M.
+Chebe was in his element.
+
+He would elbow his way to the gate, scold about the delay of the train,
+declaim against the station-agent, the company, the government; say to
+Delobelle in a loud voice, so as to be overheard by his neighbors:
+
+"I say--suppose such a thing as this should happen in America!"  Which
+remark, thanks to the expressive by-play of the illustrious actor, and to
+the superior air with which he replied, "I believe you!"  gave those who
+stood near to understand that these gentlemen knew exactly what would
+happen in America in such a case.  Now, they were equally and entirely
+ignorant on that subject; but upon the crowd their words made an
+impression.
+
+Sitting beside Frantz, with half of his bundle of flowers on her knees,
+Sidonie would seem to be blotted out, as it were, amid the uproar, during
+the long wait for the evening trains.  From the station, lighted by a
+single lamp, she could see the black clumps of trees outside, lighted
+here and there by the last illuminations of the fete, a dark village
+street, people continually coming in, and a lantern hanging on a deserted
+pier.
+
+From time to time, on the other side of the glass doors, a train would
+rush by without stopping, with a shower of hot cinders and the roar of
+escaping steam.  Thereupon a tempest of shouts and stamping would arise
+in the station, and, soaring above all the rest, the shrill treble of M.
+Chebe, shrieking in his sea-gull's voice: "Break down the doors!  break
+down the doors!"--a thing that the little man would have taken good care
+not to do himself, as he had an abject fear of gendarmes.  In a moment
+the storm would abate.  The tired women, their hair disarranged by the
+wind, would fall asleep on the benches.  There were torn and ragged
+dresses, low-necked white gowns, covered with dust.
+
+The air they breathed consisted mainly of dust.  It lay upon their
+clothes, rose at every step, obscured the light of the lamp, vexed one's
+eyes, and raised a sort of cloud before the tired faces.  The cars which
+they entered at last, after hours of waiting, were saturated with it
+also.  Sidonie would open the window, and look out at the dark fields, an
+endless line of shadow.  Then, like innumerable stars, the first lanterns
+of the outer boulevards appeared near the fortifications.
+
+So ended the ghastly day of rest of all those poor creatures.  The sight
+of Paris brought back to each one's mind the thought of the morrow's
+toil.  Dismal as her Sunday had been, Sidonie began to regret that it had
+passed.  She thought of the rich, to whom all the days of their lives
+were days of rest; and vaguely, as in a dream, the long park avenues of
+which she had caught glimpses during the day appeared to her thronged
+with those happy ones of earth, strolling on the fine gravel, while
+outside the gate, in the dust of the highroad, the poor man's Sunday
+hurried swiftly by, having hardly time to pause a moment to look and
+envy.
+
+Such was little Chebe's life from thirteen to seventeen.
+
+The years passed, but did not bring with them the slightest change.
+Madame Chebe's cashmere was a little more threadbare, the little lilac
+frock had undergone a few additional repairs, and that was all.  But, as
+Sidonie grew older, Frantz, now become a young man, acquired a habit of
+gazing at her silently with a melting expression, of paying her loving
+attentions that were visible to everybody, and were unnoticed by none
+save the girl herself.
+
+Indeed, nothing aroused the interest of little Chebe.  In the work-room
+she performed her task regularly, silently, without the slightest thought
+of the future or of saving.  All that she did seemed to be done as if she
+were waiting for something.
+
+Frantz, on the other hand, had been working for some time with
+extraordinary energy, the ardor of those who see something at the end of
+their efforts; so that, at the age of twenty-four, he graduated second in
+his class from the Ecole Centrale, as an engineer.
+
+On that evening Risler had taken the Chebe family to the Gymnase, and
+throughout the evening he and Madame Chebe had been making signs and
+winking at each other behind the children's backs.  And when they left
+the theatre Madame Chebe solemnly placed Sidonie's arm in Frantz's, as if
+she would say to the lovelorn youth, "Now settle matters--here is your
+chance."
+
+Thereupon the poor lover tried to settle matters.
+
+It is a long walk from the Gymnase to the Marais.  After a very few steps
+the brilliancy of the boulevard is left behind, the streets become darker
+and darker, the passers more and more rare.  Frantz began by talking of
+the play.  He was very fond of comedies of that sort, in which there was
+plenty of sentiment.
+
+"And you, Sidonie?"
+
+"Oh!  as for me, Frantz, you know that so long as there are fine
+costumes--"
+
+In truth she thought of nothing else at the theatre.  She was not one of
+those sentimental creatures; a la Madame Bovary, who return from the play
+with love-phrases ready-made, a conventional ideal.  No!  the theatre
+simply made her long madly for luxury and fine raiment; she brought away
+from it nothing but new methods of arranging the hair, and patterns of
+gowns.  The new, exaggerated toilettes of the actresses, their gait, even
+the spurious elegance of their speech, which seemed to her of the highest
+distinction, and with it all the tawdry magnificence of the gilding and
+the lights, the gaudy placard at the door, the long line of carriages,
+and all the somewhat unwholesome excitement that springs up about a
+popular play; that was what she loved, that was what absorbed her
+thoughts.
+
+"How well they acted their love-scene!"  continued the lover.
+
+And, as he uttered that suggestive phrase, he bent fondly toward a little
+face surrounded by a white woollen hood, from which the hair escaped in
+rebellious curls.
+
+Sidonie sighed:
+
+"Oh!  yes, the love-scene.  The actress wore beautiful diamonds."
+
+There was a moment's silence.  Poor Frantz had much difficulty in
+explaining himself.  The words he sought would not come, and then, too,
+he was afraid.  He fixed the time mentally when he would speak:
+
+"When we have passed the Porte Saint-Denis--when we have left the
+boulevard."
+
+But when the time arrived, Sidonie began to talk of such indifferent
+matters that his declaration froze on his lips, or else it was stopped by
+a passing carriage, which enabled their elders to overtake them.
+
+At last, in the Marais, he suddenly took courage:
+
+"Listen to me, Sidonie--I love you!"
+
+That night the Delobelles had sat up very late.
+
+It was the habit of those brave-hearted women to make their working-day
+as long as possible, to prolong it so far into the night that their lamp
+was among the last to be extinguished on the quiet Rue de Braque.  They
+always sat up until the great man returned home, and kept a dainty little
+supper warm for him in the ashes on the hearth.
+
+In the days when he was an actor there was some reason for that custom;
+actors, being obliged to dine early and very sparingly, have a terrible
+gnawing at their vitals when they leave the theatre, and usually eat when
+they go home.  Delobelle had not acted for a long time; but having, as he
+said, no right to abandon the stage, he kept his mania alive by clinging
+to a number of the strolling player's habits, and the supper on returning
+home was one of them, as was his habit of delaying his return until the
+last footlight in the boulevard theatres was extinguished.  To retire
+without supping, at the hour when all other artists supped, would have
+been to abdicate, to abandon the struggle, and he would not abandon it,
+sacre bleu!
+
+On the evening in question the actor had not yet come in and the women
+were waiting for him, talking as they worked, and with great animation,
+notwithstanding the lateness of the hour.  During the whole evening they
+had done nothing but talk of Frantz, of his success, of the future that
+lay before him.
+
+"Now," said Mamma Delobelle, "the only thing he needs is to find a good
+little wife."
+
+That was Desiree's opinion, too.  That was all that was lacking now to
+Frantz's happiness, a good little wife, active and brave and accustomed
+to work, who would forget everything for him.  And if Desiree spoke with
+great confidence, it was because she was intimately acquainted with the
+woman who was so well adapted to Frantz Risler's needs.  She was only a
+year younger than he, just enough to make her younger than her husband
+and a mother to him at the same time.
+
+Pretty?
+
+No, not exactly, but attractive rather than ugly, notwithstanding her
+infirmity, for she was lame, poor child!  And then she was clever and
+bright, and so loving!  No one but Desiree knew how fondly that little
+woman loved Frantz, and how she had thought of him night and day for
+years.  He had not noticed it himself, but seemed to have eyes for nobody
+but Sidonie, a gamine.  But no matter!  Silent love is so eloquent, such
+a mighty power lies hid in restrained feelings.  Who knows?  Perhaps some
+day or other:
+
+And the little cripple, leaning over her work, started upon one of those
+long journeys to the land of chimeras of which she had made so many in
+her invalid's easychair, with her feet resting on the stool; one of those
+wonderful journeys from which she always returned happy and smiling,
+leaning on Frantz's arm with all the confidence of a beloved wife.  As
+her fingers followed her thought, the little bird she had in her hand at
+the moment, smoothing his ruffled wings, looked as if he too were of the
+party and were about to fly far, far away, as joyous and light of heart
+as she.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open.
+
+"I do not disturb you?"  said a triumphant voice.
+
+The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head.
+
+"Ah!  it's Monsieur Frantz.  Pray come in, Monsieur Frantz.  We're
+waiting for father, as you see.  These brigands of artists always stay
+out so late!  Take a seat--you shall have supper with him."
+
+"Oh! no, thank you," replied Frantz, whose lips were still pale from the
+emotion he had undergone, "I can't stop.  I saw a light and I just
+stepped in to tell you--to tell you some great news that will make you
+very happy, because I know that you love me--"
+
+"Great heavens, what is it?"
+
+"Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be
+married."
+
+"There!  didn't I say that all he needed was a good little wife,"
+exclaimed Mamma Delobelle, rising and throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+Desiree'had not the strength to utter a word.  She bent still lower over
+her work, and as Frantz's eyes were fixed exclusively upon his happiness,
+as Mamma Delobelle did nothing but look at the clock to see whether her
+great man would return soon, no one noticed the lame girl's emotion, nor
+her pallor, nor the convulsive trembling of the little bird that lay in
+her hands with its head thrown back, like a bird with its death-wound.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE GLOW-WORMS OF SAVIGNY
+
+
+"SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE.
+
+"DEAR SMONIE:--We were sitting at table yesterday in the great dining-room
+which you remember, with the door wide open leading to the terrace, where
+the flowers are all in bloom.  I was a little bored.  Dear grandpapa had
+been cross all the morning, and poor mamma dared not say a word, being
+afraid of those frowning eyebrows which have always laid down the law for
+her.  I was thinking what a pity it was to be so entirely alone, in the
+middle of the summer, in such a lovely spot, and that I should be very
+glad, now that I have left the convent, and am destined to pass whole
+seasons in the country, to have as in the old day, some one to run about
+the woods and paths with me.
+
+"To be sure, Georges comes occasionally, but he always arrives very late,
+just in time for dinner, and is off again with my father in the morning
+before I am awake.  And then he is a serious-minded man now, is Monsieur
+Georges.  He works at the factory, and business cares often bring frowns
+to his brow.
+
+"I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa
+turned abruptly to me:
+
+"'What has become of your little friend Sidonie?  I should be glad to
+have her here for a time.'
+
+"You can imagine my delight.  What happiness to meet again, to renew the
+pleasant friendship that was broken off by the fault of the events of
+life rather than by our own!  How many things we shall have to tell each
+other!  You, who alone had the knack of driving the frowns from my
+terrible grandpapa's brow, will bring us gayety, and I assure you we need
+it.
+
+"This lovely Savigny is so lonely!  For instance, sometimes in the
+morning I choose to be a little coquettish.  I dress myself, I make
+myself beautiful with my hair in curls and put on a pretty gown; I walk
+through all the paths, and suddenly I realize that I have taken all this
+trouble for the swans and ducks, my dog Kiss, and the cows, who do not
+even turn to look at me when I pass.  Thereupon, in my wrath, I hurry
+home, put on a thick gown and busy myself on the farm, in the servants'
+quarters, everywhere.  And really, I am beginning to believe that ennui
+has perfected me, and that I shall make an excellent housekeeper.
+
+"Luckily the hunting season will soon be here, and I rely upon that for a
+little amusement.  In the first place, Georges and father, both
+enthusiastic sportsmen, will come oftener.  And then you will be here,
+you know.  For you will reply at once that you will come, won't you?
+Monsieur Risler said not long ago that you were not well.  The air of
+Savigny will do you worlds of good.
+
+"Everybody here expects you.  And I am dying with impatience.
+
+
+                              CLAIRE."
+
+
+Her letter written, Claire Fromont donned a large straw hat for the first
+days of August were warm and glorious--and went herself to drop it in the
+little box from which the postman collected the mail from the chateau
+every morning.
+
+It was on the edge of the park, at a turn in the road.  She paused a
+moment to look at the trees by the roadside, at the neighboring meadows
+sleeping in the bright sunlight.  Over yonder the reapers were gathering
+the last sheaves.  Farther on they were ploughing.  But all the
+melancholy of the silent toil had vanished, so far as the girl was
+concerned, so delighted was she at the thought of seeing her friend once
+more.
+
+No breeze came from the hills in the distance, no voice from the trees,
+to warn her by a presentiment, to prevent her from sending that fatal
+letter.  And immediately upon her return she gave her attention to the
+preparation of a pretty bedroom for Sidonie adjoining her own.
+
+The letter did its errand faithfully.  From the little green, vine-
+embowered gate of the chateau it found its way to Paris, and arrived that
+same evening, with its Savigny postmark and impregnated with the odor of
+the country, at the fifth-floor apartment on the Rue de Braque.
+
+What an event that was!  They read it again and again; and for a whole
+week, until Sidonie's departure, it lay on the mantel-shelf beside Madame
+Chebe's treasures, the clock under a glass globe and the Empire cups.  To
+Sidonie it was like a wonderful romance filled with tales of enchantment
+and promises, which she read without opening it, merely by gazing at the
+white envelope whereon Claire Fromont's monogram was engraved in relief.
+
+Little she thought of marriage now.  The important question was, What
+clothes should she wear at the chateau?  She must give her whole mind to
+that, to cutting and planning, trying on dresses, devising new ways of
+arranging her hair.  Poor Frantz!  How heavy his heart was made by these
+preparations!  That visit to Savigny, which he had tried vainly to
+oppose, would cause a still further postponement of their wedding, which
+Sidonie-why, he did not know--persisted in putting off from day to day.
+He could not go to see her; and when she was once there, in the midst of
+festivities and pleasures, who could say how long she would remain?
+
+The lover in his despair always went to the Delobelles to confide his
+sorrows, but he never noticed how quickly Desiree rose as soon as he
+entered, to make room for him by her side at the work-takle, and how she
+at once sat down again, with cheeks as red as fire and shining eyes.
+
+For some days past they had ceased to work at birds and insects for
+ornament.  The mother and daughter were hemming pink flounces destined
+for Sidonie's frock, and the little cripple never had plied her needle
+with such good heart.
+
+In truth little Desiree was not Delobelle's daughter to no purpose.
+
+She inherited her father's faculty of retaining his illusions, of hoping
+on to the end and even beyond.
+
+While Frantz was dilating upon his woe, Desire was thinking that, when
+Sidonie was gone, he would come every day, if it were only to talk about
+the absent one; that she would have him there by her side, that they
+would sit up together waiting for "father," and that, perhaps, some
+evening, as he sat looking at her, he would discover the difference
+between the woman who loves you and the one who simply allows herself to
+be loved.
+
+Thereupon the thought that every stitch taken in the frock tended to
+hasten the departure which she anticipated with such impatience imparted.
+extraordinary activity to her needle, and the unhappy lover ruefully
+watched the flounces and ruffles piling up about her, like little pink,
+white-capped waves.
+
+When the pink frock was finished, Mademoiselle Chebe started for Savigny.
+
+The chateau of M. Gardinois was built in the valley of the Orge, on the
+bank of that capriciously lovely stream, with its windmills, its little
+islands, its dams, and its broad lawns that end at its shores.
+
+The chateau, an old Louis-Quinze structure, low in reality, although made
+to appear high by a pointed roof, had a most depressing aspect,
+suggestive of aristocratic antiquity; broad steps, balconies with rusty
+balustrades, old urns marred by time, wherein the flowers stood out
+vividly against the reddish stone.  As far as the eye could see, the
+walls stretched away, decayed and crumbling, descending gradually toward
+the stream.  The chateau overlooked them, with its high, slated roofs,
+the farmhouse, with its red tiles, and the superb park, with its lindens,
+ash-trees, poplars and chestnuts growing confusedly together in a dense
+black mass, cut here and there by the arched openings of the paths.
+
+But the charm of the old place was the water, which enlivened its silence
+and gave character to its beautiful views.  There were at Savigny, to say
+nothing of the river, many springs, fountains, and ponds, in which the
+sun sank to rest in all his glory; and they formed a suitable setting for
+that venerable mansion, green and mossy as it was, and slightly worn
+away, like a stone on the edge of a brook.
+
+Unluckily, at Savigny, as in most of those gorgeous Parisian summer
+palaces, which the parvenus in commerce and speculation have made their
+prey, the chatelains were not in harmony with the chateau.
+
+Since he had purchased his chateau, old Gardinois had done nothing but
+injure the beauty of the beautiful property chance had placed in his
+hands; cut down trees "for the view," filled his park with rough
+obstructions to keep out trespassers, and reserved all his solicitude for
+a magnificent kitchen-garden, which, as it produced fruit and vegetables
+in abundance, seemed to him more like his own part of the country--the
+land of the peasant.
+
+As for the great salons, where the panels with paintings of famous
+subjects were fading in the autumn fogs, as for the ponds overrun with
+water-lilies, the grottoes, the stone bridges, he cared for them only
+because of the admiration of visitors, and because of such elements was
+composed that thing which so flattered his vanity as an ex-dealer in
+cattle--a chateau!
+
+Being already old, unable to hunt or fish, he passed his time
+superintending the most trivial details of that large property.  The
+grain for the hens, the price of the last load of the second crop of hay,
+the number of bales of straw stored in a magnificent circular granary,
+furnished him with matter for scolding for a whole day; and certain it is
+that, when one gazed from a distance at that lovely estate of Savigny,
+the chateau on the hillside, the river, like a mirror, flowing at its
+feet, the high terraces shaded by ivy, the supporting wall of the park
+following the majestic slope of the ground, one never would have
+suspected the proprietor's niggardliness and meanness of spirit.
+
+In the idleness consequent upon his wealth, M. Gardinois, being greatly
+bored in Paris, lived at Savigny throughout the year, and the Fromonts
+lived with him during the summer.
+
+Madame Fromont was a mild, dull woman, whom her father's brutal despotism
+had early molded to passive obedience for life.  She maintained the same
+attitude with her husband, whose constant kindness and indulgence never
+had succeeded in triumphing over that humiliated, taciturn nature,
+indifferent to everything, and, in some sense, irresponsible.  Having
+passed her life with no knowledge of business, she had become rich
+without knowing it and without the slightest desire to take advantage of
+it.  Her fine apartments in Paris, her father's magnificent chateau, made
+her uncomfortable.  She occupied as small a place as possible in both,
+filling her life with a single passion, order--a fantastic, abnormal sort
+of order, which consisted in brushing, wiping, dusting, and polishing the
+mirrors, the gilding and the door-knobs, with her own hands, from morning
+till night.
+
+When she had nothing else to clean, the strange woman would attack her
+rings, her watch-chain, her brooches, scrubbing the cameos and pearls,
+and, by dint of polishing the combination of her own name and her
+husband's, she had effaced all the letters of both.  Her fixed idea
+followed her to Savigny.  She picked up dead branches in the paths,
+scratched the moss from the benches with the end of her umbrella, and
+would have liked to dust the leaves and sweep down the old trees; and
+often, when in the train, she looked with envy at the little villas
+standing in a line along the track, white and clean, with their gleaming
+utensils, the pewter ball, and the little oblong gardens, which resemble
+drawers in a bureau.  Those were her ideal of a country-house.
+
+M. Fromont, who came only occasionally and was always absorbed by his
+business affairs, enjoyed Savigny little more than she.  Claire alone
+felt really at home in that lovely park.  She was familiar with its
+smallest shrub.  Being obliged to provide her own amusements, like all
+only children, she had become attached to certain walks, watched the
+flowers bloom, had her favorite path, her favorite tree, her favorite
+bench for reading.  The dinner-bell always surprised her far away in the
+park.  She would come to the table, out of breath but happy, flushed with
+the fresh air.  The shadow of the hornbeams, stealing over that youthful
+brow, had imprinted a sort of gentle melancholy there, and the deep, dark
+green of the ponds, crossed by vague rays, was reflected in her eyes.
+
+Those lovely surroundings had in very truth shielded her from the
+vulgarity and the abjectness of the persons about her.  M. Gardinois
+might deplore in her presence, for hours at a time, the perversity of
+tradesmen and servants, or make an estimate of what was being stolen from
+him each month, each week, every day, every minute; Madame Fromont might
+enumerate her grievances against the mice, the maggots, dust and
+dampness, all desperately bent upon destroying her property, and engaged
+in a conspiracy against her wardrobes; not a word of their foolish talk
+remained in Claire's mind.  A run around the lawn, an hour's reading on
+the river-bank, restored the tranquillity of that noble and intensely
+active mind.
+
+Her grandfather looked upon her as a strange being, altogether out of
+place in his family.  As a child she annoyed him with her great, honest
+eyes, her straightforwardness on all occasions, and also because he did
+not find in her a second edition of his own passive and submissive
+daughter.
+
+"That child will be a proud chit and an original, like her father," he
+would say in his ugly moods.
+
+How much better he liked that little Chebe girl who used to come now and
+then and play in the avenues at Savigny!  In her, at least, he detected
+the strain of the common people like himself, with a sprinkling of
+ambition and envy, suggested even in those early days by a certain little
+smile at the corner of the mouth.  Moreover, the child exhibited an
+ingenuous amazement and admiration in presence of his wealth, which
+flattered his parvenu pride; and sometimes, when he teased her, she would
+break out with the droll phrases of a Paris gamine, slang redolent of the
+faubourgs, seasoned by her pretty, piquant face, inclined to pallor,
+which not even superficiality could deprive of its distinction.  So he
+never had forgotten her.
+
+On this occasion above all, when Sidonie arrived at Savigny after her
+long absence, with her fluffy hair, her graceful figure, her bright,
+mobile face, the whole effect emphasized by mannerisms suggestive of the
+shop-girl, she produced a decided sensation.  Old Gardinois, wondering
+greatly to see a tall young woman in place of the child he was expecting
+to see, considered her prettier and, above all, better dressed than
+Claire.
+
+It was a fact that, when Mademoiselle Chebe had left the train and was
+seated in the great wagonette from the chateau, her appearance was not
+bad; but she lacked those details that constituted her friend's chief
+beauty and charm--a distinguished carriage, a contempt for poses, and,
+more than all else, mental tranquillity.  Her prettiness was not unlike
+her gowns, of inexpensive materials, but cut according to the style of
+the day-rags, if you will, but rags of which fashion, that ridiculous but
+charming fairy, had regulated the color, the trimming, and the shape.
+Paris has pretty faces made expressly for costumes of that sort, very
+easy to dress becomingly, for the very reason that they belong to no
+type, and Mademoiselle Sidonie's face was one of these.
+
+What bliss was hers when the carriage entered the long avenue, bordered
+with velvety grass and primeval elms, and at the end Savigny awaiting her
+with its great gate wide open!
+
+And how thoroughly at ease she felt amid all those refinements of wealth!
+How perfectly that sort of life suited her!  It seemed to her that she
+never had known any other.
+
+Suddenly, in the midst of her intoxication, arrived a letter from Frantz,
+which brought her back to the realities of her life, to her wretched fate
+as the future wife of a government clerk, which transported her, whether
+she would or no, to the mean little apartment they would occupy some day
+at the top of some dismal house, whose heavy atmosphere, dense with
+privation, she seemed already to breathe.
+
+Should she break her betrothal promise?
+
+She certainly could do it, as she had given no other pledge than her
+word.  But when he had left her, who could say that she would not wish
+him back?
+
+In that little brain, turned by ambition, the strangest ideas chased one
+another.  Sometimes, while Grandfather Gardinois, who had laid aside in
+her honor his old-fashioned hunting-jackets and swanskin waistcoats, was
+jesting with her, amusing himself by contradicting her in order to draw
+out a sharp reply, she would gaze steadily, coldly into his eyes, without
+replying.  Ah! if only he were ten years younger!  But the thought of
+becoming Madame Gardinois did not long occupy her.  A new personage, a
+new hope came into her life.
+
+After Sidonie's arrival, Georges Fromont, who was seldom seen at Savigny
+except on Sundays, adopted the habit of coming to dinner almost every
+day.
+
+He was a tall, slender, pale youth, of refined appearance.  Having no
+father or mother, he had been brought up by his uncle, M. Fromont, and
+was looked upon by him to succeed him in business, and probably to become
+Claire's husband.  That ready-made future did not arouse any enthusiasm
+in Georges.  In the first place business bored him.  As for his cousin,
+the intimate good-fellowship of an education in common and mutual
+confidence existed between them, but nothing more, at least on his side.
+
+With Sidonie, on the contrary, he was exceedingly embarrassed and shy,
+and at the same time desirous of producing an effect--a totally different
+man, in short.  She had just the spurious charm, a little free, which was
+calculated to attract a superficial nature, and it was not long before
+she discovered the impression that she produced upon him.
+
+When the two girls were walking together in the park, it was always
+Sidonie who remembered that it was time for the train from Paris to
+arrive.  They would go together to the gate to meet the travellers, and
+Georges's first glance was always for Mademoiselle Chebe, who remained a
+little behind her friend, but with the poses and airs that go halfway to
+meet the eyes.  That manoeuvring between them lasted some time.  They did
+not mention love, but all the words, all the smiles they exchanged were
+full of silent avowals.
+
+One cloudy and threatening summer evening, when the two friends had left
+the table as soon as dinner was at an end and were walking in the long,
+shady avenue, Georges joined them.  They were talking upon indifferent
+subjects, crunching the gravel beneath their idling footsteps, when
+Madame Fromont's voice, from the chateau, called Claire away.  Georges
+and Sidonie were left alone.  They continued to walk along the avenue,
+guided by the uncertain whiteness of the path, without speaking of
+drawing nearer to each other.
+
+A warm wind rustled among the leaves.  The ruffled surface of the pond
+lapped softly against the arches of the little bridge; and the blossoms
+of the acacias and lindens, detached by the breeze, whirled about in
+circles, perfuming the electricity-laden air.  They felt themselves
+surrounded by an atmosphere of storm, vibrant and penetrating.  Dazzling
+flashes of heat passed before their troubled eyes, like those that played
+along the horizon.
+
+"Oh!  what lovely glow-worms!"  exclaimed Sidonie, embarrassed by the
+oppressive silence broken by so many mysterious sounds.
+
+On the edge of the greensward a blade of grass here and there was
+illuminated by a tiny, green, flickering light.  She stooped to lift one
+on her glove.  Georges knelt close beside her; and as they leaned down,
+their hair and cheeks touching, they gazed at each other for a moment by
+the light of the glow-worms.  How weird and fascinating she seemed to him
+in that green light, which shone upon her face and died away in the fine
+network of her waving hair!  He put his arm around her waist, and
+suddenly, feeling that she abandoned herself to him, he clasped her in a
+long, passionate embrace.
+
+"What are you looking for?"  asked Claire, suddenly coming up in the
+shadow behind them.
+
+Taken by surprise, and with a choking sensation in his throat, Georges
+trembled so that he could not reply.  Sidonie, on the other hand, rose
+with the utmost coolness, and said as she shook out her skirt:
+
+"The glow-worms.  See how many of them there are tonight.  And how they
+sparkle."
+
+Her eyes also sparkled with extraordinary brilliancy.
+
+"The storm makes them, I suppose," murmured Georges, still trembling.
+
+The storm was indeed near.  At brief intervals great clouds of leaves and
+dust whirled from one end of the avenue to the other.  They walked a few
+steps farther, then all three returned to the house.  The young women
+took their work, Georges tried to read a newspaper, while Madame Fromont
+polished her rings and M. Gardinois and his son-in-law played billiards
+in the adjoining room.
+
+How long that evening seemed to Sidonie!  She had but one wish, to be
+alone-alone with her thoughts.
+
+But, in the silence of her little bedroom, when she had put out her
+light, which interferes with dreams by casting too bright an illumination
+upon reality, what schemes, what transports of delight!  Georges loved
+her, Georges Fromont, the heir of the factory!  They would marry; she
+would be rich.  For in that mercenary little heart the first kiss of love
+had awakened no ideas save those of ambition and a life of luxury.
+
+To assure herself that her lover was sincere, she tried to recall the
+scene under the trees to its most trifling details, the expression of his
+eyes, the warmth of his embrace, the vows uttered brokenly, lips to lips,
+it that weird light shed by the glow-worms, which one solemn moment had
+fixed forever in her heart.
+
+Oh! the glow-worms of Savigny!
+
+All night long they twinkled like stars before her closed eyes.  The park
+was full of them, to the farthest limits of its darkest paths.  There
+were clusters of them all along the lawns, on the trees, in the
+shrubbery.  The fine gravel of the avenues, the waves of the river,
+seemed to emit green sparks, and all those microscopic flashes formed a
+sort of holiday illumination in which Savigny seemed to be enveloped in
+her honor, to celebrate the betrothal of Georges and Sidonie.
+
+When she rose the next day, her plan was formed.  Georges loved her; that
+was certain.  Did he contemplate marrying her?  She had a suspicion that
+he did not, the clever minx!  But that did not frighten her.  She felt
+strong enough to triumph over that childish nature, at once weak and
+passionate.  She had only to resist him, and that is exactly what she
+did.
+
+For some days she was cold and indifferent, wilfully blind and devoid of
+memory.  He tried to speak to her, to renew the blissful moment, but she
+avoided him, always placing some one between them.
+
+Then he wrote to her.
+
+He carried his notes himself to a hollow in a rock near a clear spring
+called "The Phantom," which was in the outskirts of the park, sheltered
+by a thatched roof.  Sidonie thought that a charming episode.  In the
+evening she must invent some story, a pretext of some sort for going to
+"The Phantom" alone.  The shadow of the trees across the path, the
+mystery of the night, the rapid walk, the excitement, made her heart beat
+deliciously.  She would find the letter saturated with dew, with the
+intense cold of the spring, and so white in the moonlight that she would
+hide it quickly for fear of being surprised.
+
+And then, when she was alone, what joy to open it, to decipher those
+magic characters, those words of love which swam before her eyes,
+surrounded by dazzling blue and yellow circles, as if she were reading
+her letter in the bright sunlight.
+
+"I love you!  Love me!"  wrote Georges in every conceivable phrase.
+
+At first she did not reply; but when she felt that he was fairly caught,
+entirely in her power, she declared herself concisely:
+
+"I never will love any one but my husband."
+
+Ah! she was a true woman already, was little Chebe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HOW LITTLE CHEBE'S STORY ENDED
+
+Meanwhil September arrived.  The hunting season brought together a large,
+noisy, vulgar party at the chateau.  There were long dinners at which the
+wealthy bourgeois lingered slothfully and wearily, prone to fall asleep
+like peasants.  They went in carriages to meet the returning hunters in
+the cool air of the autumn evening.  The mist arose from the fields, from
+which the crops had been gathered; and while the frightened game flew
+along the stubble with plaintive cries, the darkness seemed to emerge
+from the forests whose dark masses increased in size, spreading out over
+the fields.
+
+The carriage lamps were lighted, the hoods raised, and they drove quickly
+homeward with the fresh air blowing in their faces.  The dining-hall,
+brilliantly illuminated, was filled with gayety and laughter.
+
+Claire Fromont, embarrassed by the vulgarity of those about her, hardly
+spoke at all.  Sidonie was at her brightest.  The drive had given
+animation to her pale complexion and Parisian eyes.  She knew how to
+laugh, understood a little too much, perhaps, and seemed to the male
+guests the only woman in the party.  Her success completed Georges's
+intoxication; but as his advances became more pronounced, she showed more
+and more reserve.  Thereupon he determined that she should be his wife.
+He swore it to himself, with the exaggerated emphasis of weak characters,
+who seem always to combat beforehand the difficulties to which they know
+that they must yield some day.
+
+It was the happiest moment of little Chebe's life.  Even aside from any
+ambitious project, her coquettish, false nature found a strange
+fascination in this intrigue, carried on mysteriously amid banquets and
+merry-makings.
+
+No one about them suspected anything.  Claire was at that healthy and
+delightful period of youth when the mind, only partly open, clings to the
+things it knows with blind confidence, in complete ignorance of treachery
+and falsehood.  M. Fromont thought of nothing but his business.  His wife
+polished her jewels with frenzied energy.  Only old Gardinois and his
+little, gimlet-like eyes were to be feared; but Sidonie entertained him,
+and even if he had discovered anything, he was not the man to interfere
+with her future.
+
+Her hour of triumph was near, when a sudden, unforeseen disaster blasted
+her hopes.
+
+One Sunday morning M. Fromont was brought back fatally wounded from a
+hunting expedition.  A bullet intended for a deer had pierced his temple.
+The chateau was turned upside-down.
+
+All the hunters, among them the unknown bungler that had fired the fatal
+shot, started in haste for Paris.  Claire, frantic with grief, entered
+the room where her father lay on his deathbed, there to remain; and
+Risler, being advised of the catastrophe, came to take Sidonie home.
+
+On the night before her departure she had a final meeting with Georges at
+The Phantom,--a farewell meeting, painful and stealthy, and made solemn
+by the proximity of death.  They vowed, however, to love each other
+always; they agreed upon a method of writing to each other.  Then they
+parted.
+
+It was a sad journey home.
+
+Sidonie returned abruptly to her every-day life, escorted by the
+despairing grief of Risler, to whom his dear master's death was an
+irreparable loss.  On her arrival, she was compelled to describe her
+visit to the smallest detail; discuss the inmates of the chateau, the
+guests, the entertainments, the dinners, and the final catastrophe.
+What torture for her, when, absorbed as she was by a single, unchanging
+thought, she had so much need of silence and solitude!  But there was
+something even more terrible than that.
