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diff --git a/3980-h/3980-h.htm b/3980-h/3980-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1070770 --- /dev/null +++ b/3980-h/3980-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12107 @@ +<?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’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’S STORY ENDED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>NOON—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’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’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’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—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. + </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, ‘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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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)’. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LECONTE DE LISLE + de l’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> + “Madame Chebe!” + </h3> + <p> + “My boy—” + </p> + <p> + “I am so happy!” + </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—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!” + </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’clock in the morning, and at ten + o’clock at night, exactly ten o’clock by Vefour’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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’ 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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’ 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! + </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> + “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!” + </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—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’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’s reserved and tranquil demeanor, as + she stood with her arm in Monsieur Gardinois’s: + </p> + <p> + “You see that child, cousin—well, no one has ever been able to find + out what her thoughts were.” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + “Sigismond, old friend—I am very happy.” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile. + </p> + <p> + And the other, paler than she, replied: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration. + </p> + <p> + “How pretty she is! How well they dance!” + </p> + <p> + But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked + quickly to him. + </p> + <p> + “What! You here? What are you doing? They are looking everywhere for you. + Why aren’t you in there?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Risler,” Madame Georges replied, “Sidonie and I are old + friends. We have reason to be fond of each other still.” + </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> + “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!” + </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!—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. + </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: “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. + </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’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, “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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: “There there! you bother me, go and play on the landing.” 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’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. + </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> + “You know of the accident that happened to the Duc d’Orleans?” + </p> + <p> + And then he would add, tapping his little bald pate “The same thing + happened to me in my youth.” + </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 “to see how it was getting on.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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’ 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’ 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’. + </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—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. + </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 ‘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. + </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—the famous, + intelligent manager—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’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, “Art!” 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’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— + </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 ‘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. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to abandon the stage!” 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> + “No! no! Monsieur Delobelle has no right to abandon the stage.” + </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 ‘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! + </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—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! + </p> + <p> + “Ho! varlet, take this purse and hie thee hence to tell thy mistress I + await her coming.” + </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 ‘Articles de Paris.’ + </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’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’ 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’s scandalized expression then! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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’ + 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’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’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. + </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’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> + “Show me the salon windows,” she would say to him, “and Claire’s room.” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + It was a memorable evening. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “She has dramatic blood in her veins!” 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’ 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> + “You understand, Georges, she is my friend. She is coming to play with us + Sundays. Mamma says she may.” + </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> + “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. + </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’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’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. + </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> + “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?” + </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’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’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. “Let her learn a trade,” said the honest fellow. “Later I + will undertake to set her up in business.” + </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’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 ‘Journal pour + Tous,’ 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—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. + </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’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’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> + “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.” + </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’clock the girls trooped noisily back, highly excited. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the white satin gown? And the veil of point d’Angleterre? + There’s a lucky girl!” + </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’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> + “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. + </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’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’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—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. + </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> + “Have you seen Adele Page, in ‘Les Trois Mousquetaires?’ And Melingue? And + Marie Laurent? Oh! Marie Laurent!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 ‘Journal pour Tous,’ 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’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> + “The little one is tired, Madame Chebe. She needs diversion. Next Sunday I + will take you all into the country.” + </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’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’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’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’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 “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. + </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’s back, away they went. Risler, + always engrossed in his art, looked about for subjects, for possible + combinations, as they walked along. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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. + </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’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. + </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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + Such was little Chebe’s life from thirteen to seventeen. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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.” + </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> + “And you, Sidonie?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! as for me, Frantz, you know that so long as there are fine costumes—” + </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> + “How well they acted their love-scene!” 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> + “Oh! yes, the love-scene. The actress wore beautiful diamonds.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “When we have passed the Porte Saint-Denis—when we have left the + boulevard.” + </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> + “Listen to me, Sidonie—I love you!” + </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’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> + “Now,” said Mamma Delobelle, “the only thing he needs is to find a good + little wife.