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diff --git a/old/40959-h/40959-h.htm b/old/40959-h/40959-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index ea5ad16..0000000 --- a/old/40959-h/40959-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15104 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Le Cocu, by Paul De Kock. -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.lfriends {margin-top:5%;margin-bottom:5%; -margin-left:25%; margin-right:25%;font-style:italic;} - -.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} - -.red {color:#BE3127} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both;} - - h2 {margin-top:5%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:120%;} - - hr.full {width: 50%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} - - body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - - img {border:none;} - -.blockquot {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;} - - sup {font-size:75%;vertical-align:top;} - -.caption {font-weight:bold;font-size:0.8em;font-style:italic;} - -.figcenter {margin-top:3%;margin-bottom:3%; -margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.footnote {width:95%;margin:auto 3% 1% auto;font-size:0.9em;position:relative;} - -.label {position:relative;left:-.5em;top:0;text-align:left;font-size:.8em;} - -.fnanchor {vertical-align:30%;font-size:.8em;} - -.poem {margin-left:25%;text-indent:0%;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .60em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -</style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Cocu (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume -XVIII), by Charles Paul de Kock - -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/license - - -Title: Le Cocu (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XVIII) - -Author: Charles Paul de Kock - -Release Date: October 6, 2012 [EBook #40959] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE COCU *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="" /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<span class="caption">Copyright 1904 by G. Barrie & Sons</span><br /> -<a href="images/front_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/front.jpg" width="398" height="550" alt="Copyright 1904 by G. Barrie & Sons" title="Copyright 1904 by G. Barrie & Sons" /></a> -</p> - -<div class="lfriends"> -<p class="c"><i>A RECONCILIATION</i></p> - -<p><i>We had drawn near to each other, having both left the table to go to -the window. I do not know how it happened, but I soon found Eugénie in -my arms; then we kissed, we walked away from the window, and——</i></p> -</div> - -<h1> -<small>NOVELS<br /> -<br /> -<small>BY</small></small><br /><br /> -<big>Paul de Kock</big><br /> -<br /> -<small><small><span class="red">VOLUME XVIII</span></small></small><br /> -<br /> -<small><span class="red">LE COCU</span></small></h1> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/colophon.png" width="150" height="63" alt="colophon" title="colophon" /> -</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="cb">THE JEFFERSON PRESS<br /> -<br /> -BOSTON <span style="margin-left: 8em;">NEW YORK</span></p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p class="c"><small><i>Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons.</i></small></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<p class="cb"> -<a href="#I"><b>I, </b></a> -<a href="#II"><b>II, </b></a> -<a href="#III"><b>III, </b></a> -<a href="#IV"><b>IV, </b></a> -<a href="#V"><b>V, </b></a> -<a href="#VI"><b>VI, </b></a> -<a href="#VII"><b>VII, </b></a> -<a href="#VIII"><b>VIII, </b></a> -<a href="#IX"><b>IX, </b></a> -<a href="#X"><b>X, </b></a> -<a href="#XI"><b>XI, </b></a> -<a href="#XII"><b>XII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIII"><b>XIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIV"><b>XIV, </b></a> -<a href="#XV"><b>XV, </b></a> -<a href="#XVI"><b>XVI, </b></a> -<a href="#XVII"><b>XVII, </b></a> -<a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIX"><b>XIX, </b></a> -<a href="#XX"><b>XX, </b></a> -<a href="#XXI"><b>XXI, </b></a> -<a href="#XXII"><b>XXII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV, </b></a> -<a href="#XXV"><b>XXV.</b></a> -</p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE<br /><br /> -BECAUSE OF THE TITLE</h2> - -<p>I have never written prefaces to my novels; I have always considered -what an author says in a preface, what he therein explains beforehand to -the reader, as utterly useless. The reader would be entitled to reply, -as Alceste replies to Orontes: “We shall see.”</p> - -<p>Nor have I ever supposed that the public read a novel in order to talk -with its author. It matters little to my readers, I presume, whether I -am young or old, short or tall, whether I write in the morning or at -night; what they want is a work that pleases them, in which there is -enough of truth to enable them to identify themselves with the -characters; and if the author constantly talks of himself and stations -himself between his heroes and his reader, it seems to me that he -destroys the illusion and injures his own work.</p> - -<p>My reason for placing a preface at the head of this book has to do with -the title—that title which has caused persons to recoil in dismay who -do not balk at <i>executioners</i>, <i>damned</i>, <i>tortured</i>, <i>guillotined</i>, and -other pleasant conceits in which authors indulge without objection. I -propose, not to justify myself, for I do not think myself guilty, but to -reassure some of my readers of the gentler sex, whom my title might -alarm beyond measure.</p> - -<p><i>Le Cocu!</i> What is there so indecent in the word, pray? In the first -place, what does it mean? A married man who is deceived by his wife, a -husband whose wife is unfaithful. Would you like me to give my book such -a title as <i>The Husband whose Wife was False to Her Vows</i>? That would -resemble a Pontoise poster. Was it not clearer and simpler to take the -one word which, alone, means all that?</p> - -<p>You might have called it the <i>Predestined</i>, someone may say. My answer -to that is that that title would have been excellent for those who -understood it, but that very many people would never have guessed that -it meant cuckold; that everybody is not familiar with such conventional -language, and that I write to be understood by everybody.</p> - -<p>But, after all, why enter upon such a crusade against a word so often -and so happily employed on the stage? Who does not know that the -immortal Molière called one of his plays <i>The Imaginary Cuckold</i>? I have -seen that play acted, and consequently advertised in the streets of -Paris, less than three years ago—at a time, however, when we permitted -ourselves many fewer liberties than at present; and yet I saw no one -draw back with horror or disgust, or indulge in any of these indignant, -nervous outbursts on reading the poster of the Théâtre-Français on which -the announcement of <i>The Imaginary Cuckold</i> was printed. I think, -however, that we should be more strict with respect to what is said on -the stage, than with respect to what is put in a novel; for, if I take -my daughter to the play, and if the characters make unseemly remarks, I -cannot prevent my daughter from hearing them; whereas it is a very easy -matter for me to prevent her reading a novel in which such things are -expressed.</p> - -<p>But I repeat, the word cuckold should raise a laugh, and that is all. Is -not that the effect which it produces at the theatre?</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Aye, this is very fine; my children will be gentlemen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">but I shall be a cuckold unless I look to it.”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(<i>George Dandin</i>, Act I.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Truly a useful lesson for our neighbor;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And if all husbands who live in this town<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Would thus receive their wives’ adorers,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The roll of cuckolds would not be so long.”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(<i>L’École des Femmes</i>, Act IV.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This popinjay, speaking with all respect,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Makes me a cuckold, madame, at his own sweet will.”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(<i>Sganarelle</i>, Sc. XVI.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You shall learn, knave, to laugh at our expense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, lacking due respect, to make men cuckolds.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(<i>Sganarelle</i>, Sc. XVII.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“His heart was seen to burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Despite us and our teeth, with an illicit flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And so at last, striving to be convinced,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">I learned, nor boasted, he had made me cuckold.”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(M<small>ONTFLEURY</small>, <i>La Femme Juge et Partie</i>.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What! I myself cast blame and obloquy upon myself!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Myself proclaim the shame of my own wife!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And, although at last I am too well persuaded,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Seek witnesses to prove that she has made me cuckold.”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(Ibid.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I know that someone will say: “What was all right long ago may not be -right now; other times, other morals.”</p> - -<p>I will answer: Other times, other customs, other styles of clothes, -other hours for meals,—that is all very true; but as to other morals, I -refuse to believe it. We have the same passions, the same failings, the -same absurdities as our fathers. I am fully convinced that we are no -better than they; those passions and vices may be concealed under more -polished forms, but the substance is always the same. Civilization makes -men more amiable, more clever in concealing their faults; the progress -of knowledge makes them better informed and less credulous. But whereby -will you prove to me that it makes them less selfish, less ambitious, -less envious, less dissipated? No; the men of to-day are no better than -those of an earlier day, or than those who will live a thousand years -hence, if men still exist at that time, which I will not assert, but -which may be presumed. Let us not be scandalized to-day by what made our -ancestors laugh; let us not make a show of being so strict, so -fastidious—for that proves nothing in favor of our virtue. At the -theatre respectable mothers of families laugh heartily at a somewhat -broad jest, but kept women make wry faces, or hold their fans before -their eyes.</p> - -<p>Secondly, when authors go so far in what is called the romantic style, -why should people be any more rigorous with respect to the jovial style, -in regard to pictures of society? Because I describe a contemporaneous -scene, must I be on my guard against allowing my pen too free a swing? -Is that privilege reserved exclusively for those who carry us back to -past ages, and who array their characters in vast top boots and short -cloaks?</p> - -<p>While I am addressing my readers, especially those of the fair sex, I -cannot resist the temptation to reply to the criticism that has -sometimes been made to the effect that I write immoral books.</p> - -<p>Books that are merry, that tend to arouse laughter only, may be a little -free, without being licentious for that reason. <i>Although sensuality is -dangerous, jests never arouse it.</i> A work which makes the reader sigh, -which excites the imagination, is far more dangerous than one which -causes laughter. Those persons who have failed to see the moral purpose -of my novels have not chosen to see it. I do not consider it necessary -to be morose, in order to offer a lesson or two to one’s readers. -Molière did not chastise the faults and follies of men, and turn their -vices into ridicule, with a scowl on his face.</p> - -<p>In <i>Georgette</i>, I have sketched the life of a kept woman; she ends in a -way not likely to attract imitators. In <i>Brother Jacques</i>, I have -depicted a gambler, and shown to what lengths that horrible passion may -carry us. In the <i>Barber of Paris</i> two men yield to their respective -passions, avarice and libertinage. Both are punished wherein they have -sinned. <i>Jean</i> proves that a worthily placed passion may make us blush -for our manners, for our ignorance, and may arouse our disgust of bad -company and low resorts. In the <i>Milkmaid of Montfermeil</i>, I have tried -to prove that money expended in benefactions reaps a better harvest than -that squandered in follies. <i>André the Savoyard</i> is the story of a poor -child of the mountains; by behaving becomingly, by assisting his mother -and brother, by giving all that he owns to his benefactress, he succeeds -in being happy and in conquering a hopeless love. <i>Sister Anne</i> is a -girl seduced and abandoned. Her seducer, confronted by his mistress and -his wife at once, is given a rough lesson. <i>The Wife, the Husband and -the Lover</i> presents only too true a picture of the conduct of many -married people. <i>The Natural Man and the Civilized Man</i> must demonstrate -the advantages of education. If these works have not a moral, it is -probably because I was unable to write them with sufficient skill to -bring it home to my readers.</p> - -<p>But I have said enough, yes, too much, of my novels; and all apropos of -this poor <i>Cocu</i>! In heaven’s name, mesdames, do not let the title -alarm you. The epigraph of the book must have reassured you to some -slight extent: read on therefore without fear, do not condemn without a -hearing. Perhaps you will find this novel less hilarious than you -imagine; perhaps indeed you will think that I might have, that I should -have presented my hero in quite a different guise. But if this novel, -such as it is, does not please you, forgive me, mesdames; I will try to -do better in another work; for <i>Le Cocu</i>, which I offer you to-day, will -not, I trust, be the last that I shall write.</p> - -<p class="r">C<small>H</small>. P<small>AUL DE</small> K<small>OCK.</small></p> - -<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> - -<h1>LE COCU</h1> - -<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> - -<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br /><br /> -A READING ROOM</h2> - -<p>“Madame, give me the <i>Constitutionnel</i>.”</p> - -<p>“They are all in use at the moment, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then give me the <i>Courrier Français</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s the first sheet of it, monsieur. You shall have the rest in a -moment.”</p> - -<p>“When I read a newspaper, madame, I like to have it whole; with this new -fashion of yours, of cutting the paper in two, you sometimes make us -wait at the most interesting places, and that is very unpleasant.”</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur, we can’t take ten copies of the same paper! The expenses -are big enough already! By cutting the paper, it is easier to -accommodate a number of people, and the second sheet of the <i>Courrier -Français</i> will certainly be returned before you have read the first.”</p> - -<p>“That is not certain. I am not one of those people who spend an hour -reading a column. I want a whole paper.”</p> - -<p>“Will you have the <i>Débats</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Very well, give me the <i>Débats</i>.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman who insisted upon having a whole newspaper, like the -children who insist upon having a dish to themselves at a restaurant, -although they often cannot eat half of it, had entered the reading room -grumbling;<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a> he took his seat upon a bench between two readers, one of -whom, a young and courteous man, moved along to make room for him, while -the other, who was old and wrinkled, with his hair brushed <i>à la</i> -pigeon’s wing, glanced crossly at the newcomer and turned his back on -him after muttering in a sour tone:</p> - -<p>“Be careful, monsieur, you are sitting on my coat.”</p> - -<p>I was standing at the door of the room, where I rarely remain long; I -easily obtained a whole newspaper, because I selected a humble literary -sheet; and in these days when politics engrosses everybody, mere -literature is cruelly neglected. I can readily understand that people -are interested in and absorbed by the interests of our country. There -are times when I myself read the great newspapers eagerly; but even then -I could not pass hours poring over them. What would you have? One cannot -make oneself over, and politics has never been in my line. Indeed, I may -be wrong, but it seems to me that that would be a most blessed country -where the people were never called upon to busy themselves with -politics.