+
+On the first day after her return Frantz resumed his former place; and
+the glances with which he followed her, the words he addressed to her
+alone, seemed to her exasperating beyond endurance.
+
+Despite all his shyness and distrust of himself, the poor fellow believed
+that he had some rights as an accepted and impatient lover, and little
+Chebe was obliged to emerge from her dreams to reply to that creditor,
+and to postpone once more the maturity of his claim.
+
+A day came, however, when indecision ceased to be possible.  She had
+promised to marry Frantz when he had obtained a good situation; and now
+an engineer's berth in the South, at the smelting-furnaces of Grand
+Combe, was offered to him.  That was sufficient for the support of a
+modest establishment.
+
+There was no way of avoiding the question.  She must either keep her
+promise or invent an excuse for breaking it.  But what excuse could she
+invent?
+
+In that pressing emergency, she thought of Desiree.  Although the lame
+little girl had never confided in her, she knew of her great love for
+Frantz.  Long ago she had detected it, with her coquette's eyes, bright
+and changing mirrors, which reflected all the thoughts of others without
+betraying any of her own.  It may be that the thought that another woman
+loved her betrothed had made Frantz's love more endurable to her at
+first; and, just as we place statues on tombstones to make them appear
+less sad, Desiree's pretty, little, pale face at the threshold of that
+uninviting future had made it seem less forbidding to her.
+
+Now it provided--her with a simple and honorable pretext for freeing
+herself from her promise.
+
+"No!  I tell you, mamma," she said to Madame Chebe one day, "I never will
+consent to make a friend like her unhappy.  I should suffer too much from
+remorse,--poor Desiree!  Haven't you noticed how badly she looks since I
+came home; what a beseeching way she has of looking at me?  No, I won't
+cause her that sorrow; I won't take away her Frantz."
+
+Even while she admired her daughter's generous spirit, Madame Chebe
+looked upon that as a rather exaggerated sacrifice, and remonstrated with
+her.
+
+"Take care, my child; we aren't rich.  A husband like Frantz doesn't turn
+up every day."
+
+"Very well!  then I won't marry at all," declared Sidonie flatly, and,
+deeming her pretext an excellent one, she clung persistently to it.
+Nothing could shake her determination, neither the tears shed by Frantz,
+who was exasperated by her refusal to fulfil her promise, enveloped as it
+was in vague reasons which she would not even explain to him, nor the
+entreaties of Risler, in whose ear Madame Chebe had mysteriously mumbled
+her daughter's reasons, and who in spite of everything could not but
+admire such a sacrifice.
+
+"Don't revile her, I tell you!  She's an angel!" he said to his brother,
+striving to soothe him.
+
+"Ah!  yes, she is an angel," assented Madame Chebe with a sigh, so that
+the poor betrayed lover had not even the right to complain.  Driven to
+despair, he determined to leave Paris, and as Grand Combe seemed too near
+in his frenzied longing for flight, he asked and obtained an appointment
+as overseer on the Suez Canal at Ismailia.  He went away without knowing,
+or caring to know aught of, Desiree's love; and yet, when he went to bid
+her farewell, the dear little cripple looked up into his face with her
+shy, pretty eyes, in which were plainly written the words:
+
+"I love you, if she does not."
+
+But Frantz Risler did not know how to read what was written in those
+eyes.
+
+Fortunately, hearts that are accustomed to suffer have an infinite store
+of patience.  When her friend had gone, the lame girl, with her charming
+morsel of illusion, inherited from her father and refined by her feminine
+nature, returned bravely to her work, saying to herself:
+
+"I will wait for him."
+
+And thereafter she spread the wings of her birds to their fullest extent,
+as if they were all going, one after another, to Ismailia in Egypt.  And
+that was a long distance!
+
+Before sailing from Marseilles, young Risler wrote Sidonie a farewell
+letter, at once laughable and touching, wherein, mingling the most
+technical details with the most heartrending adieux, the unhappy engineer
+declared that he was about to set sail, with a broken heart, on the
+transport Sahib, "a sailing-ship and steamship combined, with engines of
+fifteen-hundred-horse power," as if he hoped that so considerable a
+capacity would make an impression on his ungrateful betrothed, and cause
+her ceaseless remorse.  But Sidonie had very different matters on her
+mind.
+
+She was beginning to be disturbed by Georges's silence.  Since she left
+Savigny she had heard from him only once.  All her letters were left
+unanswered.  To be sure, she knew through Risler that Georges was very
+busy, and that his uncle's death had thrown the management of the factory
+upon him, imposing upon him a responsibility that was beyond his
+strength.  But to abandon her without a word!
+
+From the window on the landing, where she had resumed her silent
+observations--for she had so arranged matters as not to return to
+Mademoiselle Le Mire--little Chebe tried to distinguish her lover,
+watched him as he went to and fro across the yards and among the
+buildings; and in the afternoon, when it was time for the train to start
+for Savigny, she saw him enter his carriage to go to his aunt and cousin,
+who were passing the early months of their period of mourning at the
+grandfather's chateau in the country.
+
+All this excited and alarmed her; and the proximity of the factory
+rendered Georges's avoidance of her even more apparent.  To think that by
+raising her voice a little she could make him turn toward the place where
+she stood!  To think that they were separated only by a wall!  And yet,
+at that moment they were very far apart.
+
+Do you remember, little Chebe, that unhappy winter evening when the
+excellent Risler rushed into your parents' room with an extraordinary
+expression of countenance, exclaiming, "Great news!"?
+
+Great news, indeed!  Georges Fromont had just informed him that, in
+accordance with his uncle's last wishes, he was to marry his cousin
+Claire, and that, as he was certainly unequal to the task of carrying on
+the business alone, he had resolved to take him, Risler, for a partner,
+under the firm name of FROMONT JEUNE AND RISLER AINE.
+
+How did you succeed, little Chebe, in maintaining your self-possession
+when you learned that the factory had eluded your grasp and that another
+woman had taken your place?  What a terrible evening!--Madame Chebe sat
+by the table mending; M. Chebe before the fire drying his clothes, which
+were wet through by his having walked a long distance in the rain.  Oh!
+that miserable room, overflowing with gloom and ennui!  The lamp gave a
+dim light.  The supper, hastily prepared, had left in the room the odor
+of the poor man's kitchen.  And Risler, intoxicated with joy, talking
+with increasing animation, laid great plans!
+
+All these things tore your heart, and made the treachery still more
+horrible by the contrast between the riches that eluded your outstretched
+hand and the ignoble mediocrity in which you were doomed to pass your
+life.
+
+Sidonie was seriously ill for a long while.  As she lay in bed, whenever
+the window-panes rattled behind the curtains, the unhappy creature
+fancied that Georges's wedding-coaches were driving through the street;
+and she had paroxysms of nervous excitement, without words and
+inexplicable, as if a fever of wrath were consuming her.
+
+At last, time and youthful strength, her mother's care, and, more than
+all, the attentions of Desiree, who now knew of the sacrifice her friend
+had made for her, triumphed over the disease.  But for a long while
+Sidonie was very weak, oppressed by a deadly melancholy, by a constant
+longing to weep, which played havoc with her nervous system.
+
+Sometimes she talked of travelling, of leaving Paris.  At other times she
+insisted that she must enter a convent.  Her friends were sorely
+perplexed, and strove to discover the cause of that singular state of
+mind, which was even more alarming than her illness; when she suddenly
+confessed to her mother the secret of her melancholy.
+
+She loved the elder Risler!  She never had dared to whisper it; but it
+was he whom she had always loved and not Frantz.
+
+This news was a surprise to everybody, to Risler most of all; but little
+Chebe was so pretty, her eyes were so soft when she glanced at him, that
+the honest fellow instantly became as fond of her as a fool!  Indeed, it
+may be that love had lain in his heart for a long time without his
+realizing it.
+
+And that is how it happened that, on the evening of her wedding-day,
+young Madame Risler, in her white wedding-dress, gazed with a smile of
+triumph at the window on the landing which had been the narrow setting of
+ten years of her life.  That haughty smile, in which there was a touch of
+profound pity and of scorn as well, such scorn as a parvenu feels for his
+poor beginnings, was evidently addressed to the poor sickly child whom
+she fancied she saw up at that window, in the depths of the past and the
+darkness.  It seemed to say to Claire, pointing at the factory:
+
+"What do you say to this little Chebe?  She is here at last, you see!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Noon.  The Marais is breakfasting.
+
+Sitting near the door, on a stone which once served as a horse-block
+for equestrians, Risler watches with a smile the exit from the factory.
+He never loses his enjoyment of the outspoken esteem of all these good
+people whom he knew when he was insignificant and humble like themselves.
+The "Good-day, Monsieur Risler," uttered by so many different voices, all
+in the same affectionate tone, warms his heart.  The children accost him
+without fear, the long-bearded designers, half-workmen, half-artists,
+shake hands with him as they pass, and address him familiarly as "thou."
+Perhaps there is a little too much familiarity in all this, for the
+worthy man has not yet begun to realize the prestige and authority of his
+new station; and there was some one who considered this free-and-easy
+manner very humiliating.  But that some one can not see him at this
+moment, and the master takes advantage of the fact to bestow a hearty
+greeting upon the old bookkeeper, Sigismond, who comes out last of all,
+erect and red-faced, imprisoned in a high collar and bareheaded--whatever
+the weather--for fear of apoplexy.
+
+He and Risler are fellow-countrymen.  They have for each other a profound
+esteem, dating from their first employment at the factory, from that
+time, long, long ago, when they breakfasted together at the little
+creamery on the corner, to which Sigismond Planus goes alone now and
+selects his refreshment for the day from the slate hanging on the wall.
+
+But stand aside!  The carriage of Fromont Jeune drives through the
+gateway.  He has been out on business all the morning; and the partners,
+as they walk toward the pretty little house in which they both live at
+the end of the garden, discuss matters of business in a friendly way.
+
+"I have been at Prochasson's," says Fromont.  "They showed me some new
+patterns, pretty ones too, I assure you.  We must be on our guard.  They
+are dangerous rivals."
+
+But Risler is not at all anxious.  He is strong in his talent, his
+experience; and then--but this is strictly confidential--he is on the
+track of a wonderful invention, an improved printing-press, something
+that--but we shall see.  Still talking, they enter the garden, which is
+as carefully kept as a public park, with round-topped acacias almost as
+old as the buildings, and magnificent ivies that hide the high, black
+walls.
+
+Beside Fromont jeune, Risler Aine has the appearance of a clerk making
+his report to his employer.  At every step he stops to speak, for his
+gait is heavy, his mind works slowly, and words have much difficulty in
+finding their way to his lips.  Oh, if he could see the little flushed
+face up yonder, behind the window on the second floor, watching
+everything so attentively!
+
+Madame Risler is waiting for her husband to come to breakfast, and waxes
+impatient over the good man's moderation.  She motions to him with her
+hand:
+
+"Come, come!"  but Risler does not notice it.  His attention is engrossed
+by the little Fromont, daughter of Claire and Georges, who is taking a
+sun-bath, blooming like a flower amid her lace in her nurse's arms.  How
+pretty she is!  "She is your very picture, Madame Chorche."
+
+"Do you think so, my dear Risler?  Why, everybody says she looks like her
+father."
+
+"Yes, a little.  But--"
+
+And there they all stand, the father and mother, Risler and the nurse,
+gravely seeking resemblances in that miniature model of a human being,
+who stares at them out of her little eyes, blinking with the noise and
+glare.  Sidonie, at her open window, leans out to see what they are
+doing, and why her husband does not come up.
+
+At that moment Risler has taken the tiny creature in his arms, the whole
+fascinating bundle of white draperies and light ribbons, and is trying to
+make it laugh and crow with baby-talk and gestures worthy of a
+grandfather.  How old he looks, poor man!  His tall body, which he
+contorts for the child's amusement, his hoarse voice, which becomes a low
+growl when he tries to soften it, are absurd and ridiculous.
+
+Above, the wife taps the floor with her foot and mutters between her
+teeth:
+
+"The idiot!"
+
+At last, weary of waiting, she sends a servant to tell Monsieur that
+breakfast is served; but the game is so far advanced that Monsieur does
+not see how he can go away, how he can interrupt these explosions of
+laughter and little bird-like cries.  He succeeds at last, however, in
+giving the child back to its nurse, and enters the hall, laughing
+heartily.  He is laughing still when he enters the dining-room; but a
+glance from his wife stops him short.
+
+Sidonie is seated at table before the chafing-dish, already filled.  Her
+martyr-like attitude suggests a determination to be cross.
+
+"Oh!  there you are.  It's very lucky!"
+
+Risler took his seat, a little ashamed.
+
+"What would you have, my love?  That child is so--"
+
+"I have asked you before now not to speak to me in that way.  It isn't
+good form."
+
+"What, not when we're alone?"
+
+"Bah!  you will never learn to adapt yourself to our new fortune.  And
+what is the result?  No one in this place treats me with any respect.
+Pere Achille hardly touches his hat to me when I pass his lodge.  To be
+sure, I'm not a Fromont, and I haven't a carriage."
+
+"Come, come, little one, you know perfectly well that you can use Madame
+Chorche's coupe.  She always says it is at our disposal."
+
+"How many times must I tell you that I don't choose to be under any
+obligation to that woman?"
+
+"O Sidonie"
+
+"Oh!  yes, I know, it's all understood.  Madame Fromont is the good Lord
+himself.  Every one is forbidden to touch her.  And I must make up my
+mind to be a nobody in my own house, to allow myself to be humiliated,
+trampled under foot."
+
+"Come, come, little one--"
+
+Poor Risler tries to interpose, to say a word in favor of his dear Madame
+"Chorche."  But he has no tact.  This is the worst possible method of
+effecting a reconciliation; and Sidonie at once bursts forth:
+
+"I tell you that that woman, with all her calm airs, is proud and
+spiteful.  In the first place, she detests me, I know that.  So long as I
+was poor little Sidonie and she could toss me her broken dolls and old
+clothes, it was all right, but now that I am my own mistress as well as
+she, it vexes her and humiliates her.  Madame gives me advice with a
+lofty air, and criticises what I do.  I did wrong to have a maid.  Of
+course!  Wasn't I in the habit of waiting on myself?  She never loses a
+chance to wound me.  When I call on her on Wednesdays, you should hear
+the tone in which she asks me, before everybody, how 'dear Madame Chebe'
+is.  Oh! yes.  I'm a Chebe and she's a Fromont.  One's as good as the
+other, in my opinion.  My grandfather was a druggist.  What was hers?
+A peasant who got rich by money-lending.  I'll tell her so one of these
+days, if she shows me too much of her pride; and I'll tell her, too, that
+their little imp, although they don't suspect it, looks just like that
+old Pere Gardinois, and heaven knows he isn't handsome."
+
+"Oh!"  exclaims Risler, unable to find words to reply.
+
+"Oh!  yes, of course!  I advise you to admire their child.  She's always
+ill.  She cries all night like a little cat.  It keeps me awake.  And
+afterward, through the day, I have mamma's piano and her scales--tra, la
+la la!  If the music were only worth listening to!"
+
+Risler has taken the wise course.  He does not say a word until he sees
+that she is beginning to calm down a little, when he completes the
+soothing process with compliments.
+
+"How pretty we are to-day!  Are we going out soon to make some calls,
+eh?"
+
+He resorts to this mode of address to avoid the more familiar form, which
+is so offensive to her.
+
+"No, I am not going to make calls," Sidonie replies with a certain pride.
+"On the contrary, I expect to receive them.  This is my day."
+
+In response to her husband's astounded, bewildered expression she
+continues:
+
+"Why, yes, this is my day.  Madame Fromont has one; I can have one also,
+I fancy."
+
+"Of course, of course," said honest Risler, looking about with some
+little uneasiness.  "So that's why I saw so many flowers everywhere, on
+the landing and in the drawing-room."
+
+"Yes, my maid went down to the garden this morning.  Did I do wrong?
+Oh! you don't say so, but I'm sure you think I did wrong.  'Dame'!
+I thought the flowers in the garden belonged to us as much as to the
+Fromonts."
+
+"Certainly they do--but you--it would have been better perhaps--"
+
+"To ask leave?  That's it-to humble myself again for a few paltry
+chrysanthemums and two or three bits of green.  Besides, I didn't make
+any secret of taking the flowers; and when she comes up a little later--"
+
+"Is she coming?  Ah! that's very kind of her."
+
+Sidonie turned upon him indignantly.
+
+"What's that?  Kind of her?  Upon my word, if she doesn't come, it would
+be the last straw.  When I go every Wednesday to be bored to death in her
+salon with a crowd of affected, simpering women!"
+
+She did not say that those same Wednesdays of Madame Fromont's were very
+useful to her, that they were like a weekly journal of fashion, one of
+those composite little publications in which you are told how to enter
+and to leave a room, how to bow, how to place flowers in a jardiniere and
+cigars in a case, to say nothing of the engravings, the procession of
+graceful, faultlessly attired men and women, and the names of the best
+modistes.  Nor did Sidonie add that she had entreated all those friends
+of Claire's, of whom she spoke so scornfully, to come to see her on her
+own day, and that the day was selected by them.
+
+Will they come?  Will Madame Fromont Jeune insult Madame Risler Aine by
+absenting herself on her first Friday?  The thought makes her almost
+feverish with anxiety.
+
+"For heaven's sake, hurry!"  she says again and again.  "Good heavens!
+how long you are at your, breakfast!"
+
+It is a fact that it is one of honest Risler's ways to eat slowly, and to
+light his pipe at the table while he sips his coffee.  To-day he must
+renounce these cherished habits, must leave the pipe in its case because
+of the smoke, and, as soon as he has swallowed the last mouthful, run
+hastily and dress, for his wife insists that he must come up during the
+afternoon and pay his respects to the ladies.
+
+What a sensation in the factory when they see Risler Aine come in, on a
+week-day, in a black frock-coat and white cravat!
+
+"Are you going to a wedding, pray?"  cries Sigismond, the cashier, behind
+his grating.
+
+And Risler, not without a feeling of pride, replies:
+
+"This is my wife's reception day!"
+
+Soon everybody in the place knows that it is Sidonie's day; and Pere
+Achille, who takes care of the garden, is not very well pleased to find
+that the branches of the winter laurels by the gate are broken.
+
+Before taking his seat at the table upon which he draws, in the bright
+light from the tall windows, Risler has taken off his fine frock-coat,
+which embarrasses him, and has turned up his clean shirt-sleeves; but the
+idea that his wife is expecting company preoccupies and disturbs him; and
+from time to time he puts on his coat and goes up to her.
+
+"Has no one come?"  he asks timidly.
+
+"No, Monsieur, no one."
+
+In the beautiful red drawing-room--for they have a drawing-room in red
+damask, with a console between the windows and a pretty table in the
+centre of the light-flowered carpet--Sidonie has established herself in
+the attitude of a woman holding a reception, a circle of chairs of many
+shapes around her.  Here and there are books, reviews, a little work-
+basket in the shape of a gamebag, with silk tassels, a bunch of violets
+in a glass vase, and green plants in the jardinieres.  Everything is
+arranged exactly as in the Fromonts' apartments on the floor below; but
+the taste, that invisible line which separates the distinguished from the
+vulgar, is not yet refined.  You would say it was a passable copy of a
+pretty genre picture.  The hostess's attire, even, is too new; she looks
+more as if she were making a call than as if she were at home.  In
+Risler's eyes everything is superb, beyond reproach; he is preparing to
+say so as he enters the salon, but, in face of his wife's wrathful
+glance, he checks himself in terror.
+
+"You see, it's four o'clock," she says, pointing to the clock with an
+angry gesture.  "No one will come.  But I take it especially ill of
+Claire not to come up.  She is at home--I am sure of it--I can hear her."
+
+Indeed, ever since noon, Sidonie has listened intently to the slightest
+sounds on the floor below, the child's crying, the closing of doors.
+Risler attempts to go down again in order to avoid a renewal of the
+conversation at breakfast; but his wife will not allow him to do so.  The
+very least he can do is to stay with her when everybody else abandons
+her, and so he remains there, at a loss what to say, rooted to the spot,
+like those people who dare not move during a storm for fear of attracting
+the lightning.  Sidonie moves excitedly about, going in and out of the
+salon, changing the position of a chair, putting it back again, looking
+at herself as she passes the mirror, and ringing for her maid to send her
+to ask Pere Achille if no one has inquired for her.  That Pere Achille is
+such a spiteful creature!  Perhaps when people have come, he has said
+that she was out.
+
+But no, the concierge has not seen any one.
+
+Silence and consternation.  Sidonie is standing at the window on the
+left, Risler at the one on the right.  From there they can see the little
+garden, where the darkness is gathering, and the black smoke which the
+chimney emits beneath the lowering clouds.  Sigismond's window is the
+first to show a light on the ground floor; the cashier trims his lamp
+himself with painstaking care, and his tall shadow passes in front of the
+flame and bends double behind the grating.  Sidonie's wrath is diverted a
+moment by these familiar details.
+
+Suddenly a small coupe drives into the garden and stops in front of the
+door.  At last some one is coming.  In that pretty whirl of silk and
+flowers and jet and flounces and furs, as it runs quickly up the step,
+Sidonie has recognized one of the most fashionable frequenters of the
+Fromont salon, the wife of a wealthy dealer in bronzes.  What an honor to
+receive a call from such an one!  Quick, quick!  the family takes its
+position, Monsieur in front of the hearth, Madame in an easychair,
+carelessly turning the leaves of a magazine.  Wasted pose!  The fair
+caller did not come to see Sidonie; she has stopped at the floor below.
+
+Ah! if Madame Georges could hear what her neighbor says of her and her
+friends!
+
+At that moment the door opens and "Mademoiselle Planus" is announced.
+She is the cashier's sister, a poor old maid, humble and modest, who has
+made it her duty to make this call upon the wife of her brother's
+employer, and who is amazed at the warm welcome she receives.  She is
+surrounded and made much of.  "How kind of you to come!  Draw up to the
+fire."  They overwhelm her with attentions and show great interest in her
+slightest word.  Honest Risler's smiles are as warm as his thanks.
+Sidonie herself displays all her fascinations, overjoyed to exhibit
+herself in her glory to one who was her equal in the old days, and to
+reflect that the other, in the room below, must hear that she has had
+callers.  So she makes as much noise as possible, moving chairs, pushing
+the table around; and when the lady takes her leave, dazzled, enchanted,
+bewildered, she escorts her to the landing with a great rustling of
+flounces, and calls to her in a very loud voice, leaning over the rail,
+that she is at home every Friday.  "You understand, every Friday."
+
+Now it is dark.  The two great lamps in the salon are lighted.  In the
+adjoining room they hear the servant laying the table.  It is all over.
+Madame Fromont Jeune will not come.
+
+Sidonie is pale with rage.
+
+"Just fancy, that minx can't come up eighteen steps!  No doubt Madame
+thinks we're not grand enough for her.  Ah!  but I'll have my revenge."
+
+As she pours forth her wrath in unjust words, her voice becomes coarse,
+takes on the intonations of the faubourg, an accent of the common people
+which betrays the ex-apprentice of Mademoiselle Le Mire.
+
+Risler is unlucky enough to make a remark.
+
+"Who knows?  Perhaps the child is ill."
+
+She turns upon him in a fury, as if she would like to bite him.
+
+"Will you hold your tongue about that brat?  After all, it's your fault
+that this has happened to me.  You don't know how to make people treat me
+with respect."
+
+And as she closed the door of her bedroom violently, making the globes on
+the lamps tremble, as well as all the knick-knacks on the etageres,
+Risler, left alone, stands motionless in the centre of the salon, looking
+with an air of consternation at his white cuffs, his broad patent-leather
+shoes, and mutters mechanically:
+
+"My wife's reception day!"
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Affectation of indifference
+Always smiling condescendingly
+Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!
+Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
+Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+He fixed the time mentally when he would speak
+Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away
+No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were
+Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous
+She was of those who disdain no compliment
+Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter
+Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works
+Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings
+The groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture
+The poor must pay for all their enjoyments
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler, v1
+by Alphonse Daudet
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE TRUE PEARL AND THE FALSE
+
+"What can be the matter?  What have I done to her?"  Claire Fromont very
+often wondered when she thought of Sidonie.
+
+She was entirely ignorant of what had formerly taken place between her
+friend and Georges at Savigny.  Her own life was so upright, her mind so
+pure, that it was impossible for her to divine the jealous, mean-spirited
+ambition that had grown up by her side within the past fifteen years.
+And yet the enigmatical expression in that pretty face as it smiled upon
+her gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness which she could not
+understand.  An affectation of politeness, strange enough between
+friends, was suddenly succeeded by an ill-dissembled anger, a cold,
+stinging tone, in presence of which Claire was as perplexed as by a
+difficult problem.  Sometimes, too, a singular presentiment, the ill-
+defined intuition of a great misfortune, was mingled with her uneasiness;
+for all women have in some degree a kind of second sight, and, even in
+the most innocent, ignorance of evil is suddenly illumined by visions of
+extraordinary lucidity.
+
+From time to time, as the result of a conversation somewhat longer than
+usual, or of one of those unexpected meetings when faces taken by
+surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen, Madame Fromont reflected
+seriously concerning this strange little Sidonie; but the active, urgent
+duties of life, with its accompaniment of affections and preoccupations,
+left her no time for dwelling upon such trifles.
+
+To all women comes a time when they encounter such sudden windings in the
+road that their whole horizon changes and all their points of view become
+transformed.
+
+Had Claire been a young girl, the falling away of that friendship bit by
+bit, as if torn from her by an unkindly hand, would have been a source of
+great regret to her.  But she had lost her father, the object of her
+greatest, her only youthful affection; then she had married.  The child
+had come, with its thrice welcome demands upon her every moment.
+Moreover, she had with her her mother, almost in her dotage, still
+stupefied by her husband's tragic death.  In a life so fully occupied,
+Sidonie's caprices received but little attention; and it had hardly
+occurred to Claire Fromont to be surprised at her marriage to Risler.
+He was clearly too old for her; but, after all, what difference did it
+make, if they loved each other?
+
+As for being vexed because little Chebe had attained that lofty position,
+had become almost her equal, her superior nature was incapable of such
+pettiness.  On the contrary, she would have been glad with all her heart
+to know that that young wife, whose home was so near her own, who lived
+the same life, so to speak, and had been her playmate in childhood, was
+happy and highly esteemed.  Being most kindly disposed toward her, she
+tried to teach her, to instruct her in the ways of society, as one might
+instruct an attractive provincial, who fell but little short of being
+altogether charming.
+
+Advice is not readily accepted by one pretty young woman from another.
+When Madame Fromont gave a grand dinner-party, she took Madame Risler to
+her bedroom, and said to her, smiling frankly in order not to vex her:
+"You have put on too many jewels, my dear.  And then, you know, with a
+high dress one doesn't wear flowers in the hair."  Sidonie blushed, and
+thanked her friend, but wrote down an additional grievance against her in
+the bottom of her heart.
+
+In Claire's circle her welcome was decidedly cold.  The Faubourg Saint-
+Germain has its pretensions; but do not imagine that the Marais has none!
+Those wives and daughters of mechanics, of wealthy manufacturers, knew
+little Chebe's story; indeed, they would have guessed it simply by her
+manner of making her appearance and by her demeanor among them.
+
+Sidonie's efforts were unavailing.  She retained the manners of a shop-
+girl.  Her slightly artificial amiability, sometimes too humble, was as
+unpleasant as the spurious elegance of the shop; and her disdainful
+attitudes recalled the superb airs of the head saleswomen in the great
+dry-goods establishments, arrayed in black silk gowns, which they take
+off in the dressing-room when they go away at night--who stare with an
+imposing air, from the vantage-point of their mountains of curls, at the
+poor creatures who venture to discuss prices.
+
+She felt that she was being examined and criticised, and her modesty was
+compelled to place itself upon a war footing.  Of the names mentioned in
+her presence, the amusements, the entertainments, the books of which they
+talked to her, she knew nothing.  Claire did her best to help her, to
+keep her on the surface, with a friendly hand always outstretched; but
+many of these ladies thought Sidonie pretty; that was enough to make them
+bear her a grudge for seeking admission to their circle.  Others, proud
+of their husbands' standing and of their wealth, could not invent enough
+unspoken affronts and patronizing phrases to humiliate the little
+parvenue.
+
+Sidonie included them all in a single phrase: "Claire's friends--that is
+to say, my enemies!"  But she was seriously incensed against but one.
+
+The two partners had no suspicion of what was taking place between their
+wives.  Risler, continually engrossed in his press, sometimes remained at
+his draughting-table until midnight.  Fromont passed his days abroad,
+lunched at his club, was almost never at the factory.  He had his reasons
+for that.
+
+Sidonie's proximity disturbed him.  His capricious passion for her, that
+passion that he had sacrificed to his uncle's last wishes, recurred too
+often to his memory with all the regret one feels for the irreparable;
+and, conscious that he was weak, he fled.  His was a pliable nature,
+without sustaining purpose, intelligent enough to appreciate his
+failings, too weak to guide itself.  On the evening of Risler's wedding--
+he had been married but a few months himself--he had experienced anew, in
+that woman's presence, all the emotion of the stormy evening at Savigny.
+Thereafter, without self-examination, he avoided seeing her again or
+speaking with her.  Unfortunately, as they lived in the same house, as
+their wives saw each other ten times a day, chance sometimes brought them
+together; and this strange thing happened--that the husband, wishing to
+remain virtuous, deserted his home altogether and sought distraction
+elsewhere.
+
+Claire was not astonished that it was so.  She had become accustomed,
+during her father's lifetime, to the constant comings and goings of a
+business life; and during her husband's absences, zealously performing
+her duties as wife and mother, she invented long tasks, occupations of
+all sorts, walks for the child, prolonged, peaceful tarryings in the
+sunlight, from which she would return home, overjoyed with the little
+one's progress, deeply impressed with the gleeful enjoyment of all
+infants in the fresh air, but with a touch of their radiance in the
+depths of her serious eyes.
+
+Sidonie also went out a great deal.  It often happened, toward night,
+that Georges's carriage, driving through the gateway, would compel Madame
+Risler to step hastily aside as she was returning in a gorgeous costume
+from a triumphal promenade.  The boulevard, the shop-windows, the
+purchases, made after long deliberation as if to enjoy to the full the
+pleasure of purchasing, detained her very late.  They would exchange a
+bow, a cold glance at the foot of the staircase; and Georges would hurry
+into his apartments, as into a place of refuge, concealing beneath a
+flood of caresses, bestowed upon the child his wife held out to him, the
+sudden emotion that had seized him.
+
+Sidonie, for her part, seemed to have forgotten everything, and to have
+retained no other feeling but contempt for that weak, cowardly creature.
+Moreover, she had many other things to think about.
+
+Her husband had just had a piano placed in her red salon, between the
+windows.
+
+After long hesitation she had decided to learn to sing, thinking that it
+was rather late to begin to play the piano; and twice a week Madame
+Dobson, a pretty, sentimental blonde, came to give her lessons from
+twelve o'clock to one.  In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and
+o-oo, persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows
+open, gave the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school.
+
+And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises,
+an inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings,
+with everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real woman.
+But her ambition confined itself to a superficial aspect of things.
+
+"Claire Fromont plays the piano; I will sing.  She is considered a
+refined and distinguished woman, and I intend that people shall say the
+same of me."
+
+Without a thought of improving her education, Sidonie passed her life
+running about among milliners and dressmakers.  "What are people going to
+wear this winter?"  was her cry.  She was attracted by the gorgeous
+displays in the shop-windows, by everything that caught the eye of the
+passers-by.
+
+The one thing that Sidonie envied Claire more than all else was the
+child, the luxurious plaything, beribboned from the curtains of its
+cradle to its nurse's cap.  She did not think of the sweet, maternal
+duties, demanding patience and self-abnegation, of the long rockings when
+sleep would not come, of the laughing awakenings sparkling with fresh
+water.  No!  she saw in the child naught but the daily walk.  It is such
+a pretty sight, the little bundle of finery, with floating ribbons and
+long feathers, that follows young mothers through the crowded streets.
+
+When she wanted company she had only her parents or her husband.  She
+preferred to go out alone.  The excellent Risler had such an absurd way
+of showing his love for her, playing with her as if she were a doll,
+pinching her chin and her cheek, capering about her, crying, "Hou! hou!"
+or staring at her with his great, soft eyes like an affectionate and
+grateful dog.  That senseless love, which made of her a toy, a mantel
+ornament, made her ashamed.  As for her parents, they were an
+embarrassment to her in presence of the people she wished to know, and
+immediately after her marriage she almost got rid of them by hiring a
+little house for them at Montrouge.  That step had cut short the frequent
+invasions of Monsieur Chebe and his long frock-coat, and the endless
+visits of good Madame Chebe, in whom the return of comfortable
+circumstances had revived former habits of gossip and of indolence.
+
+Sidonie would have been very glad to rid herself of the Delobelles in the
+same way, for their proximity annoyed her.  But the Marais was a central
+location for the old actor, because the boulevard theatres were so near;
+then, too, Desiree, like all sedentary persons, clung to the familiar
+outlook, and her gloomy courtyard, dark at four o'clock in winter, seemed
+to her like a friend, like a familiar face which the sun lighted up at
+times as if it were smiling at her.  As she was unable to get rid of
+them, Sidonie had adopted the course of ceasing to visit them.
+
+In truth, her life would have been lonely and depressing enough, had it
+not been for the distractions which Claire Fromont procured for her.
+Each time added fuel to her wrath.  She would say to herself:
+
+"Must everything come to me through her?"