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door flew open. + </p> + <p> + “I do not disturb you?” said a triumphant voice. + </p> + <p> + The mother, who was slightly drowsy, suddenly raised her head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Frantz Risler and Mademoiselle Sidonie are engaged to be + married.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “SAVIGNY-SUR-ORGE. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa + turned abruptly to me: + </p> + <p> + “‘What has become of your little friend Sidonie? I should be glad to have + her here for a time.’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody here expects you. And I am dying with impatience. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “CLAIRE.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </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—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’s frock, and the little cripple never had plied her needle with + such good heart. + </p> + <p> + In truth little Desiree was not Delobelle’s daughter to no purpose. + </p> + <p> + She inherited her father’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 “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. + </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 “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. + </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—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’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’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. + </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’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’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. + </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> + “That child will be a proud chit and an original, like her father,” 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’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. + </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’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’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—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’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’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> + “Oh! what lovely glow-worms!” 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> + “What are you looking for?” 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> + “The glow-worms. See how many of them there are tonight. And how they + sparkle.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes also sparkled with extraordinary brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + “The storm makes them, I suppose,” 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 “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. + </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> + “I love you! Love me!” 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> + “I never will love any one but my husband.” + </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’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’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’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,—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’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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + Now it provided—her with a simple and honorable pretext for freeing + herself from her promise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Even while she admired her daughter’s generous spirit, Madame Chebe looked + upon that as a rather exaggerated sacrifice, and remonstrated with her. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, my child; we aren’t rich. A husband like Frantz doesn’t turn + up every day.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t revile her, I tell you! She’s an angel!” he said to his brother, + striving to soothe him. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “I love you, if she does not.” + </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> + “I will wait for him.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!”? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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!—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! + </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’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’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> + “What do you say to this little Chebe? She is here at last, you see!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. NOON—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 + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’s moderation. She motions to him with her + hand: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so, my dear Risler? Why, everybody says she looks like her + father.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little. But—” + </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’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> + “The idiot!” + </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> + “Oh! there you are. It’s very lucky!” + </p> + <p> + Risler took his seat, a little ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have, my love? That child is so—” + </p> + <p> + “I have asked you before now not to speak to me in that way. It isn’t good + form.” + </p> + <p> + “What, not when we’re alone?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, little one, you know perfectly well that you can use Madame + Chorche’s coupe. She always says it is at our disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “How many times must I tell you that I don’t choose to be under any + obligation to that woman?” + </p> + <p> + “O Sidonie” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, little one—” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaims Risler, unable to find words to reply. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “How pretty we are to-day! Are we going out soon to make some calls, eh?” + </p> + <p> + He resorts to this mode of address to avoid the more familiar form, which + is so offensive to her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + In response to her husband’s astounded, bewildered expression she + continues: + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, this is my day. Madame Fromont has one; I can have one also, I + fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly they do—but you—it would have been better perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Is she coming? Ah! that’s very kind of her.” + </p> + <p> + Sidonie turned upon him indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “For heaven’s sake, hurry!” she says again and again. “Good heavens! how + long you are at your, breakfast!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “Are you going to a wedding, pray?” cries Sigismond, the cashier, behind + his grating. + </p> + <p> + And Risler, not without a feeling of pride, replies: + </p> + <p> + “This is my wife’s reception day!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “Has no one come?” he asks timidly. + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur, no one.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </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 “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Who knows? Perhaps the child is ill.” + </p> + <p> + She turns upon him in a fury, as if she would like to bite him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “My wife’s reception day!” + </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> + “What can be the matter? What have I done to her?” 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’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? + </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: + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’ 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: “Claire’s friends—that + is to say, my enemies!” 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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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, “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. + </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’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> + “Must everything come to me through her?” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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’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 “your + husband,” and the little woman beamed with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband!” + </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 “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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. “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. + </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> + “I have a mind to make an orchard of it,” 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> + “For heaven’s sake, do rest a bit—you’re killing yourself.” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “Your daughter banishes us—your daughter is ashamed of us!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The illustrious Delobelle also bore Risler a grudge, and freely said of + him: “He is a dastard.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—“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.” + </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, “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.” + </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—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— + </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’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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for him,” 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> + “It is a matter of very great importance.” + </p> + <p> + “So is mine,” declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a + porcupine’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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us,” replied M. + Delobelle. + </p> + <p> + And the other: + </p> + <p> + “No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “And such company!” scornfully exclaimed the illustrious actor, in whose + mind bitter memories were awakened. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is—” 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: “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + Delobelle was generous. + </p> + <p> + “You have business together, Messieurs; do not let me disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + He added in a low tone, winking at Risler: + </p> + <p> + “I have the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “The papers?” echoed Risler, in a bewildered tone. + </p> + <p> + “The estimates,” 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’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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but a shop? Why a shop?” Risler timidly ventured to ask. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, “Well! what of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mon Dieu!—that is true,” 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’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> + “We will talk this over later.” + </p> + <p> + Very much later, in truth, for M. Chebe had reflected: + </p> + <p> + “My son-in-law is so good-natured! If I leave him with this swindler, who + knows what he may get out of him?” + </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> + “A month at Savigny!” exclaimed M. Chebe, incensed at the thought of his + son-in-law escaping him. “How about business?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I shall come to Paris every day with Georges. Monsieur Gardinois is + very anxious to see his little Sidonie.” + </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?—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. + </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> + “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—” + </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.—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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “No,” Risler continued, “I can’t do what you ask, for this reason.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the trees,” 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’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. + </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—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. + </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—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: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I am accursed!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, papa, hush,” cried Desiree, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear, what is that you say?” cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to his + side. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. + </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> + “You will make my excuses,” 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, “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. + </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 ‘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. + </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’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> + “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. + </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’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! + </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> + “Carriage, my dear Chorche?—I—have a carriage? What for?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’s persistent representations, + thinking as he did so: + </p> + <p> + “This will make Sidonie very happy!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + ‘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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.] +</pre> + <p> + “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. + </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’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’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. + </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, “What a good time she is having!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 + ‘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. + </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’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> + “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.” + </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’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’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. + </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 “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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “The devil take your ‘Cercle du Chateau d’Eau!’ Monsieur Georges has left + more than thirty thousand francs there in two months.” + </p> + <p> + The other began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you’re greatly mistaken, Pere Planus—it’s at least three + months since we have seen your master.” + </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> + “Monsieur Georges is spending a great deal of money,” he said to him one + day. + </p> + <p> + Risler exhibited no surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect me to do, my old Sigismond? It is his right.” + </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> + “Shall I pay it, Monsieur?” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “It’s a woman,” he said, under his breath. “I have the proof of it now.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </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’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’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: “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. + </p> + <p> + “It is the husband’s fault,” would be the verdict of “Mademoiselle Planus, + my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the wife’s fault,” “Monsieur Planus, my brother,” would reply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the men—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the women—” + </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’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> + “What will become of us?” he repeated again and again. “Oh! these women—” + </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’s disturbed and questioning expression: + </p> + <p> + “I have some news. I know who the woman is who is doing her best to ruin + us.” + </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> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth.” + </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!—How could any one imagine + such a thing? + </p> + <p> + “I have proofs,” said Sigismond Planus. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But it is your duty to tell him,” declared Mademoiselle Planus. + </p> + <p> + The cashier’s face assumed a grave expression. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Old Sigismond continued: + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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> + “That’s the kind of life I need—an active life.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He usually brought his discourse to a close with the words: + </p> + <p> + “The night will bring counsel—let us go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + And to bed he would go, to his wife’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 “Mademoiselle Planus, my + sister,” called to speak about Sidonie. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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?” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Planus got no further satisfaction from her visit. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” queried old Sigismond, who was impatiently awaiting her return. + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn’t believe me, and politely showed me the door.” + </p> + <p> + She had tears in her eyes at the thought of her humiliation. + </p> + <p> + The old man’s face flushed, and he said in a grave voice, taking his + sister’s hand: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “I ha no gonfidence,” 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’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. + </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’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’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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + No more friendly smiles, no more reminiscences as they turned over the + leaves of the cash-book together. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Risler looked at her with wide-open eyes:—“You?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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’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. “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. + </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’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> + “We will see, we will see. Let us wait till the end of the year.” + </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’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. + </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> + “Well!—are you getting on all right?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’s air of consternation when, on the 31st of + December, he went up to Georges’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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + The other, when he heard the door, turned joyfully toward his partner. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! to be sure. I had forgotten all about it. It isn’t very + satisfactory, is it?” + </p> + <p> + He said that because of the somewhat disturbed and embarrassed expression + on Georges’s face. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </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> + “I am very happy! I am very happy!” + </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> + “Do you know what that is?” he said to Georges, with an air of triumph. + “That is Sidonie’s house in the country!” + </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"> + “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.” + </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’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’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> + “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.” + </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’s work + was ended. From time to time she spoke to her daughter, without turning + her head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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’s work. + </p> + <p> + “My husband has just gone to your place, Monsieur. We have nothing here. + Monsieur Delobelle has taken everything.” + </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> + “Ah! so you don’t know me, Mamma Delobelle?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I knew you at once, Monsieur Frantz,” said Desiree, very calmly, in a + cold, sedate tone. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful heavens! it’s Monsieur Frantz.” + </p> + <p> + Quickly Mamma Delobelle runs to the lamp, lights it, and closes the + window. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + A veritable little iceberg, in very truth. She is very pale, and her hand + as it lies in Frantz’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’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. + </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’s lodge to the cashier’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’clock + Saturday evening, in front of the cashier’s little lamp. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’s wages were expended for his family, to + pay the baker and the druggist, or for his children’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—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. + </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’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> + “I haf no gonfidence!” said the unhappy cashier, shaking his head, “I haf + no gonfidence!” + </p> + <p> + Lowering his voice he added: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. + </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’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’ little sign: ‘Birds and Insects for + Ornament.’ + </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’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’s brutal disclosures! + </p> + <p> + They talked together with great animation while Mamma Delobelle was + setting the table. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—“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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Robricart, of the theatre at Metz. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Chaudezon, of the theatre at Angers. + </p> + <p> + “Frantz Risler, engineer.” + </p> + <p> + In Delobelle’s mouth that word “engineer” assumed vast proportions! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’s terrible voice + interrupted the dialogue. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa!” said Desiree hastily, “you know very well that we are too fond + of Sidonie to be offended with her.” + </p> + <p> + The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, you do wrong. You ought to be offended with people who seek + always to wound and humiliate you.” + </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> + “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.” + </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, ‘ha-has!’ and ‘hum-hums!’ 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> + “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?” + </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’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> + “Come, lazybones! Come!” + </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, “I am very happy, I am very happy!” + </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> + “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!” + </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> + “No! it is not possible—he has not ceased to be an honest man.” + </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> + “I forbid you, Madame—understand what I say—I forbid you to + dishonor my brother!” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” queried Frantz with some anxiety, “have you invented this Press of + yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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> + “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. + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Pushing the door open suddenly, he cried from the threshold in his loud, + good-natured voice: + </p> + <p> + “Guess whom I’ve brought.” + </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> + “Ah! how you frightened me!” 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> + “Good morning, brother.” + </p> + <p> + Risler left them confronting each other, and went up to Fromont Jeune, + whom he was greatly surprised to find there. + </p> + <p> + “What, Chorche, you here? I supposed you were at Savigny.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Risler, with a certain pride, “it cost a heap of money!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At each new effusion on Risler’s part, Georges Fromont shrank visibly, + ashamed and embarrassed by the strange expression on Frantz’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’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. + </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> + “I have something to say to you,” he said, just as she opened her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “And I to you,” she replied gravely; “but come in here; we shall be more + comfortable.” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We have some people to dinner,” his wife would say. “Make haste.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What in the deuce has become of your husband?” + </p> + <p> + Pere Gardinois would ask his grand-daughter with a cunning leer. “Why + doesn’t he come here oftener?” + </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: “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.” + </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— + </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—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. + </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> + “I congratulate you, Madame; you understand how to make yourself + comfortable.” + </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> + “To whom do you owe this magnificence, to your lover or your husband?” + </p> + <p> + Without moving from the divan, without even raising her eyes to his, she + answered: + </p> + <p> + “To both.” + </p> + <p> + He was a little disconcerted by such self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “Then you confess that that man is your lover?” + </p> + <p> + “Confess it!—yes!” + </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> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “If not?” queried Sidonie, who had not ceased to play with her rings while + he was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Very well! let him kill me. What do I care for that?” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up hastily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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?—Whom did she love, in God’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> + “Who is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She replied in a stifled voice: + </p> + <p> + “You know very well that it is you.” + </p> + <p> + She was his brother’s wife. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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’s + amorous, languishing voice, sighing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “On dit que tu te maries; + Tu sais que j’en puis mouri-i-i-r!” + </pre> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you loved me,” asked Frantz, in a low voice, “if you loved me, why + did you marry my brother?” + </p> + <p> + She did not waver. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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’s wife! + </p> + <p> + “Ah! wretched, wretched creatures that we are!” 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. + “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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ton amour, c’est ma folie. + Helas! je n’en puis guei-i-i-r.” + </pre> + <p> + Suddenly Risler’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “This way, Chebe, this way. They are in the summerhouse.” + </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> + “Well, my boy, does the Suez Canal progress as you would wish?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Risler, Risler, are you crazy, my son-in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, mamma! We must dance.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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. + </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’ + 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’ + carriage; for Frantz was in Georges’ carriage. He had drunk Georges’ 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> + “But I don’t know anything. What do you wish me to sing?” + </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"> + “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.”] +</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"> + “C’est l’amou, l’amou qui tourne la tete....” + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked Risler, seeing that his brother rose + hurriedly as soon as the last flourish was at an end. + </p> + <p> + “I am going back. It is late.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You are not going to sleep here? Why your room is ready for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all ready,” 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 “Yo-ho!” of the boatmen and the footsteps of + the dancers like a rhythmical, muffled drumming on the tambourine. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a kill-joy for you!” observed Madame Dobson. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening they waited for “the father” together, and while she worked + he made her shudder with the story of his adventures. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “Do you notice IT when I am not walking?” + </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 “birds and insects for ornament” 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’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’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: + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed how sweet the flowers smell this year, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The cashier was triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, Monsieur Sigismond, I am here,” the judge would reply. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not going away yet, are you, my dear Frantz?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—not yet. I have an important matter to finish up first.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so much the better.” + </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’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> + “It is a fine day to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Our flowers still smell sweet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very sweet.” + </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> + “Desiree!” + </p> + <p> + “Frantz!” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, Frantz, when the Princess Hummingbird entered your room, + holding her little head very straight under a diadem of birds’ feathers?” + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then she added, with the prettiest smile imaginable: + </p> + <p> + “You will let us have him, won’t you, Ziree? Don’t be afraid; we will send + him back.” + </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’zelle Zizi’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"> + “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.” + </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’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> + “Oh! the poor, dear fellow, the poor, dear, fellow,” said the sentimental + American, “if you could see how unhappy he is!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’s note, Madame Dobson asked: + </p> + <p> + “What shall you write in reply?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already written. I consented.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You will go away with that madman?” + </p> + <p> + Sidonie laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’s eyes + calumny pure and simple. Ah, master judge, we have you now! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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’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> + “What are you laughing at?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing-an idea that came into my head,” 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’s torture as he waited for her to come. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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> + “Two first-class for Marseilles,” 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, “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. + </p> + <p> + At last she appeared. + </p> + <p> + Yes, there she is, it is certainly she—a woman in black, slender and + graceful, accompanied by another shorter woman—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> + “I am not mistaken, it is Monsieur Risler. Are you going to Marseilles by + the express? I am not going far.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’s ear like an ironical farewell, then dies away in + the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The ten o’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’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> + “Ah! Monsieur Frantz. How early you are today!” + </p> + <p> + It was Sidonie’s coachman taking his horses to bathe in the river. + </p> + <p> + “Has anything happened at the house?” inquired Frantz tremblingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur Frantz.” + </p> + <p> + “Is my brother at home?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur slept at the factory.” + </p> + <p> + “No one sick?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur Frantz, no one, so far as I know.” + </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’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> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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’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> + “Didn’t you receive my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, of course.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Oh! mon Dieu, my poor man, what has happened?” 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> + “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.” + </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’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’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, “Comfort me.” + </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’s desertion was followed by the + desertion of the friend. It was horrible! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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> + “I am going to bed, my child; are you going to sit up any longer?” + </p> + <p> + With her eyes on her work, “my child” replied that she was. She wished to + finish her dozen. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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> + “I beg your pardon, Monsieur. How can I get to the Seine?” + </p> + <p> + He would recognize her at once. + </p> + <p> + “What! Can it be you, Mam’zelle Zizi? What are you doing out-of-doors at + this time of night?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to die, Frantz. You have taken away all my pleasure in + living.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he, deeply moved, would seize her, press her to his heart and + carry her away in his arms, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, do not die. I need you to comfort me, to cure all the wounds the + other has inflicted on me.” + </p> + <p> + But that is a mere poet’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. “Remember,” it seems to say to + her; and she replies mentally, “Oh! yes, I remember.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “A woman just jumped into the river.” + </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: “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. + </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—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> + “I implore you, messieurs,” she said, trembling from head to foot, “let me + return to mamma.” + </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’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> + “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?” + </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 ‘cafe au + lait’ and reading the ‘Gazette des Tribunaux.’ + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “I + don’t know—I don’t know,” 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> + “Come, do you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never try again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, indeed I will not, never—never!” + </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> + “M’ame Delobelle, here she is! Your daughter’s been found.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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?” + </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: “Hide me—hide + me—I am ashamed!” + </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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + Between two stitches the mother would look up at her child, whose face + grew paler and paler: + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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’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. + </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, “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. + </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—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? + </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> + “Earn your living. Give up the stage.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, as time was flying, Desire Delobelle summoned all her courage + and called softly: + </p> + <p> + “Papa-papa” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Zizi. Aren’t you asleep?” + </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> + “Put down your lamp—I have something to say to you.” + </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> + “Why, what’s the matter, Bichette? Do you feel any worse?” + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “She never was very strong.” + </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’s illusions: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “I think that you would do well,” pursued Desiree, timidly, “I think that + you would do well to give up—” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?—what?—what’s that?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She murmured twice or thrice: + </p> + <p> + “To give up—to give up—” + </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> + “The notes!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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’s anxious questions, + gnawing his moustache: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “Where were they to find that hundred thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “Take the notes back. I have no funds to meet them.” + </p> + <p> + No, no! That was not possible. Any sort of humiliation was preferable to + that. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s decided. I will go to-morrow,” 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,—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> + “Then he’s your lover!” 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—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? + </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> + “The notes! the notes!” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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> + “Georges, Georges, it is I. What is the matter?” + </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—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> + “You have been gambling, have you not? You have lost—lost heavily?” + </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> + “Not all is lost as yet. I will go to Savigny tomorrow and ask my + grandfather for the money.” + </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> + “Claire, Claire—how good your are!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Without replying, she led him to their child’s cradle. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Ah! here’s Sigismond. How goes the world, Pere Sigismond? How is + business? Is it good with you?” + </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 ‘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. + </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—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. + </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> + “Ah! by the way, so long as I am here—” + </p> + <p> + He gave a little wink which he thought sly, but which was in reality + heartrending. + </p> + <p> + “So long as I am here, suppose we settle that old account.” + </p> + <p> + The two brothers and the young woman in the counting-room gazed at one + another a second, unable to understand. + </p> + <p> + “Account? What account, pray?” + </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. “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. + </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> + “Ah! yes; true. I had forgotten. Sigismond Planus is growing old, that is + plain. I am failing, my children, I am failing.” + </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’ 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: + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Pere So-and-So. I want to ask you a question.” + </p> + <p> + He held the door half open, his hand upon the knob. + </p> + <p> + “When did we settle our last bill? I forgot to enter it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The door was hastily closed. Another! Evidently it would be the same thing + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll find my property when I am dead,” 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, “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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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> + “If your daughter wishes, I will give her a royal present; but she must + ask for it.” + </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’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’ 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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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’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> + “What’s the matter, little one? Why, you’re all ‘perlute’,” said the + grandfather, seated behind his huge desk. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Do you think so?” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “That little Sidonie has fine, sharp teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Sidonie!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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! + </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> + “Are you going? What a hurry you’re in!” said the grandfather, following + her outside. + </p> + <p> + At heart he was a little ashamed of his savagery. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you breakfast with me?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, not having strength to speak. + </p> + <p> + “At least wait till the carriage is ready—some one will drive you to + the station.” + </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> + “Good-by, grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, then.” + </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. “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. + </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: “Why is it? What have I + done?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last she entered the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes, Madame, certainly—Monsieur Fromont. A necklace of diamonds + and roses. We could make you one like it for twenty-five thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + That was five thousand less than for him. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Monsieur,” said Claire, “I will think it over.” + </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’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.” + </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’s rosy cheeks before running to her mother’s room. + </p> + <p> + “Come, mamma, dress yourself quickly. We are going away. We are going + away.” + </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> + “Come, come, hurry. Get your things ready.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’ 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—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> + “I am not at home to any one.” + </p> + <p> + The door resisted her efforts, and Sigismond’s square head appeared in the + opening. + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Madame,” he said in an undertone. “I have come to get the + money.” + </p> + <p> + “What money?” demanded Claire, for she no longer remembered why she had + gone to Savigny. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes—true. The hundred thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t them, Monsieur Planus; I haven’t anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the cashier, in a strange voice, as if he were speaking to + himself, “then it means failure.” + </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—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> + “Had I been rich, she would have forgiven me!” + </p> + <p> + Ought she to allow him to entertain that doubt? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she replied gently. “We are not going away.” + </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’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> + “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. + </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’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’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’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. + </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> + “Is the Fromont child still sick?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, not the child, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Georges sick?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Ah! ‘dame’, they’re not making such a show on the first floor as they are + on the second.” + </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> + “Grandpapa refused,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The miserable man turned frightfully pale. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </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> + “It is my duty,” 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’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. + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “Sigismond,” 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> + “You are weeping, old man? What troubles you?” + </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’s emotion changed to indignation. + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up with stern dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I offer you my hand, Sigismond Planus!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And I refuse to take it,” 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> + “Why do you refuse to take my hand?” 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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Risler was stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “I have ruined the house—I?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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’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> + “Is this true, Madame Chorche—is this true that he just told me?” + </p> + <p> + She had not the courage to deceive him, so she turned her eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “So,” continued the poor fellow, “so the house is ruined, and I—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Risler, my friend. No, not you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend, no; be calm. I know that you are the most honorable man on + earth.” + </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> + “Oh! Madame Chorche, Madame Chorche,” he murmured. “When I think that I am + the one who has ruined you.” + </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> + “Come,” he said, “let us not give way to emotion. We must see about + settling our accounts.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Fromont was frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Risler, Risler—where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + She thought that he was going up to Georges’ room. + </p> + <p> + Risler understood her and smiled in superb disdain. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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> + “Madame Risler!” + </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’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> + “Come at once,” said Risler; “I know all.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going?” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “Take off your jewels! Come, be quick.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He searched his pockets feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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: + </p> + <p> + “Down on your knees!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Fromont drew back, remonstrating: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Risler, not that.” + </p> + <p> + “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; + </p> + <p> + “You will repeat after me, word for word, what I say: Madame—” + </p> + <p> + Sidonie, half dead with fear, repeated faintly: “Madame—” + </p> + <p> + “A whole lifetime of humility and submission—” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Stop her, stop her!