</p> - -<p>I wanted to know what the papers said about the play that was produced -the day before at the Variétés. One paper declared that is was -detestable, another pronounced it delightful; is it possible to form an -opinion upon such judgments?</p> - -<p>“Madame, give me the <i>Quotidienne</i>, please, and the Gazette de France, -if nobody has them.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, nobody has them; here they are.”</p> - -<p>I turned to look. One often turns to look when one is not reading -anything serious; I wanted to see the gentleman who had taken the -<i>Gazette</i> and the <i>Quotidienne</i>. I saw a very tall, straight individual, -with smooth, plastered hair, curly behind the ears; with a furtive eye -and a honeyed voice; I was on the point of saying, with red<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> ears and a -flushed complexion; in truth, he had both these, and if I had looked at -him before he spoke, I could have guessed what papers he would have -asked for. Some people claim that the face is deceitful; but no, it is -not so deceitful as it is said to be, especially to those who take the -trouble to examine it carefully.</p> - -<p>I still held my paper in my hand but I was no longer reading it. I -amused myself by scrutinizing all those faces leaning over the printed -pages. It would have made a pretty picture for a <i>genre</i> painter. That -stout man, with his elbows resting on the table covered with the -conventional green cloth, had the air of a potentate called upon to -arbitrate between neighboring kings. Sometimes he protruded his lower -lip, dissatisfied doubtless with what was being done; but soon his -expression softened, his mouth resumed its usual expression, and a -slight nod of the head indicated that he was better pleased with what he -was reading.</p> - -<p>At his right, a short, gray-haired man was reading with an avidity which -was depicted upon every feature. It mattered little to him that people -came in and went out, coughed, blew their noses, or sat down beside him; -his eyes did not leave for one second the sheet that he held before -them, and they gleamed like a young man’s. There was patriotism, glory, -liberty in that expression.</p> - -<p>Beyond him, a man of uncertain age, a man with a mania; that could be -seen at a glance. The lamp must be exactly in front of him, his feet -must have a chair to rest upon, and his snuff-box must be placed beside -his paper. If all these conditions were not exactly fulfilled, then he -was perfectly wretched and had no idea what he was reading. I soon had a -proof of it: his neighbor moved his snuff-box with his elbow, whereupon -he raised his eyes angrily and glared at the offender, muttering:<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p> - -<p>“It seems to me that you have room enough, and that it isn’t in your -way!”</p> - -<p>It was several minutes before he could resume his reading in peace, and -he did not do so until he had replaced his box at the same distance from -his hand as before. But soon a more serious accident happened: as there -were many people in the room, a newcomer ventured to take the chair upon -which his feet were resting. Thereupon the man with the mania was -completely upset; after glancing askance at the person who had presumed -to take such a liberty, he rose, walked to the desk, angrily threw down -the newspaper and a sou, and left the room, saying:</p> - -<p>“It’s outrageous! it is impossible to read the news when one is -interrupted and disturbed every moment.”</p> - -<p>The man with the smooth hair had taken a seat in the corner at the end -of the room. From time to time he cast a furtive glance about him; then -he resumed his reading, but very quietly, without moving, without the -slightest change of expression.</p> - -<p>Just beyond him, a stupid faced man had been leaning over the same sheet -for an interminable time; but he was not asleep, as I thought at first. -That man was, so I was told, the terror of all reading rooms. He -regularly took four hours to read an ordinary newspaper, and six to read -the <i>Moniteur</i>. If those who let newspapers had many customers like him, -they would have to charge by the hour, as at billiards.</p> - -<p>I was about to return to my literary review, but my attention was -distracted by a female voice which rang in my ears; anything of the -feminine gender always distracts my attention. I instantly abandoned the -regular customers of the reading room, and looked into the next room at -the right, which was filled with tables covered<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> with books; for at that -establishment books as well as papers were let; and in truth it was -wisely done, for in these days, in order to earn one’s living, it is -none too much, in fact sometimes it is not enough, to do two things at -once.</p> - -<p>As I was standing between the two rooms, it was easy for me to look into -the one devoted to books: I saw a woman of some twenty years, with a -bright, wide-awake face. Her dress indicated that she lived near by; her -head was uncovered; a black silk apron <i>à corsage</i> fitted her snugly; -but her feet were in list slippers which were much too large for her, -and she also had a thimble on one of her hands, which were covered with -old gloves of which the fingers were cut off. She tripped in, smiling, -and placed a package of books on the desk, saying:</p> - -<p>“Here! we have <i>devoured</i> all these already!”</p> - -<p>“What! why, you only got them yesterday!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! we read fast at our house; my aunt doesn’t do anything else, and my -sister has a sore thumb and couldn’t work; she often has a sore thumb, -my sister has; and my brother much prefers reading novels to practising -on the violin. I confess that I like it much better too, when he is not -practising; it’s so tiresome to have a violin forever scraping in your -ears; oh! it sets my teeth on edge just to think of it. I have a horror -of a violin—What are you going to give me? We want something nice.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t just know, you read so fast; before long you will have read all -the books I have got.”</p> - -<p>“We want something new.”</p> - -<p>“New! that’s what all the subscribers say; they think that nothing is -good except what is new; and yet we have some old novels which are far -ahead of the modern ones. -<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Bah! you say that to get me to take your <i>Cleveland</i>, your <i>Tom Jones</i> -and your old <i>Doyen de Killerine</i> again.”</p> - -<p>“The <i>Doyen de Killerine</i> is a very good book, mademoiselle, and——”</p> - -<p>“Madame, I don’t take any interest in a hunchback hero with crooked legs -and patches over his eyes. No! no! what I like is a handsome young man, -very dark and well-built, with a noble carriage; he is all right,—you -can imagine him and fancy that you are looking at him. When he makes -love, you say to yourself: ‘I’d like to have a lover like him;’ and -there’s some pleasure in that.”</p> - -<p>The proprietress smiled; I did the same, while pretending to be -engrossed in my paper. The young woman fluttered from one table to -another; she would take up a book, open it, then put it back on its -shelf, saying:</p> - -<p>“We have read this; we have read this. Bless my soul! have we read -everything?”</p> - -<p>“Here, mademoiselle,” said the woman who kept the room, “here’s -something interesting and well written.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“<i>La Femme de Bon Sens, ou La Prisonnière de Bohême.</i>”</p> - -<p>“Let’s see whom it is by: translated from the English by Ducos. Why, -this was published in 1798! Are you making fun of me, to give me such an -old novel as this?”</p> - -<p>“What difference does it make how old it is, when I tell you that it is -good?”</p> - -<p>“I tell you that its age makes a great deal of difference; we like -pictures of contemporary manners. A novel more than twenty years old -cannot depict the manners of to-day.”</p> - -<p>“But it may depict the passions and absurdities of society; those things -are of all times, mademoiselle. That<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> is why people still enjoy seeing -<i>Tartufe</i>, the <i>Misanthrope</i>, the <i>Etourdi</i>, although those works are -certainly not new.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it all depends on the taste. But I don’t want the <i>Femme de Bon -Sens</i>. Besides, I don’t like the title; it seems to be an epigram.”</p> - -<p>“Well, here is something new—the <i>Bourreau de</i>——”</p> - -<p>“Enough! enough! thank the Lord we have never cared for -executioners—<i>bourreaux</i>—! we don’t like the literature of the burying -ground, the manners of the Morgue. It is possible that such pictures may -be true to life, but we have no desire to go to those places to find -out; we would shun with horror a street or square where preparations -were being made to execute a criminal; and you expect us to enjoy -reading books where the author persists in describing such horrors in -detail, in presenting ghastly pictures! Oh! it seems to me, madame, that -a man must have a very bad opinion of women to think that they will -enjoy such reading, that such tableaux can possibly have any attraction -for them. It is equivalent to coupling us with the wretches who rush in -crowds to look on at an execution; and I did not suppose that there -could be any glory in writing for those women!”</p> - -<p>I could not resist the desire to look up from my paper; we like to meet -people who think as we do, and as I agreed absolutely with that young -woman in her views regarding literature, I looked at her with -satisfaction. Chance willed that she should look at me at the same -moment. I smiled, no doubt, for she made a funny little face and skipped -away to another part of the room.</p> - -<p>She soon returned with four volumes, and said:</p> - -<p>“At last, I believe I have found one that we haven’t read: <i>Eugène et -Guillaume</i>. I will take this. It’s by Picard; it ought to be good.<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You should not always trust to the author’s name, mademoiselle; -however, when it is by a writer who knows how to write, one is sure at -all events to have something which will not offend in style, even if the -plot or the incidents are not well done. You say that you will take -<i>Eugène et Guillaume</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I must have something else with it. Four volumes! why, they -will hardly last one evening. By the way, have you anything new by the -author of <i>Sœur Anne</i>? He is my favorite, you know.”</p> - -<p>I could not help looking at the young woman with still greater -satisfaction, for I am very intimate with the author whom she named.</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle, I have nothing by that author that you have not read. -But here is something that came out yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! give it to me, give it to me.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know just what it is, but so far as newness goes, I will -warrant it.”</p> - -<p>“Let me have it.”</p> - -<p>“Will you promise not to keep it long?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; you know that it is only a matter of one evening with us.”</p> - -<p>“You will be very careful about cutting it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes! I must run now, or my aunt will say that I have been -gossiping.”</p> - -<p>The young woman took all the volumes under her arm and went out, after -casting another rapid glance in my direction.</p> - -<p>She was succeeded by a woman with a round cap and calico wrapper. She -brought back only a single book, which she laid on the desk, saying:</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! we had hard work to finish it! I thought that we would -never see the end!<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>”</p> - -<p>“It is true that you have had the book nearly a month.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear me! we don’t read fast at our house; you see, as a general -thing, my man reads to me while I am working; and as he still has the -catarrh, he stops at every comma to cough. Never mind, it’s mighty -interesting. I cried hard with that poor girl who spends fifteen years -in the underground dungeon, with nothing but bread and water to eat. She -must have had a good stomach, I tell you, not to be sick.”</p> - -<p>“Do you want something else?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to be sure. Something about robbers, if you please, and about -ghosts, if you have anything, because a novel with robbers and ghosts in -it can’t help being interesting. Oh! and then I want something with -pictures, some of those lovely pictures of crimes. I am very fond of -pictures, I am; and then you see, I say to myself: ‘a novel that they -don’t spend the money to put pictures in, why it can’t have Peru behind -it.’ Don’t I hit the mark?”</p> - -<p>“Here is something, madame, that will interest you greatly.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“<i>The Ghosts of the Nameless Château</i>, or <i>The Brigands of the Abandoned -Quarry</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! what a splendid title! what a ring there is to it! Let’s look at -the pictures. A man eating a skeleton. Bless my soul! that must be good. -I don’t want to see any more; I’ll take the <i>Ghosts</i>, and I’ll go and -buy some jujube paste for my husband, so that he won’t cough quite so -much when he’s reading.”</p> - -<p>The worthy woman who loved pictures was succeeded by an elderly man who -also wanted a novel. He was asked what sort of story he wanted; but it -mattered<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> little to him: he wanted it to read in bed at night, something -that would put him to sleep right away. What he wanted was found at -once.</p> - -<p>After him came a lady on the decline. She brought back a volume of -memoirs, and she wanted more memoirs; according to her, memoirs were the -only proper thing to read. When a lady has passed the age for making -conquests, I can understand that memoirs seem instructive to her and -also pleasant reading; to her the past has more charm than the present. -Being no longer able to tell us of what she does, she desires that we -should be interested in what she has done; that is one way to keep -people talking about her. After a life of adventures, she considers that -to cease to occupy the public attention is a living death. Poor -creature! I am sorry for her; she dies twice over. But see how mistaken -she is! she falls into oblivion while seeking immortality; and there are -some excellent mothers of families, simple, virtuous women, who -nevertheless do not die altogether, for all who have known them treasure -their images and their memories in the depths of their hearts.</p> - -<p>The lady of the memoirs went away with eight octavo volumes under her -arm. Next came an old gentleman powdered and musked as in the days of -the Regency. He wore a little three-cornered hat which did not approach -his ears, and a silk muffler over his coat, although it was only the -first of October. This gentleman nodded patronizingly to the -proprietress and placed two volumes on her desk.</p> - -<p>“What the devil did you give me this for?” he said; “it’s a wretched, -detestable book.”</p> - -<p>“What! didn’t you like it, monsieur? Why, it has been generally -praised.”</p> - -<p>“I promise you that it will not be praised by me!<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Then monsieur does not want the sequel? There are two more volumes.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, I don’t want the sequel. It was as much as I could do to -read three pages.”</p> - -<p>“Was that enough to enable you to judge?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame; I always judge by the first few lines. I want something -good, something useful—a romance of the times of chivalry, for -example.”</p> - -<p>“I have <i>Amadis de Gaule</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I have read that.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Geneviève de Cornouailles.</i>”</p> - -<p>“I’ve read it.”</p> - -<p>“The <i>Chevaliers du Cygne</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve read it. I’ve read all the old books of that sort. Give me a new -one.”</p> - -<p>“Why, romances of chivalry are seldom written nowadays.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that! seldom written? Why aren’t they written, pray? You must -have some written, madame; you must order some from your novel writers.”