+
+And when, just at dinner-time, a box at the theatre or an invitation for
+the evening was sent to her from the floor below, while she was dressing,
+overjoyed at the opportunity to exhibit herself, she thought of nothing
+but crushing her rival.  But such opportunities became more rare as
+Claire's time was more and more engrossed by her child.  When Grandfather
+Gardinois came to Paris, however, he never failed to bring the two
+families together.  The old peasant's gayety, for its freer expansion,
+needed little Sidonie, who did not take alarm at his jests.  He would
+take them all four to dine at Philippe's, his favorite restaurant, where
+he knew all the patrons, the waiters and the steward, would spend a lot
+of money, and then take them to a reserved box at the Opera-Comique or
+the Palais-Royal.
+
+At the theatre he laughed uproariously, talked familiarly with the box-
+openers, as he did with the waiters at Philippe's, loudly demanded
+footstools for the ladies, and when the performance was over insisted on
+having the topcoats and fur wraps of his party first of all, as if he
+were the only three-million parvenu in the audience.
+
+For these somewhat vulgar entertainments, from which her husband usually
+excused himself, Claire, with her usual tact, dressed very plainly and
+attracted no attention.  Sidonie, on the contrary, in all her finery, in
+full view of the boxes, laughed with all her heart at the grandfather's
+anecdotes, happy to have descended from the second or third gallery, her
+usual place in the old days, to that lovely proscenium box, adorned with
+mirrors, with a velvet rail that seemed made expressly for her light
+gloves, her ivory opera-glass, and her spangled fan.  The tawdry glitter
+of the theatre, the red and gold of the hangings, were genuine splendor
+to her.  She bloomed among them like a pretty paper flower in a filigree
+jardiniere.
+
+One evening, at the performance of a successful play at the Palais-Royal,
+among all the noted women who were present, painted celebrities wearing
+microscopic hats and armed with huge fans, their rouge-besmeared faces
+standing out from the shadow of the boxes in the gaudy setting of their
+gowns, Sidonie's behavior, her toilette, the peculiarities of her laugh
+and her expression attracted much attention.  All the opera-glasses in
+the hall, guided by the magnetic current that is so powerful under the
+great chandeliers, were turned one by one upon the box in which she sat.
+Claire soon became embarrassed, and modestly insisted upon changing
+places with her husband, who, unluckily, had accompanied them that
+evening.
+
+Georges, youthful and elegant, sitting beside Sidonie, seemed her natural
+companion, while Risler Allle, always so placid and self-effacing, seemed
+in his proper place beside Claire Fromont, who in her dark clothes
+suggested the respectable woman incog. at the Bal de l'Opera.
+
+Upon leaving the theatre each of the partners offered his arm to his
+neighbor.  A box-opener, speaking to Sidonie, referred to Georges as
+"your husband," and the little woman beamed with delight.
+
+"Your husband!"
+
+That simple phrase was enough to upset her and set in motion a multitude
+of evil currents in the depths of her heart.  As they passed through the
+corridors and the foyer, she watched Risler and Madame "Chorche" walking
+in front of them.  Claire's refinement of manner seemed to her to be
+vulgarized and annihilated by Risler's shuffling gait.  "How ugly he must
+make me look when we are walking together!"  she said to herself.  And
+her heart beat fast as she thought what a charming, happy, admired couple
+they would have made, she and this Georges Fromont, whose arm was
+trembling beneath her own.
+
+Thereupon, when the blue-lined carriage drove up to the door of the
+theatre, she began to reflect, for the first time, that, when all was
+said, Claire had stolen her place and that she would be justified in
+trying to recover it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE BREWERY ON THE RUE BLONDEL
+
+After his marriage Risler had given up the brewery.  Sidonie would have
+been glad to have him leave the house in the evening for a fashionable
+club, a resort of wealthy, well-dressed men; but the idea of his
+returning, amid clouds of pipe-smoke, to his friends of earlier days,
+Sigismond, Delobelle, and her own father, humiliated her and made her
+unhappy.  So he ceased to frequent the place; and that was something of a
+sacrifice.  It was almost a glimpse of his native country, that brewery
+situated in a remote corner of Paris.  The infrequent carriages, the
+high, barred windows of the ground floors, the odor of fresh drugs, of
+pharmaceutical preparations, imparted to that narrow little Rue Blondel a
+vague resemblance to certain streets in Basle or Zurich.
+
+The brewery was managed by a Swiss and crowded with men of that
+nationality.  When the door was opened, through the smoke-laden
+atmosphere, dense with the accents of the North, one had a vision of a
+vast, low room with hams hanging from the rafters, casks of beer standing
+in a row, the floor ankle-deep with sawdust, and on the counter great
+salad-bowls filled with potatoes as red as chestnuts, and baskets of
+pretzels fresh from the oven, their golden knots sprinkled with white
+salt.
+
+For twenty years Risler had had his pipe there, a long pipe marked with
+his name in the rack reserved for the regular customers.  He had also his
+table, at which he was always joined by several discreet, quiet
+compatriots, who listened admiringly, but without comprehending them,
+to the endless harangues of Chebe and Delobelle.  When Risler ceased his
+visits to the brewery, the two last-named worthies likewise turned their
+backs upon it, for several excellent reasons.  In the first place, M.
+Chebe now lived a considerable distance away.  Thanks to the generosity
+of his children, the dream of his whole life was realized at last.
+
+"When I am rich," the little man used to say in his cheerless rooms in
+the Marais, "I will have a house of my own, at the gates of Paris, almost
+in the country, a little garden which I will plant and water myself.
+That will be better for my health than all the excitement of the
+capital."
+
+Well, he had his house now, but he did not enjoy himself in it.  It was
+at Montrouge, on the road that runs around the city.  "A small chalet,
+with garden," said the advertisement, printed on a placard which gave an
+almost exact idea of the dimensions of the property.  The papers were new
+and of rustic design, the paint perfectly fresh; a water-butt planted
+beside a vine-clad arbor played the part of a pond.  In addition to all
+these advantages, only a hedge separated this paradise from another
+"chalet with garden" of precisely the same description, occupied by
+Sigismond Planus the cashier, and his sister.  To Madame Chebe that was a
+most precious circumstance.  When the good woman was bored, she would
+take a stock of knitting and darning and go and sit in the old maid's
+arbor, dazzling her with the tale of her past splendors.  Unluckily, her
+husband had not the same source of distraction.
+
+However, everything went well at first.  It was midsummer, and M. Chebe,
+always in his shirt-sleeves, was busily employed in getting settled.
+Each nail to be driven in the house was the subject of leisurely
+reflections, of endless discussions.  It was the same with the garden.
+He had determined at first to make an English garden of it, lawns always
+green, winding paths shaded by shrubbery.  But the trouble of it was that
+it took so long for the shrubbery to grow.
+
+"I have a mind to make an orchard of it," said the impatient little man.
+
+And thenceforth he dreamed of nothing but vegetables, long lines of
+beans, and peach-trees against the wall.  He dug for whole mornings,
+knitting his brows in a preoccupied way and wiping his forehead
+ostentatiously before his wife, so that she would say:
+
+"For heaven's sake, do rest a bit--you're killing yourself."
+
+The result was that the garden was a mixture: flowers and fruit, park and
+kitchen garden; and whenever he went into Paris M. Chebe was careful to
+decorate his buttonhole with a rose from his rose-bushes.
+
+While the fine weather lasted, the good people did not weary of admiring
+the sunsets behind the fortifications, the long days, the bracing country
+air.  Sometimes, in the evening, when the windows were open, they sang
+duets; and in presence of the stars in heaven, which began to twinkle
+simultaneously with the lanterns on the railway around the city,
+Ferdinand would become poetical.  But when the rain came and he could not
+go out, what misery!  Madame Chebe, a thorough Parisian, sighed for the
+narrow streets of the Marais, her expeditions to the market of Blancs-
+Manteaux, and to the shops of the quarter.
+
+As she sat by the window, her usual place for sewing and observation,
+she would gaze at the damp little garden, where the volubilis and the
+nasturtiums, stripped of their blossoms, were dropping away from the
+lattices with an air of exhaustion, at the long, straight line of the
+grassy slope of the fortifications, still fresh and green, and, a little
+farther on, at the corner of a street, the office of the Paris omnibuses,
+with all the points of their route inscribed in enticing letters on the
+green walls.  Whenever one of the omnibuses lumbered away on its journey,
+she followed it with her eyes, as a government clerk at Cayenne or Noumea
+gazes after the steamer about to return to France; she made the trip with
+it, knew just where it would stop, at what point it would lurch around a
+corner, grazing the shop-windows with its wheels.
+
+As a prisoner, M. Chebe became a terrible trial.  He could not work in
+the garden.  On Sundays the fortifications were deserted; he could no
+longer strut about among the workingmen's families dining on the grass,
+and pass from group to group in a neighborly way, his feet encased in
+embroidered slippers, with the authoritative demeanor of a wealthy
+landowner of the vicinity.  This he missed more than anything else,
+consumed as he was by the desire to make people think about him.
+So that, having nothing to do, having no one to pose before, no one to
+listen to his schemes, his stories, the anecdote of the accident to the
+Duc d'Orleans--a similar accident had happened to him in his youth, you
+remember--the unfortunate Ferdinand overwhelmed his wife with reproaches.
+
+"Your daughter banishes us--your daughter is ashamed of us!"
+
+She heard nothing but that "Your daughter--your daughter--your daughter!"
+For, in his anger with Sidonie, he denied her, throwing upon his wife the
+whole responsibility for that monstrous and unnatural child.  It was a
+genuine relief for poor Madame Chebe when her husband took an omnibus at
+the office to go and hunt up Delobelle--whose hours for lounging were
+always at his disposal--and pour into his bosom all his rancor against
+his son-in-law and his daughter.
+
+The illustrious Delobelle also bore Risler a grudge, and freely said of
+him: "He is a dastard."
+
+The great man had hoped to form an integral part of the new household, to
+be the organizer of festivities, the 'arbiter elegantiarum'.  Instead of
+which, Sidonie received him very coldly, and Risler no longer even took
+him to the brewery.  However, the actor did not complain too loud, and
+whenever he met his friend he overwhelmed him with attentions and
+flattery; for he had need of him.
+
+Weary of awaiting the discerning manager, seeing that the engagement he
+had longed for so many years did not come, it had occurred to Delobelle
+to purchase a theatre and manage it himself.  He counted upon Risler for
+the funds.  Opportunely enough, a small theatre on the boulevard happened
+to be for sale, as a result of the failure of its manager.  Delobelle
+mentioned it to Risler, at first very vaguely, in a wholly hypothetical
+form--"There would be a good chance to make a fine stroke."  Risler
+listened with his usual phlegm, saying, "Indeed, it would be a good thing
+for you."  And to a more direct suggestion, not daring to answer, "No,"
+he took refuge behind such phrases as "I will see"--"Perhaps later"--
+"I don't say no"--and finally uttered the unlucky words "I must see the
+estimates."
+
+For a whole week the actor had delved away at plans and figures, seated
+between his wife and daughter, who watched him in admiration, and
+intoxicated themselves with this latest dream.  The people in the house
+said, "Monsieur Delobelle is going to buy a theatre."  On the boulevard,
+in the actors' cafes, nothing was talked of but this transaction.
+Delobelle did not conceal the fact that he had found some one to advance
+the funds; the result being that he was surrounded by a crowd of
+unemployed actors, old comrades who tapped him familiarly on the shoulder
+and recalled themselves to his recollection--" You know, old boy."  He
+promised engagements, breakfasted at the cafe, wrote letters there,
+greeted those who entered with the tips of his fingers, held very
+animated conversations in corners; and already two threadbare authors had
+read to him a drama in seven tableaux, which was "exactly what he wanted"
+for his opening piece.  He talked about "my theatre!"  and his letters
+were addressed, "Monsieur Delobelle, Manager."
+
+When he had composed his prospectus and made his estimates, he went to
+the factory to see Risler, who, being very busy, made an appointment to
+meet him in the Rue Blondel; and that same evening, Delobelle, being the
+first to arrive at the brewery, established himself at their old table,
+ordered a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited.  He waited a long
+while, with his eye on the door, trembling with impatience.  Whenever any
+one entered, the actor turned his head.  He had spread his papers on the
+table, and pretended to be reading them, with animated gestures and
+movements of the head and lips.
+
+It was a magnificent opportunity, unique in its way.  He already fancied
+himself acting--for that was the main point--acting, in a theatre of his
+own, roles written expressly for him, to suit his talents, in which he
+would produce all the effect of--
+
+Suddenly the door opened, and M. Chebe made his appearance amid the pipe-
+smoke.  He was as surprised and annoyed to find Delobelle there as
+Delobelle himself was by his coming.  He had written to his son-in-law
+that morning that he wished to speak with him on a matter of very serious
+importance, and that he would meet him at the brewery.  It was an affair
+of honor, entirely between themselves, from man to man.  The real fact
+concerning this affair of honor was that M. Chebe had given notice of his
+intention to leave the little house at Montrouge, and had hired a shop
+with an entresol in the Rue du Mail, in the midst of a business district.
+A shop?  Yes, indeed!  And now he was a little alarmed regarding his
+hasty step, anxious to know how his son-in-law would take it, especially
+as the shop cost much more than the Montrouge house, and there were some
+repairs to be made at the outset.  As he had long been acquainted with
+his son-in-law's kindness of heart, M. Chebe had determined to appeal to
+him at once, hoping to lead him into his game and throw upon him the
+responsibility for this domestic change.  Instead of Risler he found
+Delobelle.
+
+They looked askance at each other, with an unfriendly eye, like two dogs
+meeting beside the same dish.  Each divined for whom the other was
+waiting, and they did not try to deceive each other.
+
+"Isn't my son-in-law here?"  asked M. Chebe, eying the documents spread
+over the table, and emphasizing the words "my son-in-law," to indicate
+that Risler belonged to him and to nobody else.
+
+"I am waiting for him," Delobelle replied, gathering up his papers.
+
+He pressed his lips together, as he added with a dignified, mysterious,
+but always theatrical air:
+
+"It is a matter of very great importance."
+
+"So is mine," declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a
+porcupine's quills.
+
+As he spoke, he took his seat on the bench beside Delobelle, ordered a
+pitcher and two glasses as the former had done, then sat erect with his
+hands in his pockets and his back against the wall, waiting in his turn.
+The two empty glasses in front of them, intended for the same absentee,
+seemed to be hurling defiance at each other.
+
+But Risler did not come.
+
+The two men, drinking in silence, lost their patience and fidgeted about
+on the bench, each hoping that the other would tire of waiting.
+
+At last their ill-humor overflowed, and naturally poor Risler received
+the whole flood.
+
+"What an outrage to keep a man of my years waiting so long!"  began M.
+Chebe, who never mentioned his great age except upon such occasions.
+
+"I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us," replied M.
+Delobelle.
+
+And the other:
+
+"No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner."
+
+"And such company!"  scornfully exclaimed the illustrious actor, in whose
+mind bitter memories were awakened.
+
+"The fact is--" continued M. Chebe.
+
+They drew closer to each other and talked.  The hearts of both were full
+in respect to Sidonie and Risler.  They opened the flood-gates.  That
+Risler, with all his good-nature, was an egotist pure and simple, a
+parvenu.  They laughed at his accent and his bearing, they mimicked
+certain of his peculiarities.  Then they talked about his household, and,
+lowering their voices, they became confidential, laughed familiarly
+together, were friends once more.
+
+M. Chebe went very far: "Let him beware!  he has been foolish enough to
+send the father and mother away from their daughter; if anything happens
+to her, he can't blame us.  A girl who hasn't her parents' example before
+her eyes, you understand--"
+
+"Certainly--certainly," said Delobelle; "especially as Sidonie has become
+a great flirt.  However, what can you expect?  He will get no more than
+he deserves.  No man of his age ought to--Hush! here he is!"
+
+Risler had entered the room, and was walking toward them, distributing
+hand-shakes all along the benches.
+
+There was a moment of embarrassment between the three friends.  Risler
+excused himself as well as he could.  He had been detained at home;
+Sidonie had company--Delobelle touched M. Chebe's foot under the table--
+and, as he spoke, the poor man, decidedly perplexed by the two empty
+glasses that awaited him, wondered in front of which of the two he ought
+to take his seat.
+
+Delobelle was generous.
+
+"You have business together, Messieurs; do not let me disturb you."
+
+He added in a low tone, winking at Risler:
+
+"I have the papers."
+
+"The papers?"  echoed Risler, in a bewildered tone.
+
+"The estimates," whispered the actor.
+
+Thereupon, with a great show of discretion, he withdrew within himself,
+and resumed the reading of his documents, his head in his hands and his
+fingers in his ears.
+
+The two others conversed by his side, first in undertones, then louder,
+for M. Chebe's shrill, piercing voice could not long be subdued.--He
+wasn't old enough to be buried, deuce take it!--He should have died of
+ennui at Montrouge.--What he must have was the bustle and life of the Rue
+de Mail or the Rue du Sentier--of the business districts.
+
+"Yes, but a shop?  Why a shop?"  Risler timidly ventured to ask.
+
+"Why a shop?--why a shop?"  repeated M. Chebe, red as an Easter egg, and
+raising his voice to its highest pitch.  "Why, because I'm a merchant,
+Monsieur Risler, a merchant and son of a merchant.  Oh!  I see what
+you're coming at.  I have no business.  But whose fault is it?  If the
+people who shut me up at Montrouge, at the gates of Bicetre, like a
+paralytic, had had the good sense to furnish me with the money to start
+in business--"
+
+At that point Risler succeeded in silencing him, and thereafter only
+snatches of the conversation could be heard: "a more convenient shop--
+high ceilings--better air--future plans--enormous business--I will speak
+when the time comes--many people will be astonished."
+
+As he caught these fragments of sentences, Delobelle became more and more
+absorbed in his estimates, presenting the eloquent back of the man who is
+not listening.  Risler, sorely perplexed, slowly sipped his beer from
+time to time to keep himself, in countenance.
+
+At last, when M. Chebe had grown calm, and with good reason, his son-in-
+law turned with a smile to the illustrious Delobelle, and met the stern,
+impassive glance which seemed to say, "Well! what of me?"
+
+"Ah! Mon Dieu!--that is true," thought the poor fellow.
+
+Changing at once his chair and his glass, he took his seat opposite the
+actor.  But M. Chebe had not Delobelle's courtesy.  Instead of discreetly
+moving away, he took his glass and joined the others, so that the great
+man, unwilling to speak before him, solemnly replaced his documents in
+his pocket a second time, saying to Risler:
+
+"We will talk this over later."
+
+Very much later, in truth, for M. Chebe had reflected:
+
+"My son-in-law is so good-natured!  If I leave him with this swindler,
+who knows what he may get out of him?"
+
+And he remained on guard.  The actor was furious.  It was impossible to
+postpone the matter to some other day, for Risler told them that he was
+going the next day to spend the next month at Savigny.
+
+"A month at Savigny!"  exclaimed M. Chebe, incensed at the thought of his
+son-in-law escaping him.  "How about business?"
+
+"Oh!  I shall come to Paris every day with Georges.  Monsieur Gardinois
+is very anxious to see his little Sidonie."
+
+M. Chebe shook his head.  He considered it very imprudent.  Business is
+business.  A man ought to be on the spot, always on the spot, in the
+breach.  Who could say?--the factory might take fire in the night.  And
+he repeated sententiously: "The eye of the master, my dear fellow, the
+eye of the master," while the actor--who was little better pleased by
+this intended departure--opened his great eyes; giving them an expression
+at once cunning and authoritative, the veritable expression of the eye of
+the master.
+
+At last, about midnight, the last Montrouge omnibus bore away the
+tyrannical father-in-law, and Delobelle was able to speak.
+
+"Let us first look at the prospectus," he said, preferring not to attack
+the question of figures at once; and with his eyeglasses on his nose, he
+began, in a declamatory tone, always upon the stage: "When one considers
+coolly the decrepitude which dramatic art has reached in France, when one
+measures the distance that separates the stage of Moliere--"
+
+There were several pages like that.  Risler listened, puffing at his
+pipe, afraid to stir, for the reader looked at him every moment over his
+eyeglasses, to watch the effect of his phrases.  Unfortunately, right in
+the middle of the prospectus, the cafe closed.  The lights were
+extinguished; they must go.--And the estimates?--It was agreed that they
+should read them as they walked along.  They stopped at every gaslight.
+The actor displayed his figures.  So much for the hall, so much for the
+lighting, so much for poor-rates, so much for the actors.  On that
+question of the actors he was firm.
+
+"The best point about the affair," he said, "is that we shall have no
+leading man to pay.  Our leading man will be Bibi."  (When Delobelle
+mentioned himself, he commonly called himself Bibi.) "A leading man is
+paid twenty thousand francs, and as we have none to pay, it's just as if
+you put twenty thousand francs in your pocket.  Tell me, isn't that
+true?"
+
+Risler did not reply.  He had the constrained manner, the wandering eyes
+of the man whose thoughts are elsewhere.  The reading of the estimates
+being concluded, Delobelle, dismayed to find that they were drawing near
+the corner of the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes, put the question
+squarely.  Would Risler advance the money, yes or no?
+
+"Well!--no," said Risler, inspired by heroic courage, which he owed
+principally to the proximity of the factory and to the thought that the
+welfare of his family was at stake.
+
+Delobelle was astounded.  He had believed that the business was as good
+as done, and he stared at his companion, intensely agitated, his eyes as
+big as saucers, and rolling his papers in his hand.
+
+"No," Risler continued, "I can't do what you ask, for this reason."
+
+Thereupon the worthy man, slowly, with his usual heaviness of speech,
+explained that he was not rich.  Although a partner in a wealthy house,
+he had no available funds.  Georges and he drew a certain sum from the
+concern each month; then, when they struck a balance at the end of the
+year they divided the profits.  It had cost him a good deal to begin
+housekeeping: all his savings.  It was still four months before the
+inventory.  Where was he to obtain the 30,000 francs to be paid down at
+once for the theatre?  And then, beyond all that, the affair could not be
+successful.
+
+"Why, it must succeed.  Bibi will be there!"  As he spoke, poor Bibi drew
+himself up to his full height; but Risler was determined, and all Bibi's
+arguments met the same refusal--"Later, in two or three years, I don't
+say something may not be done."
+
+The actor fought for a long time, yielding his ground inch by inch.
+He proposed revising his estimates.  The thing might be done cheaper.
+"It would still be too dear for me," Risler interrupted.  "My name
+doesn't belong to me.  It is a part of the firm.  I have no right to
+pledge it.  Imagine my going into bankruptcy!"  His voice trembled as he
+uttered the word.
+
+"But if everything is in my name," said Delobelle, who had no
+superstition.  He tried everything, invoked the sacred interests of art,
+went so far as to mention the fascinating actresses whose alluring
+glances--Risler laughed aloud.
+
+"Come, come, you rascal!  What's that you're saying?  You forget that
+we're both married men, and that it is very late and our wives are
+expecting us.  No ill-will, eh?--This is not a refusal, you understand.
+--By the way, come and see me after the inventory.  We will talk it over
+again.  Ah!  there's Pere Achille putting out his gas.--I must go in.
+Good-night."
+
+It was after one o'clock when the actor returned home.  The two women
+were waiting for him, working as usual, but with a sort of feverish
+activity which was strange to them.  Every moment the great scissors that
+Mamma Delobelle used to cut the brass wire were seized with strange fits
+of trembling, and Desiree's little fingers, as she mounted an insect,
+moved so fast that it made one dizzy to watch them.  Even the long
+feathers of the little birds scattered about on the table before her
+seemed more brilliant, more richly colored, than on other days.  It was
+because a lovely visitor named Hope had called upon them that evening.
+She had made the tremendous effort required to climb five dark flights of
+stairs, and had opened the door of the little room to cast a luminous
+glance therein.  However much you may have been deceived in life, those
+magic gleams always dazzle you.
+
+"Oh!  if your father could only succeed!"  said Mamma Delobelle from time
+to time, as if to sum up a whole world of happy thoughts to which her
+reverie abandoned itself.
+
+"He will succeed, mamma, never fear.  Monsieur Risler is so kind, I will
+answer for him.  And Sidonie is very fond of us, too, although since she
+was married she does seem to neglect her old friends a little.  But we
+must make allowance for the difference in our positions.  Besides,
+I never shall forget what she did for me."
+
+And, at the thought of what Sidonie had done for her, the little cripple
+applied herself with even more feverish energy to her work.  Her
+electrified fingers moved with redoubled swiftness.  You would have said
+that they were running after some fleeing, elusive thing, like happiness,
+for example, or the love of some one who loves you not.
+
+"What was it that she did for you?"  her mother would naturally have
+asked her; but at that moment she was only slightly interested in what
+her daughter said.  She was thinking exclusively of her great man.
+
+"No!  do you think so, my dear?  Just suppose your father should have a
+theatre of his own and act again as in former days.  You don't remember;
+you were too small then.  But he had tremendous success, no end of
+recalls.  One night, at Alencon, the subscribers to the theatre gave him
+a gold wreath.  Ah!  he was a brilliant man in those days, so
+lighthearted, so glad to be alive.  Those who see him now don't know him,
+poor man, misfortune has changed him so.  Oh, well!  I feel sure that all
+that's necessary is a little success to make him young and happy again.
+And then there's money to be made managing theatres.  The manager at
+Nantes had a carriage.  Can you imagine us with a carriage?  Can you
+imagine it, I say?  That's what would be good for you.  You could go out,
+leave your armchair once in a while.  Your father would take us into the
+country.  You would see the water and the trees you have had such a
+longing to see."
+
+"Oh!  the trees," murmured the pale little recluse, trembling from head
+to foot.
+
+At that moment the street door of the house was closed violently, and M.
+Delobelle's measured step echoed in the vestibule.  There was a moment of
+speechless, breathless anguish.  The women dared not look at each other,
+and mamma's great scissors trembled so that they cut the wire crooked.
+
+The poor devil had unquestionably received a terrible blow.  His
+illusions crushed, the humiliation of a refusal, the jests of his
+comrades, the bill at the cafe where he had breakfasted on credit during
+the whole period of his managership, a bill which must be paid--all these
+things occurred to him in the silence and gloom of the five flights he
+had to climb.  His heart was torn.  Even so, the actor's nature was so
+strong in him that he deemed it his duty to envelop his distress, genuine
+as it was, in a conventional tragic mask.
+
+As he entered, he paused, cast an ominous glance around the work-room,
+at the table covered with work, his little supper waiting for him in a
+corner, and the two dear, anxious faces looking up at him with glistening
+eyes.  He stood a full minute without speaking--and you know how long a
+minute's silence seems on the stage; then he took three steps forward,
+sank upon a low chair beside the table, and exclaimed in a hissing voice:
+
+"Ah!  I am accursed!"
+
+At the same time he dealt the table such a terrible blow with his fist
+that the "birds and insects for ornament" flew to the four corners of the
+room.  His terrified wife rose and timidly approached him, while Desiree
+half rose in her armchair with an expression of nervous agony that
+distorted all her features.
+
+Lolling in his chair, his arms hanging despondently by his sides, his
+head on his chest, the actor soliloquized--a fragmentary soliloquy,
+interrupted by sighs and dramatic hiccoughs, overflowing with
+imprecations against the pitiless, selfish bourgeois, those monsters to
+whom the artist gives his flesh and blood for food and drink.
+
+Then he reviewed his whole theatrical life, his early triumphs, the
+golden wreath from the subscribers at Alencon, his marriage to this
+"sainted woman," and he pointed to the poor creature who stood by his
+side, with tears streaming from her eyes, and trembling lips, nodding her
+head dotingly at every word her husband said.
+
+In very truth, a person who never had heard of the illustrious Delobelle
+could have told his history in detail after that long monologue.  He
+recalled his arrival in Paris, his humiliations, his privations.  Alas!
+he was not the one who had known privation.  One had but to look at his
+full, rotund face beside the thin, drawn faces of the two women.  But the
+actor did not look so closely.
+
+"Oh!"  he said, continuing to intoxicate himself with declamatory
+phrases, "oh!  to have struggled so long.  For ten years, fifteen years,
+have I struggled on, supported by these devoted creatures, fed by them."
+
+"Papa, papa, hush," cried Desiree, clasping her hands.
+
+"Yes, fed by them, I say--and I do not blush for it.  For I accept all
+this devotion in the name of sacred art.  But this is too much.  Too much
+has been put upon me.  I renounce the stage!"
+
+"Oh!  my dear, what is that you say?"  cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to
+his side.
+
+"No, leave me.  I have reached the end of my strength.  They have slain
+the artist in me.  It is all over.  I renounce the stage."
+
+If you had seen the two women throw their arms about him then, implore
+him to struggle on, prove to him that he had no right to give up, you
+could not have restrained your tears.  But Delobelle resisted.
+
+He yielded at last, however, and promised to continue the fight a little
+while, since it was their wish; but it required many an entreaty and
+caress to carry the point.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT SAVIGNY
+
+It was a great misfortune, that sojourn of the two families at Savigny
+for a month.
+
+After an interval of two years Georges and Sidonie found themselves side
+by side once more on the old estate, too old not to be always like
+itself, where the stones, the ponds, the trees, always the same, seemed
+to cast derision upon all that changes and passes away.  A renewal of
+intercourse under such circumstances must have been disastrous to two
+natures that were not of a very different stamp, and far more virtuous
+than those two.
+
+As for Claire, she never had been so happy; Savigny never had seemed so
+lovely to her.  What joy to walk with her child over the greensward where
+she herself had walked as a child; to sit, a young mother, upon the
+shaded seats from which her own mother had looked on at her childish
+games years before; to go, leaning on Georges's arm, to seek out the
+nooks where they had played together.  She felt a tranquil contentment,
+the overflowing happiness of placid lives which enjoy their bliss in
+silence; and all day long her skirts swept along the paths, guided by the
+tiny footsteps of the child, her cries and her demands upon her mother's
+care.
+
+Sidonie seldom took part in these maternal promenades.  She said that the
+chatter of children tired her, and therein she agreed with old Gardinois,
+who seized upon any pretext to annoy his granddaughter.  He believed that
+he accomplished that object by devoting himself exclusively to Sidonie,
+and arranging even more entertainments for her than on her former visit.
+The carriages that had been shut up in the carriage-house for two years,
+and were dusted once a week because the spiders spun their webs on the
+silk cushions, were placed at her disposal.  The horses were harnessed
+three times a day, and the gate was continually turning on its hinges.
+Everybody in the house followed this impulse of worldliness.  The
+gardener paid more attention to his flowers because Madame Risler
+selected the finest ones to wear in her hair at dinner.  And then there
+were calls to be made.  Luncheon parties were given, gatherings at which
+Madame Fromont Jeune presided, but at which Sidonie, with her lively
+manners, shone supreme.  Indeed, Claire often left her a clear field.
+The child had its hours for sleeping and riding out, with which no
+amusements could interfere.  The mother was compelled to remain away, and
+it often happened that she was unable to go with Sidonie to meet the
+partners when they came from Paris at night.
+
+"You will make my excuses," she would say, as the went up to her room.
+
+Madame Risler was triumphant.  A picture of elegant indolence, she would
+drive away behind the galloping horses, unconscious of the swiftness of
+their pace, without a thought in her mind.
+
+Other carriages were always waiting at the station.  Two or three times
+she heard some one near her whisper, "That is Madame Fromont Jeune," and,
+indeed, it was a simple matter for people to make the mistake, seeing the
+three return together from the station, Sidonie sitting beside Georges on
+the back seat, laughing and talking with him, and Risler facing them,
+smiling contentedly with his broad hands spread flat upon his knees,
+but evidently feeling a little out of place in that fine carriage.
+The thought that she was taken for Madame Fromont made her very proud,
+and she became a little more accustomed to it every day.  On their
+arrival at the chateau, the two families separated until dinner; but,
+in the presence of his wife sitting tranquilly beside the sleeping child,
+Georges Fromont, too young to be absorbed by the joys of domesticity, was
+continually thinking of the brilliant Sidonie, whose voice he could hear
+pouring forth triumphant roulades under the trees in the garden.
+
+While the whole chateau was thus transformed in obedience to the whims of
+a young woman, old Gardinois continued to lead the narrow life of a
+discontented, idle, impotent 'parvenu'.  The most successful means of
+distraction he had discovered was espionage.  The goings and comings of
+his servants, the remarks that were made about him in the kitchen, the
+basket of fruit and vegetables brought every morning from the kitchen-
+garden to the pantry, were objects of continual investigation.
+
+For the purposes of this constant spying upon his household, he made use
+of a stone bench set in the gravel behind an enormous Paulownia.  He
+would sit there whole days at a time, neither reading nor thinking,
+simply watching to see who went in or out.  For the night he had invented
+something different.  In the great vestibule at the main entrance, which
+opened upon the front steps with their array of bright flowers, he had
+caused an opening to be made leading to his bedroom on the floor above.
+An acoustic tube of an improved type was supposed to convey to his ears
+every sound on the ground floor, even to the conversation of the servants
+taking the air on the steps.
+
+Unluckily, the instrument was so powerful that it exaggerated all the
+noises, confused them and prolonged them, and the powerful, regular
+ticking of a great clock, the cries of a paroquet kept in one of the
+lower rooms, the clucking of a hen in search of a lost kernel of corn,
+were all Monsieur Gardinois could hear when he applied his ear to the
+tube.  As for voices, they reached him in the form of a confused buzzing,
+like the muttering of a crowd, in which it was impossible to distinguish
+anything.  He had nothing to show for the expense of the apparatus, and
+he concealed his wonderful tube in a fold of his bed-curtains.
+
+One night Gardinois, who had fallen asleep, was awakened suddenly by the
+creaking of a door.  It was an extraordinary thing at that hour.  The
+whole house hold was asleep.  Nothing could be heard save the footsteps
+of the watch-dogs on the sand, or their scratching at the foot of a tree
+in which an owl was screeching.  An excellent opportunity to use his
+listening-tube!  Upon putting it to his ear, M. Gardinois was assured
+that he had made no mistake.  The sounds continued.  One door was opened,
+then another.  The bolt of the front door was thrown back with an effort.