—Risler, Planus, I implore you! In pity’s name + do not let her go in this way,” cried Claire. + </p> + <p> + Planus stepped toward the door. + </p> + <p> + Risler detained him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sigismond put out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are a noble man, Risler. Forgive me for having suspected you.” + </p> + <p> + Risler pretended not to hear him. + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand francs to pay, you say? How much is there left in the + strong-box?” + </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’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’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. + </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’ work. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” he asked in some alarm. + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Sidonie. Open the door quickly.” + </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> + “Oh! I never shall return home. It is all over. Free—I am free!” + </p> + <p> + “But who could have betrayed you to your husband?” asked the actor. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “a beautiful culprit,” he could not help viewing the affair from + a purely scenic standpoint, and finally cried out, carried away by his + hobby: + </p> + <p> + “What a first-class situation for a fifth act!” + </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> + “Well, what do you propose to do now?” Delobelle asked after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Stay here till daylight and get a little rest. Then I will see.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no bed to offer you, my poor girl. Mamma Delobelle has gone to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The actor heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Why, you were just eating your supper, weren’t you? Pray go on.” + </p> + <p> + “‘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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added abruptly, as if to initiate her into the joys of the + dramatic art: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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! + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the + Angelus. + </p> + <p> + “Noon! Already! How I have slept!” + </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’s name had happened? When he was ready to go down he + found Claire at the door of his room. + </p> + <p> + “You must not go out,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay here. I will explain it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But what’s the matter? Did any one come from the Bank?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they came—the notes are paid.” + </p> + <p> + “Paid?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away from him as she spoke. He, on his side, hung his head to + avoid her glance. + </p> + <p> + “Risler is an honorable man,” she continued, “and when he learned from + whom his wife received all her magnificent things—” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Georges in dismay. “He knows?” + </p> + <p> + “All,” Claire replied, lowering her voice. + </p> + <p> + The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly: + </p> + <p> + “Why, then—you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Claire!” + </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> + “Forgive!—forgive!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but I am not lying,” replied Georges with a shudder. “Claire, I + implore you, in the name of our child—” + </p> + <p> + At that moment some one knocked at the door. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Risler had sent for Monsieur to come down to the office. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said; “say that he will come.” + </p> + <p> + Georges approached the door, but she stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “No, let me go. He must not see you yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “My life belongs to him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But I shall seem to be hiding.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I will stay,” said Georges. “I will do whatever you wish.” + </p> + <p> + Claire descended into Planus’ 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I + know it well.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you, my friend,” 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’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> + “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fromont attempted to speak, but a gesture from his wife restrained him, + and Risler continued: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you are going to sell your furniture too?” asked Madame Fromont. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—to the last piece. I am simply giving it back to the + firm. It belongs to it.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is impossible,” said Georges. “I can not allow that.” + </p> + <p> + Risler turned upon him indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? What is it that you can’t allow?” + </p> + <p> + Claire checked him with an imploring gesture. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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—all these details attracted Risler’s notice as he + entered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “What does this mean? What is this I hear? Ah! so you’re moving, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe—I am selling out.” + </p> + <p> + The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish. + </p> + <p> + “You are selling out? What are you selling, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “I am selling everything,” said Risler in a hollow voice, without even + looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. The dishonor was public, the reparation must be + public, too.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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!—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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? + </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’s office to hand + it to Madame Georges. + </p> + <p> + “You can let the apartment,” he said, “it will be so much added to the + income of the factory.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Risler, I thank you in my father’s name.” + </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> + “Here’s an order for Lyon. Why wasn’t it answered at Saint-Etienne?” + </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,—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. + </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> + “Sigismond, old friend, will you do me a favor?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He took from his pocket a little package carefully tied, and handed it to + him through the grating. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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. + </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 + “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. + </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’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 + “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. + </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’ 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. + </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’ 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. + </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: “What have you + done in my absence?” 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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + “Risler, my friend,” she would say, “you must come down into the garden a + while,—you work too hard. You will be ill.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Madame,—on the contrary, work is what saves me. It keeps me + from thinking.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a long pause, she would continue: + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget.” + </p> + <p> + Risler would shake his head. + </p> + <p> + “Forget? Is that possible? There are some things beyond one’s strength. A + man may forgive, but he never forgets.” + </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’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. + </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’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. + </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—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. + </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 “rotary and dodecagonal” + machine. One fine day the Prochassons appeared, and offered three hundred + thousand francs simply for an interest in the patent rights. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do?” Fromont Jeune asked Risler Aine. + </p> + <p> + The latter shrugged his shoulders indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Decide for yourself. It doesn’t concern me. I am only an employe.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But when he was alone with his dear Madame “Chorche,” Risler advised her + not to accept the Prochassons’ offer. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,—don’t be in a hurry. Later you will have a better offer.” + </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’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: + </p> + <p> + “I am very happy! I am very happy!” + </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> + “What ails him?” the old cashier wondered. “What does he want of me?” + </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> + “Planus, my old friend, I should like—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I should like you to give me the—letter, you know, the little + letter and the package.” + </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> + “What—you want—?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I have well earned it; I can think of myself a little now. I have + thought enough of others.