</p> - -<p>“They say that they are no longer in vogue, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t know what they are talking about; there is nothing else so -good; that is the true type of novel. But these modern authors do not -understand the taste of their readers. They write books in which they -aim to be bright and realistic. They draw pictures of society, as if -such things could be compared with a description of a tournament! In the -old days they used to write much better novels. Those of the younger -Crébillon were not without merit; those of Mademoiselle de Scudéry were -a little too long, I admit; but <i>Le Sopha</i>, <i>Le Bijoux Indiscrets</i>, and -<i>Angola</i>—those are fine stories, sparkling with delectable details!<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>”</p> - -<p>“If monsieur would like <i>L’Enfant du Carnaval</i>, by Pigault-Lebrun, that -too is full of very amusing incidents.”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, no; I don’t read such books as that. What do you take me -for? That is so broad! why, there’s a certain dish of spinach, -which——”</p> - -<p>“Which makes one laugh, monsieur, whereas your Angola makes one blush, -or even worse.”</p> - -<p>“Madame, give me a romance of chivalry. I want to teach my grandson, and -certainly that is the only sort of reading that can be at once useful -and agreeable to him.”</p> - -<p>“Would monsieur like <i>Don Quixote</i>?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Don Quixote</i>! fie, madame! your Cervantes is an impertinent fellow, a -knave, a sneak, who presumes to ridicule the noblest, most gallant, most -revered things in the world! If that Cervantes had lived in my time, -madame, I would have made him retract his <i>Don Quixote</i>, or else, by the -shades of my ancestors, I swear that he would have passed an -uncomfortable quarter of an hour!”</p> - -<p>The proprietress pretended to have a paroxysm of coughing in order to -conceal her desire to laugh. As for myself, I could not contain myself, -I burst out laughing and the paper fell from my hands. The man with the -muffler turned in my direction; he eyed me indignantly and put his right -hand to his left side, whether in search of a sword, in order to treat -me as he would have treated Miguel Cervantes, I do not know. But, -instead of a weapon, his hand came into contact with nothing more than a -bonbon box; he opened that, and took out two or three pastilles which he -put in his mouth with a dignified air, and said to the woman:</p> - -<p>“Come, let us have done with this. What are you going to give me, -madame?<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps monsieur is not familiar with the story of the <i>Quatre Fils -Aymon</i>?”</p> - -<p>“I have read it three times, but I shall be glad to read it again. Give -me the story of the <i>Fils Aymon</i>, and I will let my grandson meditate -upon it; it will not be my fault if I do not make a Richardet of him.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman put the book under his muffler; then he flashed an angry -glance at me, and probably proposed to make a very dignified exit; -unfortunately, as he glanced at me, he failed to see a lady who was -coming in; and when he turned, he collided with her; the lady’s hat -knocked off his three-cornered one, which was carefully balanced on his -head. The little old man picked up his hat and pulled it over his eyes, -muttering: “What are we coming to?” and went out, slamming the door so -viciously that he nearly broke all the glass, which action I considered -by no means worthy of an old chevalier.</p> - -<p>The lady who had knocked off the little hat was young and rather pretty; -a half veil thrown back over her hood did not conceal her features; -indeed, her eyes did not indicate a person who shrank from being -noticed; far from it. But there was in her dress a mixture of coquetry -and slovenliness, of pretension and poverty; she had in her hand a -pamphlet which she tossed upon the desk, saying:</p> - -<p>“I have brought back the <i>Chevilles de Maître Adam</i>; how much do I owe -you?”</p> - -<p>“Six sous, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“What! six sous for a farce which I have kept only three days,—just -long enough to copy my part?”</p> - -<p>“That is the price, mademoiselle. You gave me thirty sous as security; -here’s twenty-four.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s an exorbitant price, madame—six sous! I hire very often, but -I have never paid so much as that.<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> It would be as cheap to buy the -thing. How much does it cost?”</p> - -<p>“Thirty sous, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Great heavens! how they are putting up the price of plays nowadays! -It’s an awful shame! But I must have the <i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, to learn -the part of Chérubin, which I am going to play on Sunday on Rue de -Chantereine. I can’t learn my parts unless I copy them; writing seems to -engrave them on my brain. I copied Nanine in one night and I knew it the -next day. But six sous! that’s rather hard. People think that it doesn’t -cost anything to act in society. I should think not! there’s no end to -the expenses. Costumes, rouge, bundles to be carried! Never mind, give -me Figaro. I have never played in a burlesque yet, but my teacher told -me that I ought to be very good in it, because I am not knock-kneed. -Keep what I paid you; that will pay for this.”</p> - -<p>The <i>Mariage de Figaro</i> was handed to her. She turned over the leaves of -the pamphlet, muttering:</p> - -<p>“Oh! how short it is! almost no long speeches, and I am so fond of -lengthy dialogues! I am sorry now that I don’t play Suzanne. But I will -copy both parts; then I can play the man or the woman as they want. I am -not particular.”</p> - -<p>The actress-apprentice stuffed the pamphlet into her bag and went out, -winding about her body an old shawl which looked as if it had often done -duty as a turban for Zaïre or Mohammed.</p> - -<p>It must be very amusing to let books; you see a great many people and -hear amusing things; there are people who instantly lay bare their -folly, their absurdity, their wretched taste; but the business requires -patience, especially when one has to do with such customers as the -chevalier in the muffler.<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a></p> - -<p>I was about to return my newspaper and pay for it, when I heard a very -familiar voice even before the person to whom it belonged had entered -the door. I turned and saw my friend Bélan, who, in accordance with his -custom, shouted as if he were talking to a deaf person, and found a way -to occupy the space of four people, although he was very slim and his -height exempted him from the conscription. But Bélan kept his arms in -motion all the time, stood on tiptoe to increase his height, threw his -head back, and went through the antics of a bear in a cage.</p> - -<p>As he opened the door, Bélan spied me; he came toward me, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I was looking for you, Blémont, my friend; I have just come from -your rooms; they told me that you might be here, and here you are.”</p> - -<p>“Hush! hush! don’t talk so loud,” I said to Bélan, whose shrill tones -caused a revolution in the reading room. “Wait a moment; I am at your -service.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I have come about a very serious matter. I will tell -you about it, and you will see whether——”</p> - -<p>“Hush, I say; these people reading the newspapers, whom you are -interrupting, don’t care anything about your affairs; that isn’t what -they came here for.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, but——”</p> - -<p>“Come on;” and taking Monsieur Bélan’s arm, I dragged him away from the -reading room.<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br /><br /> -OF THINGS THAT OFTEN HAPPEN</h2> - -<p>“Now, my dear Bélan, say on; we are on the boulevard, and you will not -disturb anybody; but I advise you to lower your voice a little, for I -don’t see the necessity of taking all the passers-by into your -confidence.”</p> - -<p>“Lower my voice, my friend! it is very easy for you to say that. But -when one is as excited, as agitated as I am, it is perfectly justifiable -to shout; it relieves one. Oh! mon Dieu! how will all this end?”</p> - -<p>“You begin to alarm me, Bélan. What is it all about, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! love, intrigue, a woman—always women! as you know, I care for -nothing else.”</p> - -<p>I could not forbear a glance at the little man. I knew that he was very -well-built in his little way, and that many taller men had not calves as -plump and shapely as his. But his face was so ridiculous—his turned-up -nose, eyebrows absurdly high, heart-shaped mouth and big eyes formed -such a comical whole, that I could not understand how he could ever -inspire love; I could imagine it much more easily of an ugly face which -was pleasant or intellectual; but I suppose that I am not a good judge, -for Bélan was generally supposed to be a favorite with the ladies, and, -as he had just said himself, he was constantly mixed up in intrigue. To -be sure, Bélan was rich, and money is a potent auxiliary; many -self-styled seducers owe their success to it alone.<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a></p> - -<p>Bélan saw that I was scrutinizing him. He stood on tiptoe again, and -said to me in an offended tone, for the little man is easily hurt and -irritated:</p> - -<p>“You look as if you were surprised that it is about a love intrigue. -Does it astonish you that I turn the heads of the ladies?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear fellow; but I am astonished that you are so excited, as it -is nothing more than a thing to which you must be accustomed.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! but it is not always so serious as it is to-day.—You must know -that I am on the best of terms with Madame de Montdidier?”</p> - -<p>“Faith, no, I didn’t know it.”</p> - -<p>“What! you didn’t know that? A rake like you—a man after my own heart!”</p> - -<p>“You do me too much honor.”</p> - -<p>“To be sure, I haven’t mentioned it to anybody, for I am discretion -itself; but such things are always noticed; ordinarily the husband is -the only person who does not detect them.”</p> - -<p>“Has he detected something this time?”</p> - -<p>“Listen: Montdidier is a quick-tempered man, brutal even, so his wife -says; and more than that, horribly jealous.”</p> - -<p>“All this does not prevent him from being——”</p> - -<p>“No, such things never do prevent it; on the contrary, they make one -want—However, you will see that it necessitated extra precaution and -prudence. He is not one of the husbands who go half-way to meet you, who -constantly ask you to act as their wife’s escort, to go with her to the -play or to walk; one of those husbands, in short, who seem to say to -you: ‘Make me a cuckold; I should like it.’”</p> - -<p>“It is true that there are some like that.<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What I had to do was to deceive an Argus, an Othello; I had to invent -some stratagem day after day. Luckily I am never at a loss.”</p> - -<p>“You are very fortunate.”</p> - -<p>“To-day Montdidier dined out; a ceremonious dinner which he could not -avoid attending. Thereupon we laid our plans. His wife pretended to dine -early, and then she said that she was going to see her aunt; she did -leave the house, in fact, but she joined me at a little restaurant on -Boulevard du Temple. Everything passed off as we had agreed; we had an -excellent dinner, et cætera, et cætera!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, many <i>et cæteras</i>, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“I beg you to believe that there were a great many. In the evening, -Hélène—that is the name of my inamorata——”</p> - -<p>“The name suits her very well.”</p> - -<p>“That is so, on my word! I hadn’t thought of that. Well, Hélène had to -go to join her Menelaus. Ha! ha! that is very amusing—Menelaus——”</p> - -<p>“And you are Paris!”</p> - -<p>“Just so, I am Paris. What a pity that I cannot laugh now!—Well, Hélène -was to join her husband at Giraud’s, who gives a reception to-night. You -know Giraud, a loquacious fellow, who thinks that he’s a business agent -because he has three boxes standing on his desk, and who has a mania for -trying to marry everybody, and that merely that he and his wife may be -present at the wedding?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know him.”</p> - -<p>“I was to go to Giraud’s too, but not until later; we did not want to -arrive together. People are talking enough already, and I have such a -terrible reputation.”</p> - -<p>“Well?<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Well, just now we sent out for a cab, and Hélène and I got into it. I -ought to have let her go alone; but what can you expect? It is always so -hard to part! That woman is exceedingly passionate.—Well, we were in -the cab. You know that Giraud lives on Rue Poissonnière; I had told the -driver to put me down at the corner of the boulevard. We were going -along quietly enough, when suddenly we felt that we were thrown against -the side of the cab; Hélène fell against the door, and I fell upon her; -it was all because of an accident to the cab—one of the hind wheels had -broken. We shouted like madmen. Hélène pushed me away with her hand, -which she thrust into my eye, saying that I was stifling her; and I said -to her: ‘Take your hand away; you are putting out my eye!’—Can’t you -imagine the picture?”</p> - -<p>“I observe that you had ceased to say sweet things to each other.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! that we had; I believe that we were on the point of insulting -each other. Just see how a broken wheel changes the nature of one’s -feelings. Luckily we were more frightened than hurt. A crowd gathered -about our cab. I succeeded in opening the door and jumped out first. But -imagine my stupefaction when I saw her husband before me—yes, -Montdidier himself, craning his neck to see what had happened.”</p> - -<p>“Did he recognize you?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t an idea; when I saw him, I didn’t give him time to speak to -me; I turned so suddenly that I nearly upset a peddler who was behind -me. I pushed everybody out of my way, and ran to your room without -stopping.”</p> - -<p>“And your unfortunate companion,—did you leave her there?”</p> - -<p>“Would you have had me offer her my hand, and play the gallant with her -before her husband? It seems to me<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> that I followed the wisest course. -But still, if Montdidier recognized me, and I am afraid he did; if his -wife called my name; if—for he must have seen his wife get out of the -cab—O heaven! such a hot-tempered, jealous man!”</p> - -<p>“He is capable of doing his wife some violence.”</p> - -<p>“His wife, yes, no doubt, and me too. She was forever saying to me when -we were together: ‘Ah! if my husband knew, he would kill me! he would -kill me!’”</p> - -<p>“In that case he might very well try to kill you too.”</p> - -<p>“It is terrible, it is most distressing. It isn’t that I am afraid to -fight—you know that it isn’t that, because I have proved my courage; -but the sensation, the scandal the thing will cause. And then, in -reality, I’ve nothing against Montdidier. He always received me -cordially, and invited me to dinner. I bear him no grudge at all.”</p> - -<p>“You bore nobody a grudge but his wife.”</p> - -<p>“No joking, my dear fellow; it is too serious a matter. This infernal -mania for intrigues! But it is all over now; I don’t propose to deceive -any more husbands. It is most absurd and it is immoral too; I am angry -with myself for ever having done it.—What! are you laughing at me -again?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I can’t help laughing; you remind me of the sailors who pray to -God during the storm and laugh at Him when the weather is fine.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know if I resemble a sailor, but I do know that I feel very -uncomfortable. This adventure so soon after dinner—the charlotte russe -lies heavy on my stomach. Come, my dear Blémont, let’s not laugh; help -me to get out of this fix; I will do as much for you, and you may need -me soon, for you are a terrible fellow too,—the terror of husbands. -Great God! how you have maltreated the poor devils!<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>”</p> - -<p>“If I can be of any service to you I shall be glad to, but I don’t quite -see how, unless I make Montdidier think that it was I who was in the cab -with his wife; but that would not rehabilitate the reputation of his -Hélène, and that is what we must think of first of all.”</p> - -<p>“That is so, that is what we must think of; although, since she put her -finger in my eye, I am not in love with her at all. It is amazing how -ugly she looked to me at that moment!”</p> - -<p>“She has not always looked ugly to you. She has been kind to you, and -you must try to acknowledge it by saving her good name.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she has been kind to me, but I don’t want any more of her favors. -Oh, even if it can all be straightened out, I say again, no more -flirtations with married women, no more illicit love-affairs. Unmarried -girls or widows, women without entanglements,—they’re all right; with -them one doesn’t have to hide all the time, to make long détours and -hire cabs.”