+But neither Pyramus nor Thisbe, not even Kiss, the formidable
+Newfoundland, had made a sign.  He rose softly to see who those strange
+burglars could be, who were leaving the house instead of entering it;
+and this is what he saw through the slats of his blind:
+
+A tall, slender young man, with Georges's figure and carriage, arm-in-arm
+with a woman in a lace mantilla.  They stopped first at the bench by the
+Paulownia, which was in full bloom.
+
+It was a superb moonlight night.  The moon, silvering the treetops, made
+numberless flakes of light amid the dense foliage.  The terraces, white
+with moonbeams, where the Newfoundlands in their curly coats went to and
+fro, watching the night butterflies, the smooth, deep waters of the
+ponds, all shone with a mute, calm brilliance, as if reflected in a
+silver mirror.  Here and there glow-worms twinkled on the edges of the
+greensward.
+
+The two promenaders remained for a moment beneath the shade of the
+Paulownia, sitting silent on the bench, lost in the dense darkness which
+the moon makes where its rays do not reach.  Suddenly they appeared in
+the bright light, wrapped in a languishing embrace; then walked slowly
+across the main avenue, and disappeared among the trees.
+
+"I was sure of it!"  said old Gardinois, recognizing them.  Indeed, what
+need had he to recognize them?  Did not the silence of the dogs, the
+aspect of the sleeping house, tell him more clearly than anything else
+could, what species of impudent crime, unknown and unpunished, haunted
+the avenues in his park by night?  Be that as it may, the old peasant was
+overjoyed by his discovery.  He returned to bed without a light,
+chuckling to himself, and in the little cabinet filled with hunting-
+implements, whence he had watched them, thinking at first that he had to
+do with burglars, the moon's rays shone upon naught save the fowling-
+pieces hanging on the wall and the boxes of cartridges of all sizes.
+
+Sidonie and Georges had taken up the thread of their love at the corner
+of the same avenue.  The year that had passed, marked by hesitation, by
+vague struggles, by fruitless resistance, seemed to have been only a
+preparation for their meeting.  And it must be said that, when once the
+fatal step was taken, they were surprised at nothing so much as the fact
+that they had postponed it so long.  Georges Fromont especially was
+seized by a mad passion.  He was false to his wife, his best friend; he
+was false to Risler, his partner, the faithful companion of his every
+hour.
+
+He felt a constant renewal, a sort of overflow of remorse, wherein his
+passion was intensified by the magnitude of his sin.  Sidonie became his
+one engrossing thought, and he discovered that until then he had not
+lived.  As for her, her love was made up of vanity and spite.  The thing
+that she relished above all else was Claire's degradation in her eyes.
+Ah!  if she could only have said to her, "Your husband loves me--he is
+false to you with me," her pleasure would have been even greater.  As for
+Risler, in her view he richly deserved what had happened to him.  In her
+old apprentice's jargon, in which she still thought, even if she did not
+speak it, the poor man was only "an old fool," whom she had taken as a
+stepping-stone to fortune.  "An old fool" is made to be deceived!
+
+During the day Savigny belonged to Claire, to the child who ran about
+upon the gravel, laughing at the birds and the clouds, and who grew
+apace.  The mother and child had for their own the daylight, the paths
+filled with sunbeams.  But the blue nights were given over to sin, to
+that sin firmly installed in the chateau, which spoke in undertones,
+crept noiselessly behind the closed blinds, and in face of which the
+sleeping house became dumb and blind, and resumed its stony
+impassibility, as if it were ashamed to see and hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SIGISMOND PLANUS TREMBLES FOR HIS CASH-BOX
+
+"Carriage, my dear Chorche?--I--have a carriage?  What for?"
+
+"I assure you, my dear Risler, that it is quite essential for you.  Our
+business, our relations, are extending every day; the coupe is no longer
+enough for us.  Besides, it doesn't look well to see one of the partners
+always in his carriage and the other on foot.  Believe me, it is a
+necessary outlay, and of course it will go into the general expenses of
+the firm.  Come, resign yourself to the inevitable."
+
+It was genuine resignation.  It seemed to Risler as if he were stealing
+something in taking the money for such an unheard-of luxury as a
+carriage; however, he ended by yielding to Georges's persistent
+representations, thinking as he did so:
+
+"This will make Sidonie very happy!"
+
+The poor fellow had no suspicion that Sidonie herself, a month before,
+had selected at Binder's the coupe which Georges insisted upon giving
+her, and which was to be charged to expense account in order not to alarm
+the husband.
+
+Honest Risler was so plainly created to be deceived.  His inborn
+uprightness, the implicit confidence in men and things, which was the
+foundation of his transparent nature, had been intensified of late by
+preoccupation resulting from his pursuit of the Risler Press, an
+invention destined to revolutionize the wall-paper industry and
+representing in his eyes his contribution to the partnership assets.
+When he laid aside his drawings and left his little work-room on the
+first floor, his face invariably wore the absorbed look of the man who
+has his life on one side, his anxieties on another.  What a delight it
+was to him, therefore, to find his home always tranquil, his wife always
+in good humor, becomingly dressed and smiling.
+
+Without undertaking to explain the change to himself, he recognized that
+for some time past the "little one" had not been as before in her
+treatment of him.  She allowed him to resume his old habits: the pipe at
+dessert, the little nap after dinner, the appointments at the brewery
+with Chebe and Delobelle.  Their apartments also were transformed,
+embellished.
+
+A grand piano by a famous maker made its appearance in the salon in place
+of the old one, and Madame Dobson, the singing-teacher, came no longer
+twice a week, but every day, music-roll in hand.
+
+Of a curious type was that young woman of American extraction, with hair
+of an acid blond, like lemon-pulp, over a bold forehead and metallic blue
+eyes.  As her husband would not allow her to go on the stage, she gave
+lessons, and sang in some bourgeois salons.  As a result of living in the
+artificial world of compositions for voice and piano, she had contracted
+a species of sentimental frenzy.
+
+She was romance itself.  In her mouth the words "love" and "passion"
+seemed to have eighty syllables, she uttered them with so much
+expression.  Oh, expression!  That was what Mistress Dobson placed before
+everything, and what she tried, and tried in vain, to impart to her
+pupil.
+
+'Ay Chiquita,' upon which Paris fed for several seasons, was then at the
+height of its popularity.  Sidonie studied it conscientiously, and all
+the morning she could be heard singing:
+
+                   "On dit que tu te maries,
+                    Tu sais que j'en puis mourir."
+
+                    [They say that thou'rt to marry
+                    Thou know'st that I may die.]
+
+"Mouri-i-i-i-i-r!"  the expressive Madame Dobson would interpose, while
+her hands wandered feebly over the piano-keys; and die she would, raising
+her light blue eyes to the ceiling and wildly throwing back her head.
+Sidonie never could accomplish it.  Her mischievous eyes, her lips,
+crimson with fulness of life, were not made for such AEolian-harp
+sentimentalities.  The refrains of Offenbach or Herve, interspersed with
+unexpected notes, in which one resorts to expressive gestures for aid, to
+a motion of the head or the body, would have suited her better; but she
+dared not admit it to her sentimental instructress.  By the way, although
+she had been made to sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le Mire's, her
+voice was still fresh and not unpleasing.
+
+Having no social connections, she came gradually to make a friend of her
+singing-mistress.  She would keep her to breakfast, take her to drive in
+the new coupe and to assist in her purchases of gowns and jewels.  Madame
+Dobson's sentimental and sympathetic tone led one to repose confidence in
+her.  Her continual repinings seemed too long to attract other repinings.
+Sidonie told her of Georges, of their relations, attempting to palliate
+her offence by blaming the cruelty of her parents in marrying her by
+force to a man much older than herself.  Madame Dobson at once showed a
+disposition to assist them; not that the little woman was venal, but she
+had a passion for passion, a taste for romantic intrigue.  As she was
+unhappy in her own home, married to a dentist who beat her, all husbands
+were monsters in her eyes, and poor Risler especially seemed to her a
+horrible tyrant whom his wife was quite justified in hating and
+deceiving.
+
+She was an active confidant and a very useful one.  Two or three times a
+week she would bring tickets for a box at the Opera or the Italiens, or
+some one of the little theatres which enjoy a temporary vogue, and cause
+all Paris to go from one end of Paris to the other for a season.  In
+Risler's eyes the tickets came from Madame Dobson; she had as many as she
+chose to the theatres where operas were given.  The poor wretch had no
+suspicion that one of those boxes for an important "first night" had
+often cost his partner ten or fifteen Louis.
+
+In the evening, when his wife went away, always splendidly attired, he
+would gaze admiringly at her, having no suspicion of the cost of her
+costumes, certainly none of the man who paid for them, and would await
+her return at his table by the fire, busy with his drawings, free from
+care, and happy to be able to say to himself, "What a good time she is
+having!"
+
+On the floor below, at the Fromonts', the same comedy was being played,
+but with a transposition of parts.  There it was the young wife who sat
+by the fire.  Every evening, half an hour after Sidonie's departure, the
+great gate swung open to give passage to the Fromont coupe conveying
+Monsieur to his club.  What would you have?  Business has its demands.
+All the great deals are arranged at the club, around the bouillotte
+table, and a man must go there or suffer the penalty of seeing his
+business fall off.  Claire innocently believed it all.  When her husband
+had gone, she felt sad for a moment.  She would have liked so much to
+keep him with her or to go out leaning on his arm, to seek enjoyment with
+him.  But the sight of the child, cooing in front of the fire and kicking
+her little pink feet while she was being undressed, speedily soothed the
+mother.  Then the eloquent word "business," the merchant's reason of
+state, was always at hand to help her to resign herself.
+
+Georges and Sidonie met at the theatre.  Their feeling at first when they
+were together was one of satisfied vanity.  People stared at them a great
+deal.  She was really pretty now, and her irregular but attractive
+features, which required the aid of all the eccentricities of the
+prevailing style in order to produce their full effect, adapted
+themselves to them so perfectly that you would have said they were
+invented expressly for her.  In a few moments they went away, and Madame
+Dobson was left alone in the box.  They had hired a small suite on the
+Avenue Gabriel, near the 'rond-point' of the Champs Elysees--the dream of
+the young women at the Le Mire establishment--two luxuriously furnished,
+quiet rooms, where the silence of the wealthy quarter, disturbed only by
+passing carriages, formed a blissful surrounding for their love.
+
+Little by little, when she had become accustomed to her sin, she
+conceived the most audacious whims.  From her old working-days she had
+retained in the depths of her memory the names of public balls, of famous
+restaurants, where she was eager to go now, just as she took pleasure in
+causing the doors to be thrown open for her at the establishments of the
+great dressmakers, whose signs only she had known in her earlier days.
+For what she sought above all else in this liaison was revenge for the
+sorrows and humiliations of her youth.  Nothing delighted her so much,
+for example, when returning from an evening drive in the Bois, as a
+supper at the Cafe Anglais with the sounds of luxurious vice around her.
+From these repeated excursions she brought back peculiarities of speech
+and behavior, equivocal songs, and a style of dress that imported into
+the bourgeois atmosphere of the old commercial house an accurate
+reproduction of the most advanced type of the Paris cocotte of that
+period.
+
+At the factory they began to suspect something.  The women of the people,
+even the poorest, are so quick at picking a costume to pieces!  When
+Madame Risler went out, about three o'clock, fifty pairs of sharp,
+envious eyes, lying in ambush at the windows of the polishing-shop,
+watched her pass, penetrating to the lowest depths of her guilty
+conscience through her black velvet dolman and her cuirass of sparkling
+jet.
+
+Although she did not suspect it, all the secrets of that mad brain were
+flying about her like the ribbons that played upon her bare neck; and her
+daintily-shod feet, in their bronzed boots with ten buttons, told the
+story of all sorts of clandestine expeditions, of the carpeted stairways
+they ascended at night on their way to supper, and the warm fur robes in
+which they were wrapped when the coupe made the circuit of the lake in
+the darkness dotted with lanterns.
+
+The work-women laughed sneeringly and whispered:
+
+"Just look at that Tata Bebelle!  A fine way to dress to go out.  She
+don't rig herself up like that to go to mass, that's sure!  To think that
+it ain't three years since she used to start for the shop every morning
+in an old waterproof, and two sous' worth of roasted chestnuts in her
+pockets to keep her fingers warm.  Now she rides in her carriage."
+
+And amid the talc dust and the roaring of the stoves, red-hot in winter
+and summer alike, more than one poor girl reflected on the caprice of
+chance in absolutely transforming a woman's existence, and began to dream
+vaguely of a magnificent future which might perhaps be in store for
+herself without her suspecting it.
+
+In everybody's opinion Risler was a dishonored husband.  Two assistants
+in the printing-room--faithful patrons of the Folies Dramatiques--
+declared that they had seen Madame Risler several times at their theatre,
+accompanied by some escort who kept out of sight at the rear of the box.
+Pere Achille, too, told of amazing things.  That Sidonie had a lover,
+that she had several lovers, in fact, no one entertained a doubt.  But no
+one had as yet thought of Fromont jeune.
+
+And yet she showed no prudence whatever in her relations with him.  On
+the contrary, she seemed to make a parade of them; it may be that that
+was what saved them.  How many times she accosted him boldly on the steps
+to agree upon a rendezvous for the evening!  How many times she had
+amused herself in making him shudder by looking into his eyes before
+every one!  When the first confusion had passed, Georges was grateful to
+her for these exhibitions of audacity, which he attributed to the
+intensity of her passion.  He was mistaken.
+
+What she would have liked, although she did not admit it to herself,
+would have been to have Claire see them, to have her draw aside the
+curtain at her window, to have her conceive a suspicion of what was
+passing.  She needed that in order to be perfectly happy: that her rival
+should be unhappy.  But her wish was ungratified; Claire Fromont noticed
+nothing and lived, as did Risler, in imperturbable serenity.
+
+Only Sigismond, the old cashier, was really ill at ease.  And yet he was
+not thinking of Sidonie when, with his pen behind his ear, he paused a
+moment in his work and gazed fixedly through his grating at the drenched
+soil of the little garden.  He was thinking solely of his master, of
+Monsieur "Chorche," who was drawing a great deal of money now for his
+current expenses and sowing confusion in all his books.  Every time it
+was some new excuse.  He would come to the little wicket with an
+unconcerned air:
+
+"Have you a little money, my good Planus?  I was worsted again at
+bouillotte last night, and I don't want to send to the bank for such a
+trifle."
+
+Sigismond Planus would open his cash-box, with an air of regret, to get
+the sum requested, and he would remember with terror a certain day when
+Monsieur Georges, then only twenty years old, had confessed to his uncle
+that he owed several thousand francs in gambling debts.  The elder man
+thereupon conceived a violent antipathy for the club and contempt for all
+its members.  A rich tradesman who was a member happened to come to the
+factory one day, and Sigismond said to him with brutal frankness:
+
+"The devil take your 'Cercle du Chateau d'Eau!'  Monsieur Georges has
+left more than thirty thousand francs there in two months."
+
+The other began to laugh.
+
+"Why, you're greatly mistaken, Pere Planus--it's at least three months
+since we have seen your master."
+
+The cashier did not pursue the conversation; but a terrible thought took
+up its abode in his mind, and he turned it over and over all day long.
+
+If Georges did not go to the club, where did he pass his evenings?  Where
+did he spend so much money?
+
+There was evidently a woman at the bottom of the affair.
+
+As soon as that idea occurred to him, Sigismond Planus began to tremble
+seriously for his cash-box.  That old bear from the canton of Berne, a
+confirmed bachelor, had a terrible dread of women in general and Parisian
+women in particular.  He deemed it his duty, first of all, in order to
+set his conscience at rest, to warn Risler.  He did it at first in rather
+a vague way.
+
+"Monsieur Georges is spending a great deal of money," he said to him one
+day.
+
+Risler exhibited no surprise.
+
+"What do you expect me to do, my old Sigismond?  It is his right."
+
+And the honest fellow meant what he said.  In his eyes Fromont jeune was
+the absolute master of the establishment.  It would have been a fine
+thing, and no mistake, for him, an ex-draughtsman, to venture to make any
+comments.  The cashier dared say no more until the day when a messenger
+came from a great shawl-house with a bill for six thousand francs for a
+cashmere shawl.
+
+He went to Georges in his office.
+
+"Shall I pay it, Monsieur?"
+
+Georges Fromont was a little annoyed.  Sidonie had forgotten to tell him
+of this latest purchase; she used no ceremony with him now.
+
+"Pay it, pay it, Pere Planus," he said, with a shade of embarrassment,
+and added: "Charge it to the account of Fromont jeune.  It is a
+commission intrusted to me by a friend."
+
+That evening, as Sigismond was lighting his little lamp, he saw Risler
+crossing the garden, and tapped on the window to call him.
+
+"It's a woman," he said, under his breath.  "I have the proof of it now."
+
+As he uttered the awful words "a woman" his voice shook with alarm and
+was drowned in the great uproar of the factory.  The sounds of the work
+in progress had a sinister meaning to the unhappy cashier at that moment.
+It seemed to him as if all the whirring machinery, the great chimney
+pouring forth its clouds of smoke, the noise of the workmen at their
+different tasks--as if all this tumult and bustle and fatigue were for
+the benefit of a mysterious little being, dressed in velvet and adorned
+with jewels.
+
+Risler laughed at him and refused to believe him.  He had long been
+acquainted with his compatriot's mania for detecting in everything the
+pernicious influence of woman.  And yet Planus's words sometimes recurred
+to his thoughts, especially in the evening when Sidonie, after all the
+commotion attendant upon the completion of her toilette, went away to the
+theatre with Madame Dobson, leaving the apartment empty as soon as her
+long train had swept across the threshold.  Candles burning in front of
+the mirrors, divers little toilette articles scattered about and thrown
+aside, told of extravagant caprices and a reckless expenditure of money.
+Risler thought nothing of all that; but, when he heard Georges's carriage
+rolling through the courtyard, he had a feeling of discomfort at the
+thought of Madame Fromont passing her evenings entirely alone.  Poor
+woman!  Suppose what Planus said were true!
+
+Suppose Georges really had a second establishment!  Oh, it would be
+frightful!
+
+Thereupon, instead of beginning to work, he would go softly downstairs
+and ask if Madame were visible, deeming it his duty to keep her company.
+
+The little girl was always in bed, but the little cap, the blue shoes,
+were still lying in front of the fire.  Claire was either reading or
+working, with her silent mother beside her, always rubbing or dusting
+with feverish energy, exhausting herself by blowing on the case of her
+watch, and nervously taking the same thing up and putting it down again
+ten times in succession, with the obstinate persistence of mania.  Nor
+was honest Risler a very entertaining companion; but that did not prevent
+the young woman from welcoming him kindly.  She knew all that was said
+about Sidonie in the factory; and although she did not believe half of
+it, the sight of the poor man, whom his wife left alone so often, moved
+her heart to pity.  Mutual compassion formed the basis of that placid
+friendship, and nothing could be more touching than these two deserted
+ones, one pitying the other and each trying to divert the other's
+thoughts.
+
+Seated at the small, brightly lighted table in the centre of the salon,
+Risler would gradually yield to the influence of the warmth of the fire
+and the harmony of his surroundings.  He found there articles of
+furniture with which he had been familiar for twenty years, the portrait
+of his former employer; and his dear Madame Chorche, bending over some
+little piece of needle work at his side, seemed to him even younger and
+more lovable among all those old souvenirs.  From time to time she would
+rise to go and look at the child sleeping in the adjoining room, whose
+soft breathing they could hear in the intervals of silence.  Without
+fully realizing it, Risler felt more comfortable and warmer there than in
+his own apartment; for on certain days those attractive rooms, where the
+doors were forever being thrown open for hurried exits or returns, gave
+him the impression of a hall without doors or windows, open to the four
+winds.  His rooms were a camping-ground; this was a home.  A care-taking
+hand caused order and refinement to reign everywhere.  The chairs seemed
+to be talking together in undertones, the fire burned with a delightful
+sound, and Mademoiselle Fromont's little cap retained in every bow of its
+blue ribbons suggestions of sweet smiles and baby glances.
+
+And while Claire was thinking that such an excellent man deserved a
+better companion in life, Risler, watching the calm and lovely face
+turned toward him, the intelligent, kindly eyes, asked himself who the
+hussy could be for whom Georges Fromont neglected such an adorable woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE INVENTORY
+
+The house in which old Planus lived at Montrouge adjoined the one which
+the Chebes had occupied for some time.  There was the same ground floor
+with three windows, and a single floor above, the same garden with its
+latticework fence, the same borders of green box.  There the old cashier
+lived with his sister.  He took the first omnibus that left the office in
+the morning, returned at dinner-time, and on Sundays remained at home,
+tending his flowers and his poultry.  The old maid was his housekeeper
+and did all the cooking and sewing.  A happier couple never lived.
+
+Celibates both, they were bound together by an equal hatred of marriage.
+The sister abhorred all men, the brother looked upon all women with
+suspicion; but they adored each other, each considering the other an
+exception to the general perversity of the sex.
+
+In speaking of him she always said: "Monsieur Planus, my brother!"--and
+he, with the same affectionate solemnity, interspersed all his sentences
+with "Mademoiselle Planus, my sister!"  To those two retiring and
+innocent creatures, Paris, of which they knew nothing, although they
+visited it every day, was a den of monsters of two varieties, bent upon
+doing one another the utmost possible injury; and whenever, amid the
+gossip of the quarter, a conjugal drama came to their ears, each of them,
+beset by his or her own idea, blamed a different culprit.
+
+"It is the husband's fault," would be the verdict of "Mademoiselle
+Planus, my sister."
+
+"It is the wife's fault," "Monsieur Planus, my brother," would reply.
+
+"Oh!  the men--"
+
+"Oh!  the women--"
+
+That was their one never-failing subject of discussion in those rare
+hours of idleness which old Sigismond set aside in his busy day, which
+was as carefully ruled off as his account-books.  For some time past the
+discussions between the brother and sister had been marked by
+extraordinary animation.  They were deeply interested in what was taking
+place at the factory.  The sister was full of pity for Madame Fromont and
+considered her husband's conduct altogether outrageous; as for Sigismond,
+he could find no words bitter enough for the unknown trollop who sent
+bills for six-thousand-franc shawls to be paid from his cashbox.  In his
+eyes, the honor and fair fame of the old house he had served since his
+youth were at stake.
+
+"What will become of us?"  he repeated again and again.  "Oh!  these
+women--"
+
+One day Mademoiselle Planus sat by the fire with her knitting, waiting
+for her brother.
+
+The table had been laid for half an hour, and the old lady was beginning
+to be worried by such unheard-of tardiness, when Sigismond entered with a
+most distressed face, and without a word, which was contrary to all his
+habits.
+
+He waited until the door was shut tight, then said in a low voice, in
+response to his sister's disturbed and questioning expression:
+
+"I have some news.  I know who the woman is who is doing her best to ruin
+us."
+
+Lowering his voice still more, after glancing about at the silent walls
+of their little dining-room, he uttered a name so unexpected that
+Mademoiselle Planus made him repeat it.
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"It is the truth."
+
+And, despite his grief, he had almost a triumphant air.
+
+His old sister could not believe it.  Such a refined, polite person, who
+had received her with so much cordiality!--How could any one imagine such
+a thing?
+
+"I have proofs," said Sigismond Planus.
+
+Thereupon he told her how Pere Achille had met Sidonie and Georges one
+night at eleven o'clock, just as they entered a small furnished lodging-
+house in the Montmartre quarter; and he was a man who never lied.  They
+had known him for a long while.  Besides, others had met them.  Nothing
+else was talked about at the factory.  Risler alone suspected nothing.
+
+"But it is your duty to tell him," declared Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+The cashier's face assumed a grave expression.
+
+"It is a very delicate matter.  In the first place, who knows whether he
+would believe me?  There are blind men so blind that--And then,
+by interfering between the two partners, I risk the loss of my place.
+Oh! the women--the women!  When I think how happy Risler might have been.
+When I sent for him to come to Paris with his brother, he hadn't a sou;
+and to-day he is at the head of one of the first houses in Paris.  Do you
+suppose that he would be content with that?  Oh!  no, of course not!
+Monsieur must marry.  As if any one needed to marry!  And, worse yet, he
+marries a Parisian woman, one of those frowsy-haired chits that are the
+ruin of an honest house, when he had at his hand a fine girl, of almost
+his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you
+might say!"
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister," to whose physical structure he alluded,
+had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, "Oh! the men, the men!"  but
+she was silent.  It was a very delicate question, and perhaps, if Risler
+had chosen in time, he might have been the only one.
+
+Old Sigismond continued:
+
+"And this is what we have come to.  For three months the leading wall-
+paper factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that good-for-
+nothing.  You should see how the money flies.  All day long I do nothing
+but open my wicket to meet Monsieur Georges's calls.  He always applies
+to me, because at his banker's too much notice would be taken of it,
+whereas in our office money comes and goes, comes in and goes out.  But
+look out for the inventory!  We shall have some pretty figures to show at
+the end of the year.  The worst part of the whole business is that Risler
+won't listen to anything.  I have warned him several times: 'Look out,
+Monsieur Georges is making a fool of himself for some woman.' He either
+turns away with a shrug, or else he tells me that it is none of his
+business and that Fromont Jeune is the master.  Upon my word, one would
+almost think--one would almost think--"
+
+The cashier did not finish his sentence; but his silence was pregnant
+with unspoken thoughts.
+
+The old maid was appalled; but, like most women under such circumstances,
+instead of seeking a remedy for the evil, she wandered off into a maze of
+regrets, conjectures, and retrospective lamentations.  What a misfortune
+that they had not known it sooner when they had the Chebes for neighbors.
+Madame Chebe was such an honorable woman.  They might have put the matter
+before her so that she would keep an eye on Sidonie and talk seriously to
+her.
+
+"Indeed, that's a good idea," Sigismond interrupted.  "You must go to the
+Rue du Mail and tell her parents.  I thought at first of writing to
+little Frantz.  He always had a great deal of influence over his brother,
+and he's the only person on earth who could say certain things to him.
+But Frantz is so far away.  And then it would be such a terrible thing to
+do.  I can't help pitying that unlucky Risler, though.  No!  the best way
+is to tell Madame Chebe.  Will you undertake to do it, sister?"
+
+It was a dangerous commission.  Mademoiselle Planus made some objections,
+but she never had been able to resist her brother's wishes, and the
+desire to be of service to their old friend Risler assisted materially in
+persuading her.
+
+Thanks to his son-in-law's kindness, M. Chebe had succeeded in gratifying
+his latest whim.  For three months past he had been living at his famous
+warehouse on the Rue du Mail, and a great sensation was created in the
+quarter by that shop without merchandise, the shutters of which were
+taken down in the morning and put up again at night, as in wholesale
+houses.  Shelves had been placed all around the walls, there was a new
+counter, a safe, a huge pair of scales.  In a word, M. Chebe possessed
+all the requisites of a business of some sort, but did not know as yet
+just what business he would choose.
+
+He pondered the subject all day as he walked to and fro across the shop,
+encumbered with several large pieces of bedroom furniture which they had
+been unable to get into the back room; he pondered it, too, as he stood
+on his doorstep, with his pen behind his ear, and feasted his eyes
+delightedly on the hurly-burly of Parisian commerce.  The clerks who
+passed with their packages of samples under their arms, the vans of the
+express companies, the omnibuses, the porters, the wheelbarrows, the
+great bales of merchandise at the neighboring doors, the packages of rich
+stuffs and trimmings which were dragged in the mud before being consigned
+to those underground regions, those dark holes stuffed with treasures,
+where the fortune of business lies in embryo--all these things delighted
+M. Chebe.
+
+He amused himself guessing at the contents of the bales and was first
+at the fray when some passer-by received a heavy package upon his feet,
+or the horses attached to a dray, spirited and restive, made the long
+vehicle standing across the street an obstacle to circulation.  He had,
+moreover, the thousand-and-one distractions of the petty tradesman
+without customers, the heavy showers, the accidents, the thefts, the
+disputes.
+
+At the end of the day M. Chebe, dazed, bewildered, worn out by the labor
+of other people, would stretch himself out in his easy-chair and say to
+his wife, as he wiped his forehead:
+
+"That's the kind of life I need--an active life."
+
+Madame Chebe would smile softly without replying.  Accustomed as she was
+to all her husband's whims, she had made herself as comfortable as
+possible in a back room with an outlook upon a dark yard, consoling
+herself with reflections on the former prosperity of her parents and her
+daughter's wealth; and, being always neatly dressed, she had succeeded
+already in acquiring the respect of neighbors and tradesmen.
+
+She asked nothing more than not to be confounded with the wives of
+workingmen, often less poor than herself, and to be allowed to retain, in
+spite of everything, a petty bourgeois superiority.  That was her
+constant thought; and so the back room in which she lived, and where it
+was dark at three in the afternoon, was resplendent with order and
+cleanliness.  During the day the bed became a couch, an old shawl did
+duty as a tablecloth, the fireplace, hidden by a screen, served as a
+pantry, and the meals were cooked in modest retirement on a stove no
+larger than a foot-warmer.  A tranquil life--that was the dream of the
+poor woman, who was continually tormented by the whims of an uncongenial
+companion.
+
+In the early days of his tenancy, M. Chebe had caused these words to be
+inscribed in letters a foot long on the fresh paint of his shop-front:
+
+                    COMMISSION--EXPORTATION
+
+No specifications.  His neighbors sold tulle, broadcloth, linen; he was
+inclined to sell everything, but could not make up his mind just what.
+With what arguments did his indecision lead him to favor Madame Chebe as
+they sat together in the evening!
+
+"I don't know anything about linen; but when you come to broadcloth, I
+understand that.  Only, if I go into broadcloths I must have a man to
+travel; for the best kinds come from Sedan and Elbeuf.  I say nothing
+about calicoes; summer is the time for them.  As for tulle, that's out of
+the question; the season is too far advanced."
+
+He usually brought his discourse to a close with the words:
+
+"The night will bring counsel--let us go to bed."
+
+And to bed he would go, to his wife's great relief.
+
+After three or four months of this life, M. Chebe began to tire of it.
+The pains in the head, the dizzy fits gradually returned.  The quarter
+was noisy and unhealthy: besides, business was at a standstill.  Nothing
+was to be done in any line, broadcloths, tissues, or anything else.
+
+It was just at the period of this new crisis that "Mademoiselle Planus,
+my sister," called to speak about Sidonie.
+
+The old maid had said to herself on the way, "I must break it gently."
+But, like all shy people, she relieved herself of her burden in the first
+words she spoke after entering the house.
+
+It was a stunning blow.  When she heard the accusation made against her
+daughter, Madame Chebe rose in indignation.  No one could ever make her
+believe such a thing.  Her poor Sidonie was the victim of an infamous
+slander.
+
+M. Chebe, for his part, adopted a very lofty tone, with significant
+phrases and motions of the head, taking everything to himself as was his
+custom.  How could any one suppose that his child, a Chebe, the daughter
+of an honorable business man known for thirty years on the street, was
+capable of Nonsense!
+
+Mademoiselle Planus insisted.  It was a painful thing to her to be
+considered a gossip, a hawker of unsavory stories.  But they had
+incontestable proofs.  It was no longer a secret to anybody.
+
+"And even suppose it were true," cried M. Chebe, furious at her
+persistence.  "Is it for us to worry about it?  Our daughter is married.
+She lives a long way from her parents.  It is for her husband, who is
+much older than she, to advise and guide her.  Does he so much as think
+of doing it?"
+
+Upon that the little man began to inveigh against his son-in-law, that
+cold-blooded Swiss, who passed his life in his office devising machines,
+refused to accompany his wife into society, and preferred his old-
+bachelor habits, his pipe and his brewery, to everything else.
+
+You should have seen the air of aristocratic disdain with which M. Chebe
+pronounced the word "brewery!"  And yet almost every evening he went
+there to meet Risler, and overwhelmed him with reproaches if he once
+failed to appear at the rendezvous.
+
+Behind all this verbiage the merchant of the Rue du Mail--"Commission-
+Exportation"--had a very definite idea.  He wished to give up his shop,
+to retire from business, and for some time he had been thinking of going
+to see Sidonie, in order to interest her in his new schemes.  That was
+not the time, therefore, to make disagreeable scenes, to prate about
+paternal authority and conjugal honor.  As for Madame Chebe, being
+somewhat less confident than before of her daughter's virtue, she took
+refuge in the most profound silence.  The poor woman wished that she were
+deaf and blind--that she never had known Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+Like all persons who have been very unhappy, she loved a benumbed
+existence with a semblance of tranquillity, and ignorance seemed to her
+preferable to everything.  As if life were not sad enough, good heavens!
+And then, after all, Sidonie had always been a good girl; why should she
+not be a good woman?
+
+Night was falling.  M. Chebe rose gravely to close the shutters of the
+shop and light a gas-jet which illumined the bare walls, the empty,
+polished shelves, and the whole extraordinary place, which reminded one
+strongly of the day following a failure.  With his lips closed
+disdainfully, in his determination to remain silent, he seemed to say to
+the old lady, "Night has come--it is time for you to go home."  And all
+the while they could hear Madame Chebe sobbing in the back room, as she
+went to and fro preparing supper.
+
+Mademoiselle Planus got no further satisfaction from her visit.
+
+"Well?"  queried old Sigismond, who was impatiently awaiting her return.
+
+"They wouldn't believe me, and politely showed me the door."
+
+She had tears in her eyes at the thought of her humiliation.