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’s jacket during the past six months. And what an event in the + factory! Madame Fromont was informed at once. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, Madame! Monsieur Risler is going out!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “My head is spinning,” he said to Planus: + </p> + <p> + “Lean hard on me, old fellow-don’t be afraid.” + </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’hote dinner + filled his soul with joy. “We are comfortable here, aren’t we?” 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’s plate. + </p> + <p> + “Eat that—it’s good.” + </p> + <p> + The other, notwithstanding his desire to do honor to the fete, seemed + preoccupied and gazed out-of-doors. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, Sigismond?” he said, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + The old cashier, engrossed in his memories of long ago, of Risler’s first + employment at the factory, replied: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Risler shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no—I mean three years ago. It was in that room just opposite + that we dined on that memorable evening.” + </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> + “Ah! yes, true,” 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> + “Come! here’s your health, my old comrade.” + </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> + “Have you seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife? No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn’t written again?” + </p> + <p> + “No—never again.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must have heard of her. What has she been doing these six months? + Does she live with her parents?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </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> + “Is she in Paris?” he asked, after a few moments’ reflection. + </p> + <p> + “No. She went away three months ago. No one knows where she has gone.” + </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> + “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—” + </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> + “Now, where shall we go?” said Planus, as they left the restaurant. + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you wish.” + </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> + “Suppose we go in,” said Planus, desirous of banishing his friend’s + melancholy at any cost, “the beer is excellent.” + </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— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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!] +</pre> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + And the husband’s eye seemed to reply: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ‘dame’, yes, he’s quite a dashing buck, that fellow.” + </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> + “Why, that is odd; one would say—but no, I’m not mistaken. It is he, + it’s Delobelle!” + </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> + “Let us go, Risler. The heat here is enough to kill one.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + They were obliged to resume their seats. Risler, too, was beginning to be + disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “I know that tune,” he said to himself. “Where have I heard it?” + </p> + <p> + A thunder of applause and an exclamation from Planus made him raise his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, let us go,” 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’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’ pitit Mamz’elle Zizi, + C’est l’amou, l’amou qui tourne + La tete a li. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + C’est l’amou, l’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’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’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: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mon Dieu! If only nothing has happened at the factory!” + </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’clock, some one rang. A timid, melancholy ring, in + no wise resembling Sigismond’s vigorous pull. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Monsieur Planus?” 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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me—go away,” he said to Sigismond. “I must be alone.” + </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> + “That was genuine affection, genuine and trustworthy. No treachery to fear + with such hearts as that!” + </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’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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” said Sigismond, “that’s the way I like to hear you talk.” + </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> + “You are so comfortable, so happy here. Really, it’s too bad to burden you + with my melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “Come to bed,” he said triumphantly. “We’ll go and show you your room.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </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—a melancholy outlook if + ever there were one. + </p> + <p> + “And now good-night. Sleep well!” + </p> + <p> + But, as the old cashier was leaving the room, his friend called him back: + </p> + <p> + “Sigismond.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” 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> + “No, no-nothing. Good-night, old man.” + </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—“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. + </p> + <p> + About midnight the cashier was aroused by his sister calling him in a + terrified whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Planus, my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “No. What?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it was awful. Something like a deep sigh, but so loud and so sad! It + came from the room below.” + </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> + “That is only the wind,” said Planus. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure not. Hush! Listen!” + </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> + “Frantz! Frantz!” + </p> + <p> + It was terrible and pitiful. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid!” she whispered; “suppose you go and look—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “It is very strange,” she said, “I hear nothing stirring in Monsieur + Risler’s room. But the window is wide open.” + </p> + <p> + Sigismond, greatly surprised, went and knocked at his friend’s door. + </p> + <p> + “Risler! Risler!” + </p> + <p> + He called in great anxiety: + </p> + <p> + “Risler, are you there? Are you asleep?” + </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: “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. + </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’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.” + </p> + <p> + Sigismond was in great dismay. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment Mademoiselle Planus entered the room with consternation + written on her face. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Risler has gone!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Gone? Why, wasn’t the garden-gate locked?” + </p> + <p> + “He must have climbed over the wall. You can see his footprints.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, terrified beyond measure. + </p> + <p> + “It was the letter!” 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> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “I haf no gonfidence!” + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was dressed, he darted out of the house. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sigismond shook his head. Ah! if he had said all that he thought! + </p> + <p> + “Return to the house, sister. I will go and see.” + </p> + <p> + And with the old “I haf no gonfidence” 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’ + 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’ 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A voice in the crowd exclaimed: “Poor devil!” Then another, a tremulous + voice, choking with emotion, asked timidly: + </p> + <p> + “Is it quite certain that he’s dead?” + </p> + <p> + Everybody looked at Planus and began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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,—he could not escape the terrible presentiment that + had oppressed his heart since early morning. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “I should like very much to see him,” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + “Go and look.” + </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> + “She has killed you at last, my old comrade!” 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> + “Look, surgeon,” said one of them. “His hand is closed, as if he were + holding something in it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” the surgeon replied, drawing nearer. “That sometimes + happens in the last convulsions. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he tried to open the poor, tightly-closed dead hand. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said he, “it is a letter that he is holding so tight.” + </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> + “Here, Monsieur. Perhaps you will find in this some last wish to be + carried out.” + </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> + “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...” + </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’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> + “Ah! harlot-harlot!” 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’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 +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Fromont and Risler, Complete, by Alphonse Daudet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROMONT AND RISLER, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3980-h.htm or 3980-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/8/3980/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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