</p> - -<p>“All such dangers are what give piquancy to that sort of intrigue.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks; that same piquancy is very pleasant. Oh! just let me get out of -this scrape, and I will turn over a new leaf, I will become -incorruptible so far as the ladies are concerned. But if I am to have -time to turn virtuous, Montdidier must not blow my brains out.—Come, my -friend, let us think what it is best to do.”</p> - -<p>“Go to Giraud’s; you can see whether Montdidier is there with his wife; -and according to the way he behaves to you, you can easily judge whether -he recognized you, and how he has taken the thing.”</p> - -<p>“Go there and expose myself to his fury, to his wrath, before everybody? -surely you don’t mean it, my friend?<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>”</p> - -<p>“A man of breeding doesn’t take society into his confidence in such -matters.”</p> - -<p>“I told you that Montdidier was a brutal fellow.”</p> - -<p>“If he thinks that he has been wronged, he won’t go to a party with his -wife.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; but there is another way to make sure, and that is for -you to go to Giraud’s. If our husband and wife are there, you can watch -them, and you will be able to tell at once on what terms they are; -furthermore, you might slyly give the lady to understand that you have -just left me. What do you say? Oh! my dear Blémont, do me this favor; go -to Giraud’s.”</p> - -<p>“I will do it solely to oblige you, for the business agent’s receptions -are not very interesting; and this evening I intended to go to see some -very agreeable ladies.”</p> - -<p>“You can see your ladies to-morrow, they will be in the same place. -Besides, perhaps they are married ladies, and who knows that I am not -saving you from some unpleasant scrape?”</p> - -<p>“To listen to you, one would think that no one ever called upon a lady -except with the design of making a conquest.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you see I know you. Come, Blémont, sacrifice your ladies to me; -consider that I am between life and death so long as I do not know what -to expect.”</p> - -<p>“To oblige you, I will go to Giraud’s.”</p> - -<p>“You are a friend indeed. It is almost nine o’clock, and the reception -is just at its height. To-night there is to be singing and playing. Be -prudent, and if our couple are there, watch them closely.”</p> - -<p>“I’m like the confidential friend in a melodrama.”</p> - -<p>“I will wait for you at the café on the corner of the boulevard; I will -drink a glass of sugar and water. If<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a> everything goes well, if I can -safely show myself, you will have the kindness to tell me so.”</p> - -<p>“Very good.”</p> - -<p>We quickened our pace, and when we reached the corner of Rue -Poissonnière, Bélan grasped my hand and shook it violently.</p> - -<p>“My friend,” he said, “I will wait for you at the café opposite. Don’t -say that I am there, don’t mention my name.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear.”</p> - -<p>I had taken a few steps when I felt someone grasp me from behind; it was -Bélan again; he had run after me, and he said most earnestly:</p> - -<p>“My dear Blémont, I trust that this adventure will cause you to reflect -seriously, that it will reform you as it will me. We must mend our ways, -my friend. For my own part, I swear on the faith of Ferdinand Bélan, -that the loveliest woman in Paris, if she is not free——”</p> - -<p>I did not wait for the end of the little man’s sermon; I smiled and left -him, and walked up the street toward Monsieur Giraud’s.</p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br /><br /> -THE GIRAUD FAMILY</h2> - -<p>Monsieur Giraud’s was a most amusing household; there was nothing -extraordinary about it, however, for the absurdities that one met with -there are common in society; but in order to be comical, things never -need to be extraordinary.<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a></p> - -<p>Monsieur Giraud was a man of forty years of age; he had been a -government clerk, a notary’s clerk, a lottery collector; he had done -many things, and I fancy that he had done nothing well; but he was as -prying and inquisitive as a concierge, and he even pretended to be a -ladies’ man, although he was very ugly and his breath made his coming -perceptible three yards away; which did not prevent him from speaking -right into your face, the ordinary mania of people who have that -infirmity.</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud was about her husband’s age. She was neither ugly nor -beautiful; but unfortunately she was as pretentious as he, she always -dressed like a provincial actress, and above all was determined to -appear slender, at the risk of being unable to breathe.</p> - -<p>Then there was a son of eleven, who was the very picture of his father -and who still played with a Noah’s ark; another son of four, who was -allowed to do exactly as he pleased, and who abused the license to such -an extent that there was not a whole piece of furniture in the house; -and lastly, there was a little girl of eight, who assumed to play the -mistress and to whip her two brothers, to show that she had already -reached the age of reason. Add to these an ill-tempered dog which barked -for five minutes at every new arrival, and a stout cat which always wore -a collar of corks and had a plaster on its head, and you will know the -whole Giraud family. I say nothing of the servant, because they changed -servants every fortnight.</p> - -<p>I do not know whether those people were rich—I am not in the habit of -prying into things which do not concern me—but I do not think that they -were in such comfortable circumstances as they chose to make it appear. -I have an idea that Monsieur Giraud, who tried to marry<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> all the -bachelors whom he met, exacted a commission—<i>droit</i>—for such marriages -as he arranged; and it surely was not the <i>droit du seigneur</i>.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The <i>droit du seigneur</i> was the privilege enjoyed by the -feudal lord of first sharing the bed of every newly-married woman among -his feudatories.</p></div> - -<p>I reached the house. I went up to the third floor. I heard children -crying and recognized the voices of Mademoiselle Joséphine Giraud and -her older brother. Blended with them were the strains of a piano and a -flute, from which I concluded that the party was at its height.</p> - -<p>I entered the dining room. A maid whom I did not know was filling -glasses with sugar and water; I thought that she tasted it to make sure -that it was good. The brother and sister were quarrelling over a piece -of cake. At that moment Monsieur Giraud came from the salon, carrying in -his hand a lamp with a globe; he came toward me with his lamp.</p> - -<p>“Is it you, my dear Monsieur Blémont? Delighted to see you. Ah! why -didn’t you come a little earlier? Céran just sang, and he was in fine -voice; it was wonderful! And we have just had a concerted piece for the -flute and piano. Two amateurs; and they played it with extraordinary -fire. This infernal lamp won’t burn; I don’t know what’s the matter with -it. Come in, come in. We have a lot of people. There will be more -singing. And there are some very pretty women; there are several -marriageable ones, my dear fellow, and with good dowries. If you should -happen to want—you know, you will have to come to it at last.—The -devil take this lamp; the wick is new, too.”</p> - -<p>I entered the salon, but it was very difficult to move there; in the -first place, the room was not large, and the<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> ladies were all seated in -a circle which no man was permitted to break as yet; so that one must -needs be content to walk behind the ladies’ chairs, at the risk of -disturbing some of them, or of treading on the feet of the men who were -standing in the narrow passage. I know no greater bore than a party -where the ladies are drawn up in that way, like borders in a garden, not -talking with the men, and intent solely upon staring at one another from -the top of the head to the soles of the feet, in order to see what they -may criticise. To add to the discomfort which always prevails in such an -assemblage, the salon was very dimly lighted: a large lamp, the mate of -the one I had seen in Giraud’s hands, diffused only a vague light; and a -few candles, placed at considerable distances apart on the furniture, -were not sufficient to supplement the light furnished by the lamps. All -this, added to the silence of the ladies and to the low whisperings in -which the gentlemen ventured to indulge, imparted a touch of gloom and -mystery to the function; one might have imagined oneself at Robertson’s -theatre during the phantasmagoria.</p> - -<p>I spied Madame Giraud in the passageway. She saw me too, and tried to -come to me by pushing aside several gentlemen, and smiling at those who -moved only half enough, so that they might have the pleasure of rubbing -against her. At last we met. As I could not understand the behavior of -those gentlemen, who talked in low tones as if they were at church, I -ventured to inquire for the hostess’s health in my ordinary voice, which -drew all eyes toward me for a moment; it did not produce an ill effect -however, for several young men, who probably had not dared to break the -ice, at once began to talk more freely, and the mysterious whisperings -became less frequent.<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a></p> - -<p>“If you had come sooner,” said Madame Giraud, “you would have heard a -fine performance. Ah! we had something very fine just now.”</p> - -<p>I was tempted to reply that it was not at all fine at present, but I did -not do it; in society it is not safe to say all that one thinks; one who -did so would be very unwelcome. In a moment, Madame Giraud exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Where on earth is Monsieur Giraud? What is he doing with his lamp? This -one won’t go now! How unpleasant it is!—What do you think of that young -woman by the fireplace? Forty-five thousand francs in cash, and -expectations. That is not to be despised. You will hear her in a moment: -she is going to sing something Italian. Ah! how angry Monsieur Giraud -makes me!”</p> - -<p>At last Monsieur Giraud reappeared, proudly carrying the lamp, which -diffused a brilliant light. He placed it on a table, saying:</p> - -<p>“It will go now. There was only a little thing to fix.”</p> - -<p>“You must do the same with the other one now,” said Madame Giraud, “for, -as you see, that won’t burn.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that’s so. Well! I’ll take it out and do the same thing to it.”</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud detained her husband as he was going to take the other -lamp, and said to him in an undertone, but not so low that I could not -hear her:</p> - -<p>“Just fancy that Dufloc refusing to sing!”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! really?”</p> - -<p>“He says that he has a cold.”</p> - -<p>“It’s just spitefulness. It’s because we haven’t invited him to dinner.”</p> - -<p>“We must start something, however. There’s no life at all in the thing.”</p> - -<p>“We had better begin the dancing right away.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, it’s too early.<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Then try to get Montausol and his wife to sing, or Mademoiselle Dupuis. -Arrange that, while I attend to the lamp.”</p> - -<p>The husband and wife separated, and I, taking advantage of the renewed -light, thought about fulfilling my mission, and I passed the company in -review, to see if Montdidier and his chaste spouse were present.</p> - -<p>There were in truth some very pretty women in that salon, and they would -have been still more so if, instead of the yawns which they strove to -dissemble, their faces had been enlivened by pleasure. There was one -especially, near the piano; she was evidently unmarried. She was -charming; her face betokened sweet temper and intelligence, and those -are two qualities which one rarely sees in the same face. Lovely fair -hair, not too light, blue eyes not too staring, a pretty mouth, a very -white skin, pink cheeks, and refined taste in her dress and the -arrangement of her hair; it seemed to me that there was refinement in -every curl. She did not seem to be bored, which fact indicated that she -was accustomed to society.</p> - -<p>That young woman’s lovely eyes caused me to lose sight of Bélan and his -errand. But I suddenly spied Madame Montdidier. She was talking and -laughing with the lady beside her. That seemed to me a good sign: if she -had had a scene with her husband, it seemed to me that she would not be -in such good spirits. To be sure, in society, people are very skilful in -concealing their sentiments. I determined to look for the husband; a man -is less adroit in concealing what he feels. Even he who is not in love -with his wife feels that his self-esteem is wounded when he is certain -that he is betrayed. That feeling should be visible on the face when it -is so recent. Poor husbands! how we laugh at them so long as<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> we are -bachelors! For my part, I hoped to laugh as heartily when I should be -married. In the first place, I flattered myself that I should have a -virtuous wife; a man should always flatter himself to that extent; and -then—if—Bless my soul! is it such a terrible thing? I remembered La -Fontaine’s two lines:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When one knows it, ‘tis a very trifle;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">When one knows it not, ‘tis nothing at all.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I did not discover Montdidier in that salon. I thought that he might -perhaps be in the bedroom, where they were playing écarté. I tried to go -there; but it was not an easy matter. I wondered if no one would make -bold to break the circle formed by those ladies, and I determined to -seize the first opportunity.</p> - -<p>The dog barked; that announced new arrivals. That dog played to -perfection the part of a servant. The newcomers were ladies. So much the -better; it would be necessary to break the circle in order to enlarge -it. And that is what actually happened. As soon as I saw an opening, I -stepped in. A young man, who was not sorry for an opportunity to -approach a certain lady, followed my example; then another, and another; -the old story of Panurge’s sheep. The circle was definitely broken. The -men mingled with the ladies; it became possible to move about, and it -was to me that they owed it! I had caused a revolution in Giraud’s -salon; a revolution, however, that did not cause anybody’s death.</p> - -<p>I had instinctively drawn near to the attractive young woman whom I had -admired at a distance. She seemed to me still more attractive at closer -quarters. I forgot that Bélan was waiting before a glass of sugar and -water, for me to bring him life or death. It was hard for me to leave -the place where I was.<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p> - -<p>But the piano began again—someone was going to sing. It seemed to me -that I might remain long enough to hear the performance. It proved to be -the Montausols, who were about to give us a duet. They must have been a -very united couple; one of them never sang without the other. Imagine a -short but enormously stout man, whose violet cheeks seemed on the point -of bursting when he drew a breath, and who consequently was a frightful -object when he sang in a stentorian voice that vibrated like a -bass-viol. His wife was very short too, and at least as stout as her -husband; she seemed to suffer terribly in her efforts to produce from -her chest shrill tones that pierced the drum of the ear. The couple had -a passion for difficult pieces; they proposed to regale us with grand -opera. A lady was seated at the piano. The husband glanced at his wife, -puffing like a bull during the prelude; the wife looked at her husband, -raising one of her hands to mark the time. Each seemed to say to the -other:</p> - -<p>“Now, stand to your guns! Let us carry this by storm! Let us deafen -them!”</p> - -<p>The recitative began; at the third measure the audience no longer knew -where they were. The husband and wife hurled their notes at each other -as two tennis players drive the ball with all their strength. When one -of them made a mistake or lagged behind, the other’s eyes flashed fire, -and he or she moved his whole body in order to restore the time.