+
+The old man's face flushed, and he said in a grave voice, taking his
+sister's hand:
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, I ask your pardon for having made you
+take this step; but the honor of the house of Fromont was at stake."
+
+From that moment Sigismond became more and more depressed.  His cash-box
+no longer seemed to him safe or secure.  Even when Fromont Jeune did not
+ask him for money, he was afraid, and he summed up all his apprehensions
+in four words which came continually to his lips when talking with his
+sister:
+
+"I ha no gonfidence," he would say, in his hoarse Swiss patois.
+
+Thinking always of his cash-box, he dreamed sometimes that it had broken
+apart at all the joints, and insisted on remaining open, no matter how
+much he turned the key; or else that a high wind had scattered all the
+papers, notes, cheques, and bills, and that he ran after them all over
+the factory, tiring himself out in the attempt to pick them up.
+
+In the daytime, as he sat behind his grating in the silence of his
+office, he imagined that a little white mouse had eaten its way through
+the bottom of the box and was gnawing and destroying all its contents,
+growing plumper and prettier as the work of destruction went on.
+
+So that, when Sidonie appeared on the steps about the middle of the
+afternoon, in her pretty Parisian plumage, old Sigismond shuddered with
+rage.  In his eyes it was the ruin of the house that stood there, ruin in
+a magnificent costume, with its little coupe at the door, and the placid
+bearing of a happy coquette.
+
+Madame Risler had no suspicion that, at that window on the ground floor,
+sat an untiring foe who watched her slightest movements, the most trivial
+details of her life, the going and coming of her music-teacher, the
+arrival of the fashionable dressmaker in the morning, all the boxes that
+were brought to the house, and the laced cap of the employe of the
+Magasin du Louvre, whose heavy wagon stopped at the gate with a jingling
+of bells, like a diligence drawn by stout horses which were dragging the
+house of Fromont to bankruptcy at break-neck speed.
+
+Sigismond counted the packages, weighed them with his eye as they passed,
+and gazed inquisitively into Risler's apartments through the open
+windows.  The carpets that were shaken with a great noise, the
+jardinieres that were brought into the sunlight filled with fragile,
+unseasonable flowers, rare and expensive, the gorgeous hangings--none of
+these things escaped his notice.
+
+The new acquisitions of the household stared him in the face, reminding
+him of some request for a large amount.
+
+But the one thing that he studied more carefully than all else was
+Risler's countenance.
+
+In his view that woman was in a fair way to change his friend, the best,
+the most upright of men, into a shameless villain.  There was no
+possibility of doubt that Risler knew of his dishonor, and submitted to
+it.  He was paid to keep quiet.
+
+Certainly there was something monstrous in such a supposition.  But it is
+the tendency of innocent natures, when they are made acquainted with evil
+for the first time, to go at once too far, beyond reason.  When he was
+once convinced of the treachery of Georges and Sidonie, Risler's
+degradation seemed to the cashier less impossible of comprehension.  On
+what other theory could his indifference, in the face of his partner's
+heavy expenditures, be explained?
+
+The excellent Sigismond, in his narrow, stereotyped honesty, could not
+understand the delicacy of Risler's heart.  At the same time, the
+methodical bookkeeper's habit of thought and his clear-sightedness in
+business were a thousand leagues from that absent-minded, flighty
+character, half-artist, half-inventor.  He judged him by himself, having
+no conception of the condition of a man with the disease of invention,
+absorbed by a fixed idea.  Such men are somnambulists.  They look, but do
+not see, their eyes being turned within.
+
+It was Sigismond's belief that Risler did see.  That belief made the old
+cashier very unhappy.  He began by staring at his friend whenever he
+entered the counting-room; then, discouraged by his immovable
+indifference, which he believed to be wilful and premeditated, covering
+his face like a mask, he adopted the plan of turning away and fumbling
+among his papers to avoid those false glances, and keeping his eyes fixed
+on the garden paths or the interlaced wires of the grating when he spoke
+to him.  Even his words were confused and distorted, like his glances.
+No one could say positively to whom he was talking.
+
+No more friendly smiles, no more reminiscences as they turned over the
+leaves of the cash-book together.
+
+"This was the year you came to the factory.  Your first increase of pay.
+Do you remember?  We dined at Douix's that day.  And then the Cafe des
+Aveugles in the evening, eh?  What a debauch!"
+
+At last Risler noticed the strange coolness that had sprung up between
+Sigismond and himself.  He mentioned it to his wife.
+
+For some time past she had felt that antipathy prowling about her.
+Sometimes, as she crossed the courtyard, she was oppressed, as it were,
+by malevolent glances which caused her to turn nervously toward the old
+cashier's corner.  This estrangement between the friends alarmed her,
+and she very quickly determined to put her husband on his guard against
+Planus's unpleasant remarks.
+
+"Don't you see that he is jealous of you, of your position?  A man who
+was once his equal, now his superior, he can't stand that.  But why
+bother one's head about all these spiteful creatures?  Why, I am
+surrounded by them here."
+
+Risler looked at her with wide-open eyes:--"You?"
+
+"Why, yes, it is easy enough to see that all these people detest me.
+They bear little Chebe a grudge because she has become Madame Risler
+Aine.  Heaven only knows all the outrageous things that are said about
+me!  And your cashier doesn't keep his tongue in his pocket, I assure
+you.  What a spiteful fellow he is!"
+
+These few words had their effect.  Risler, indignant, but too proud to
+complain, met coldness with coldness.  Those two honest men, each
+intensely distrustful of the other, could no longer meet without a
+painful sensation, so that, after a while, Risler ceased to go to the
+counting-room at all.  It was not difficult for him, as Fromont Jeune had
+charge of all financial matters.  His month's allowance was carried to
+him on the thirtieth of each month.  This arrangement afforded Sidonie
+and Georges additional facilities, and opportunity for all sorts of
+underhand dealing.
+
+She thereupon turned her attention to the completion of her programme of
+a life of luxury.  She lacked a country house.  In her heart she detested
+the trees, the fields, the country roads that cover you with dust.  "The
+most dismal things on earth," she used to say.  But Claire Fromont passed
+the summer at Savigny.  As soon as the first fine days arrived, the
+trunks were packed and the curtains taken down on the floor below; and a
+great furniture van, with the little girl's blue bassinet rocking on top,
+set off for the grandfather's chateau.  Then, one morning, the mother,
+grandmother, child, and nurse, a medley of white gowns and light veils,
+would drive away behind two fast horses toward the sunny lawns and the
+pleasant shade of the avenues.
+
+At that season Paris was ugly, depopulated; and although Sidonie loved it
+even in the summer, which heats it like a furnace, it troubled her to
+think that all the fashion and wealth of Paris were driving by the
+seashore under their light umbrellas, and would make their outing an
+excuse for a thousand new inventions, for original styles of the most
+risque sort, which would permit one to show that one has a pretty ankle
+and long, curly chestnut hair of one's own.
+
+The seashore bathing resorts!  She could not think of them; Risler could
+not leave Paris.
+
+How about buying a country house?  They had not the means.  To be sure,
+there was the lover, who would have asked nothing better than to gratify
+this latest whim; but a country house cannot be concealed like a bracelet
+or a shawl.  The husband must be induced to accept it.  That was not an
+easy matter; however, they might venture to try it with Risler.
+
+To pave the way, she talked to him incessantly about a little nook in the
+country, not too expensive, very near Paris.  Risler listened with a
+smile.  He thought of the high grass, of the orchard filled with fine
+fruit-trees, being already tormented by the longing to possess which
+comes with wealth; but, as he was prudent, he said:
+
+"We will see, we will see.  Let us wait till the end of the year."
+
+The end of the year, that is to say, the striking of the balance-sheet.
+
+The balance-sheet!  That is the magic word.  All through the year we go
+on and on in the eddying whirl of business.  Money comes and goes,
+circulates, attracts other money, vanishes; and the fortune of the firm,
+like a slippery, gleaming snake, always in motion, expands, contracts,
+diminishes, or increases, and it is impossible to know our condition
+until there comes a moment of rest.  Not until the inventory shall we
+know the truth, and whether the year, which seems to have been
+prosperous, has really been so.
+
+The account of stock is usually taken late in December, between Christmas
+and New Year's Day.  As it requires much extra labor to prepare it,
+everybody works far into the night.  The whole establishment is alert.
+The lamps remain lighted in the offices long after the doors are closed,
+and seem to share in the festal atmosphere peculiar to that last week of
+the year, when so many windows are illuminated for family gatherings.
+Every one, even to the least important 'employe' of the firm, is
+interested in the results of the inventory.  The increases of salary, the
+New Year's presents, depend upon those blessed figures.  And so, while
+the vast interests of a wealthy house are trembling in the balance, the
+wives and children and aged parents of the clerks, in their fifth-floor
+tenements or poor apartments in the suburbs, talk of nothing but the
+inventory, the results of which will make themselves felt either by a
+greatly increased need of economy or by some purchase, long postponed,
+which the New Year's gift will make possible at last.
+
+On the premises of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, Sigismond Planus is the
+god of the establishment at that season, and his little office a
+sanctuary where all the clerks perform their devotions.  In the silence
+of the sleeping factory, the heavy pages of the great books rustle as
+they are turned, and names called aloud cause search to be made in other
+books.  Pens scratch.  The old cashier, surrounded by his lieutenants,
+has a businesslike, awe-inspiring air.  From time to time Fromont Jeune,
+on the point of going out in his carriage, looks in for a moment, with a
+cigar in his mouth, neatly gloved and ready for the street.  He walks
+slowly, on tiptoe, puts his face to the grating:
+
+"Well!--are you getting on all right?"
+
+Sigismond gives a grunt, and the young master takes his leave, afraid to
+ask any further questions.  He knows from the cashier's expression that
+the showing will be a bad one.
+
+In truth, since the days of the Revolution, when there was fighting in
+the very courtyard of the factory, so pitiable an inventory never had
+been seen in the Fromont establishment.  Receipts and expenditures
+balanced each other.  The general expense account had eaten up
+everything, and, furthermore, Fromont Jeune was indebted to the firm in a
+large sum.  You should have seen old Planus's air of consternation when,
+on the 31st of December, he went up to Georges's office to make report of
+his labors.
+
+Georges took a very cheerful view of the matter.  Everything would go
+better next year.  And to restore the cashier's good humor he gave him an
+extraordinary bonus of a thousand francs, instead of the five hundred his
+uncle used always to give.  Everybody felt the effects of that generous
+impulse, and, in the universal satisfaction, the deplorable results of
+the yearly accounting were very soon forgotten.  As for Risler, Georges
+chose to take it upon himself to inform him as to the situation.
+
+When he entered his partner's little closet, which was lighted from above
+by a window in the ceiling, so that the light fell directly upon the
+subject of the inventor's meditations, Fromont hesitated a moment, filled
+with shame and remorse for what he was about to do.
+
+The other, when he heard the door, turned joyfully toward his partner.
+
+"Chorche, Chorche, my dear fellow--I have got it, our press.  There are
+still a few little things to think out.  But no matter!  I am sure now of
+my invention: you will see--you will see!  Ah!  the Prochassons can
+experiment all they choose.  With the Risler Press we will crush all
+rivalry."
+
+"Bravo, my comrade!"  replied Fromont Jeune.  "So much for the future;
+but you don't seem to think about the present.  What about this
+inventory?"
+
+"Ah, yes!  to be sure.  I had forgotten all about it.  It isn't very
+satisfactory, is it?"
+
+He said that because of the somewhat disturbed and embarrassed expression
+on Georges's face.
+
+"Why, yes, on the contrary, it is very satisfactory indeed," was the
+reply.  "We have every reason to be satisfied, especially as this is our
+first year together.  We have forty thousand francs each for our share of
+the profits; and as I thought you might need a little money to give your
+wife a New Year's present--"
+
+Ashamed to meet the eyes of the honest man whose confidence he was
+betraying, Fromont jeune placed a bundle of cheques and notes on the
+table.
+
+Risler was deeply moved for a moment.  So much money at one time for him!
+His mind dwelt upon the generosity of these Fromonts, who had made him
+what he was; then he thought of his little Sidonie, of the longing which
+she had so often expressed and which he would now be able to gratify.
+
+With tears in his eyes and a happy smile on his lips, he held out both
+hands to his partner.
+
+"I am very happy!  I am very happy!"
+
+That was his favorite phrase on great occasions.  Then he pointed to the
+bundles of bank notes spread out before him in the narrow bands which are
+used to confine those fugitive documents, always ready to fly away.
+
+"Do you know what that is?"  he said to Georges, with an air of triumph.
+"That is Sidonie's house in the country!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A LETTER
+
+     "TO M. FRANTZ RISLER,
+
+     "Engineer of the Compagnie Francaise, "Ismailia, Egypt.
+
+     Frantz, my boy, it is old Sigismond who is writing to you.  If I
+     knew better how to put my ideas on paper, I should have a very long
+     story to tell you.  But this infernal French is too hard, and
+     Sigismond Planus is good for nothing away from his figures.  So I
+     will come to the point at once.
+
+     "Affairs in your brother's house are not as they should be.  That
+     woman is false to him with his partner.  She has made her husband a
+     laughing-stock, and if this goes on she will cause him to be looked
+     upon as a rascal.  Frantz, my boy, you must come home at once.  You
+     are the only one who can speak to Risler and open his eyes about
+     that little Sidonie.  He would not believe any of us.  Ask leave of
+     absence at once, and come.
+
+     "I know that you have your bread to earn out there, and your future
+     to assure; but a man of honor should think more of the name his
+     parents gave him than of anything else.  And I tell you that if you
+     do not come at once, a time will come when the name of Risler will
+     be so overwhelmed with shame that you will not dare to bear it.
+
+                                   SIGISMOND PLANUS,
+                                             "Cashier."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE JUDGE
+
+Those persons who live always in doors, confined by work or infirmity to
+a chair by the window, take a deep interest in the people who pass, just
+as they make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls, roofs,
+and windows.
+
+Nailed to their place, they live in the life of the streets; and the busy
+men and women who pass within their range of vision, sometimes every day
+at the same hour, do not suspect that they serve as the mainspring of
+other lives, that interested eyes watch for their coming and miss them if
+they happen to go to their destination by another road.
+
+The Delobelles, left to themselves all day, indulged in this sort of
+silent observation.  Their window was narrow, and the mother, whose eyes
+were beginning to weaken as the result of hard usage, sat near the light
+against the drawn muslin curtain; her daughter's large armchair was a
+little farther away.  She announced the approach of their daily passers-
+by.  It was a diversion, a subject of conversation; and the long hours of
+toil seemed shorter, marked off by the regular appearance of people who
+were as busy as they.  There were two little sisters, a gentleman in a
+gray overcoat, a child who was taken to school and taken home again, and
+an old government clerk with a wooden leg, whose step on the sidewalk had
+a sinister sound.
+
+They hardly ever saw him; he passed after dark, but they heard him, and
+the sound always struck the little cripple's ears like a harsh echo of
+her own mournful thoughts.  All these street friends unconsciously
+occupied a large place in the lives of the two women.  If it rained, they
+would say:
+
+"They will get wet.  I wonder whether the child got home before the
+shower."  And when the season changed, when the March sun inundated the
+sidewalks or the December snow covered them with its white mantle and its
+patches of black mud, the appearance of a new garment on one of their
+friends caused the two recluses to say to themselves, "It is summer," or,
+"winter has come."
+
+Now, on a certain evening in May, one of those soft, luminous evenings
+when life flows forth from the houses into the street through the open
+windows, Desiree and her mother were busily at work with needles and
+fingers, exhausting the daylight to its last ray, before lighting the
+lamp.  They could hear the shouts of children playing in the yards, the
+muffled notes of pianos, and the voice of a street peddler, drawing his
+half-empty wagon.  One could smell the springtime in the air, a vague
+odor of hyacinth and lilac.
+
+Mamma Delobelle had laid aside her work, and, before closing the window,
+leaned upon the sill listening to all these noises of a great toiling
+city, taking delight in walking through the streets when its day's work
+was ended.  From time to time she spoke to her daughter, without turning
+her head.
+
+"Ah!  there's Monsieur Sigismond.  How early he leaves the factory to-
+night!  It may be because the days are lengthening so fast, but I don't
+think it can be seven o'clock.  Who can that man be with the old
+cashier?--What a funny thing!--One would say--Why, yes!--One would say it
+was Monsieur Frantz.  But that isn't possible.  Monsieur Frantz is a long
+way from here at this moment; and then he had no beard.  That man looks
+like him all the same!  Just look, my dear."
+
+But "my dear" does not leave her chair; she does not even stir.  With her
+eyes staring into vacancy, her needle in the air, arrested in its pretty,
+industrious movement, she has gone away to the blue country, that
+wonderful country whither one may go at will, without thought of any
+infirmity.  The name "Frantz," uttered mechanically by her mother,
+because of a chance resemblance, represented to her a whole lifetime of
+illusions, of fervent hopes, ephemeral as the flush that rose to her
+cheeks when, on returning home at night, he used to come and chat with
+her a moment.  How far away that was already!  To think that he used to
+live in the little room near hers, that they used to hear his step on the
+stairs and the noise made by his table when he dragged it to the window
+to draw!  What sorrow and what happiness she used to feel when he talked
+to her of Sidonie, sitting on the low chair at her knees, while she
+mounted her birds and her insects.
+
+As she worked, she used to cheer and comfort him, for Sidonie had caused
+poor Frantz many little griefs before the last great one.  His tone when
+he spoke of Sidonie, the sparkle in his eyes when he thought of her,
+fascinated Desiree in spite of everything, so that when he went away in
+despair, he left behind him a love even greater than that he carried with
+him--a love which the unchanging room, the sedentary, stagnant life, kept
+intact with all its bitter perfume, whereas his would gradually fade away
+and vanish in the fresh air of the outer world.
+
+It grows darker and darker.  A great wave of melancholy envelops the poor
+girl with the falling darkness of that balmy evening.  The blissful gleam
+from the past dies away as the last glimmer of daylight vanishes in the
+narrow recess of the window, where her mother still stands leaning on the
+sill.
+
+Suddenly the door opens.  Some one is there whose features can not be
+distinguished.  Who can it be?  The Delobelles never receive calls.  The
+mother, who has turned her head, thinks at first that some one has come
+from the shop to get the week's work.
+
+"My husband has just gone to your place, Monsieur.  We have nothing here.
+Monsieur Delobelle has taken everything."
+
+The man comes forward without speaking, and as he approaches the window
+his features can be distinguished.  He is a tall, solidly built fellow
+with a bronzed face, a thick, red beard, and a deep voice, and is a
+little slow of speech.
+
+"Ah! so you don't know me, Mamma Delobelle?"
+
+"Oh! I knew you at once, Monsieur Frantz," said Desiree, very calmly, in
+a cold, sedate tone.
+
+"Merciful heavens!  it's Monsieur Frantz."
+
+Quickly Mamma Delobelle runs to the lamp, lights it, and closes the
+window.
+
+"What! it is you, is it, my dear Frantz?"  How coolly she says it, the
+little rascal!  "I knew you at once."  Ah, the little iceberg!  She will
+always be the same.
+
+A veritable little iceberg, in very truth.  She is very pale, and her
+hand as it lies in Frantz's is white and cold.
+
+She seems to him improved, even more refined than before.  He seems to
+her superb, as always, with a melancholy, weary expression in the depths
+of his eyes, which makes him more of a man than when he went away.
+
+His weariness is due to his hurried journey, undertaken immediately on
+his receipt of Sigismond's letter.  Spurred on by the word dishonor, he
+had started instantly, without awaiting his leave of absence, risking his
+place and his future prospects; and, hurrying from steamships to
+railways, he had not stopped until he reached Paris.  Reason enough for
+being weary, especially when one has travelled in eager haste to reach
+one's destination, and when one's mind has been continually beset by
+impatient thoughts, making the journey ten times over in incessant doubt
+and fear and perplexity.
+
+His melancholy began further back.  It began on the day when the woman he
+loved refused to marry him, to become, six months later, the wife of his
+brother; two terrible blows in close succession, the second even more
+painful than the first.  It is true that, before entering into that
+marriage, Risler had written to him to ask his permission to be happy,
+and had written in such touching, affectionate terms that the violence of
+the blow was somewhat diminished; and then, in due time, life in a
+strange country, hard work, and long journeys had softened his grief.
+Now only a vast background of melancholy remains; unless, indeed, the
+hatred and wrath by which he is animated at this moment against the woman
+who is dishonoring his brother may be a remnant of his former love.
+
+But no!  Frantz Risler thinks only of avenging the honor of the Rislers.
+He comes not as a lover, but as a judge; and Sidonie may well look to
+herself.
+
+The judge had gone straight to the factory on leaving the train, relying
+upon the surprise, the unexpectedness, of his arrival to disclose to him
+at a glance what was taking place.
+
+Unluckily he had found no one.  The blinds of the little house at the
+foot of the garden had been closed for two weeks.  Pere Achille informed
+him that the ladies were at their respective country seats where the
+partners joined them every evening.
+
+Fromont Jeune had left the factory very early; Risler Aine had just gone.
+Frantz decided to speak to old Sigismond.  But it was Saturday, the
+regular pay-day, and he must needs wait until the long line of workmen,
+extending from Achille's lodge to the cashier's grated window, had
+gradually dispersed.
+
+Although very impatient and very depressed, the excellent youth, who had
+lived the life of a Paris workingman from his childhood, felt a thrill of
+pleasure at finding himself once more in the midst of the animated scenes
+peculiar to that time and place.  Upon all those faces, honest or
+vicious, was an expression of satisfaction that the week was at an end.
+You felt that, so far as they were concerned, Sunday began at seven
+o'clock Saturday evening, in front of the cashier's little lamp.
+
+One must have lived among workingmen to realize the full charm of that
+one day's rest and its solemnity.  Many of these poor creatures, bound
+fast to unhealthful trades, await the coming of the blessed Sunday like a
+puff of refreshing air, essential to their health and their life.  What
+an overflow of spirits, therefore, what a pressing need of noisy mirth!
+It seems as if the oppression of the week's labor vanishes with the steam
+from the machinery, as it escapes in a hissing cloud of vapor over the
+gutters.
+
+One by one the workmen moved away from the grating, counting the money
+that glistened in their black hands.  There were disappointments,
+mutterings, remonstrances, hours missed, money drawn in advance; and
+above the tinkling of coins, Sigismond's voice could be heard, calm and
+relentless, defending the interests of his employers with a zeal
+amounting to ferocity.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all the dramas of pay-day, the false accents and
+the true.  He knew that one man's wages were expended for his family, to
+pay the baker and the druggist, or for his children's schooling.
+
+Another wanted his money for the wine-shop or for something even worse.
+And the melancholy, downcast shadows passing to and fro in front of the
+factory gateway--he knew what they were waiting for--that they were all
+on the watch for a father or a husband, to hurry him home with
+complaining or coaxing words.
+
+Oh! the barefooted children, the tiny creatures wrapped in old shawls,
+the shabby women, whose tear-stained faces were as white as the linen
+caps that surmounted them.
+
+Oh! the lurking vice that prowls about on pay-day, the candles that are
+lighted in the depths of dark alleys, the dirty windows of the wine-shops
+where the thousand-and-one poisonous concoctions of alcohol display their
+alluring colors.
+
+Frantz was familiar with all these forms of misery; but never had they
+seemed to him so depressing, so harrowing as on that evening.
+
+When the last man was paid, Sigismond came out of his office.  The two
+friends recognized each other and embraced; and in the silence of the
+factory, at rest for twenty-four hours and deathly still in all its empty
+buildings, the cashier explained to Frantz the state of affairs.  He
+described Sidonie's conduct, her mad extravagance, the total wreck of the
+family honor.  The Rislers had bought a country house at Asnieres,
+formerly the property of an actress, and had set up a sumptuous
+establishment there.  They had horses and carriages, and led a luxurious,
+gay life.  The thing that especially disturbed honest Sigismond was the
+self restraint of Fromont jeune.  For some time he had drawn almost no
+money from the strong-box, and yet Sidonie was spending more than ever.
+
+"I haf no gonfidence!" said the unhappy cashier, shaking his head, "I haf
+no gonfidence!"
+
+Lowering his voice he added:
+
+"But your brother, my little Frantz, your brother?  Who can explain his
+actions?  He goes about through it all with his eyes in the air, his
+hands in his pockets, his mind on his famous invention, which
+unfortunately doesn't move fast.  Look here! do you want me to give you
+my opinion?--He's either a knave or a fool."
+
+They were walking up and down the little garden as they talked, stopping
+for a moment, then resuming their walk.  Frantz felt as if he were living
+in a horrible dream.  The rapid journey, the sudden change of scene and
+climate, the ceaseless flow of Sigismond's words, the new idea that he
+had to form of Risler and Sidonie--the same Sidonie he had loved so
+dearly--all these things bewildered him and almost drove him mad.
+
+It was late.  Night was falling.  Sigismond proposed to him to go to
+Montrouge for the night; he declined on the plea of fatigue, and when he
+was left alone in the Marais, at that dismal and uncertain hour when the
+daylight has faded and the gas is still unlighted, he walked
+instinctively toward his old quarters on the Rue de Braque.
+
+At the hall door hung a placard: Bachelor's Chamber to let.
+
+It was the same room in which he had lived so long with his brother.  He
+recognized the map fastened to the wall by four pins, the window on the
+landing, and the Delobelles' little sign: 'Birds and Insects for
+Ornament.'
+
+Their door was ajar; he had only to push it a little in order to enter
+the room.
+
+Certainly there was not in all Paris a surer refuge for him, a spot
+better fitted to welcome and console his perturbed spirit, than that
+hard-working familiar fireside.  In his present agitation and perplexity
+it was like the harbor with its smooth, deep water, the sunny, peaceful
+quay, where the women work while awaiting their husbands and fathers,
+though the wind howls and the sea rages.  More than all else, although he
+did not realize that it was so, it was a network of steadfast affection,
+that miraculous love-kindness which makes another's love precious to us
+even when we do not love that other.
+
+That dear little iceberg of a Desiree loved him so dearly.  Her eyes
+sparkled so even when talking of the most indifferent things with him.
+As objects dipped in phosphorus shine with equal splendor, so the most
+trivial words she said illuminated her pretty, radiant face.  What a
+blissful rest it was for him after Sigismond's brutal disclosures!
+
+They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was
+setting the table.
+
+"You will dine with us, won't you, Monsieur Frantz?  Father has gone to
+take back the work; but he will surely come home to dinner."
+
+He will surely come home to dinner!
+
+The good woman said it with a certain pride.
+
+In fact, since the failure of his managerial scheme, the illustrious
+Delobelle no longer took his meals abroad, even on the evenings when he
+went to collect the weekly earnings.  The unlucky manager had eaten so
+many meals on credit at his restaurant that he dared not go there again.
+By way of compensation, he never failed, on Saturday, to bring home with
+him two or three unexpected, famished guests--"old comrades"--"unlucky
+devils."  So it happened that, on the evening in question, he appeared
+upon the stage escorting a financier from the Metz theatre and a comique
+from the theatre at Angers, both waiting for an engagement.
+
+The comique, closely shaven, wrinkled, shrivelled by the heat from the
+footlights, looked like an old street-arab; the financier wore cloth
+shoes, and no linen, so far as could be seen.
+
+"Frantz!--my Frantz!" cried the old strolling player in a melodramatic
+voice, clutching the air convulsively with his hands.  After a long and
+energetic embrace he presented his guests to one another.
+
+"Monsieur Robricart, of the theatre at Metz.
+
+"Monsieur Chaudezon, of the theatre at Angers.
+
+"Frantz Risler, engineer."
+
+In Delobelle's mouth that word "engineer" assumed vast proportions!
+
+Desiree pouted prettily when she saw her father's friends.  It would have
+been so nice to be by themselves on a day like to-day.  But the great man
+snapped his fingers at the thought.  He had enough to do to unload his
+pockets.  First of all, he produced a superb pie "for the ladies," he
+said, forgetting that he adored pie.  A lobster next made its appearance,
+then an Arles sausage, marrons glaces and cherries, the first of the
+season!
+
+While the financier enthusiastically pulled up the collar of his
+invisible shirt, while the comique exclaimed "gnouf!  gnouf!" with a
+gesture forgotten by Parisians for ten years, Desiree thought with dismay
+of the enormous hole that impromptu banquet would make in the paltry
+earnings of the week, and Mamma Delobelle, full of business, upset the
+whole buffet in order to find a sufficient number of plates.
+
+It was a very lively meal.  The two actors ate voraciously, to the great
+delight of Delobelle, who talked over with them old memories of their
+days of strolling.  Fancy a collection of odds and ends of scenery,
+extinct lanterns, and mouldy, crumbling stage properties.
+
+In a sort of vulgar, meaningless, familiar slang, they recalled their
+innumerable triumphs; for all three of them, according to their own
+stories, had been applauded, laden with laurel-wreaths, and carried in
+triumph by whole cities.
+
+While they talked they ate as actors usually eat, sitting with their
+faces turned three-fourths toward the audience, with the unnatural haste
+of stage guests at a pasteboard supper, alternating words and mouthfuls,
+seeking to produce an effect by their manner of putting down a glass or
+moving a chair, and expressing interest, amazement, joy, terror,
+surprise, with the aid of a skilfully handled knife and fork.  Madame
+Delobelle listened to them with a smiling face.
+
+One can not be an actor's wife for thirty years without becoming somewhat
+accustomed to these peculiar mannerisms.
+
+But one little corner of the table was separated from the rest of the
+party as by a cloud which intercepted the absurd remarks, the hoarse
+laughter, the boasting.  Frantz and Desiree talked together in
+undertones, hearing naught of what was said around them.  Things that
+happened in their childhood, anecdotes of the neighborhood, a whole ill-
+defined past which derived its only value from the mutual memories
+evoked, from the spark that glowed in the eyes of both-those were the
+themes of their pleasant chat.
+
+Suddenly the cloud was torn aside, and Delobelle's terrible voice
+interrupted the dialogue.
+
+"Have you not seen your brother?"  he asked, in order to avoid the
+appearance of neglecting him too much.  "And you have not seen his wife,
+either?  Ah! you will find her a Madame.  Such toilettes, my dear fellow,
+and such chic!  I assure you.  They have a genuine chateau at Asnieres.
+The Chebes are there also.  Ah! my old friend, they have all left us
+behind.  They are rich, they look down on old friends.  Never a word,
+never a call.  For my part, you understand, I snap my fingers at them,
+but it really wounds these ladies."
+
+"Oh, papa!"  said Desiree hastily, "you know very well that we are too
+fond of Sidonie to be offended with her."
+
+The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist.
+
+"Why, then, you do wrong.  You ought to be offended with people who seek
+always to wound and humiliate you."
+
+He still had upon his mind the refusal to furnish funds for his
+theatrical project, and he made no secret of his wrath.
+
+"If you knew," he said to Frantz, "if you knew how money is being
+squandered over yonder!  It is a great pity.  And nothing substantial,
+nothing sensible.  I who speak to you, asked your brother for a paltry
+sum to assure my future and himself a handsome profit.  He flatly
+refused.  Parbleu!  Madame requires too much.  She rides, goes to the
+races in her carriage, and drives her husband at the same rate as her
+little phaeton on the quay at Asnieres.  Between you and me, I don't
+think that our good friend Risler is very happy.  That woman makes him
+believe black is white."
+
+The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the
+financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional
+grimaces, 'ha-has!' and 'hum-hums!'  and all the usual pantomime
+expressive of thoughts too deep for words.
+
+Frantz was struck dumb.  Do what he would, the horrible certainty
+assailed him on all sides.  Sigismond had spoken in accordance with his
+nature, Delobelle with his.  The result was the same.
+
+Fortunately the dinner was drawing near its close.  The three actors left
+the table and betook themselves to the brewery on the Rue Blondel.
+Frantz remained with the two women.
+
+As he sat beside her, gentle and affectionate in manner, Desiree was
+suddenly conscious of a great outflow of gratitude to Sidonie.  She said
+to herself that, after all, it was to her generosity that she owed this
+semblance of happiness, and that thought gave her courage to defend her
+former friend.
+
+"You see, Monsieur Frantz, you mustn't believe all my father told you
+about your sister-in-law.  Dear papa! he always exaggerates a little.
+For my own part, I am very sure that Sidonie is incapable of all the evil
+she is accused of.  I am sure that her heart has remained the same; and
+that she is still fond of her friends, although she does neglect them a
+little.  Such is life, you know.  Friends drift apart without meaning to.
+Isn't that true, Monsieur Frantz?"
+
+Oh! how pretty she was in his eyes, while she talked in that strain.  He
+never had taken so much notice of the refined features, the aristocratic
+pallor of her complexion; and when he left her that evening, deeply
+touched by the warmth she had displayed in defending Sidonie, by all the
+charming feminine excuses she put forward for her friend's silence and
+neglect, Frantz Risler reflected, with a feeling of selfish and ingenuous
+pleasure, that the child had loved him once, and that perhaps she loved
+him still, and kept for him in the bottom of her heart that warm,
+sheltered spot to which we turn as to the sanctuary when life has wounded
+us.
+
+All night long in his old room, lulled by the imaginary movement of the
+vessel, by the murmur of the waves and the howling of the wind which
+follow long sea voyages, he dreamed of his youthful days, of little Chebe
+and Desiree Delobelle, of their games, their labors, and of the Ecole
+Centrale, whose great, gloomy buildings were sleeping near at hand, in
+the dark streets of the Marais.
+
+And when daylight came, and the sun shining in at his bare window vexed
+his eyes and brought him back to a realization of the duty that lay
+before him and to the anxieties of the day, he dreamed that it was time
+to go to the School, and that his brother, before going down to the
+factory, opened the door and called to him:
+
+"Come, lazybones!  Come!"
+
+That dear, loving voice, too natural, too real for a dream, made him open
+his eyes without more ado.