</p> - -<p>As I had not sufficient self-control to watch the two singers with a -sober face, I turned my eyes toward that young woman who was close -beside me; that was the best way to forget the music. She was not -laughing, but I fancied that I could see that she was biting her lips. -It is a fact that one is sometimes sorely embarrassed to keep a sober -face in a salon. She had raised<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> her eyes toward me; she seemed more -embarrassed than before, and turned her head away. Perhaps my persistent -scrutiny had offended her; perhaps it was ill-bred to gaze at her so -fixedly. I did not think of that. I did it, not so that she should -notice me, but because I took pleasure in looking at her. I made haste -to turn my eyes in another direction, to give attention to the music. -That wretched duet went on and on. The husband and wife perspired -profusely. It occurred to me that they should be treated like those -gymnasts to whom the spectators shout to stop when their performances -become too terrifying.</p> - -<p>I was amusing myself by watching our melomaniacs, when the lights -suddenly went down; Montausol leaned over the music, and during the -pauses in his part exclaimed impatiently:</p> - -<p>“Snuff the candles, snuff the candles, I say! We can’t see at all.”</p> - -<p>But the darkness was not due to the candles; it was the lamp which -Giraud had fixed, which had suddenly lost all its brilliancy. Madame -Giraud hastily summoned her husband, who was still busy over the other -lamp. Giraud appeared with a huge pair of scissors in his hand and -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand it at all; it can’t be the oil, for that is new.”</p> - -<p>“Papa,” said the little girl, “I saw my brother Alexandre putting little -lead men in the lamp yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! if that little rascal has been playing with the lamps, I don’t -wonder they won’t burn. My wife lets him play with everything! Some day -he’ll upset my desk.”</p> - -<p>“It is impossible for me to scold my children,” said Madame Giraud to -the people nearest her. “As soon as<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> they seem to be unhappy, I am ready -to be ill. And then little Alexandre is so cunning, so sweet!”</p> - -<p>The mother was interrupted by a loud noise in the reception room; the -dog barked and the little girl appeared at the door of the salon, -crying:</p> - -<p>“My little brother just upset the waiter with the glasses on it.”</p> - -<p>This incident turned the whole household topsy-turvy: the mother ran to -her broken glasses; the father left his lamps to try to catch his son; -and little Alexandre ran between everybody’s legs and finally crawled -under a sofa, sticking his tongue out at his father.</p> - -<p>The duet came to an end amid this uproar; indeed the singers had -continued to sing after the other guests had ceased to pay any heed to -them. So the Montausols left the piano, in evident ill humor. They took -seats behind me, saying to each other:</p> - -<p>“They won’t catch me singing at their house again!”</p> - -<p>“I should think not. These people don’t know what good music is.”</p> - -<p>“No, they must always have something new! We will go away after the -punch.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, if there is any.”</p> - -<p>I left the salon and walked into the bedroom. I saw Montdidier talking -with several men. I could detect nothing unusual in his face, but he was -talking earnestly. I drew near with apparent indifference. Indeed, I was -at liberty to listen with the rest; there was no secrecy about it.</p> - -<p>“Yes, messieurs,” said Montdidier, “I arrived just as the cab tipped -over. My wife was coming from her aunt’s and was on her way here. But -the one who had the worst fright of all was poor Bélan. He was passing -the cab, so it seems, when the hind wheel came off; when<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> he saw the cab -toppling over in his direction, he thought that he was a dead man; and -as the window in the door was open, he jumped through into the cab in -order not to be crushed. He is very small, you know. My wife told me -that he came in as nimbly as a monkey. Then, finding that the cab didn’t -move, he opened the door and escaped. My wife is convinced that, in his -excitement, he did not recognize her; and that is probably true, or else -he would at least have offered his hand to help her out of the cab. Ha! -ha! ha! ha! Poor Bélan! I will have a good laugh at him when I see him!”</p> - -<p>And Monsieur Montdidier began to laugh again, as did his auditors; I -followed their example with all my heart; in fact, I was the one to -laugh the most heartily. And so Montdidier, seeing how greatly amused I -was, came to me and put his hand on my shoulder, saying:</p> - -<p>“Did you hear about my wife’s adventure?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And her meeting with Bélan? Wasn’t it most amusing?”</p> - -<p>“Exceedingly amusing!”</p> - -<p>“I would give a napoleon if Bélan would come here this evening, so that -I could have a little fun at his expense.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply, but I disappeared in the crowd in order to obtain for -that unfortunate husband the pleasure that he desired. It seemed to me -no more than fair that he should have a little pleasure.</p> - -<p>I left the house unnoticed. I hastened to the café where the anxious -lover awaited me; I found him before his third glass of sugar and water, -pale and disturbed, drawing no good augury from my long absence. I made -haste to reassure him, and told him laughingly what I had learned.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> - -<p>While I was speaking, Bélan’s features recovered all their serenity. -Before I had finished he was leaning over the table and holding his -sides with laughter.</p> - -<p>“This is charming! It is delicious! That will do, Blémont, that will do. -I shall die with laughter.—So I jumped in through the window! Oh! these -women! They have ideas, inventions for every emergency! I was a fool to -be worried.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I told you a little while ago, but then you were not in a -condition to listen to me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I admit, I was in torment—not for myself, but for her. But it is -all right; let’s not think any more about it, except to laugh at it. -Waiter, take out the price of three glasses of water. I can’t be at -Giraud’s soon enough. Is it a brilliant affair? Are there many people -there?”</p> - -<p>“It is not exactly brilliant, but there are a great many people, and I -noticed some very pretty women.”</p> - -<p>“Pretty women!—Wait till I arrange my cravat.”</p> - -<p>“But you know, Bélan, that this adventure was to have reformed you; that -you swore never again to have anything to say to the ladies.”</p> - -<p>“I did not include all ladies; those who are free are not included in my -oath. And then, deuce take it! a man may say that in the first -excitement. Let us go to Giraud’s; I will sing; I know a new song. You -will suggest to them to ask me to sing, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“You evidently are determined that I shall be your confederate.”</p> - -<p>Bélan replied only by making a pirouette; he was in a state of frantic -gayety. We walked to Giraud’s, and I advised him not to come in until a -few moments after me; I did not wish to have the appearance of having -gone to fetch him, and I tried to return unseen, as I had left.<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a></p> - -<p>I found Giraud in the reception room, staring in dismay at his two -lamps, which were on the point of going out. He did not see that I came -in from outside, for he was entirely engrossed by his wicks; and he said -as he handed one of them to me:</p> - -<p>“This is incomprehensible. You will bear witness that I am putting in -new wicks; we will see if they char like the others.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see that you take a great deal of trouble to entertain us.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! when they once begin to burn well!—Théodore, Monsieur Théodore, -will you be kind enough not to touch the cakes! For shame! A great boy -of your age!—He is more of a glutton than his little brother.”</p> - -<p>“Let me take one, papa; I want it to play at having dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Play at having dinner, at eleven years! Aren’t you ashamed? Don’t touch -the cake.—But it’s very slow inside! My wife don’t know how to keep -things going. We ought to begin to dance. Monsieur Blémont, it would be -very kind of you to start the dancing.”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that I don’t play the piano.”</p> - -<p>“No, but you might tell my wife to ask somebody to play a contradance. -We don’t lack players.”</p> - -<p>“Before I do your errand, pray tell me who that pretty young woman in -pink is who was sitting near the piano?”</p> - -<p>“In pink, near the piano—with gold ornaments in her hair?”</p> - -<p>“No, she hasn’t any gold in her hair; she is a blonde, rather pale, and -exceedingly pretty.”</p> - -<p>“A blonde, pretty—you see there are several here in pink. Look you, -when I have fixed my lamps, you must point her out to me.<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>”</p> - -<p>I saw that there was nothing to be obtained from Monsieur Giraud at that -moment, so I returned to the salon. A gentleman had seated himself at -the piano, but not to play for dancing; it was to sing, to play preludes -and detached passages, as he happened to remember them. Beside him was a -friend, who, when he had finished one fragment of a tune, instantly -asked for another, saying:</p> - -<p>“And that air from <i>Tancrède</i>. And the romanza from <i>Othello</i>. And that -pretty bit from the overture to <i>Semiramide</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“Try to remember that.”</p> - -<p>And the gentleman played on, began, stopped, branched off to something -else; in short, acted as if he were at home; you will understand how -entertaining that was to the company. It had been going on for a long -while, and the gentleman seemed to have no idea of stopping; it was as -if the piano had been placed there for him, and we were too fortunate to -have the privilege of listening to the preludes, the flourishes, and -whatever he happened to remember. I have met in society many original -creatures like that gentleman.</p> - -<p>Bélan had been in the salon for some time; he had gone in before me. I -saw him talking and laughing with Montdidier, and I guessed the subject -of their conversation. Madame Montdidier looked uneasily at Bélan, for -she did not know that he was forewarned of what he should say; but she -was reassured when she saw that they seemed to be on the best of terms. -Poor Montdidier did not seem to me to be so ill-tempered and so jealous -as his wife represented. The ladies like to say that a man is very -jealous of them; it flatters their self-esteem; and then too there would -be no pleasure in deceiving men who did not care.<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a></p> - -<p>In vain did Madame Giraud bustle about to find a singer of either sex; -every virtuoso had some reason for refusing. That annoyed the hostess, -who was anxious to be able to say that she had had a concert before the -ball, and who saw that everyone was doing his utmost to avoid listening -to the essays of the gentleman at the piano. She made up her mind at -last to say to him that the company desired a contradance; and the -gentleman left the piano with a nonchalant air, running his hands -through his hair and humming a fragment of Rossini.</p> - -<p>I determined to invite the young woman whom I found so attractive; not -that I intended to make a declaration during the contradance; such -things are done only at a public ball, or possibly at a wedding party at -a restaurant; but I proposed to try to talk a little, if she seemed to -be in a talkative mood. There are many young women with whom it is -impossible to obtain more than three words in succession when they are -dancing. I arrived just in time and my invitation was accepted; we -danced. I tried to say something besides: “It is very hot,” or: “This is -a very pretty dance.” It is really very hard to think instantly of -something to say to a person whom one does not know, especially when one -would like to depart from the usual commonplaces.</p> - -<p>But Giraud returned with his two lamps resplendent with light. There was -a subject of conversation.</p> - -<p>“We needed them; there is nothing so dismal as a badly-lighted ballroom; -is there, mademoiselle?”</p> - -<p>“That is true, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“There are some ladies here, however, who might prefer a half light.”</p> - -<p>She contented herself with smiling.</p> - -<p>“You have not sung, mademoiselle?”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, monsieur, I sang one song.<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Then it must have been before I came. That makes me deeply regret that -I came so late.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t lose much, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot believe you as to that; but if—Ah! it’s your turn.”</p> - -<p>The figure interrupted our conversation; it was most annoying, for -perhaps we had made a real start.</p> - -<p>After the figure I tried to renew the conversation.</p> - -<p>“Will you not sing again, mademoiselle?”</p> - -<p>“I sincerely hope not; I have paid my debt and that is enough.”</p> - -<p>“Are you not fond of music?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very fond of it,—with people whom I know. I do not see the -necessity of entertaining people whom one has never seen, and who often -listen only from politeness.”</p> - -<p>“You judge society already with——”</p> - -<p>The deuce! another figure. At last the final figure came and the dance -was at an end. No matter, I had had an opportunity to decide that the -young woman was not a fool. Perhaps she would not have said as much of -me.</p> - -<p>I seized Giraud as he was about to turn up his lamps, which were already -beginning to go out.</p> - -<p>“You saw me dancing with that young lady opposite us?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was my partner whom I was asking you about just now.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! that is Mademoiselle Eugénie Dumeillan.”</p> - -<p>“Who is Mademoiselle Dumeillan?”</p> - -<p>“She is the daughter of Madame Dumeillan, who is sitting beside her.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Monsieur Giraud, I have no doubt that that young lady is the -daughter of her father and her mother;<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> but when I ask you who she is, I -mean, what sort of people are they? What do they do? In short, I ask in -order to learn something about them. How is it that you, who are a mine -of information, do not understand that?”</p> - -<p>“I do, I do. But, you see, she isn’t on my list of marriageable women. -However, she is of marriageable age, but they haven’t begun to think -about it yet; whereas that tall brunette yonder, in a turban—my dear -fellow, she has a hundred thousand francs in cash. That’s not bad, is -it? Ah! if I were not married!—Wife, look after your son Alexandre; he -will upset the tea-things, and all the cups will meet the fate of the -glasses!”</p> - -<p>“My dear Monsieur Giraud, I care very little about the amount of that -tall brunette’s dowry. Can you tell me anything more about the ladies -opposite?”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon. The mother is a widow; Monsieur Dumeillan was deputy -chief in some department or other, I don’t know what one; however, he -was a deputy chief and he left his widow four or five thousand francs a -year, I believe. Mademoiselle Eugénie has had an excellent education; -she is an accomplished musician and she will also have something that an -aunt has left her; I don’t know just how much, but I can find out. She -will not be a bad match; she’s an only daughter. Would you like me to -speak in your name?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t play any such trick as that on me! Who in the devil said that I -proposed to marry? Can’t a man open his mouth about a woman without -thinking of marrying her?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say no; but as one must come to that at last——”</p> - -<p>“Papa, my brother Théodore is stuffing pieces of sugared orange into his -pocket.<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>”</p> - -<p>It was Mademoiselle Giraud who made this announcement. Giraud left me to -whip his older son. Thereupon Bélan approached me.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you told Giraud to ask me to sing, that he doesn’t mention it?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu, Bélan, let us alone with your singing! We’ve had quite enough -of it! We prefer to dance.”</p> - -<p>“That is because you have not heard me; I know very well that I should -have given pleasure; I learned a tune on purpose. By the way, you don’t -know—Hélène treats me coldly, yes, very coldly; she doesn’t like it -because I ran away so suddenly when I saw her husband. Can you imagine -such a thing? As if I could guess that she would invent a story on the -instant! However, she can be mad if she chooses, it’s all one to me; I -no longer care for her in the least; I still see her putting her hand in -my eye when we tipped over. She wasn’t pretty then. I have views on that -little woman in black yonder—do you see, a stout party, with an ardent -glance; that is promising.”