+
+Risler was standing by his bed, watching his awakening with a charming
+smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
+from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more, he
+could find nothing better to say than, "I am very happy, I am very
+happy!"
+
+Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the
+factory to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his
+press.  Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that
+his brother was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de
+Braque, and he had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little vexed
+that he had not been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had defrauded
+him of the first evening.  His regret on that account came to the surface
+every moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in which
+everything that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted by
+innumerable questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of
+affection and joy.  Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and
+the pleasure it had given him to be in their old room once more.
+
+"All right, all right," said Risler, "but I sha'n't let you alone now--
+you are coming to Asnieres at once.  I give myself leave of absence
+today.  All thought of work is out of the question now that you have
+come, you understand.  Ah!  won't the little one be surprised and glad!
+We talk about you so often!  What joy!  what joy!"
+
+The poor fellow fairly beamed with happiness; he, the silent man,
+chattered like a magpie, gazed admiringly at his Frantz and remarked
+upon his growth.  The pupil of the Ecole Centrale had had a fine physique
+when he went away, but his features had acquired greater firmness,
+his shoulders were broader, and it was a far cry from the tall, studious-
+looking boy who had left Paris two years before, for Ismailia, to this
+handsome, bronzed corsair, with his serious yet winning face.
+
+While Risler was gazing at him, Frantz, on his side, was closely
+scrutinizing his brother, and, finding him the same as always, as
+ingenuous, as loving, and as absent-minded as times, he said to himself:
+
+"No! it is not possible--he has not ceased to be an honest man."
+
+Thereupon, as he reflected upon what people had dared to imagine, all his
+wrath turned against that hypocritical, vicious woman, who deceived her
+husband so impudently and with such absolute impunity that she succeeded
+in causing him to be considered her confederate.  Oh!  what a terrible
+reckoning he proposed to have with her; how pitilessly he would talk to
+her!
+
+"I forbid you, Madame--understand what I say--I forbid you to dishonor my
+brother!"
+
+He was thinking of that all the way, as he watched the still leafless
+trees glide along the embankment of the Saint-Germain railway.  Sitting
+opposite him, Risler chattered, chattered without pause.  He talked about
+the factory, about their business.  They had gained forty thousand francs
+each the last year; but it would be a different matter when the Press was
+at work.  "A rotary press, my little Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal,
+capable of printing a pattern in twelve to fifteen colors at a single
+turn of the wheel--red on pink, dark green on light green, without the
+least running together or absorption, without a line lapping over its
+neighbor, without any danger of one shade destroying or overshadowing
+another.  Do you understand that, little brother?  A machine that is an
+artist like a man.  It means a revolution in the wallpaper trade."
+
+"But," queried Frantz with some anxiety, "have you invented this Press of
+yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?"
+
+"Invented!--perfected!  To-morrow I will show you all my plans.  I have
+also invented an automatic crane for hanging the paper on the rods in the
+drying-room.  Next week I intend to take up my quarters in the factory,
+up in the garret, and have my first machine made there secretly, under my
+own eyes.  In three months the patents must be taken out and the Press
+must be at work.  You'll see, my little Frantz, it will make us all rich-
+you can imagine how glad I shall be to be able to make up to these
+Fromonts for a little of what they have done for me.  Ah! upon my word,
+the Lord has been too good to me."
+
+Thereupon he began to enumerate all his blessings.  Sidonie was the best
+of women, a little love of a wife, who conferred much honor upon him.
+They had a charming home.  They went into society, very select society.
+The little one sang like a nightingale, thanks to Madame Dobson's
+expressive method.  By the way, this Madame Dobson was another most
+excellent creature.  There was just one thing that disturbed poor Risler,
+that was his incomprehensible misunderstanding with Sigismond.  Perhaps
+Frantz could help him to clear up that mystery.
+
+"Oh! yes, I will help you, brother," replied Frantz through his clenched
+teeth; and an angry flush rose to his brow at the idea that any one could
+have suspected the open-heartedness, the loyalty, that were displayed
+before him in all their artless spontaneity.  Luckily he, the judge, had
+arrived; and he proposed to restore everything to its proper place.
+
+Meanwhile, they were drawing near the house at Asnieres.  Frantz had
+noticed at a distance a fanciful little turreted affair, glistening with
+a new blue slate roof.  It seemed to him to have been built expressly for
+Sidonie, a fitting cage for that capricious, gaudy-plumaged bird.
+
+It was a chalet with two stories, whose bright mirrors and pink-lined
+curtains could be seen from the railway, shining resplendent at the far
+end of a green lawn, where an enormous pewter ball was suspended.
+
+The river was near at hand, still wearing its Parisian aspect, filled
+with chains, bathing establishments, great barges, and multitudes of
+little, skiffs, with a layer of coaldust on their pretentious, freshly-
+painted names, tied to the pier and rocking to the slightest motion of
+the water.  From her windows Sidonie could see the restaurants on the
+beach, silent through the week, but filled to overflowing on Sunday with
+a motley, noisy crowd, whose shouts of laughter, mingled with the dull
+splash of oars, came from both banks to meet in midstream in that current
+of vague murmurs, shouts, calls, laughter, and singing that floats
+without ceasing up and down the Seine on holidays for a distance of ten
+miles.
+
+During the week she saw shabbily-dressed idlers sauntering along the
+shore, men in broad-brimmed straw hats and flannel shirts, women who sat
+on the worn grass of the sloping bank, doing nothing, with the dreamy
+eyes of a cow at pasture.  All the peddlers, handorgans, harpists;
+travelling jugglers, stopped there as at a quarantine station.  The quay
+was crowded with them, and as they approached, the windows in the little
+houses near by were always thrown open, disclosing white dressing-
+jackets, half-buttoned, heads of dishevelled hair, and an occasional
+pipe, all watching these paltry strolling shows, as if with a sigh of
+regret for Paris, so near at hand.  It was a hideous and depressing
+sight.
+
+The grass, which had hardly begun to grow, was already turning yellow
+beneath the feet of the crowd.  The dust was black; and yet, every
+Thursday, the cocotte aristocracy passed through on the way to the
+Casino, with a great show of rickety carriages and borrowed postilions.
+All these things gave pleasure to that fanatical Parisian, Sidonie; and
+then, too, in her childhood, she had heard a great deal about Asnieres
+from the illustrious Delobelle, who would have liked to have, like so
+many of his profession, a little villa in those latitudes, a cozy nook in
+the country to which to return by the midnight train, after the play is
+done.
+
+All these dreams of little Chebe, Sidonie Risler had realized.
+
+The brothers went to the gate opening on the quay, in which the key was
+usually left.  They entered, making their way among trees and shrubs of
+recent growth.  Here and there the billiard-room, the gardener's lodge, a
+little greenhouse, made their appearance, like the pieces of one of the
+Swiss chalets we give to children to play with; all very light and
+fragile, hardly more than resting on the ground, as if ready to fly away
+at the slightest breath of bankruptcy or caprice: the villa of a cocotte
+or a pawnbroker.
+
+Frantz looked about in some bewilderment.  In the distance, opening on a
+porch surrounded by vases of flowers, was the salon with its long blinds
+raised.  An American easy-chair, folding-chairs, a small table from which
+the coffee had not been removed, could be seen near the door.  Within
+they heard a succession of loud chords on the piano and the murmur of low
+voices.
+
+"I tell you Sidonie will be surprised," said honest Risler, walking
+softly on the gravel; "she doesn't expect me until tonight.  She and
+Madame Dobson are practising together at this moment."
+
+Pushing the door open suddenly, he cried from the threshold in his loud,
+good-natured voice:
+
+"Guess whom I've brought."
+
+Madame Dobson, who was sitting alone at the piano, jumped up from her
+stool, and at the farther end of the grand salon Georges and Sidonie rose
+hastily behind the exotic plants that reared their heads above a table,
+of whose delicate, slender lines they seemed a prolongation.
+
+"Ah!  how you frightened me!"  said Sidonie, running to meet Risler.
+
+The flounces of her white peignoir, through which blue ribbons were
+drawn, like little patches of blue sky among the clouds, rolled in
+billows over the carpet, and, having already recovered from her
+embarrassment, she stood very straight, with an affable expression and
+her everlasting little smile, as she kissed her husband and offered her
+forehead to Frantz, saying:
+
+"Good morning, brother."
+
+Risler left them confronting each other, and went up to Fromont Jeune,
+whom he was greatly surprised to find there.
+
+"What, Chorche, you here?  I supposed you were at Savigny."
+
+"Yes, to be sure, but--I came--I thought you stayed at Asnieres Sundays.
+I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business."
+
+Thereupon, entangling himself in his words, he began to talk hurriedly of
+an important order.  Sidonie had disappeared after exchanging a few
+unmeaning words with the impassive Frantz.  Madame Dobson continued her
+tremolos on the soft pedal, like those which accompany critical
+situations at the theatre.
+
+In very truth, the situation at that moment was decidedly strained.
+But Risler's good-humor banished all constraint.  He apologized to his
+partner for not being at home, and insisted upon showing Frantz the
+house.  They went from the salon to the stable, from the stable to the
+carriage-house, the servants' quarters, and the conservatory.  Everything
+was new, brilliant, gleaming, too small, and inconvenient.
+
+"But," said Risler, with a certain pride, "it cost a heap of money!"
+
+He persisted in compelling admiration of Sidonie's purchase even to its
+smallest details, exhibited the gas and water fixtures on every floor,
+the improved system of bells, the garden seats, the English billiard-
+table, the hydropathic arrangements, and accompanied his exposition with
+outbursts of gratitude to Fromont Jeune, who, by taking him into
+partnership, had literally placed a fortune in his hands.
+
+At each new effusion on Risler's part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly,
+ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz's face.
+
+The breakfast was lacking in gayety.
+
+Madame Dobson talked almost without interruption, overjoyed to be
+swimming in the shallows of a romantic love-affair.  Knowing, or rather
+believing that she knew her friend's story from beginning to end, she
+understood the lowering wrath of Frantz, a former lover furious at
+finding his place filled, and the anxiety of Georges, due to the
+appearance of a rival; and she encouraged one with a glance, consoled the
+other with a smile, admired Sidonie's tranquil demeanor, and reserved all
+her contempt for that abominable Risler, the vulgar, uncivilized tyrant.
+She made an effort to prevent any of those horrible periods of silence,
+when the clashing knives and forks mark time in such an absurd and
+embarrassing way.
+
+As soon as breakfast was at an end Fromont Jeune announced that he must
+return to Savigny.  Risler did not venture to detain him, thinking that
+his dear Madame Chorche would pass her Sunday all alone; and so, without
+an opportunity to say a word to his mistress, the lover went away in the
+bright sunlight to take an afternoon train, still attended by the
+husband, who insisted upon escorting him to the station.
+
+Madame Dobson sat for a moment with Frantz and Sidonie under a little
+arbor which a climbing vine studded with pink buds; then, realizing that
+she was in the way, she returned to the salon, and as before, while
+Georges was there, began to play and sing softly and with expression.
+In the silent garden, that muffled music, gliding between the branches,
+seemed like the cooing of birds before the storm.
+
+At last they were alone.  Under the lattice of the arbor, still bare and
+leafless, the May sun shone too bright.  Sidonie shaded her eyes with her
+hand as she watched the people passing on the quay.  Frantz likewise
+looked out, but in another direction; and both of them, affecting to be
+entirely independent of each other, turned at the same instant with the
+same gesture and moved by the same thought.
+
+"I have something to say to you," he said, just as she opened her mouth.
+
+"And I to you," she replied gravely; "but come in here; we shall be more
+comfortable."
+
+And they entered together a little summer-house at the foot of the
+garden.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity
+Clashing knives and forks mark time
+Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen
+Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs
+Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler, v2
+by Alphonse Daudet
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+EXPLANATION
+
+By slow degrees Sidonie sank to her former level, yes, even lower.  From
+the rich, well-considered bourgeoise to which her marriage had raised
+her, she descended the ladder to the rank of a mere toy.  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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FROMONT AND RISLER
+
+By ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+
+BOOK 4.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE DAY OF RECKONING
+
+The great clock of Saint-Gervais struck one in the morning.  It was so
+cold that the fine snow, flying through the air, hardened as it fell,
+covering the pavements with a slippery, white blanket.
+
+Risler, wrapped in his cloak, was hastening home from the brewery through
+the deserted streets of the Marais.  He had been celebrating, in company
+with his two faithful borrowers, Chebe and Delobelle, his first moment of
+leisure, the end of that almost endless period of seclusion during which
+he had been superintending the manufacture of his press, with all the
+searchings, the joys, and the disappointments of the inventor.  It had
+been long, very long.  At the last moment he had discovered a defect.
+The crane did not work well; and he had had to revise his plans and
+drawings.  At last, on that very day, the new machine had been tried.
+Everything had succeeded to his heart's desire.  The worthy man was
+triumphant.  It seemed to him that he had paid a debt, by giving the
+house of Fromont the benefit of a new machine, which would lessen the
+labor, shorten the hours of the workmen, and at the same time double
+the profits and the reputation of the factory.  He indulged in beautiful
+dreams as he plodded along.  His footsteps rang out proudly, emphasized
+by the resolute and happy trend of his thoughts.
+
+Quickening his pace, he reached the corner of Rue des Vieilles-
+Haudriettes.  A long line of carriages was standing in front of the
+factory, and the light of their lanterns in the street, the shadows of
+the drivers seeking shelter from the snow in the corners and angles that
+those old buildings have retained despite the straightening of the
+sidewalks, gave an animated aspect to that deserted, silent quarter.
+
+"Yes, yes!  to be sure," thought the honest fellow, "we have a ball at
+our house."  He remembered that Sidonie was giving a grand musical and
+dancing party, which she had excused him from attending, by the way,
+knowing that he was very busy.
+
+Shadows passed and repassed behind the fluttering veil of the curtains;
+the orchestra seemed to follow the movements of those stealthy
+apparitions with the rising and falling of its muffled notes.  The guests
+were dancing.  Risler let his eyes rest for a moment on that
+phantasmagoria of the ball, and fancied that he recognized Sidonie's
+shadow in a small room adjoining the salon.
+
+She was standing erect in her magnificent costume, in the attitude of a
+pretty woman before her mirror.  A shorter shadow behind her, Madame
+Dobson doubtless, was repairing some accident to the costume, retieing
+the knot of a ribbon tied about her neck, its long ends floating down to
+the flounces of the train.  It was all very indistinct, but the woman's
+graceful figure was recognizable in those faintly traced outlines, and
+Risler tarried long admiring her.
+
+The contrast on the first floor was most striking.  There was no light
+visible, with the exception of a little lamp shining through the lilac
+hangings of the bedroom.  Risler noticed that circumstance, and as the
+little girl had been ailing a few days before, he felt anxious about her,
+remembering Madame Georges's strange agitation when she passed him so
+hurriedly in the afternoon; and he retraced his steps as far as Pere
+Achille's lodge to inquire.
+
+The lodge was full.  Coachmen were warming themselves around the stove,
+chatting and laughing amid the smoke from their pipes.  When Risler
+appeared there was profound silence, a cunning, inquisitive, significant
+silence.  They had evidently been speaking of him.
+
+"Is the Fromont child still sick?"  he asked.
+
+"No, not the child, Monsieur."
+
+"Monsieur Georges sick?"
+
+"Yes, he was taken when he came home to-night.  I went right off to get
+the doctor.  He said that it wouldn't amount to anything--that all
+Monsieur needed was rest."
+
+As Risler closed the door Pere Achille added, under his breath, with the
+half-fearful, half-audacious insolence of an inferior, who would like to
+be listened to and yet not distinctly heard:
+
+"Ah! 'dame', they're not making such a show on the first floor as they
+are on the second."
+
+This is what had happened.
+
+Fromont jeune, on returning home during the evening, had found his wife
+with such a changed, heartbroken face, that he at once divined a
+catastrophe.  But he had become so accustomed in the past two years to
+sin with impunity that it did not for one moment occur to him that his
+wife could have been informed of his conduct.  Claire, for her part, to
+avoid humiliating him, was generous enough to speak only of Savigny.
+
+"Grandpapa refused," she said.
+
+The miserable man turned frightfully pale.
+
+"I am lost--I am lost!"  he muttered two or three times in the wild
+accents of fever; and his sleepless nights, a last terrible scene which
+he had had with Sidonie, trying to induce her not to give this party on
+the eve of his downfall, M. Gardinois' refusal, all these maddening
+things which followed so closely on one another's heels and had agitated
+him terribly, culminated in a genuine nervous attack.  Claire took pity
+on him, put him to bed, and established herself by his side; but her
+voice had lost that affectionate intonation which soothes and persuades.
+There was in her gestures, in the way in which she arranged the pillow
+under the patient's head and prepared a quieting draught, a strange
+indifference, listlessness.
+
+"But I have ruined you!"  Georges said from time to time, as if to rouse
+her from that apathy which made him uncomfortable.  She replied with a
+proud, disdainful gesture.  Ah! if he had done only that to her!
+
+At last, however, his nerves became calmer, the fever subsided, and he
+fell asleep.
+
+She remained to attend to his wants.
+
+"It is my duty," she said to herself.
+
+Her duty.  She had reached that point with the man whom she had adored so
+blindly, with the hope of a long and happy life together.
+
+At that moment the ball in Sidonie's apartments began to become very
+animated.  The ceiling trembled rhythmically, for Madame had had all the
+carpets removed from her salons for the greater comfort of the dancers.
+Sometimes, too, the sound of voices reached Claire's ears in waves, and
+frequent tumultuous applause, from which one could divine the great
+number of the guests, the crowded condition of the rooms.
+
+Claire was lost in thought.  She did not waste time in regrets, in
+fruitless lamentations.  She knew that life was inflexible and that all
+the arguments in the world will not arrest the cruel logic of its
+inevitable progress.  She did not ask herself how that man had succeeded
+in deceiving her so long--how he could have sacrificed the honor and
+happiness of his family for a mere caprice.  That was the fact, and all
+her reflections could not wipe it out, could not repair the irreparable.
+The subject that engrossed her thoughts was the future.  A new existence
+was unfolding before her eyes, dark, cruel, full of privation and toil;
+and, strangely enough, the prospect of ruin, instead of terrifying her,
+restored all her courage.  The idea of the change of abode made necessary
+by the economy they would be obliged to practise, of work made compulsory
+for Georges and perhaps for herself, infused an indefinable energy into
+the distressing calmness of her despair.  What a heavy burden of souls
+she would have with her three children: her mother, her child, and her
+husband!  The feeling of responsibility prevented her giving way too much
+to her misfortune, to the wreck of her love; and in proportion as she
+forgot herself in the thought of the weak creatures she had to protect
+she realized more fully the meaning of the word "sacrifice," so vague on
+careless lips, so serious when it becomes a rule of life.
+
+Such were the poor woman's thoughts during that sad vigil, a vigil of
+arms and tears, while she was preparing her forces for the great battle.
+Such was the scene lighted by the modest little lamp which Risler had
+seen from below, like a star fallen from the radiant chandeliers of the
+ballroom.
+
+Reassured by Pere Achille's reply, the honest fellow thought of going up
+to his bedroom, avoiding the festivities and the guests, for whom he
+cared little.
+
+On such occasions he used a small servants' staircase communicating with
+the counting-room.  So he walked through the many-windowed workshops,
+which the moon, reflected by the snow, made as light as at noonday.  He
+breathed the atmosphere of the day of toil, a hot, stifling atmosphere,
+heavy with the odor of boiled talc and varnish.  The papers spread out on
+the dryers formed long, rustling paths.  On all sides tools were lying
+about, and blouses hanging here and there ready for the morrow.  Risler
+never walked through the shops without a feeling of pleasure.
+
+Suddenly he spied a light in Planus's office, at the end of that long
+line of deserted rooms.  The old cashier was still at work, at one
+o'clock in the morning!  That was really most extraordinary.
+
+Risler's first impulse was to retrace his steps.  In fact, since his
+unaccountable falling-out with Sigismond, since the cashier had adopted
+that attitude of cold silence toward him, he had avoided meeting him.
+His wounded friendship had always led him to shun an explanation; he had
+a sort of pride in not asking Planus why he bore him ill-will.  But, on
+that evening, Risler felt so strongly the need of cordial sympathy, of
+pouring out his heart to some one, and then it was such an excellent
+opportunity for a tete-a-tete with his former friend, that he did not try
+to avoid him but boldly entered the counting-room.
+
+The cashier was sitting there, motionless, among heaps of papers and
+great books, which he had been turning over, some of which had fallen to
+the floor.  At the sound of his employer's footsteps he did not even lift
+his eyes.  He had recognized Risler's step.  The latter, somewhat
+abashed, hesitated a moment; then, impelled by one of those secret
+springs which we have within us and which guide us, despite ourselves, in
+the path of our destiny, he walked straight to the cashier's grating.
+
+"Sigismond," he said in a grave voice.
+
+The old man raised his head and displayed a shrunken face down which two
+great tears were rolling, the first perhaps that that animate column of
+figures had ever shed in his life.
+
+"You are weeping, old man?  What troubles you?"
+
+And honest Risler, deeply touched, held out his hand to his friend, who
+hastily withdrew his.  That movement of repulsion was so instinctive, so
+brutal, that all Risler's emotion changed to indignation.
+
+He drew himself up with stern dignity.
+
+"I offer you my hand, Sigismond Planus!"  he said.
+
+"And I refuse to take it," said Planus, rising.
+
+There was a terrible pause, during which they heard the muffled music of
+the orchestra upstairs and the noise of the ball, the dull, wearing noise
+of floors shaken by the rhythmic movement of the dance.
+
+"Why do you refuse to take my hand?"  demanded Risler simply, while the
+grating upon which he leaned trembled with a metallic quiver.
+
+Sigismond was facing him, with both hands on his desk, as if to emphasize
+and drive home what he was about to say in reply.
+
+"Why?  Because you have ruined the house; because in a few hours a
+messenger from the Bank will come and stand where you are, to collect a
+hundred thousand francs; and because, thanks to you, I haven't a sou in
+the cash-box--that's the reason why!"
+
+Risler was stupefied.
+
+"I have ruined the house--I?"
+
+"Worse than that, Monsieur.  You have allowed it to be ruined by your
+wife, and you have arranged with her to benefit by our ruin and your
+dishonor.  Oh!  I can see your game well enough.  The money your wife has
+wormed out of the wretched Fromont, the house at Asnieres, the diamonds
+and all the rest is invested in her name, of course, out of reach of
+disaster; and of course you can retire from business now."
+
+"Oh--oh!"  exclaimed Risler in a faint voice, a restrained voice rather,
+that was insufficient for the multitude of thoughts it strove to express;
+and as he stammered helplessly he drew the grating toward him with such
+force that he broke off a piece of it.  Then he staggered, fell to the
+floor, and lay there motionless, speechless, retaining only, in what
+little life was still left in him, the firm determination not to die
+until he had justified himself.  That determination must have been very
+powerful; for while his temples throbbed madly, hammered by the blood
+that turned his face purple, while his ears were ringing and his glazed
+eyes seemed already turned toward the terrible unknown, the unhappy man
+muttered to himself in a thick voice, like the voice of a shipwrecked man
+speaking with his mouth full of water in a howling gale: "I must live!
+I must live!"
+
+When he recovered consciousness, he was sitting on the cushioned bench on
+which the workmen sat huddled together on pay-day, his cloak on the
+floor, his cravat untied, his shirt open at the neck, cut by Sigismond's
+knife.  Luckily for him, he had cut his hands when he tore the grating
+apart; the blood had flowed freely, and that accident was enough to avert
+an attack of apoplexy.  On opening his eyes, he saw on either side old
+Sigismond and Madame Georges, whom the cashier had summoned in his
+distress.  As soon as Risler could speak, he said to her in a choking
+voice:
+
+"Is this true, Madame Chorche--is this true that he just told me?"
+
+She had not the courage to deceive him, so she turned her eyes away.
+
+"So," continued the poor fellow, "so the house is ruined, and I--"
+
+"No, Risler, my friend.  No, not you."
+
+"My wife, was it not?  Oh!  it is horrible!  This is how I have paid my
+debt of gratitude to you.  But you, Madame Chorche, you could not have
+believed that I was a party to this infamy?"
+
+"No, my friend, no; be calm.  I know that you are the most honorable man
+on earth."
+
+He looked at her a moment, with trembling lips and clasped hands, for
+there was something child-like in all the manifestations of that artless
+nature.
+
+"Oh!  Madame Chorche, Madame Chorche," he murmured.  "When I think that I
+am the one who has ruined you."
+
+In the terrible blow which overwhelmed him, and by which his heart,
+overflowing with love for Sidonie, was most deeply wounded, he refused to
+see anything but the financial disaster to the house of Fromont, caused
+by his blind devotion to his wife.  Suddenly he stood erect.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us not give way to emotion.  We must see about
+settling our accounts."
+
+Madame Fromont was frightened.
+
+"Risler, Risler--where are you going?"
+
+She thought that he was going up to Georges' room.
+
+Risler understood her and smiled in superb disdain.
+
+"Never fear, Madame.  Monsieur Georges can sleep in peace.  I have
+something more urgent to do than avenge my honor as a husband.  Wait for
+me here.  I will come back."
+
+He darted toward the narrow staircase; and Claire, relying upon his word,
+remained with Planus during one of those supreme moments of uncertainty
+which seem interminable because of all the conjectures with which they
+are thronged.
+
+A few moments later the sound of hurried steps, the rustling of silk
+filled the dark and narrow staircase.  Sidonie appeared first, in ball
+costume, gorgeously arrayed and so pale that the jewels that glistened
+everywhere on her dead-white flesh seemed more alive than she, as if they
+were scattered over the cold marble of a statue.  The breathlessness due
+to dancing, the trembling of intense excitement and her rapid descent,
+caused her to shake from head to foot, and her floating ribbons, her
+ruffles, her flowers, her rich and fashionable attire drooped tragically
+about her.  Risler followed her, laden with jewel-cases, caskets, and
+papers.  Upon reaching his apartments he had pounced upon his wife's
+desk, seized everything valuable that it contained, jewels, certificates,
+title-deeds of the house at Asnieres; then, standing in the doorway, he
+had shouted into the ballroom:
+
+"Madame Risler!"
+
+She had run quickly to him, and that brief scene had in no wise disturbed
+the guests, then at the height of the evening's enjoyment.  When she saw
+her husband standing in front of the desk, the drawers broken open and
+overturned on the carpet with the multitude of trifles they contained,
+she realized that something terrible was taking place.
+
+"Come at once," said Risler; "I know all."
+
+She tried to assume an innocent, dignified attitude; but he seized her by
+the arm with such force that Frantz's words came to her mind: "It will
+kill him perhaps, but he will kill you first."  As she was afraid of
+death, she allowed herself to be led away without resistance, and had not
+even the strength to lie.
+
+"Where are we going?"  she asked, in a low voice.
+
+Risler did not answer.  She had only time to throw over her shoulders,
+with the care for herself that never failed her, a light tulle veil, and
+he dragged her, pushed her, rather, down the stairs leading to the
+counting-room, which he descended at the same time, his steps close upon
+hers, fearing that his prey would escape.
+
+"There!"  he said, as he entered the room.  "We have stolen, we make
+restitution.  Look, Planus, you can raise money with all this stuff."
+And he placed on the cashier's desk all the fashionable plunder with
+which his arms were filled--feminine trinkets, trivial aids to coquetry,
+stamped papers.
+
+Then he turned to his wife:
+
+"Take off your jewels!  Come, be quick."
+
+She complied slowly, opened reluctantly the clasps of bracelets and
+buckles, and above all the superb fastening of her diamond necklace on
+which the initial of her name-a gleaming S-resembled a sleeping serpent,
+imprisoned in a circle of gold.  Risler, thinking that she was too slow,
+ruthlessly broke, the fragile fastenings.  Luxury shrieked beneath his
+fingers, as if it were being whipped.
+
+"Now it is my turn," he said; "I too must give up everything.  Here is my
+portfolio.  What else have I?  What else have I?"
+
+He searched his pockets feverishly.
+
+"Ah!  my watch.  With the chain it will bring four-thousand francs.  My
+rings, my wedding-ring.  Everything goes into the cash-box, everything.
+We have a hundred thousand francs to pay this morning.  As soon as it is
+daylight we must go to work, sell out and pay our debts.  I know some one
+who wants the house at Asnieres.  That can be settled at once."
+
+He alone spoke and acted.  Sigismond and Madame Georges watched him
+without speaking.  As for Sidonie, she seemed unconscious, lifeless.
+The cold air blowing from the garden through the little door, which was
+opened at the time of Risler's swoon, made her shiver, and she
+mechanically drew the folds of her scarf around her shoulders, her eyes
+fixed on vacancy, her thoughts wandering.  Did she not hear the violins
+of her ball, which reached their ears in the intervals of silence, like
+bursts of savage irony, with the heavy thud of the dancers shaking the
+floors?  An iron hand, falling upon her, aroused her abruptly from her
+torpor.  Risler had taken her by the arm, and, leading her before his
+partner's wife, he said:
+
+"Down on your knees!"
+
+Madame Fromont drew back, remonstrating:
+
+"No, no, Risler, not that."
+
+"It must be," said the implacable Risler.  "Restitution, reparation!
+Down on your knees then, wretched woman!"  And with irresistible force he
+threw Sidonie at Claire's feet; then, still holding her arm;
+
+"You will repeat after me, word for word, what I say: Madame--"
+
+Sidonie, half dead with fear, repeated faintly: "Madame--"
+
+"A whole lifetime of humility and submission--"
+
+"A whole lifetime of humil--  No, I can not!"  she exclaimed, springing to
+her feet with the agility of a deer; and, wresting herself from Risler's
+grasp, through that open door which had tempted her from the beginning of
+this horrible scene, luring her out into the darkness of the night to the
+liberty obtainable by flight, she rushed from the house, braving the
+falling snow and the wind that stung her bare shoulders.
+
+"Stop her, stop her!--Risler, Planus, I implore you!  In pity's name do
+not let her go in this way," cried Claire.
+
+Planus stepped toward the door.
+
+Risler detained him.
+
+"I forbid you to stir!  I ask your pardon, Madame, but we have more
+important matters than this to consider.  Madame Risler concerns us no
+longer. We have to save the honor of the house of Fromont, which alone is
+at stake, which alone fills my thoughts at this moment."
+
+Sigismond put out his hand.
+
+"You are a noble man, Risler.  Forgive me for having suspected you."
+
+Risler pretended not to hear him.
+
+"A hundred thousand francs to pay, you say?  How much is there left in
+the strong-box?"
+
+He sat bravely down behind the gratin, looking over the books of account,
+the certificates of stock in the funds, opening the jewel-cases,
+estimating with Planus, whose father had been a jeweller, the value of
+all those diamonds, which he had once so admired on his wife, having no
+suspicion of their real value.
+
+Meanwhile Claire, trembling from head to foot, looked out through the
+window at the little garden, white with snow, where Sidonie's footsteps
+were already effaced by the fast-falling flakes, as if to bear witness
+that that precipitate departure was without hope of return.
+
+Up-stairs they were still dancing.  The mistress of the house was
+supposed to be busy with the preparations for supper, while she was
+flying, bare-headed, forcing back sobs and shrieks of rage.
+
+Where was she going?  She had started off like a mad woman, running
+across the garden and the courtyard of the factory, and under the dark
+arches, where the cruel, freezing wind blew in eddying circles.  Pere
+Achille did not recognize her; he had seen so many shadows wrapped in
+white pass his lodge that night.
+
+The young woman's first thought was to join the tenor Cazaboni, whom at
+the last she had not dared to invite to her ball; but he lived at
+Montmartre, and that was very far away for her to go, in that garb; and
+then, would he be at home?  Her parents would take her in, doubtless; but
+she could already hear Madame Chebe's lamentations and the little man's
+sermon under three heads.  Thereupon she thought of Delobelle, her old
+Delobelle.  In the downfall of all her splendors she remembered the man
+who had first initiated her into fashionable life, who had given her
+lessons in dancing and deportment when she was a little girl, laughed at
+her pretty ways, and taught her to look upon herself as beautiful before
+any one had ever told her that she was so.  Something told her that that
+fallen star would take her part against all others.  She entered one of
+the carriages standing at the gate and ordered the driver to take her to
+the actor's lodgings on the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
+
+For some time past Mamma Delobelle had been making straw hats for export-
+a dismal trade if ever there was one, which brought in barely two francs
+fifty for twelve hours' work.
+
+And Delobelle continued to grow fat in the same degree that his "sainted
+wife" grew thin.  At the very moment when some one knocked hurriedly at
+his door he had just discovered a fragrant soup 'au fromage', which had
+been kept hot in the ashes on the hearth.  The actor, who had been
+witnessing at Beaumarchais some dark-browed melodrama drenched with gore
+even to the illustrated headlines of its poster, was startled by that
+knock at such an advanced hour.
+
+"Who is there?"  he asked in some alarm.
+
+"It is I, Sidonie.  Open the door quickly."
+
+She entered the room, shivering all over, and, throwing aside her wrap,
+went close to the stove where the fire was almost extinct.  She began to
+talk at once, to pour out the wrath that had been stifling her for an
+hour, and while she was describing the scene in the factory, lowering her
+voice because of Madame Delobelle, who was asleep close by, the
+magnificence of her costume in that poor, bare, fifth floor, the dazzling
+whiteness of her disordered finery amid the heaps of coarse hats and the
+wisps of straw strewn about the room, all combined to produce the effect
+of a veritable drama, of one of those terrible upheavals of life when
+rank, feelings, fortunes are suddenly jumbled together.
+
+"Oh! I never shall return home.  It is all over.  Free--I am free!"
+
+"But who could have betrayed you to your husband?"  asked the actor.
+
+"It was Frantz!  I am sure it was Frantz.  He wouldn't have believed it
+from anybody else.  Only last evening a letter came from Egypt.  Oh! how
+he treated me before that woman!  To force me to kneel!  But I'll be
+revenged.  Luckily I took something to revenge myself with before I came
+away."
+
+And the smile of former days played about the corners of her pale lips.
+
+The old strolling player listened to it all with deep interest.
+Notwithstanding his compassion for that poor devil of a Risler, and for
+Sidonie herself, for that matter, who seemed to him, in theatrical
+parlance, "a beautiful culprit," he could not help viewing the affair
+from a purely scenic standpoint, and finally cried out, carried away by
+his hobby:
+
+"What a first-class situation for a fifth act!"
+
+She did not bear him.  Absorbed by some evil thought, which made her
+smile in anticipation, she stretched out to the fire her dainty shoes,
+saturated with snow, and her openwork stockings.
+
+"Well, what do you propose to do now?"  Delobelle asked after a pause.
+
+"Stay here till daylight and get a little rest.  Then I will see."
+
+"I have no bed to offer you, my poor girl.  Mamma Delobelle has gone to
+bed."
+
+"Don't you worry about me, my dear Delobelle.  I'll sleep in that
+armchair.  I won't be in your way, I tell you!"
+
+The actor heaved a sigh.
+
+"Ah!  yes, that armchair.  It was our poor Zizi's.  She sat up many a
+night in it, when work was pressing.  Ah, me!  those who leave this world
+are much the happiest."
+
+He had always at hand such selfish, comforting maxims.  He had no sooner
+uttered that one than he discovered with dismay that his soup would soon
+be stone-cold.  Sidonie noticed his movement.
+
+"Why, you were just eating your supper, weren't you?  Pray go on."
+
+"'Dame'!  yes, what would you have?  It's part of the trade, of the hard
+existence we fellows have.  For you see, my girl, I stand firm.  I
+haven't given up.  I never will give up."
+
+What still remained of Desiree's soul in that wretched household in which
+she had lived twenty years must have shuddered at that terrible
+declaration.  He never would give up!
+
+"No matter what people may say," continued Delobelle, "it's the noblest
+profession in the world.  You are free; you depend upon nobody.  Devoted
+to the service of glory and the public!  Ah!  I know what I would do in
+your place.  As if you were born to live with all those bourgeois--the
+devil!  What you need is the artistic life, the fever of success, the
+unexpected, intense emotion."
+
+As he spoke he took his seat, tucked his napkin in his neck, and helped
+himself to a great plateful of soup.
+
+"To say nothing of the fact that your triumphs as a pretty woman would
+in no wise interfere with your triumph as an actress.  By the way, do you
+know, you must take a few lessons in elocution.  With your voice, your
+intelligence, your charms, you would have a magnificent prospect."
+
+Then he added abruptly, as if to initiate her into the joys of the
+dramatic art:
+
+"But it occurs to me that perhaps you have not supped!  Excitement makes
+one hungry; sit there, and take this soup.  I am sure that you haven't
+eaten soup 'au fromage' for a long while."
+
+He turned the closet topsy-turvy to find her a spoon and a napkin; and
+she took her seat opposite him, assisting him and laughing a little at
+the difficulties attending her entertainment.  She was less pale already,
+and there was a pretty sparkle in her eyes, composed of the tears of a
+moment before and the present gayety.
+
+The strolling actress!  All her happiness in life was lost forever:
+honor, family, wealth.  She was driven from her house, stripped,
+dishonored.  She had undergone all possible humiliations and disasters.
+That did not prevent her supping with a wonderful appetite and joyously
+holding her own under Delobelle's jocose remarks concerning her vocation
+and her future triumphs.  She felt light-hearted and happy, fairly
+embarked for the land of Bohemia, her true country.  What more would
+happen to her?  Of how many ups and downs was her new, unforeseen, and
+whimsical existence to consist?  She thought about that as she fell
+asleep in Desiree's great easy-chair; but she thought of her revenge,
+too--her cherished revenge which she held in her hand, all ready for use,
+and so unerring, so fierce!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE NEW EMYLOYEE OF THE HOUSE OF FROMONT
+
+It was broad daylight when Fromont Jeune awoke.  All night long, between
+the drama that was being enacted below him and the festivity in joyous
+progress above, he slept with clenched fists, the deep sleep of complete
+prostration like that of a condemned man on the eve of his execution or
+of a defeated General on the night following his disaster; a sleep from
+which one would wish never to awake, and in which, in the absence of all
+sensation, one has a foretaste of death.
+
+The bright light streaming through his curtains, made more dazzling by
+the deep snow with which the garden and the surrounding roofs were
+covered, recalled him to the consciousness of things as they were.  He
+felt a shock throughout his whole being, and, even before his mind began
+to work, that vague impression of melancholy which misfortunes,
+momentarily forgotten, leave in their place.  All the familiar noises of
+the factory, the dull throbbing of the machinery, were in full activity.
+So the world still existed!  and by slow degrees the idea of his own
+responsibility awoke in him.
+
+"To-day is the day," he said to himself, with an involuntary movement
+toward the dark side of the room, as if he longed to bury himself anew in
+his long sleep.
+
+The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the
+Angelus.
+
+"Noon!  Already!  How I have slept!"
+
+He felt some little remorse and a great sense of relief at the thought
+that the drama of settling-day had passed off without him.  What had they
+done downstairs?  Why did they not call him?
+
+He rose, drew the curtains aside, and saw Risler and Sigismond talking
+together in the garden.  And it was so long since they had spoken to each
+other!  What in heaven's name had happened?  When he was ready to go down
+he found Claire at the door of his room.
+
+"You must not go out," she said.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Stay here.  I will explain it to you."
+
+"But what's the matter?  Did any one come from the Bank?"
+
+"Yes, they came--the notes are paid."
+
+"Paid?"
+
+"Risler obtained the money.  He has been rushing about with Planus since
+early morning.  It seems that his wife had superb jewels.  The diamond
+necklace alone brought twenty thousand francs.  He has also sold their
+house at Asnieres with all it contained; but as time was required to
+record the deed, Planus and his sister advanced the money."
+
+She turned away from him as she spoke.  He, on his side, hung his head to
+avoid her glance.
+
+"Risler is an honorable man," she continued, "and when he learned from
+whom his wife received all her magnificent things--"
+
+"What!"  exclaimed Georges in dismay.  "He knows?"
+
+"All," Claire replied, lowering her voice.
+
+The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly:
+
+"Why, then--you?"
+
+"Oh!  I knew it all before Risler.  Remember, that when I came home last
+night, I told you I had heard very cruel things down at Savigny, and that
+I would have given ten years of my life not to have taken that journey."
+
+"Claire!"
+
+Moved by a mighty outburst of affection, he stepped toward his wife; but
+her face was so cold, so sad, so resolute, her despair was so plainly
+written in the stern indifference of her whole bearing, that he dared not
+take her in his arms as he longed to do, but simply murmured under his
+breath:
+
+"Forgive!--forgive!"
+
+"You must think me strangely calm," said the brave woman; "but I shed all
+my tears yesterday.  You may have thought that I was weeping over our
+ruin; you were mistaken.  While one is young and strong as we are,
+such cowardly conduct is not permissible.  We are armed against want and
+can fight it face to face.  No, I was weeping for our departed happiness,
+for you, for the madness that led you to throw away your only, your true
+friend."
+
+She was lovely, lovelier than Sidonie had ever been, as she spoke thus,
+enveloped by a pure light which seemed to fall upon her from a great
+height, like the radiance of a fathomless, cloudless sky; whereas the
+other's irregular features had always seemed to owe their brilliancy,
+their saucy, insolent charm to the false glamour of the footlights in
+some cheap theatre.  The touch of statuesque immobility formerly
+noticeable in Claire's face was vivified by anxiety, by doubt, by all the
+torture of passion; and like those gold ingots which have their full
+value only when the Mint has placed its stamp upon them, those beautiful
+features stamped with the effigy of sorrow had acquired since the
+preceding day an ineffaceable expression which perfected their beauty.
+
+Georges gazed at her in admiration.  She seemed to him more alive, more
+womanly, and worthy of adoration because of their separation and all the
+obstacles that he now knew to stand between them.  Remorse, despair,
+shame entered his heart simultaneously with this new love, and he would
+have fallen on his knees before her.
+
+"No, no, do not kneel," said Claire; "if you knew of what you remind me,
+if you knew what a lying face, distorted with hatred, I saw at my feet
+last night!"
+
+"Ah! but I am not lying," replied Georges with a shudder.  "Claire, I
+implore you, in the name of our child--"
+
+At that moment some one knocked at the door.
+
+"Rise, I beg of you!  You see that life has claims upon us," she said in
+a low voice and with a bitter smile; then she asked what was wanted.
+
+Monsieur Risler had sent for Monsieur to come down to the office.
+
+"Very well," she said; "say that he will come."
+
+Georges approached the door, but she stopped him.
+
+"No, let me go.  He must not see you yet."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I wish you to stay here.  You have no idea of the indignation and wrath
+of that poor man, whom you have deceived.  If you had seen him last
+night, crushing his wife's wrists!"
+
+As she said it she looked him in the face with a curiosity most cruel to
+herself; but Georges did not wince, and replied simply:
+
+"My life belongs to him."
+
+"It belongs to me, too; and I do not wish you to go down.  There has been
+scandal enough in my father's house.  Remember that the whole factory is
+aware of what is going on.  Every one is watching us, spying upon us.
+It required all the authority of the foremen to keep the men busy to-day,
+to compel them to keep their inquisitive looks on their work."
+
+"But I shall seem to be hiding."
+
+"And suppose it were so!  That is just like a man.  They do not recoil
+from the worst crimes: betraying a wife, betraying a friend; but the
+thought that they may be accused of being afraid touches them more keenly
+than anything.  Moreover, listen to what I say.  Sidonie has gone; she
+has gone forever; and if you leave this house I shall think that you have
+gone to join her."
+
+"Very well, I will stay," said Georges.  "I will do whatever you wish."
+
+Claire descended into Planus' office.
+
+To see Risler striding to and fro, with his hands behind his back, as
+calm as usual, no one would ever have suspected all that had taken place
+in his life since the night before.  As for Sigismond, he was fairly
+beaming, for he saw nothing in it all beyond the fact that the notes had
+been paid at maturity and that the honor of the firm was safe.
+
+When Madame Fromont appeared, Risler smiled sadly and shook his head.
+
+"I thought that you would prefer to come down in his place; but you are
+not the one with whom I have to deal.  It is absolutely necessary that I
+should see Georges and talk with him.  We have paid the notes that fell
+due this morning; the crisis has passed; but we must come to an
+understanding about many matters."
+
+"Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer."
+
+"Why, Madame Chorche, there's not a minute to lose.  Oh! I suspect that
+you fear I may give way to an outbreak of anger.  Have no fear--let him
+have no fear.  You know what I told you, that the honor of the house of
+Fromont is to be assured before my own.  I have endangered it by my
+fault.  First of all, I must repair the evil I have done or allowed to be
+done."
+
+"Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I
+know it well."
+
+"Oh!  Madame, if you could see him!  he's a saint," said poor Sigismond,
+who, not daring to speak to his friend, was determined at all events to
+express his remorse.
+
+"But aren't you afraid?"  continued Claire.  "Human endurance has its
+limits.  It may be that in presence of the man who has injured you so--"
+
+Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and
+said:
+
+"You dear creature, who speak of nothing but the injury done to me!  Do
+you not know that I hate him as bitterly for his falseness to you?  But
+nothing of that sort has any existence for me at this moment.  You see in
+me simply a business man who wishes to have an understanding with his
+partner for the good of the firm.  So let him come down without the
+slightest fear, and if you dread any outbreak on my part, stay here with
+us.  I shall need only to look at my old master's daughter to be reminded
+of my promise and my duty."
+
+"I trust you, my friend," said Claire; and she went up to bring her
+husband.
+
+The first minute of the interview was terrible.  Georges was deeply
+moved, humiliated, pale as death.  He would have preferred a hundred
+times over to be looking into the barrel of that man's pistol at twenty
+paces, awaiting his fire, instead of appearing before him as an
+unpunished culprit and being compelled to confine his feelings within the
+commonplace limits of a business conversation.
+
+Risler pretended not to look at him, and continued to pace the floor as
+he talked:
+
+"Our house is passing through a terrible crisis.  We have averted the
+disaster for to-day; but this is not the last of our obligations.  That
+cursed invention has kept my mind away from the business for a long
+while.  Luckily, I am free now, and able to attend to it.  But you must
+give your attention to it as well.  The workmen and clerks have followed
+the example of their employers to some extent.  Indeed, they have become
+extremely negligent and indifferent.  This morning, for the first time in
+a year, they began work at the proper time.  I expect that you will make
+it your business to change all that.  As for me, I shall work at my
+drawings again.  Our patterns are old-fashioned.  We must have new ones
+for the new machines.  I have great confidence in our presses.  The
+experiments have succeeded beyond my hopes.  We unquestionably have in
+them a means of building up our business.  I didn't tell you sooner
+because I wished to surprise you; but we have no more surprises for each
+other, have we, Georges?"
+
+There was such a stinging note of irony in his voice that Claire
+shuddered, fearing an outbreak; but he continued, in his natural tone.
+
+"Yes, I think I can promise that in six months the Risler Press will
+begin to show magnificent results.  But those six months will be very
+hard to live through.  We must limit ourselves, cut down our expenses,
+save in every way that we can.  We have five draughtsmen now; hereafter
+we will have but two.  I will undertake to make the absence of the others
+of no consequence by working at night myself.  Furthermore, beginning
+with this month, I abandon my interest in the firm.  I will take my
+salary as foreman as I took it before, and nothing more."
+
+Fromont attempted to speak, but a gesture from his wife restrained him,
+and Risler continued:
+
+"I am no longer your partner, Georges.  I am once more the clerk that I
+never should have ceased to be.  From this day our partnership articles
+are cancelled.  I insist upon it, you understand; I insist upon it.  We
+will remain in that relation to each other until the house is out of
+difficulty and I can--  But what I shall do then concerns me alone.  This
+is what I wanted to say to you, Georges.  You must give your attention to
+the factory diligently; you must show yourself, make it felt that you are
+master now, and I believe there will turn out to be, among all our
+misfortunes, some that can be retrieved."
+
+During the silence that followed, they heard the sound of wheels in the
+garden, and two great furniture vans stopped at the door.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Risler, "but I must leave you a moment.  Those
+are the vans from the public auction rooms; they have come to take away
+my furniture from upstairs."
+
+"What!  you are going to sell your furniture too?"  asked Madame Fromont.
+
+"Certainly--to the last piece.  I am simply giving it back to the firm.
+It belongs to it."
+
+"But that is impossible," said Georges.  "I can not allow that."
+
+Risler turned upon him indignantly.
+
+"What's that?  What is it that you can't allow?"
+
+Claire checked him with an imploring gesture.
+
+"True--true!"  he muttered; and he hurried from the room to escape the
+sudden temptation to give vent to all that was in his heart.
+
+The second floor was deserted.  The servants, who had been paid and
+dismissed in the morning, had abandoned the apartments to the disorder of
+the day following a ball; and they wore the aspect peculiar to places
+where a drama has been enacted, and which are left in suspense, as it
+were, between the events that have happened and those that are still to
+happen.  The open doors, the rugs lying in heaps in the corners, the
+salvers laden with glasses, the preparations for the supper, the table
+still set and untouched, the dust from the dancing on all the furniture,
+its odor mingled with the fumes of punch, of withered flowers, of rice-
+powder--all these details attracted Risler's notice as he entered.
+
+In the disordered salon the piano was open, the bacchanal from 'Orphee
+aux Enfers' on the music-shelf, and the gaudy hangings surrounding that
+scene of desolation, the chairs overturned, as if in fear, reminded one
+of the saloon of a wrecked packet-boat, of one of those ghostly nights of
+watching when one is suddenly informed, in the midst of a fete at sea,
+that the ship has sprung a leak, that she is taking in water in every
+part.
+
+The men began to remove the furniture.  Risler watched them at work with
+an indifferent air, as if he were in a stranger's house.  That
+magnificence which had once made him so happy and proud inspired in him
+now an insurmountable disgust.  But, when he entered his wife's bedroom,
+he was conscious of a vague emotion.
+
+It was a large room, hung with blue satin under white lace.  A veritable
+cocotte's nest.  There were torn and rumpled tulle ruffles lying about,
+bows, and artificial flowers.  The wax candles around the mirror had
+burned down to the end and cracked the candlesticks; and the bed, with
+its lace flounces and valances, its great curtains raised and drawn back,
+untouched in the general confusion, seemed like the bed of a corpse, a
+state bed on which no one would ever sleep again.
+
+Risler's first feeling upon entering the room was one of mad indignation,
+a longing to fall upon the things before him, to tear and rend and
+shatter everything.  Nothing, you see, resembles a woman so much as her
+bedroom.  Even when she is absent, her image still smiles in the mirrors
+that have reflected it.  A little something of her, of her favorite
+perfume, remains in everything she has touched.  Her attitudes are
+reproduced in the cushions of her couch, and one can follow her goings
+and comings between the mirror and the toilette table in the pattern of
+the carpet.  The one thing above all others in that room that recalled
+Sidonie was an 'etagere' covered with childish toys, petty, trivial
+knickknacks, microscopic fans, dolls' tea-sets, gilded shoes, little
+shepherds and shepherdesses facing one another, exchanging cold,
+gleaming, porcelain glances.  That 'etagere' was Sidonie's very soul, and
+her thoughts, always commonplace, petty, vain, and empty, resembled those
+gewgaws.  Yes, in very truth, if Risler, while he held her in his grasp
+last night, had in his frenzy broken that fragile little head, a whole
+world of 'etagere' ornaments would have come from it in place of a brain.
+
+The poor man was thinking sadly of all these things amid the ringing of
+hammers and the heavy footsteps of the furniture-movers, when he heard an
+interloping, authoritative step behind him, and Monsieur Chebe appeared,
+little Monsieur Chebe, flushed and breathless, with flames darting from
+his eyes.  He assumed, as always, a very high tone with his son-in-law.
+
+"What does this mean?  What is this I hear?  Ah! so you're moving, are
+you?"
+
+"I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe--I am selling out."
+
+The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish.
+
+"You are selling out?  What are you selling, pray?"
+
+"I am selling everything," said Risler in a hollow voice, without even
+looking at him.
+
+"Come, come, son-in-law, be reasonable.  God knows I don't say that
+Sidonie's conduct--  But, for my part, I know nothing about it.  I never
+wanted to know anything.  Only I must remind you of your dignity.  People
+wash their dirty linen in private, deuce take it!  They don't make
+spectacles of themselves as you've been doing ever since morning.  Just
+see everybody at the workshop windows; and on the porch, too!  Why,
+you're the talk of the quarter, my dear fellow."
+
+"So much the better.  The dishonor was public, the reparation must be
+public, too."
+
+This apparent coolness, this indifference to all his observations,
+exasperated Monsieur Chebe.  He suddenly changed his tactics, and
+adopted, in addressing his son-in-law, the serious, peremptory tone which
+one uses with children or lunatics.
+
+"Well, I say that you haven't any right to take anything away from here.
+I remonstrate formally, with all my strength as a man, with all my
+authority as a father.  Do you suppose I am going to let you drive my
+child into the street.  No, indeed!  Oh!  no, indeed!  Enough of such
+nonsense as that!  Nothing more shall go out of these rooms."
+
+And Monsieur Chebe, having closed the door, planted himself in front of
+it with a heroic gesture.  Deuce take it!  his own interest was at stake
+in the matter.  The fact was that when his child was once in the gutter
+he ran great risk of not having a feather bed to sleep on himself.  He
+was superb in that attitude of an indignant father, but he did not keep
+it long.  Two hands, two vises, seized his wrists, and he found himself
+in the middle of the room, leaving the doorway clear for the workmen.
+
+"Chebe, my boy, just listen," said Risler, leaning over him.  "I am at
+the end of my forbearance.  Since this morning I have been making
+superhuman efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now
+to make my anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls!
+I am quite capable of killing some one.  Come!  Be off at once!--"
+
+There was such an intonation in his son-in-law's voice, and the way that
+son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe was
+fully convinced.  He even stammered an apology.  Certainly Risler had
+good reason for acting as he had.  All honorable people would be on his
+side.  And he backed toward the door as he spoke.  When he reached it,
+he inquired timidly if Madame Chebe's little allowance would be
+continued.
+
+"Yes," was Risler's reply, "but never go beyond it, for my position here
+is not what it was.  I am no longer a partner in the house."
+
+Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
+expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
+happened to him--exactly like that of the Duc d'Orleans, you know--was
+not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
+observation.  Surely some one had changed his son-in-law.  Was this
+really Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word
+and talked of nothing less than killing people?
+
+He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
+stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.
+
+When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them for
+the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus's office to hand
+it to Madame Georges.
+
+"You can let the apartment," he said, "it will be so much added to the
+income of the factory."
+
+"But you, my friend?"
+
+"Oh! I don't need much.  An iron bed up under the eaves.  That's all a
+clerk needs.  For, I repeat, I am nothing but a clerk from this time on.
+A useful clerk, by the way, faithful and courageous, of whom you will
+have no occasion to complain, I promise you."
+
+Georges, who was going over the books with Planus, was so affected at
+hearing the poor fellow talk in that strain that he left his seat
+precipitately.  He was suffocated by his sobs.  Claire, too, was deeply
+moved; she went to the new clerk of the house of Fromont and said to him:
+
+"Risler, I thank you in my father's name."
+
+At that moment Pere Achille appeared with the mail.
+
+Risler took the pile of letters, opened them tranquilly one by one, and
+passed them over to Sigismond.
+
+"Here's an order for Lyon.  Why wasn't it answered at Saint-Etienne?"
+
+He plunged with all his energy into these details, and he brought to them
+a keen intelligence, due to the constant straining of the mind toward
+peace and forgetfulness.
+
+Suddenly, among those huge envelopes, stamped with the names of business
+houses, the paper of which and the manner of folding suggested the office
+and hasty despatch, he discovered one smaller one, carefully sealed, and
+hidden so cunningly between the others that at first he did not notice
+it.  He recognized instantly that long, fine, firm writing,--To Monsieur
+Risler--Personal.  It was Sidonie's writing!  When he saw it he felt the
+same sensation he had felt in the bedroom upstairs.
+
+All his love, all the hot wrath of the betrayed husband poured back into
+his heart with the frantic force that makes assassins.  What was she
+writing to him?  What lie had she invented now?  He was about to open the
+letter; then he paused.  He realized that, if he should read that, it
+would be all over with his courage; so he leaned over to the old cashier,
+and said in an undertone:
+
+"Sigismond, old friend, will you do me a favor?"
+
+"I should think so!"  said the worthy man enthusiastically.  He was so
+delighted to hear his friend speak to him in the kindly voice of the old
+days.
+
+"Here's a letter someone has written me which I don't wish to read now.
+I am sure it would interfere with my thinking and living.  You must keep
+it for me, and this with it."
+
+He took from his pocket a little package carefully tied, and handed it to
+him through the grating.
+
+"That is all I have left of the past, all I have left of that woman.
+I have determined not to see her, nor anything that reminds me of her,
+until my task here is concluded, and concluded satisfactorily,--I need
+all my intelligence, you understand.  You will pay the Chebes' allowance.
+If she herself should ask for anything, you will give her what she needs.
+But you will never mention my name.  And you will keep this package safe
+for me until I ask you for it."
+
+Sigismond locked the letter and the package in a secret drawer of his
+desk with other valuable papers.  Risler returned at once to his
+correspondence; but all the time he had before his eyes the slender
+English letters traced by a little hand which he had so often and so
+ardently pressed to his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+CAFE CHANTANT
+
+What a rare, what a conscientious clerk did that new employe of the house
+of Fromont prove himself!
+
+Every day his lamp was the first to appear at, and the last to disappear
+from, the windows of the factory.  A little room had been arranged for
+him under the eaves, exactly like the one he had formerly occupied with
+Frantz, a veritable Trappist's cell, furnished with an iron cot and a
+white wooden table, that stood under his brother's portrait.  He led the
+same busy, regular, quiet life as in those old days.
+
+He worked constantly, and had his meals brought from the same little
+creamery.  But, alas! the disappearance forever of youth and hope
+deprived those memories of all their charm.  Luckily he still had Frantz
+and Madame "Chorche," the only two human beings of whom he could think
+without a feeling of sadness.  Madame "Chorche" was always at hand,
+always trying to minister to his comfort, to console him; and Frantz
+wrote to him often, without mentioning Sidonie, by the way.  Risler
+supposed that some one had told Frantz of the disaster that had befallen
+him, and he too avoided all allusion to the subject in his letters.
+"Oh! when I can send for him to come home!"  That was his dream, his sole
+ambition: to restore the factory and recall his brother.
+
+Meanwhile the days succeeded one another, always the same to him in the
+restless activity of business and the heartrending loneliness of his
+grief.  Every morning he walked through the workshops, where the profound
+respect he inspired and his stern, silent countenance had reestablished
+the orderly conditions that had been temporarily disturbed.  In the
+beginning there had been much gossip, and various explanations of
+Sidonie's departure had been made.  Some said that she had eloped with a
+lover, others that Risler had turned her out.  The one fact that upset
+all conjectures was the attitude of the two partners toward each other,
+apparently as unconstrained as before.  Sometimes, however, when they
+were talking together in the office, with no one by, Risler would
+suddenly start convulsively, as a vision of the crime passed before his
+eyes.
+
+Then he would feel a mad longing to spring upon the villain, seize him by
+the throat, strangle him without mercy; but the thought of Madame
+"Chorche" was always there to restrain him.  Should he be less
+courageous, less master of himself than that young wife?  Neither Claire,
+nor Fromont, nor anybody else suspected what was in his mind.  They could
+barely detect a severity, an inflexibility in his conduct, which were not
+habitual with him.  Risler awed the workmen now; and those of them upon
+whom his white hair, blanched in one night, his drawn, prematurely old
+features did not impose respect, quailed before his strange glance-a
+glance from eyes of a bluish-black like the color of a gun-barrel.
+Whereas he had always been very kind and affable with the workmen, he had
+become pitilessly severe in regard to the slightest infraction of the
+rules.  It seemed as if he were taking vengeance upon himself for some
+indulgence in the past, blind, culpable indulgence, for which he blamed
+himself.
+
+Surely he was a marvellous employe, was this new officer in the house of
+Fromont.
+
+Thanks to him, the factory bell, notwithstanding the quavering of its
+old, cracked voice, had very soon resumed its authority; and the man who
+guided the whole establishment denied himself the slightest recreation.
+Sober as an apprentice, he left three-fourths of his salary with Planus
+for the Chebes' allowance, but he never asked any questions about them.
+Punctually on the last day of the month the little man appeared to
+collect his little income, stiff and formal in his dealings with
+Sigismond, as became an annuitant on duty.  Madame Chebe had tried to
+obtain an interview with her son-in-law, whom she pitied and loved; but
+the mere appearance of her palm-leaf shawl on the steps put Sidonie's
+husband to flight.
+
+In truth, the courage with which he armed himself was more apparent than
+real.  The memory of his wife never left him.  What had become of her?
+What was she doing?  He was almost angry with Planus for never mentioning
+her.  That letter, above all things, that letter which he had had the
+courage not to open, disturbed him.  He thought of it continually.  Ah!
+had he dared, how he would have liked to ask Sigismond for it!
+
+One day the temptation was too strong.  He was alone in the office.
+The old cashier had gone out to luncheon, leaving the key in his drawer,
+a most extraordinary thing.  Risler could not resist.  He opened the
+drawer, moved the papers, and searched for his letter.  It was not there.
+Sigismond must have put it away even more carefully, perhaps with a
+foreboding of what actually happened.  In his heart Risler was not sorry
+for his disappointment; for he well knew that, had he found the letter,
+it would have been the end of the resigned and busy life which he imposed
+upon himself with so much difficulty.
+
+Through the week it was all very well.  Life was endurable, absorbed by
+the innumerable duties of the factory, and so fatiguing that, when night
+came, Risler fell on his bed like a lifeless mass.  But Sunday was long
+and sad.  The silence of the deserted yards and workshops opened a far
+wider field to his thoughts.  He tried to busy himself, but he missed the
+encouragement of the others' work.  He alone was busy in that great,
+empty factory whose very breath was arrested.  The locked doors, the
+closed blinds, the hoarse voice of Pere Achille playing with his dog in
+the deserted courtyard, all spoke of solitude.  And the whole
+neighborhood also produced the same effect.  In the streets, which seemed
+wider because of their emptiness, and where the passers-by were few and
+silent, the bells ringing for vespers had a melancholy sound, and
+sometimes an echo of the din of Paris, rumbling wheels, a belated hand-
+organ, the click of a toy-peddler's clappers, broke the silence, as if to
+make it even more noticeable.
+
+Risler would try to invent new combinations of flowers and leaves, and,
+while he handled his pencil, his thoughts, not finding sufficient food
+there, would escape him, would fly back to his past happiness, to his
+hopeless misfortunes, would suffer martyrdom, and then, on returning,
+would ask the poor somnambulist, still seated at his table: "What have
+you done in my absence?"  Alas! he had done nothing.
+
+Oh! the long, heartbreaking, cruel Sundays!  Consider that, mingled with
+all these perplexities in his mind, was the superstitious reverence of
+the common people for holy days, for the twenty-four hours of rest,
+wherein one recovers strength and courage.  If he had gone out, the sight
+of a workingman with his wife and child would have made him weep, but his
+monastic seclusion gave him other forms of suffering, the despair of
+recluses, their terrible outbreaks of rebellion when the god to whom they
+have consecrated themselves does not respond to their sacrifices.  Now,
+Risler's god was work, and as he no longer found comfort or serenity
+therein, he no longer believed in it, but cursed it.
+
+Often in those hours of mental struggle the door of the draughting-room
+would open gently and Claire Fromont would appear.  The poor man's
+loneliness throughout those long Sunday afternoons filled her with
+compassion, and she would come with her little girl to keep him company,
+knowing by experience how contagious is the sweet joyousness of children.
+The little one, who could now walk alone, would slip from her mother's
+arms to run to her friend.  Risler would hear the little, hurrying steps.
+He would feel the light breath behind him, and instantly he would be
+conscious of a soothing, rejuvenating influence.  She would throw her
+plump little arms around his neck with affectionate warmth, with her
+artless, causeless laugh, and a kiss from that little mouth which never
+had lied.  Claire Fromont, standing in the doorway, would smile as she
+looked at them.
+
+"Risler, my friend," she would say, "you must come down into the garden a
+while,--you work too hard.  You will be ill."
+
+"No, no, Madame,--on the contrary, work is what saves me.  It keeps me
+from thinking."
+
+Then, after a long pause, she would continue:
+
+"Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget."
+
+Risler would shake his head.
+
+"Forget?  Is that possible?  There are some things beyond one's strength.
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets."
+
+The child almost always succeeded in dragging him down to the garden.
+He must play ball, or in the sand, with her; but her playfellow's
+awkwardness and lack of enthusiasm soon impressed the little girl.  Then
+she would become very sedate, contenting herself with walking gravely
+between the hedges of box, with her hand in her friend's.  After a moment
+Risler would entirely forget that she was there; but, although he did not
+realize it, the warmth of that little hand in his had a magnetic,
+softening effect upon his diseased mind.
+
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets!
+
+Poor Claire herself knew something about it; for she had never forgotten,
+notwithstanding her great courage and the conception she had formed of
+her duty.  To her, as to Risler; her surroundings were a constant
+reminder of her sufferings.  The objects amid which she lived pitilessly
+reopened the wound that was ready to close.  The staircase, the garden,
+the courtyard, all those dumb witnesses of her husband's sin, assumed on
+certain days an implacable expression.  Even the careful precaution her
+husband took to spare her painful reminders, the way in which he called
+attention to the fact that he no longer went out in the evening, and took
+pains to tell her where he had been during the day, served only to remind
+her the more forcibly of his wrong-doing.  Sometimes she longed to ask
+him to forbear,--to say to him: "Do not protest too much."  Faith was
+shattered within her, and the horrible agony of the priest who doubts,
+and seeks at the same time to remain faithful to his vows, betrayed
+itself in her bitter smile, her cold, uncomplaining gentleness.
+
+Georges was wofully unhappy.  He loved his wife now.  The nobility of her
+character had conquered him.  There was admiration in his love, and--why
+not say it?--Claire's sorrow filled the place of the coquetry which was
+contrary to her nature, the lack of which had always been a defect in her
+husband's eyes.  He was one of that strange type of men who love to make
+conquests.  Sidonie, capricious and cold as she was, responded to that
+whim of his heart.  After parting from her with a tender farewell, he
+found her indifferent and forgetful the next day, and that continual need
+of wooing her back to him took the place of genuine passion.  Serenity in
+love bored him as a voyage without storms wearies a sailor.  On this
+occasion he had been very near shipwreck with his wife, and the danger
+had not passed even yet.  He knew that Claire was alienated from him and
+devoted entirely to the child, the only link between them thenceforth.
+Their separation made her seem lovelier, more desirable, and he exercised
+all his powers of fascination to recapture her.  He knew how hard a task
+it would be, and that he had no ordinary, frivolous nature to deal with.
+But he did not despair.  Sometimes a vague gleam in the depths of the
+mild and apparently impassive glance with which she watched his efforts,
+bade him hope.