</p> - -<p>“But she is married; her husband is playing écarté; he is a receiver in -the Registration Office.”</p> - -<p>“Good! so much the better, we will play some fine tricks on the -receiver.”</p> - -<p>More dancing; this time Mademoiselle Eugénie was at the piano. She -played with much ease and taste. I regretted that I was not a musician; -I had given painting the preference. Painting is a delightful art, but -it does not afford the same advantages in society as music. In a salon, -people will neglect the painter to pet and coddle the musician: in -truth, one does not always think of dancing and singing.</p> - -<p>The quadrille was only half through when the two lamps went out once -more. The last two figures were<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> danced in a half light, or rather in -semi-darkness. Everybody laughed while Madame Giraud scolded her -husband, and he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Faith! I give it up, I am wasting my time. Théodore, tell the maid to -bring more candles.”</p> - -<p>Théodore left the salon, but only to pay a visit to the sideboard in the -dining-room. A third contradance was formed without any improvement in -the light; it began, accompanied by the cries of Madame Giraud, still -calling for more candles; by the lamentations of Giraud, who kept -raising and lowering the wicks of his lamps to no purpose; by the -howling of the three children who were quarrelling over the sweetmeats, -and by the barking of the dog, who escorted all the departing guests to -the door, yelping at their heels.</p> - -<p>Bélan, who was dancing opposite the stout party, paid little heed to the -noise and thought only of performing his figures; but the semi-darkness -which reigned in the salon prevented him from seeing a slice of orange -which Monsieur Théodore had dropped from his pocket; as he tried to -execute a slide, Bélan slid in good earnest, and fell between the legs -of his vis-à-vis.</p> - -<p>The ladies shrieked with terror. Bélan rose, holding his side and -swearing that he would not have fallen if he had not trodden upon -something. The little Giraud girl picked up the crushed slice of orange -and cried:</p> - -<p>“It was my brother who threw that on the floor.”</p> - -<p>And the father left the salon, giving Bélan his word that his son should -be punished when everybody had gone.</p> - -<p>That contradance was the last; the candles threatened to follow the -example of the lamps, and the dancers were afraid of falling in with -slices of orange when they balanced their partners.<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a></p> - -<p>Everybody departed. I went downstairs at the same time as Mademoiselle -Dumeillan and her mother. I offered the latter my hand, while looking at -the daughter only; I assisted them into a cab and bowed. That was as far -as I could go at a first meeting.</p> - -<p>I heard someone laughing and humming behind me. It was Bélan, following -the lady in black and her husband; as he passed he whispered in my ear:</p> - -<p>“I am following her, it’s all right. As for La Montdidier, that is all -over, it’s broken off, we are sworn enemies. Adieu, I must pursue my -conquest.”</p> - -<p>A moment later Montdidier and his wife passed, accompanied by a tall, -fair-haired youth who had stood behind madame’s chair all the evening.</p> - -<p>I smiled as I remembered Bélan’s purpose to be virtuous, and I could not -forbear exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Oh! these men! these women!”</p> - -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br /><br /> -A PAIR OF LOVERS</h2> - -<p>I lived on Rue Meslay, in a large house where there were apartments for -all sorts of persons, even for those who had no money; and where, -consequently, the man who passed the night working to earn his living -used the same staircase as the man who passed the night amusing himself; -the only difference was that the former went up higher. But even under -the eaves there are pleasures and love and some very charming faces. The -man who knows how to find them is not afraid to go up rather high.<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p> - -<p>I knew that there were at the top of my house—that is to say, of the -house where I lived—some small, unplastered rooms, with cracks in the -walls and loose doors and windows, where the chimneys smoked, where one -froze in winter, where the rats and mice came every night to visit the -occupants, and which, none the less, the landlord let for the highest -price that he could obtain; however, he would not accept everybody as a -tenant, but insisted upon having none but quiet people. I had never been -up to inspect those little rooms. It was not for lack of inclination, -however, for I had met several times on my staircase a very pretty girl, -who, as I knew, occupied one of the most modest apartments on the fifth -floor. She had not the aspect of a common working girl, nor had she the -wide-awake air of a grisette, and yet she was almost that, for she -worked for her living. She made wreaths, so the concierge told me, and -mended linen when people chose to give her any to mend. But she seemed -so young that she inspired little confidence in the people to whom she -went to ask for work; and yet one may be quite as honest at sixteen -years as at forty. Honesty is in the blood; when one must look to time -and experience for it, it is never built on a very solid foundation.</p> - -<p>Little Marguerite had not been able to obtain a room in the house -without difficulty. The landlord considered her too young and did not -want to let a room to her; he was surprised that she should have -quarters of her own so early. But the girl had a certain air of candor -which disarmed the landlord’s sternness; she swore that she was very -quiet, that she made no noise and never stayed out late; and he let a -room to her for a hundred and thirty francs a year. It was necessary to -make many wreaths to earn that amount.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a></p> - -<p>Despite her innocent air, Mademoiselle Marguerite had a lover; but when -a girl has but one, when she receives only him and goes out only with -him, she is justified in saying that she is quiet, and even honest. -Honesty does not consist solely in innocence. I once had a maid who was -absolutely virtuous, and who stole my cravats.</p> - -<p>I knew nothing of all these details when I first met the girl on the -stairway. When I saw those small features that indicated that she was -barely fifteen, those great light-blue eyes, that tiny mouth, that tiny -figure—for, except her eyes, everything about Mademoiselle Marguerite -seemed to be tiny—I made eyes at her, that is to say, I looked hard at -her, and tried to make her look at me; but she paid no attention to my -ogling and ran quickly down the stairs. Another time I ventured upon a -few words, a compliment or two, but she did not reply; after that I -ceased to ogle her or to speak to her, for I am not obstinate, and -according to my belief, in order to please a woman one must please her -at the outset.</p> - -<p>Once, however, Mademoiselle Marguerite had rung at my door; when I found -that she had come to pay me a visit, I did not know just what to think; -but the girl, whose eyes were swollen with tears and who was sobbing -pitifully, gave no thought to the impropriety of what she was doing. She -came to ask me if I had seen her cat, which had disappeared that -morning. On learning that I had not seen her poor Moquette, she darted -away like an arrow, paying no heed to the consoling words which I -attempted to offer her.</p> - -<p>Thereupon I said to myself: “That is a virtuous girl; for I consider it -virtuous to be faithful to her lover.” I talked a little about her with -my concierge, and what I learned confirmed me in my opinion.<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a></p> - -<p>“Yes, she is very quiet,” said the concierge, “except when she is -running after her cat, which she plays with as if she was only five -years old. But after all, she is very young still. And she has a friend -who is almost as young as she is. He’s a very nice fellow, too. But -they’re as poor as Job! A room with nothing in it but a bed, and such a -bed! four pieces of wood, which fall apart as soon as you touch ‘em, a -little sideboard that ain’t worth more than fifteen sous, four chairs, a -wash bowl and a little three-franc mirror; how can anyone get along with -that? That’s what Mademoiselle Marguerite calls her household! But still -she pays her rent, and there’s nothing to say.”</p> - -<p>“Her lover is a workman, I suppose, an apprentice?”</p> - -<p>“No indeed! he’s a dandy, a gentleman, in fact; but he seems to think -that she’s well enough off as she is, or else he can’t do any better; -and I give you my word that the girl eats potatoes oftener than anything -else. But as long as she can see her Ernest and play with her cat, she’s -as happy as a queen.”</p> - -<p>Since I had known all this, I had regarded the girl with a friendly -interest simply. Some time after, that interest became still greater. I -overheard involuntarily a conversation between Mademoiselle Marguerite -and an old count who lived on the same landing with me. Monsieur le -comte was an old rake; there was nothing extraordinary in that; we are -all rakes more or less. He, too, used to ogle our young neighbor, and -one day, when I was about to go out, my door happened to be ajar, and -the following dialogue reached my ears:</p> - -<p>“Listen, listen, my pretty little minx; I have a couple of words to say -to you.”</p> - -<p>“What are they, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, that you are a sweetheart.<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! if that’s all, it is——”</p> - -<p>“Listen, my dear love, I wish to make you happy.”</p> - -<p>“Happy? Why, I am very happy, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“A girl can’t be happy when she lives under the eaves, in a wretched, -poorly-furnished chamber. I will give you a pretty apartment and money -to buy whatever you want.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that, monsieur? What do you take me for?”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Mademoiselle Marguerite, don’t play the prude; when a girl -has a lover, when she lives with a young man, she should not be so -severe.”</p> - -<p>“Because I have a lover, monsieur, is that any reason why I should -listen to such things?”</p> - -<p>“Your little popinjay of a lover gives you nothing, and will drop you -the first thing you know; whereas I will agree to give you an allowance, -and, if you behave yourself, I——”</p> - -<p>“I beg you to say no more, monsieur, and never speak to me again; if you -do, I will tell Ernest that you called him a popinjay, and how you have -been talking to me. Ah! he will teach you a lesson.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? You insolent, impertinent little hussy!”</p> - -<p>“Bah! you old fool!”</p> - -<p>And with that, the girl ran quickly upstairs. Monsieur le comte returned -to his room grumbling, and I said to myself:</p> - -<p>“She must really love her Ernest, since she prefers poverty with him to -comfort with another;” and I was almost ashamed of having made some few -sweet speeches to her, for, without being constant oneself, one may well -do homage to constancy.</p> - -<p>I was curious to see her lover; but probably he came early in the -morning and went away late, or not at all.<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> One day, however, I met him; -and I was surprised to find that I knew him; I had met him several times -in society. He was a young man of excellent family, not more than twenty -years old; he was a comely youth, but he had a mania for writing for the -stage, and had not as yet succeeded in having any of his plays produced, -except a few unimportant things at some of the boulevard theatres. His -parents did not approve of his taste for the drama, and desired to force -him to enter the government service; but he always found a way to delay -until the place was filled; and his parents, who were not at all -satisfied with him, gave him very little pocket money. Poor fellow! I -understood why his little mistress had potatoes oftener than quail.</p> - -<p>I knew him only by his family name; I did not know that his name was -Ernest. When we met on the stairs, he smiled and we bowed. I did not try -to stop him, he always went up so rapidly. I understood that he was more -anxious to be up there with her than to talk with me.</p> - -<p>It was a long time since I had met Marguerite and her young lover. On -returning from Giraud’s party, I noticed much commotion in my -concierge’s lodge; the husband and wife were both up, although it was -after midnight, and one of them was ordinarily in bed by eleven o’clock. -An old cook who lived in the house was also in their lodge; they were -talking earnestly and I overheard these words:</p> - -<p>“She is very ill; the midwife shook her head, and that’s a very bad -sign.”</p> - -<p>“Who is very ill?” I asked, as I took my candle.</p> - -<p>“Why, monsieur, it’s little Marguerite; she has had a miscarriage.”</p> - -<p>“What! was that poor child enceinte?<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say that you haven’t noticed it, monsieur? She was -four and a half months gone.”</p> - -<p>“Is not Monsieur Ernest with her?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he is like a madman. He has just gone home; it’s only a few steps -away. He took our little nephew with him, so as to bring something back -with him probably; for there ain’t anything at all upstairs.”</p> - -<p>At that moment there was a loud knocking at the gate. Someone opened it -and Ernest came into the courtyard with a mattress on his head; the -young man had not hesitated to endanger his fine clothes by doing the -work of a porter; when it is a question of helping the woman one loves, -such things are not considered. Moreover, at midnight, the streets are -not crowded.</p> - -<p>The little nephew came behind, bringing an armchair covered with Utrecht -velvet; I saw that young Ernest, without the knowledge of his parents, -had despoiled his own chamber in order to provide his young friend with -a little furniture.</p> - -<p>“It is high time that you came back, monsieur,” said the concierge, with -that alarming manner which heightens the effect of bad news. -“Mademoiselle Marguerite is very sick; there’s complications. In fact, -she is losing all her blood, and you know it can’t go on long that way.”</p> - -<p>The young man uttered a cry of dismay, and throwing the mattress to the -ground, ran up the stairs four at a time, without stopping to listen to -anything more. I remained in front of the concierges’ lodge, both of -them being too old and too lazy to offer to carry up the mattress; as -for the little nephew, it was all that he could do to climb up with the -chair, and the cook was there solely to gossip. I soon made up my mind: -I took the mattress on my shoulders and I went up with it to the fifth -floor.<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a></p> - -<p>I reached the door of little Marguerite’s bedroom. It was not locked, -and yet I dared not go in. I knew that the girl was so poor; and one -should be especially careful when dealing with poor people. Perhaps she -and her lover would be offended to think that I had ventured to come up. -And yet, since she was so ill——</p> - -<p>While I was hesitating, standing at the door with the mattress on my -shoulders, I heard a shrill voice say:</p> - -<p>“Send for a doctor, monsieur; I won’t be responsible; you must have a -doctor, she needs one very bad.”</p> - -<p>A very weak voice, which I recognized as the young girl’s, said:</p> - -<p>“Stay here, Ernest, don’t leave me. I feel better when you are here.”</p> - -<p>I pushed the door open and dropped the mattress in a corner of the room, -saying:</p> - -<p>“I will go out and call a doctor; stay with her, as it does her good.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, yes, do go,” said Ernest; “oh! how grateful I shall be to -you!”</p> - -<p>I heard no more; I descended the stairs rapidly and nearly overturned -the concierge’s little nephew, who had only reached the third floor with -his chair; I believe that the little rascal sat down on it at every -landing. At last I was in the street; I ran at random, looking about for -some shop that was still open, where I could inquire if there was a -doctor in the neighborhood.</p> - -<p>Where should I apply? Everybody was in bed; I saw many midwives’ signs, -but a midwife was not what I wanted. I ventured to ring at several -doors; I jerked the bells and made an infernal noise.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” the concierges asked me; and I shouted:</p> - -<p>“Isn’t there a doctor in the house?