+
+As for Sidonie, he no longer thought of her.  Let no one be astonished at
+that abrupt mental rupture.  Those two superficial beings had nothing to
+attach them securely to each other.  Georges was incapable of receiving
+lasting impressions unless they were continually renewed; Sidonie, for
+her part, had no power to inspire any noble or durable sentiment.  It was
+one of those intrigues between a cocotte and a coxcomb, compounded of
+vanity and of wounded self-love, which inspire neither devotion nor
+constancy, but tragic adventures, duels, suicides which are rarely fatal,
+and which end in a radical cure.  Perhaps, had he seen her again, he
+might have had a relapse of his disease; but the impetus of flight had
+carried Sidonie away so swiftly and so far that her return was
+impossible.  At all events, it was a relief for him to be able to live
+without lying; and the new life he was leading, a life of hard work and
+self-denial, with the goal of success in the distance, was not
+distasteful to him.  Luckily; for the courage and determination of both
+partners were none too much to put the house on its feet once more.
+
+The poor house of Fromont had sprung leaks on all sides.  So Pere Planus
+still had wretched nights, haunted by the nightmare of notes maturing and
+the ominous vision of the little blue man.  But, by strict economy, they
+always succeeded in paying.
+
+Soon four Risler Presses were definitively set up and used in the work of
+the factory.  People began to take a deep interest in them and in the
+wall-paper trade.  Lyons, Caen, Rixbeim, the great centres of the
+industry, were much disturbed concerning that marvellous "rotary and
+dodecagonal" machine.  One fine day the Prochassons appeared, and offered
+three hundred thousand francs simply for an interest in the patent
+rights.
+
+"What shall we do?"  Fromont Jeune asked Risler Aine.
+
+The latter shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
+
+"Decide for yourself.  It doesn't concern me.  I am only an employe."
+
+The words, spoken coldly, without anger, fell heavily upon Fromont's
+bewildered joy, and reminded him of the gravity of a situation which he
+was always on the point of forgetting.
+
+But when he was alone with his dear Madame "Chorche," Risler advised her
+not to accept the Prochassons' offer.
+
+"Wait,--don't be in a hurry.  Later you will have a better offer."
+
+He spoke only of them in that affair in which his own share was so
+glorious.  She felt that he was preparing to cut himself adrift from
+their future.
+
+Meanwhile orders came pouring in and accumulated on their hands.  The
+quality of the paper, the reduced price because of the improved methods
+of manufacture, made competition impossible.  There was no doubt that a
+colossal fortune was in store for the house of Fromont.  The factory had
+resumed its former flourishing aspect and its loud, business-like hum.
+Intensely alive were all the great buildings and the hundreds of workmen
+who filled them.  Pere Planus never raised his nose from his desk; one
+could see him from the little garden, leaning over his great ledgers,
+jotting down in magnificently molded figures the profits of the Risler
+press.
+
+Risler still worked as before, without change or rest.  The return of
+prosperity brought no alteration in his secluded habits, and from the
+highest window on the topmost floor of the house he listened to the
+ceaseless roar of his machines.  He was no less gloomy, no less silent.
+One day, however, it became known at the factory that the press, a
+specimen of which had been sent to the great Exposition at Manchester,
+had received the gold medal, whereby its success was definitely
+established.  Madame Georges called Risler into the garden at the
+luncheon hour, wishing to be the first to tell him the good news.
+
+For the moment a proud smile relaxed his prematurely old, gloomy
+features.  His inventor's vanity, his pride in his renown, above all,
+the idea of repairing thus magnificently the wrong done to the family by
+his wife, gave him a moment of true happiness.  He pressed Claire's hands
+and murmured, as in the old days:
+
+"I am very happy!  I am very happy!"
+
+But what a difference in tone!  He said it without enthusiasm,
+hopelessly, with the satisfaction of a task accomplished, and nothing
+more.
+
+The bell rang for the workmen to return, and Risler went calmly upstairs
+to resume his work as on other days.
+
+In a moment he came down again.  In spite of all, that news had excited
+him more than he cared to show.  He wandered about the garden, prowled
+around the counting-room, smiling sadly at Pere Planus through the
+window.
+
+"What ails him?"  the old cashier wondered.  "What does he want of me?"
+
+At last, when night came and it was time to close the office, Risler
+summoned courage to go and speak to him.
+
+"Planus, my old friend, I should like--"
+
+He hesitated a moment.
+
+"I should like you to give me the--letter, you know, the little letter
+and the package."
+
+Sigismond stared at him in amazement.  In his innocence, he had imagined
+that Risler never thought of Sidonie, that he had entirely forgotten her.
+
+"What--you want--?"
+
+"Ah!  I have well earned it; I can think of myself a little now.  I have
+thought enough of others."
+
+"You are right," said Planus.  "Well, this is what we'll do.  The letter
+and package are at my house at Montrouge.  If you choose, we will go and
+dine together at the Palais-Royal, as in the good old times.  I will
+stand treat.  We'll water your medal with a bottle of wine; something
+choice!  Then we'll go to the house together.  You can get your trinkets,
+and if it's too late for you to go home, Mademoiselle Planus, my sister,
+shall make up a bed for you, and you shall pass the night with us.  We
+are very comfortable there--it's in the country.  To-morrow morning at
+seven o'clock we'll come back to the factory by the first omnibus.  Come,
+old fellow, give me this pleasure.  If you don't, I shall think you still
+bear your old Sigismond a grudge."
+
+Risler accepted.  He cared little about celebrating the award of his
+medal, but he desired to gain a few hours before opening the little
+letter he had at last earned the right to read.
+
+He must dress.  That was quite a serious matter, for he had lived in a
+workman's jacket during the past six months.  And what an event in the
+factory!  Madame Fromont was informed at once.
+
+"Madame, Madame!  Monsieur Risler is going out!"
+
+Claire looked at him from her window, and that tall form, bowed by
+sorrow, leaning on Sigismond's arm, aroused in her a profound, unusual
+emotion which she remembered ever after.
+
+In the street people bowed to Risler with great interest.  Even their
+greetings warmed his heart.  He was so much in need of kindness!  But the
+noise of vehicles made him a little dizzy.
+
+"My head is spinning," he said to Planus:
+
+"Lean hard on me, old fellow-don't be afraid."
+
+And honest Planus drew himself up, escorting his friend with the artless,
+unconventional pride of a peasant of the South bearing aloft his village
+saint.
+
+At last they arrived at the Palais-Royal.
+
+The garden was full of people.  They had come to hear the music,
+and were trying to find seats amid clouds of dust and the scraping of
+chairs.  The two friends hurried into the restaurant to avoid all that
+turmoil.  They established themselves in one of the large salons on the
+first floor, whence they could see the green trees, the promenaders, and
+the water spurting from the fountain between the two melancholy flower-
+gardens.  To Sigismond it was the ideal of luxury, that restaurant, with
+gilding everywhere, around the mirrors, in the chandelier and even on the
+figured wallpaper.  The white napkin, the roll, the menu of a table
+d'hote dinner filled his soul with joy.  "We are comfortable here, aren't
+we?"  he said to Risler.
+
+And he exclaimed at each of the courses of that banquet at two francs
+fifty, and insisted on filling his friend's plate.
+
+"Eat that--it's good."
+
+The other, notwithstanding his desire to do honor to the fete, seemed
+preoccupied and gazed out-of-doors.
+
+"Do you remember, Sigismond?"  he said, after a pause.
+
+The old cashier, engrossed in his memories of long ago, of Risler's first
+employment at the factory, replied:
+
+"I should think I do remember--listen!  The first time we dined together
+at the Palais-Royal was in February, 'forty-six, the year we put in the
+planches-plates at the factory."
+
+Risler shook his head.
+
+"Oh!  no--I mean three years ago.  It was in that room just opposite that
+we dined on that memorable evening."
+
+And he pointed to the great windows of the salon of Cafe Vefour, gleaming
+in the rays of the setting sun like the chandeliers at a wedding feast.
+
+"Ah!  yes, true," murmured Sigismond, abashed.  What an unlucky idea of
+his to bring his friend to a place that recalled such painful things!
+
+Risler, not wishing to cast a gloom upon their banquet, abruptly raised
+his glass.
+
+"Come!  here's your health, my old comrade."
+
+He tried to change the subject.  But a moment later he himself led the
+conversation back to it again, and asked Sigismond, in an undertone, as
+if he were ashamed:
+
+"Have you seen her?"
+
+"Your wife?  No, never."
+
+"She hasn't written again?"
+
+"No--never again."
+
+"But you must have heard of her.  What has she been doing these six
+months?  Does she live with her parents?"
+
+"No."
+
+Risler turned pale.
+
+He hoped that Sidonie would have returned to her mother, that she would
+have worked, as he had worked, to forget and atone.  He had often thought
+that he would arrange his life according to what he should learn of her
+when he should have the right to speak of her; and in one of those far-
+off visions of the future, which have the vagueness of a dream, he
+sometimes fancied himself living in exile with the Chebes in an unknown
+land, where nothing would remind him of his past shame.  It was not a
+definite plan, to be sure; but the thought lived in the depths of his
+mind like a hope, caused by the need that all human creatures feel of
+finding their lost happiness.
+
+"Is she in Paris?"  he asked, after a few moments' reflection.
+
+"No.  She went away three months ago.  No one knows where she has gone."
+
+Sigismond did not add that she had gone with her Cazaboni, whose name she
+now bore, that they were making the circuit of the provincial cities
+together, that her mother was in despair, never saw her, and heard of her
+only through Delobelle.  Sigismond did not deem it his duty to mention
+all that, and after his last words he held his peace.
+
+Risler, for his part, dared ask no further questions.
+
+While they sat there, facing each other, both embarrassed by the long
+silence, the military band began to play under the trees in the garden.
+They played one of those Italian operatic overtures which seem to have
+been written expressly for public open-air resorts; the swiftly-flowing
+notes, as they rise into the air, blend with the call of the swallows and
+the silvery plash of the fountain.  The blaring brass brings out in bold
+relief the mild warmth of the closing hours of those summer days, so long
+and enervating in Paris; it seems as if one could hear nothing else.  The
+distant rumbling of wheels, the cries of children playing, the footsteps
+of the promenaders are wafted away in those resonant, gushing, refreshing
+waves of melody, as useful to the people of Paris as the daily watering
+of their streets.  On all sides the faded flowers, the trees white with
+dust, the faces made pale and wan by the heat, all the sorrows, all the
+miseries of a great city, sitting dreamily, with bowed head, on the
+benches in the garden, feel its comforting, refreshing influence.  The
+air is stirred, renewed by those strains that traverse it, filling it
+with harmony.
+
+Poor Risler felt as if the tension upon all his nerves were relaxed.
+
+"A little music does one good," he said, with glistening eyes.  "My heart
+is heavy, old fellow," he added, in a lower tone; "if you knew--"
+
+They sat without speaking, their elbows resting on the window-sill, while
+their coffee was served.
+
+Then the music ceased, the garden became deserted.  The light that had
+loitered in the corners crept upward to the roofs, cast its last rays
+upon the highest windowpanes, followed by the birds, the swallows, which
+saluted the close of day with a farewell chirp from the gutter where they
+were huddled together.
+
+"Now, where shall we go?"  said Planus, as they left the restaurant.
+
+"Wherever you wish."
+
+On the first floor of a building on the Rue Montpensier, close at hand,
+was a cafe chantant, where many people entered.
+
+"Suppose we go in," said Planus, desirous of banishing his friend's
+melancholy at any cost, "the beer is excellent."
+
+Risler assented to the suggestion; he had not tasted beer for six months.
+
+It was a former restaurant transformed into a concert-hall.  There were
+three large rooms, separated by gilded pillars, the partitions having
+been removed; the decoration was in the Moorish style, bright red, pale
+blue, with little crescents and turbans for ornament.
+
+Although it was still early, the place was full; and even before entering
+one had a feeling of suffocation, simply from seeing the crowds of people
+sitting around the tables, and at the farther end, half-hidden by the
+rows of pillars, a group of white-robed women on a raised platform, in
+the heat and glare of the gas.
+
+Our two friends had much difficulty in finding seats, and had to be
+content with a place behind a pillar whence they could see only half of
+the platform, then occupied by a superb person in black coat and yellow
+gloves, curled and waxed and oiled, who was singing in a vibrating voice
+
+                    Mes beaux lions aux crins dores,
+                    Du sang des troupeaux alteres,
+                    Halte la!--Je fais sentinello!
+
+                    [My proud lions with golden manes
+                    Who thirst for the blood of my flocks,
+                    Stand back!--I am on guard!]
+
+The audience--small tradesmen of the quarter with their wives and
+daughters-seemed highly enthusiastic: especially the women.
+He represented so perfectly the ideal of the shopkeeper imagination,
+that magnificent shepherd of the desert, who addressed lions with such an
+air of authority and tended his flocks in full evening dress.  And so,
+despite their bourgeois bearing, their modest costumes and their
+expressionless shop-girl smiles, all those women, made up their little
+mouths to be caught by the hook of sentiment, and cast languishing
+glances upon the singer.  It was truly comical to see that glance at the
+platform suddenly change and become contemptuous and fierce as it fell
+upon the husband, the poor husband tranquilly drinking a glass of beer
+opposite his wife: "You would never be capable of doing sentry duty in
+the very teeth of lions, and in a black coat too, and with yellow
+gloves!"
+
+And the husband's eye seemed to reply:
+
+"Ah! 'dame', yes, he's quite a dashing buck, that fellow."
+
+Being decidedly indifferent to heroism of that stamp, Risler and
+Sigismond were drinking their beer without paying much attention to the
+music, when, at the end of the song, amid the applause and cries and
+uproar that followed it, Pere Planus uttered an exclamation:
+
+"Why, that is odd; one would say--but no, I'm not mistaken.  It is he,
+it's Delobelle!"
+
+It was, in fact, the illustrious actor, whom he had discovered in the
+front row near the platform.  His gray head was turned partly away from
+them.  He was leaning carelessly against a pillar, hat in hand, in his
+grand make-up as leading man: dazzlingly white linen, hair curled with
+the tongs, black coat with a camellia in the buttonhole, like the ribbon
+of an order.  He glanced at the crowd from time to time with a
+patronizing air: but his eyes were most frequently turned toward the
+platform, with encouraging little gestures and smiles and pretended
+applause, addressed to some one whom Pere Planus could not see from his
+seat.
+
+There was nothing very extraordinary in the presence of the illustrious
+Delobelle at a cafe concert, as he spent all his evenings away from home;
+and yet the old cashier felt vaguely disturbed, especially when he
+discovered in the same row a blue cape and a pair of steely eyes.  It was
+Madame Dobson, the sentimental singing-teacher.  The conjunction of those
+two faces amid the pipe-smoke and the confusion of the crowd, produced
+upon Sigismond the effect of two ghosts evoked by a bad dream.  He was
+afraid for his friend, without knowing exactly why; and suddenly it
+occurred to him to take him away.
+
+"Let us go, Risler.  The heat here is enough to kill one."
+
+Just as they rose--for Risler was no more desirous to stay than to go--
+the orchestra, consisting of a piano and several violins, began a
+peculiar refrain.  There was a flutter of curiosity throughout the room,
+and cries of "Hush! hush! sit down!"
+
+They were obliged to resume their seats.  Risler, too, was beginning to
+be disturbed.
+
+"I know that tune," he said to himself.  "Where have I heard it?"
+
+A thunder of applause and an exclamation from Planus made him raise his
+eyes.
+
+"Come, come, let us go," said the cashier, trying to lead him away.
+
+But it was too late.
+
+Risler had already seen his wife come forward to the front of the stage
+and curtsey to the audience with a ballet-dancer's smile.
+
+She wore a white gown, as on the night of the ball; but her whole costume
+was much less rich and shockingly immodest.
+
+The dress was barely caught together at the shoulders; her hair floated
+in a blond mist low over her eyes, and around her neck was a necklace of
+pearls too large to be real, alternated with bits of tinsel.  Delobelle
+was right: the Bohemian life was better suited to her.  Her beauty had
+gained an indefinably reckless expression, which was its most
+characteristic feature, and made her a perfect type of the woman who has
+escaped from all restraint, placed herself at the mercy of every
+accident, and is descending stage by stage to the lowest depths of the
+Parisian hell, from which nothing is powerful enough to lift her and
+restore her to the pure air and the light.
+
+And how perfectly at ease she seemed in her strolling life!  With what
+self-possession she walked to the front of the stage!  Ah! could she have
+seen the desperate, terrible glance fixed upon her down there in the
+hall, concealed behind a pillar, her smile would have lost that equivocal
+placidity, her voice would have sought in vain those wheedling,
+languorous tones in which she warbled the only song Madame Dobson had
+ever been able to teach her:
+
+                    Pauv' pitit Mamz'elle Zizi,
+                    C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne
+                    La tete a li.
+
+Risler had risen, in spite of Planus's efforts.  "Sit down! sit down!"
+the people shouted.  The wretched man heard nothing.  He was staring at
+his wife.
+
+                    C'est l'amou, l'amou qui tourne
+                    La tete a li,
+
+Sidonie repeated affectedly.
+
+For a moment he wondered whether he should not leap on the platform and
+kill her.  Red flames shot before his eyes, and he was blinded with
+frenzy.
+
+Then, suddenly, shame and disgust seized upon him and he rushed from the
+hall, overturning chairs and tables, pursued by the terror and
+imprecations of all those scandalized bourgeois.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+SIDONIE'S VENGEANCE
+
+Never had Sigismond Planus returned home so late without giving his
+sister warning, during the twenty years and more that he had lived at
+Montrouge.  Consequently Mademoiselle Planus was greatly worried.  Living
+in community of ideas and of everything else with her brother, having but
+one mind for herself and for him, the old maid had felt for several
+months the rebound of all the cashier's anxiety and indignation; and the
+effect was still noticeable in her tendency to tremble and become
+agitated on slight provocation.  At the slightest tardiness on
+Sigismond's part, she would think:
+
+"Ah! mon Dieu!  If only nothing has happened at the factory!"
+
+That is the reason why on the evening in question, when the hens and
+chickens were all asleep on their perches, and the dinner had been
+removed untouched, Mademoiselle Planus was sitting in the little ground-
+floor living-room, waiting, in great agitation.
+
+At last, about eleven o'clock, some one rang.  A timid, melancholy ring,
+in no wise resembling Sigismond's vigorous pull.
+
+"Is it you, Monsieur Planus?" queried the old lady from behind the door.
+
+It was he; but he was not alone.  A tall, bent old man accompanied him,
+and, as they entered, bade her good-evening in a slow, hesitating voice.
+Not till then did Mademoiselle Planus recognize Risler Aine, whom she had
+not seen since the days of the New Year's calls, that is to say, some
+time before the dramas at the factory.  She could hardly restrain an
+exclamation of pity; but the grave taciturnity of the two men told her
+that she must be silent.
+
+"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister, you will put clean sheets on my bed.
+Our friend Risler does us the honor to pass the night with us."
+
+The sister hastened away to prepare the bedroom with an almost
+affectionate zeal; for, as we know, beside "Monsieur Planus, my brother,"
+Risler was the only man excepted from the general reprobation in which
+she enveloped the whole male sex.
+
+Upon leaving the cafe concert, Sidonie's husband had had a moment of
+frantic excitement.  He leaned on Planus's arm, every nerve in his body
+strained to the utmost.  At that moment he had no thought of going to
+Montrouge to get the letter and the package.
+
+"Leave me--go away," he said to Sigismond.  "I must be alone."
+
+But the other knew better than to abandon him thus to his despair.
+Unnoticed by Risler, he led him away from the factory, and as his
+affectionate heart suggested to the old cashier what he had best say to
+his friend, he talked to him all the time of Frantz, his little Frantz
+whom he loved so dearly.
+
+"That was genuine affection, genuine and trustworthy.  No treachery to
+fear with such hearts as that!"
+
+While they talked they left behind them the noisy streets of the centre
+of Paris.  They walked along the quays, skirted the Jardin des Plantes,
+plunged into Faubourg Saint-Marceau.  Risler followed where the other
+led.  Sigismond's words did him so much good!
+
+In due time they came to the Bievre, bordered at that point with
+tanneries whose tall drying-houses with open sides were outlined in blue
+against the sky; and then the ill-defined plains of Montsouris, vast
+tracts of land scorched and stripped of vegetation by the fiery breath
+that Paris exhales around its daily toil, like a monstrous dragon, whose
+breath of flame and smoke suffers no vegetation within its range.
+
+From Montsouris to the fortifications of Montrouge is but a step.  When
+they had reached that point, Planus had no great difficulty in taking his
+friend home with him.  He thought, and justly, that his tranquil
+fireside, the spectacle of a placid, fraternal, devoted affection, would
+give the wretched man's heart a sort of foretaste of the happiness that
+was in store for him with his brother Frantz.  And, in truth, the charm
+of the little household began to work as soon as they arrived.
+
+"Yes, yes, you are right, old fellow," said Risler, pacing the floor of
+the living-room, "I mustn't think of that woman any more.  She's like a
+dead woman to me now.  I have nobody left in the world but my little
+Frantz; I don't know yet whether I shall send for him to come home, or go
+out and join him; the one thing that is certain is that we are going to
+stay together.  Ah! I longed so to have a son!  Now I have found one.
+I want no other.  When I think that for a moment I had an idea of killing
+myself!  Nonsense!  it would make Madame What-d'ye-call-her, yonder, too
+happy.  On the contrary, I mean to live--to live with my Frantz, and for
+him, and for nothing else."
+
+"Bravo!"  said Sigismond, "that's the way I like to hear you talk."
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus came to say that the room was ready.
+
+Risler apologized for the trouble he was causing them.
+
+"You are so comfortable, so happy here.  Really, it's too bad to burden
+you with my melancholy."
+
+"Ah!  my old friend, you can arrange just such happiness as ours for
+yourself," said honest Sigismond with beaming face.  "I have my sister,
+you have your brother.  What do we lack?"
+
+Risler smiled vaguely.  He fancied himself already installed with Frantz
+in a quiet little quakerish house like that.
+
+Decidedly, that was an excellent idea of Pere Planus.
+
+"Come to bed," he said triumphantly.  "We'll go and show you your room."
+
+Sigismond Planus's bedroom was on the ground floor, a large room simply
+but neatly furnished; with muslin curtains at the windows and the bed,
+and little squares of carpet on the polished floor, in front of the
+chairs.  The dowager Madame Fromont herself could have found nothing to
+say as to the orderly and cleanly aspect of the place.  On a shelf or two
+against the wall were a few books: Manual of Fishing, The Perfect Country
+Housewife, Bayeme's Book-keeping.  That was the whole of the intellectual
+equipment of the room.
+
+Pere Planus glanced proudly around.  The glass of water was in its place
+on the walnut table, the box of razors on the dressing-case.
+
+"You see, Risler.  Here is everything you need.  And if you should want
+anything else, the keys are in all the drawers--you have only to turn
+them.  Just see what a beautiful view you get from here.  It's a little
+dark just now, but when you wake up in the morning you'll see; it is
+magnificent."
+
+He opened the widow.  Great drops of rain were beginning to fall, and
+lightning flashes rending the darkness disclosed the long, silent line of
+the fortifications, with telegraph poles at intervals, or the frowning
+door of a casemate.  Now and then the footsteps of a patrol making the
+rounds, the clash of muskets or swords, reminded them that they were
+within the military zone.
+
+That was the outlook so vaunted by Planus--a melancholy outlook if ever
+there were one.
+
+"And now good-night.  Sleep well!"
+
+But, as the old cashier was leaving the room, his friend called him back:
+
+"Sigismond."
+
+"Here!"  said Sigismond, and he waited.
+
+Risler blushed slightly and moved his lips like a man who is about to
+speak; then, with a mighty effort, he said:
+
+"No, no-nothing.  Good-night, old man."
+
+In the dining-room the brother and sister talked together a long while in
+low tones.  Planus described the terrible occurrence of the evening, the
+meeting with Sidonie; and you can imagine the--"Oh! these women!"  and
+"Oh!  these men?"  At last, when they had locked the little garden-door,
+Mademoiselle Planus went up to her room, and Sigismond made himself as
+comfortable as possible in a small cabinet adjoining.
+
+About midnight the cashier was aroused by his sister calling him in a
+terrified whisper:
+
+"Monsieur Planus, my brother?"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"No.  What?"
+
+"Oh!  it was awful.  Something like a deep sigh, but so loud and so sad!
+It came from the room below."
+
+They listened.  Without, the rain was falling in torrents, with the
+dreary rustling of leaves that makes the country seem so lonely.
+
+"That is only the wind," said Planus.
+
+"I am sure not.  Hush!  Listen!"
+
+Amid the tumult of the storm, they heard a wailing sound, like a sob, in
+which a name was pronounced with difficulty:
+
+"Frantz!  Frantz!"
+
+It was terrible and pitiful.
+
+When Christ on the Cross sent up to heaven His despairing cry: 'Eli, eli,
+lama sabachthani', they who heard him must have felt the same species of
+superstitious terror that suddenly seized upon Mademoiselle Planus.
+
+"I am afraid!"  she whispered; "suppose you go and look--"
+
+"No, no, we will let him alone.  He is thinking of his brother.  Poor
+fellow!  It's the very thought of all others that will do him the most
+good."
+
+And the old cashier went to sleep again.
+
+The next morning he woke as usual when the drums beat the reveille in the
+fortifications; for the little family, surrounded by barracks, regulated
+its life by the military calls.  The sister had already risen and was
+feeding the poultry.  When she saw Sigismond she came to him in
+agitation.
+
+"It is very strange," she said, "I hear nothing stirring in Monsieur
+Risler's room.  But the window is wide open."
+
+Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend's door.
+
+"Risler!  Risler!"
+
+He called in great anxiety:
+
+"Risler, are you there?  Are you asleep?"
+
+There was no reply.  He opened the door.
+
+The room was cold.  It was evident that the damp air had been blowing in
+all night through the open window.  At the first glance at the bed,
+Sigismond thought: "He hasn't been in bed"--for the clothes were
+undisturbed and the condition of the room, even in the most trivial
+details, revealed an agitated vigil: the still smoking lamp, which he had
+neglected to extinguish, the carafe, drained to the last drop by the
+fever of sleeplessness; but the thing that filled the cashier with dismay
+was to find the bureau drawer wide open in which he had carefully
+bestowed the letter and package entrusted to him by his friend.
+
+The letter was no longer there.  The package lay on the table, open,
+revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen.  With her high-necked
+frock, her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed
+pose of an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle
+Le Mire's apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day.
+And that was the reason why Risler had kept that photograph, as a
+souvenir, not of his wife, but of the "little one."
+
+Sigismond was in great dismay.
+
+"This is my fault," he said to himself.  "I ought to have taken away the
+keys.  But who would have supposed that he was still thinking of her?
+He had sworn so many times that that woman no longer existed for him."
+
+At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation
+written on her face.
+
+"Monsieur Risler has gone!"  she exclaimed.
+
+"Gone?  Why, wasn't the garden-gate locked?"
+
+"He must have climbed over the wall.  You can see his footprints."
+
+They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure.
+
+"It was the letter!"  thought Planus.
+
+Evidently that letter from his wife must have made some extraordinary
+revelation to Risler; and, in order not to disturb his hosts, he had made
+his escape noiselessly through the window, like a burglar.  Why?  With
+what aim in view?
+
+"You will see, sister," said poor Planus, as he dressed with all haste,
+"you will see that that hussy has played him still another trick."  And
+when his sister tried to encourage him, he recurred to his favorite
+refrain:
+
+"I haf no gonfidence!"
+
+As soon as he was dressed, he darted out of the house.
+
+Risler's footprints could be distinguished on the wet ground as far as
+the gate of the little garden.  He must have gone before daylight, for
+the beds of vegetables and flowers were trampled down at random by deep
+footprints with long spaces between; there were marks of heels on the
+garden-wall and the mortar was crumbled slightly on top.  The brother and
+sister went out on the road skirting the fortifications.  There it was
+impossible to follow the footprints.  They could tell nothing more than
+that Risler had gone in the direction of the Orleans road.
+
+"After all," Mademoiselle Planus ventured to say, "we are very foolish to
+torment ourselves about him; perhaps he has simply gone back to the
+factory."
+
+Sigismond shook his head.  Ah! if he had said all that he thought!
+
+"Return to the house, sister.  I will go and see."
+
+And with the old "I haf no gonfidence" he rushed away like a hurricane,
+his white mane standing even more erect than usual.
+
+At that hour, on the road near the fortifications, was an endless
+procession of soldiers and market-gardeners, guard-mounting, officers'
+horses out for exercise, sutlers with their paraphernalia, all the bustle
+and activity that is seen in the morning in the neighborhood of forts.
+Planus was striding along amid the tumult, when suddenly he stopped.  At
+the foot of the bank, on the left, in front of a small, square building,
+with the inscription.
+
+                             CITY OF PARIS,
+                       ENTRANCE TO THE QUARRIES,
+
+On the rough plaster, he saw a crowd assembled, and soldiers' and custom-
+house officers' uniforms, mingled with the shabby, dirty blouses of
+barracks-loafers.  The old man instinctively approached.  A customs
+officer, seated on the stone step below a round postern with iron bars,
+was talking with many gestures, as if he were acting out his narrative.
+
+"He was where I am," he said.  "He had hanged himself sitting, by pulling
+with all his strength on the rope!  It's clear that he had made up his
+mind to die, for he had a razor in his pocket that he would have used in
+case the rope had broken."
+
+A voice in the crowd exclaimed: "Poor devil!"  Then another, a tremulous
+voice, choking with emotion, asked timidly:
+
+"Is it quite certain that he's dead?"
+
+Everybody looked at Planus and began to laugh.
+
+"Well, here's a greenhorn," said the officer.  "Don't I tell you that he
+was all blue this morning, when we cut him down to take him to the
+chasseurs' barracks!"
+
+The barracks were not far away; and yet Sigismond Planus had the greatest
+difficulty in the world in dragging himself so far.  In vain did he say
+to himself that suicides are of frequent occurrence in Paris, especially
+in those regions; that not a day passes that a dead body is not found
+somewhere along that line of fortifications, as upon the shores of a
+tempestuous sea,--he could not escape the terrible presentiment that had
+oppressed his heart since early morning.
+
+"Ah! you have come to see the man that hanged himself," said the
+quartermaster-sergeant at the door of the barracks.  "See! there he is."
+
+The body had been laid on a table supported by trestles in a sort of
+shed.  A cavalry cloak that had been thrown over it covered it from head
+to foot, and fell in the shroud-like folds which all draperies assume
+that come in contact with the rigidity of death.  A group of officers and
+several soldiers in duck trousers were looking on at a distance,
+whispering as if in a church; and an assistant-surgeon was writing a
+report of the death on a high window-ledge.  To him Sigismond spoke.
+
+"I should like very much to see him," he said softly.
+
+"Go and look."
+
+He walked to the table, hesitated a minute, then, summoning courage,
+uncovered a swollen face, a tall, motionless body in its rain-soaked
+garments.
+
+"She has killed you at last, my old comrade!"  murmured Planus, and fell
+on his knees, sobbing bitterly.
+
+The officers had come forward, gazing curiously at the body, which was
+left uncovered.
+
+"Look, surgeon," said one of them.  "His hand is closed, as if he were
+holding something in it."
+
+"That is true," the surgeon replied, drawing nearer.  "That sometimes
+happens in the last convulsions.
+
+"You remember at Solferino, Commandant Bordy held his little daughter's
+miniature in his hand like that?  We had much difficulty in taking it
+from him."
+
+As he spoke he tried to open the poor, tightly-closed dead hand.
+
+"Look!"  said he, "it is a letter that he is holding so tight."
+
+He was about to read it; but one of the officers took it from his hands
+and passed it to Sigismond, who was still kneeling.
+
+"Here, Monsieur.  Perhaps you will find in this some last wish to be
+carried out."
+
+Sigismond Planus rose.  As the light in the room was dim, he walked with
+faltering step to the window, and read, his eyes filled with tears:
+
+"Well, yes, I love you, I love you, more than ever and forever!  What is
+the use of struggling and fighting against fate?  Our sin is stronger
+than we .  .  .  "
+
+It was the letter which Frantz had written to his sister-in-law a year
+before, and which Sidonie had sent to her husband on the day following
+their terrible scene, to revenge herself on him and his brother at the
+same time.
+
+Risler could have survived his wife's treachery, but that of his brother
+had killed him.
+
+When Sigismond understood, he was petrified with horror.  He stood there,
+with the letter in his hand, gazing mechanically through the open window.
+
+The clock struck six.
+
+Yonder, over Paris, whose dull roar they could hear although they could
+not see the city, a cloud of smoke arose, heavy and hot, moving slowly
+upward, with a fringe of red and black around its edges, like the powder-
+smoke on a field of battle.  Little by little, steeples, white buildings,
+a gilded cupola, emerged from the mist, and burst forth in a splendid
+awakening.
+
+Then the thousands of tall factory chimneys, towering above that sea of
+clustered roofs, began with one accord to exhale their quivering vapor,
+with the energy of a steamer about to sail.  Life was beginning anew.
+Forward, ye wheels of time!  And so much the worse for him who lags
+behind!
+
+Thereupon old Planus gave way to a terrible outburst of wrath.
+
+"Ah! harlot-harlot!"  he cried, shaking his fist; and no one could say
+whether he was addressing the woman or the city of Paris.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets
+Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler, v4
+by Alphonse Daudet
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE FROMONT AND RISLER:
+
+A man may forgive, but he never forgets
+Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered
+Affectation of indifference
+Always smiling condescendingly
+Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity
+Clashing knives and forks mark time
+Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!
+Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him
+Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed
+Exaggerated dramatic pantomime
+Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen
+He fixed the time mentally when he would speak
+Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away
+Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs
+No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were
+Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous
+She was of those who disdain no compliment
+Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter
+Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works
+Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings
+The poor must pay for all their enjoyments
+The groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture
+Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come
+Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
+Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips
+Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler, entire
+by Alphonse Daudet
+
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