<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>”</p> - -<p>They answered me with abuse, or not at all; people are not polite when -they want to sleep.</p> - -<p>I knew two doctors, but they lived so far away that the poor child would -have time to die before they could get to her. What was I to do? I did -not wish to return alone. I was tempted to cry fire. That method, which -has been employed in several plays, might serve in real life as well; -one always has to frighten one’s fellow-citizens, to obtain anything -from them. Then, when everybody had come to the windows, I would call -for a doctor.</p> - -<p>I was about to give the alarm, when two men passed me, talking with -great earnestness. I recognized Ernest’s voice; it was he, in fact; -fearing that I would not return quickly enough, he had followed me; but -he had thought to ask the nurse for the address of a doctor, and he had -found one. I ran after him, and he thanked me, although I had been of no -service to him. We returned, walking rapidly, without speaking; poor -Ernest had but one thought, to save his little Marguerite. We arrived. -Ernest went up to his mistress with the surgeon. I remained in the hall, -going upstairs and down in my excitement. I had simply said to Ernest:</p> - -<p>“If you need anything, I shall be here.”</p> - -<p>How long the minutes seemed to me! Those young lovers loved each other -so dearly! the poor girl was so sweet! if she should die, how her lover -would grieve for her and regret her! To lose such a long future of -happiness! Ah! Death goes sadly astray when it closes eyes of sixteen -years.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that an hour had passed since the doctor went up. But I -heard steps coming down, and someone called me; it was Ernest. Joy -gleamed in his eyes, and he cried:<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a></p> - -<p>“My friend, my friend, she is saved; there is no more danger!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I am so glad to hear it!”</p> - -<p>We shook hands. He had called me his friend, and a few hours earlier we -had hardly known each other; but there are events which bind two people -more closely than sixty evenings passed together in society. It was one -of those events which had happened to us.</p> - -<p>The surgeon came downstairs and Ernest ran to meet him.</p> - -<p>“Are you going, monsieur? Then she is out of danger?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, have no fear; everything is all right now, and as it should -be; I will answer for her; all she needs now is rest.”</p> - -<p>“But you will come to-morrow morning, won’t you, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will come to see her to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>With that the doctor went away and Ernest followed him to the street -door, gazing at him, and listening to him as to an oracle. Ah! that is a -noble art which gives us the means of saving the lives of our fellowmen. -The man who has saved the life of a person whom we love ceases to be a -man in our eyes, and becomes a god.</p> - -<p>I was about to go to my room, but Ernest said to me:</p> - -<p>“Come up with me a moment; it will please her.”</p> - -<p>I followed him. The girl was lying in her bed, which in truth did not -seem to be very soft; however she had, in addition to her ordinary bed, -the mattress that her lover had brought. The midwife was seated in the -armchair, the magnificence of which was in striking contrast to the few -pieces of furniture with which the room was supplied; she had her feet -on a foot-warmer, although she was sitting directly in front of the -fireplace; to be<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> sure, the fire was a very modest one. There was -nothing about the woman to indicate sensibility; one could see that she -was there to practise her profession and that was all; and from her -unamiable expression and the glances that she cast about her, I could -see that the poverty of the room made her apprehensive that she would -not be well paid for her services; however, she had agreed to pass the -night there, and the young man was very grateful to her.</p> - -<p>Ernest walked very softly to the bed; but the girl instantly held out -her hand to him, saying:</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am not asleep, I have no desire to sleep; but I am very -comfortable now. The only thing is that I am afraid it will tire you to -sit up all night; you are just getting over a sickness yourself, and you -are not strong yet. Go home; you know that I am out of danger; the -doctor said so, and since madame will stay——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I will stay,” said the midwife, in a sour tone, “although it -puts me out; but still—great heaven! how cold it is in this room! the -wind blows everywhere. A fine fire that! just two sticks! ain’t there -even a pair of bellows here?”</p> - -<p>Ernest hastily fetched the bellows, and handed them to the woman; then -he returned to the bed, saying:</p> - -<p>“You must know, my love, that I shall not leave you. But here is -Monsieur Blémont, who was good enough to go out to call a doctor, when -he came up an hour ago; we haven’t so much as thought of thanking him.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that is true, my dear.—I beg pardon, monsieur, pray excuse me; but -I was in such pain then——”</p> - -<p>“You owe me no thanks, for it was not I who found your doctor.”</p> - -<p>“No matter,” said Ernest, “you showed some interest in us, and I shall -never forget it.<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What a miserable pair of bellows! Not two sous’ worth of wind! it must -be pleasant here in freezing weather!”</p> - -<p>I turned toward the woman; I should have liked to impose silence upon -her, for it seemed to me that her indiscreet remarks must be painful to -the two lovers. But I was mistaken; they were not listening to her. -Ernest was holding his darling’s hand, and she was gazing lovingly into -his eyes; after their fear of an eternal separation, it seemed to them -that they had recovered each other. They were entirely absorbed in their -love. But Marguerite sighed, and after a moment I heard her whisper to -Ernest:</p> - -<p>“What a pity, my dear! it was a boy!”</p> - -<p>Poor child! although hardly able to keep herself alive, she wanted a -child, because every woman is proud to be a mother, and a child is an -additional bond between her and her lover.</p> - -<p>I was about to leave them when there was a loud noise outside; it was a -crash of broken glass, and it seemed to be on the roof near the window -of the chamber in which we were.</p> - -<p>The midwife uttered a cry of terror, and ran behind me, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“It’s thieves! did you hear, monsieur? They’re coming in the window. We -must rouse the whole house.”</p> - -<p>I confess that I shared the opinion of the nurse, and I was about to -open the window to see what was afoot, when Marguerite, who, instead of -showing signs of alarm, had smiled faintly, motioned to me to stop, and -said to us:</p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed, I know what it is; I am used to that noise now; it is -my neighbor, Monsieur Pettermann, going into his room.<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Who on earth is Monsieur Pettermann, and why does he make such a noise -going into his room?” asked the midwife.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Pettermann is a tailor, and works in his room; but he gets -drunk at least three times a week; on those days he always loses his -door key; then he climbs out on the gutter under the window of the -landing and crawls along, at the risk of breaking his neck, to his own -window, puts his fist through a pane so that he can throw back the -catch, and gets into his room that way. Ask Ernest if we haven’t heard -him do it more than a dozen times.”</p> - -<p>I could not help laughing at Monsieur Pettermann’s habits, while the -nurse exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Oh! the idiot! he gave me a fright. The idea of walking on a gutter! -and when he is drunk, too!”</p> - -<p>“If he was sober, madame, he probably wouldn’t take the risk.”</p> - -<p>“But some day this neighbor of yours will break his neck.”</p> - -<p>“So I have often told him. The day after, when he has his window mended, -he swears that it shall never happen again. The concierge has already -threatened to warn him out if he doesn’t enter by his door, and doesn’t -come home earlier.”</p> - -<p>At that moment we heard someone storming and swearing on the landing. -Monsieur Pettermann, having entered his room, had succeeded in opening -his door, which was fastened only by a spring lock.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he wants a light,” said Marguerite; “it very seldom happens -that he asks me for anything; but he may have seen that we haven’t gone -to bed here.”</p> - -<p>We heard a knock at the door, and a hoarse voice stuttered:<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a></p> - -<p>“I say, neighbor, haven’t you g—g—gone to bed, n—n—neighbor? What -would you s—s—say if I should ask you to l—l—light my little -c—c—candle-end?”</p> - -<p>I was curious to see neighbor Pettermann, and before Ernest had had time -to drop Marguerite’s hand, I opened the door.</p> - -<p>The tailor was still young, with a frank, honest face; but the habit of -drinking too much had made his nose purple and swollen, and his dress -was marked by a lack of order which also betrayed his intemperance.</p> - -<p>On seeing me, he opened his eyes and said:</p> - -<p>“Hello! have I made a mistake? This is funny. Ain’t this my neighbor’s -door, or has she moved?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur,” said Ernest, “but don’t shout so loud; she is sick. What -do you want?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! she is sick, is she, poor little woman!” And Monsieur Pettermann -walked toward the bed, saying: “Are you sick, my little woman? What’s -the matter with you?”</p> - -<p>Ernest stopped the tailor, who was reeking with liquor; and he, always -very polite, although tipsy, fearing that he had done something wrong, -stepped back to the armchair in which the midwife was seated, and sank -upon her lap, saying:</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, that’s so; it’s none of my business. Ah! prout!”</p> - -<p>“Will you get up?” cried the nurse, striking the tailor in the back. He -turned about, stammering:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I was sitting on one of the fair sex, although I hadn’t a suspicion -of it.—Excuse me, my little woman, I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear.”</p> - -<p>“Give me your candle and let me light it for you,” said Ernest; “for -that is what you want, I have no doubt.<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, neighbor, if you would be so kind. I couldn’t use my flint because -I scratched my right hand a little, while getting into my room.”</p> - -<p>Not until then did we notice that the poor fellow’s right hand was -covered with blood, two of his fingers being badly cut. The girl pointed -to a closet in which there were some rags, with which Ernest hastily -bandaged the tailor’s hand. He made no objection, but said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, mon Dieu! it’s nothing at all, a trifle. I don’t know what was the -matter to-night, but I broke two panes instead of one.”</p> - -<p>“But Monsieur Pettermann, don’t you ever propose to give up your habit -of going into your room through the window?”</p> - -<p>“What would you have me do? I lose my key—these keys slip out of your -pocket without your knowing it, and besides, I believe my pocket has a -hole in it. But I promise you that I’ll look after it now, especially as -it is going to be hard for me to sew it up.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s your candle.”</p> - -<p>“Many thanks. Good-night all. Better health to you, neighbor. If you -ever need my services, call on me; don’t hesitate.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, thanks, Monsieur Pettermann.”</p> - -<p>“No, don’t hesitate; call me; it will be a pleasure to me.”</p> - -<p>The tailor returned to his room. I thought that the young invalid must -have need of rest, so I too left the room after wishing them good-night. -But I wanted to say something to Ernest alone. He escorted me downstairs -with the light. When we were both in front of my door, I stopped and -looked at him, and I held my peace; for I really did not know how to -broach the subject.<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a></p> - -<p>Ernest, who did not suspect that I wished to say anything to him, wished -me good-night and was about to go upstairs. I caught his arm to detain -him; I felt that I must make up my mind to speak.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Ernest, I am delighted to have become better acquainted with -you; I hope that our acquaintance will not stop here.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you, monsieur. I hope so too. I tell you again that I shall not -forget your interest in my grief to-night. There are so many people who -would have laughed at my distress, and who would have blamed it.”</p> - -<p>“Such people never see in love-affairs anything more than momentary -pleasure; the moment any pain enters into them, they think they should -be broken off.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes! you are quite right. But good-night, I must go.”</p> - -<p>“One moment more. I wanted to say to you—First of all, I pray you, -excuse me; I trust that what I am going to say will not offend you. -Young men can afford to speak frankly. Although I am five or six years -older than you, I remember very well that when I was eighteen, and was -still living with my parents, I was sometimes sorely embarrassed to give -presents to my mistress. Now listen: your young friend has met with an -accident that will entail expenses which you did not expect so soon. A -young man who lives with his parents is sometimes short of money. Allow -me to offer you my purse. You can repay me when you are able.”</p> - -<p>Ernest shook my hand warmly as he replied:</p> - -<p>“I thank you for your offer, Monsieur Blémont; it does not offend me, -for I do not consider it a crime to be short of money, and I will not -make a pretence of being well supplied with it, for that would give you -a poor idea of my heart, after seeing that poor child’s bedroom.<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> My -parents are well-to-do, as you know; but they treat me very harshly, -because I do not do absolutely what they would like. They think also -that at my age, a young man should not want to spend money upon a -mistress. Perhaps they are not wrong, after all. I assure you, however, -that the privations which Marguerite and I suffer, far from lessening -our love, do in fact increase it. Should we not become attached to a -person in proportion to what she has suffered for our sake? Marguerite -is so young and so pretty, that, if she chose, she could have wealthy -lovers with whom she would enjoy all the luxuries of life; she prefers -to remain poor with me. But we are not to be pitied for that, for we -love each other better than money. However, this embarrassment will only -be temporary, I hope; I have two plays accepted, and if they are -successful——”</p> - -<p>“Then you accept my offer?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I never borrow money when I am not certain of being able to -return it. That is a principle from which I shall never depart.”</p> - -<p>“But when you have plays accepted, which are going to be produced——”</p> - -<p>“A play is never a certainty; it is a cast of the dice. I thank you a -thousand times; but I have something left with which to face the -present. As for the future, we will hope, we will build castles in the -air.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry that you refuse.”</p> - -<p>“And I am very glad that you have made the offer, for you are the first -one of my friends to suggest anything of that sort, and yet you have -been my friend for only a few hours.”</p> - -<p>“It is a fact that one often passes his life with people to whom he -gives the name of friends, but who have none of the feelings of a -friend.<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Monsieur Blémont. If you have time to come up for a moment -to-morrow, we shall be glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will come to enquire for my neighbor. Good-night.”</p> - -<p>Ernest went up to the fifth floor and I went into my room.</p> - -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br /><br /> -LOVE AGAIN</h2> - -<p>I went next day to visit my neighbor on the fifth floor and found her -alone with her lover; the midwife was no longer there; Ernest had taken -her place, no less from inclination than from necessity; for the lovers -were happier not to have a third person with them all day, and what -would be a privation to others is a satisfaction to lovers.</p> - -<p>Ernest was seated beside his friend’s bed; I was afraid that I was in -the way, and I intended to remain only a moment, but my visit lasted -more than an hour. “Pray don’t go yet,” they said every time that I rose -to take my leave. Why was it that the time passed so quickly, that we -got along so well together? It was because we all three allowed our real -sentiments to appear, because we talked freely of the things that -interested us, and because we poured out our hearts without reserve. -Marguerite spoke of the child that she hoped for, and her eyes, fastened -on Ernest’s, seemed to say to him:</p> - -<p>“We can make up for this lost time, can we not?<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>”</p> - -<p>Ernest smiled and spoke encouragingly to her; then talked about his two -plays that had been accepted; they were his children, too. For my part, -I talked to them of the theatre, balls, and love-affairs. I told them, -without mentioning any names, the adventure of Bélan and Hélène. That -made them laugh heartily. I was not aware that I spoke with more -interest of Mademoiselle Dumeillan than of others; but when I mentioned -her name, I noticed that Mademoiselle Marguerite smiled and that Ernest -did the same.</p> - -<p>At last, after one of my anecdotes, Ernest said to me:</p> - -<p>“My dear Monsieur Blémont, I should say that you were in love.”</p> - -<p>“In love! I! with whom, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! with the fair-haired young lady who talks so well, who plays -the piano so charmingly, who has such a sweet expression.”</p> - -<p>“What! Have I said so to you?”</p> - -<p>“No, but we guessed it from the way in which you talked of her; didn’t -we, Marguerite?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; you are certainly in love with the young lady in pink.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I give you my word that——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t swear, monsieur; you would not tell the truth.”</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Eugénie is very pretty, it is true; but I hardly know -her.”</p> - -<p>“Acquaintance is easily made.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know whether those ladies would care to receive me. By the -way, what you say suggests to me the idea of going to see Monsieur -Giraud and talking with him about it. Perhaps he won’t be fussing over -his lamps to-day. I think that I will go there; I will lead the -conversation to the subject of those ladies, as if unpremeditated.<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>”</p> - -<p>“That is right: go; then you must come back and tell us how you -progress.”</p> - -<p>I confess that the devoted love of those two young people made me long -to enjoy a similar happiness. Perhaps the thought of the charming -Eugénie had much influence upon my reflections. I was twenty-six years -old, and I was already weary of commonplace love-affairs. Still it is -very amusing to have three or four mistresses and to deceive them all, -at the same time; to have them make a row, follow you, watch you, -threaten you, and become more passionately enamored of you with each -infidelity. And the poor husbands that you make—Oh! they are most -amusing too! But amid all such enjoyments, it seemed to me that my heart -was sometimes conscious of a void. Did not Ernest and Marguerite enjoy a -more genuine happiness than I? I did not know, but I proposed to try it -and find out.</p> - -<p>I had eight thousand francs a year. That is not a fortune, but it is a -competence. Moreover, I had gone through the regular course of study and -had been admitted to be an advocate; that was something; to be sure, I -had not tried many cases since I had been entitled to wear the gown. -Pleasure had too often diverted my thoughts from my profession; but if I -married, I should be more virtuous; indeed, I should have to be.</p> - -<p>My father was dead; he also had been at the bar. He left me an honorable -name, which I made it my pride to keep without stain; for one may have -three or four mistresses at once without impairing one’s honor; -especially when one has neither violence nor seduction with which to -reproach oneself; and God be praised! we live in an age when it is easy -to make love without resorting to such methods. I know very well that it -is not strictly moral to deceive husbands. But example is so<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> -contagious! and then there are so many of those gentry who neglect their -wives! Is it not natural to console them?</p> - -<p>My mother, who passed her summers in the country, and her winters in -Paris at a whist table, would certainly be very glad to have me married; -she had three thousand francs a year which would come to me some day; -but I never thought of that; when one loves one’s parents, one must -always hope that they will not die.</p> - -<p>I indulged in these reflections, I could not say why. After all, I had -no purpose of marrying, or at all events of entering into one of those -marriages which are arranged beforehand by parents or friends. If I -married, I should have to be very deeply in love, and to be absolutely -certain that I was dearly loved in return.</p> - -<p>As I walked along, musing thus, I reached Giraud’s door. Should I go -upstairs? Why not? I would pretend that I had lost a cane, a switch, the -night before. I never carried one, but no matter. It was two o’clock, -and I thought that Giraud would be in his office. I went up, and found -the door on the landing open. The three children, dressed like little -thieves, and as dirty as ragpickers, were in the reception room, playing -with the dog, on whose head they had put their father’s black silk -night-cap. I noticed that the rooms had not been put to rights. The maid -was sweeping the salon, and told me that Giraud was at home. I supposed -that he was in his office; but the little girl called out to me that her -papa was dressing her mamma, and I dared not venture to enter Madame -Giraud’s chamber. Someone went to call monsieur and I waited in the -dust, pursued by the broom.</p> - -<p>At last Giraud appeared, wringing his hands and making wry faces.<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p> - -<p>“Good-morning, my dear Blémont.”</p> - -<p>“I am distressed to have disturbed you; I came up as I was passing, -to——”</p> - -<p>“You do not disturb me in the least; on the contrary, you have put an -end to my sufferings. I was doing my utmost to fasten my wife’s dress. -Ah! my thumbs! heavens! how they ache! I couldn’t succeed in doing it, -and yet she pretends that her dress is too big; I don’t believe a word -of it. Françoise, go and fasten my wife’s dress.”</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur, you know very well that madame says I go about it -awkwardly, that I’m not strong enough.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, go; you can finish the salon afterward.”</p> - -<p>I supposed that we should go into his office and that we should find a -fire there, for it was not warm; but Giraud invited me to sit down on -the couch, saying:</p> - -<p>“I don’t take you into my office, because it hasn’t been put to rights -yet. Lord! how my thumbs ache!—But we can talk as well here; the fire -will be lighted as soon as the salon is swept. Is it late? I haven’t -found time to dress yet.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it is after two o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! and I have three appointments for this afternoon, to -interview people who want to be married.”</p> - -<p>“I do not wish to detain you.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t go; they must wait for me. In truth, nothing is ever done -here.—My friend, marriage is a very fine thing! I hope that you will -soon take your place in the class of respectable married men.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I have time enough.”</p> - -<p>“You must be tired of a bachelor’s life?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Did you see anyone at my party yesterday who interested you? Come, tell -me about it.<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! that isn’t what brings me here; but I thought that perhaps I -left a pretty little stick of mine last night.”</p> - -<p>“A stick! you must ask the children about that; they are the ones who -find everything that is left here. They are as smart as little -demons.—Théodore, Alexandre, daughter——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t disturb them.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; I am not sorry to have you see them, they are so cunning in -their answers.”</p> - -<p>I dared not say that I had already seen the cunning creatures. Their -papa continued to call them. Théodore appeared on all fours, carrying -Alexandre on his back, the latter having the dog in his arms. The better -to imitate a horse, Théodore had put on long paper ears, and the little -girl was whipping him behind with a bunch of quills.</p> - -<p>I laughed at the picture, and Giraud considered it very amusing at -first. But in a moment he recognized his black silk cap on the dog’s -head, and he did not laugh any more.</p> - -<p>“What, you rascals! you have taken my silk cap to put on Azor!”</p> - -<p>“I did it to make a Croquemitaine of him, papa.”</p> - -<p>“I have forbidden you a hundred times to touch any of my things.—And -you, mademoiselle, what are you whipping your brother with?”</p> - -<p>“Papa, with——”</p> - -<p>“With a bunch of quills that was on my desk—very expensive quills, -rooster’s quills, which I keep to write my circulars with. Who gave you -leave to touch anything on my desk? But just come here, Monsieur -Théodore. What did you make those ears with?”</p> - -<p>“With a paper that was on the floor, papa.<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>”</p> - -<p>“On the floor! God bless me! it is Monsieur Mermillon’s letter, in which -he tells me in detail what his daughter’s dowry will be! You little -villain! to make horse’s ears with my letters! Some day he will take -thousand-franc notes from my desk to make horns with. I will deal with -you, young man.”</p> - -<p>Giraud started to run after his son, but I stopped him; I heard madame -calling in an angry voice:</p> - -<p>“Giraud! Giraud! aren’t you coming to finish dressing me? Françoise -doesn’t know how to fasten my dress; that girl is frightfully awkward.”</p> - -<p>“There, there it is,” said Giraud; “she is going to send her back again -because she don’t fasten her dress quickly enough. It is always the same -story. Faith, I don’t care, let her fix herself! Just look at my thumbs; -I haven’t any flesh left round my nails.”</p> - -<p>Someone half opened the bedroom door; Madame Giraud stood at the -entrance half dressed, and behind her came the maid, who resumed her -broom, muttering:</p> - -<p>“Ah! what a dog’s life! as if I came here to squeeze her waist in!”</p> - -<p>At sight of me, Madame Giraud took one step backward, then three -forward, and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Oh! pray excuse my disorderly appearance, Monsieur Blémont, but -Monsieur Giraud is a terrible man; he never finishes dressing me! But I -can’t remain half dressed. I give you my word, monsieur, that this dress -is too big for me.”</p> - -<p>“And I give you my word, wife, that my thumbs are sore.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! you are a tender creature; and I have three calls to make before -dinner, and you know that we dine at Madame Dumeillan’s, who has a box -at the Porte-Saint-Martin.<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>”</p> - -<p>“That is so, we dine out. Just imagine, my dear Blémont, that we have so -many invitations that we don’t know which to accept.”</p> - -<p>“They dine early too. Oh dear! how unfortunate I am! I shall never be -ready in time.”</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud had said enough for me. Delighted by what I had learned, I -walked toward her.</p> - -<p>“If you will allow me, madame, perhaps I may be more successful than -your maid.”</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud smiled most graciously at me and instantly turned her -back, saying:</p> - -<p>“How kind you are, Monsieur Blémont! What, do you really mean that -you——?”</p> - -<p>“With great pleasure, madame.”</p> - -<p>I was not a novice at fastening dresses; I took the belt on each side, -and although I hurt my fingers a little, the dress was fastened; and I -did it as if it had cost me no effort at all.</p> - -<p>“That’s the way,” cried Madame Giraud triumphantly; “that’s the way; -isn’t it, Monsieur Blémont?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame; it’s all right now.”</p> - -<p>“There, Monsieur Giraud, you see. When one knows how—and monsieur did -not seem to make any effort.”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, none at all.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, my dear fellow,” said Giraud, “if you will come here every day -when madame is dressing, you will do me a great favor.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Monsieur Giraud; you ought to be ashamed.—Excuse me, Monsieur -Blémont; I must go and finish dressing. A thousand thanks.”</p> - -<p>Madame returned to her room, and Giraud invited me to sit down in a -corner of the salon that had been swept; but I took my hat and bade him -adieu; he escorted me as far as the landing, saying:<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a></p> - -<p>“My friend, marry. Believe me, it is the happiest state. I have three -superb matches at your disposal.”</p> - -<p>“All right, we will see.”</p> - -<p>“If your stick is found, I will put it away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am inclined to think, after all, that I didn’t leave it here. -Adieu.”</p> - -<p>So Mademoiselle Eugénie would be at the Porte-Saint-Martin Theatre that -evening. The Girauds would be with them, so I should have an excuse for -going to pay my respects to them. And yet those Girauds were so stupid, -so ridiculous, with their mania for marrying everybody; I was sorry to -find that they were intimate with those ladies. But perhaps it was only -a society intimacy; one of those in which people call on one another -merely to pass the time, but do not care for one another.</p> - -<p>I awaited the evening not too impatiently, for I was not in love. I -desired to see the young woman again because I had nothing better to do, -and because my eyes, fatigued by feigning love so long, ached to rest -upon other charms in order to recover a little of the fire which they -had lost.</p> - -<p>I went to the theatre late, for I desired that they should be there when -I arrived. I cast my eyes over the boxes, and I discovered the ladies in -an open box on the first tier. The mother and Madame Giraud were in -front, Mademoiselle Eugénie on the second bench. I did not see Giraud; -probably he had some marriage to arrange that evening. There was a -vacant seat beside Mademoiselle Eugénie. Did I dare? But the box was -theirs and I could not presume to go in; it was essential that I should -be invited.</p> - -<p>The young woman seemed to me even prettier than the night before. Her -simpler gown and headdress added<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> to her charms. She did not see me, so -I was able to scrutinize her at my leisure. There was a seat in a box -near theirs; should I take it? No, that would be showing my desire to -speak to them too plainly.</p> - -<p>The performance had begun. They did not see me, although I had drawn -nearer to them. Madame Giraud was entirely engrossed by her figure. I -was sure that she was suffocating. She did not know enough to look in my -direction.</p> - -<p>Someone opened the door of their box,—Giraud, no doubt. No, it was a -young man; he saluted the ladies and Mademoiselle Dumeillan smiled upon -him; she talked and laughed with him! It was well worth while for me to -go there to see that! Mon Dieu! how stupid a man can be! I was jealous, -and all on account of a person whom I hardly knew, and to whom I had not -said a word of love. Was not that young woman at liberty to have a -lover, ten lovers indeed, if she chose? I blushed at my folly, and to -prove to myself that she was absolutely indifferent to me, I went at -once to the box next to hers, for I did not see why the presence of -those ladies, who were almost strangers to me, should prevent me from -talking with Madame Giraud, whose dress I had fastened that morning.</p> - -<p>I entered the box. I did not look at Mademoiselle Eugénie; indeed, I -pretended not to see the ladies. But in a moment Madame Giraud called to -me:</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Monsieur Blémont. How kind of you to come to see us! So -you remembered that I said that I was coming here to-night with these -ladies?”</p> - -<p>The devil take Madame Giraud with her memory! I replied very -deliberately:</p> - -<p>“No, madame, I did not know, I had no idea—but I agreed to meet -somebody here; that is why I came.<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>”</p> - -<p>Then I bowed coldly to Madame Dumeillan and her daughter, after which I -turned and looked at the audience. But Madame Giraud soon began again to -talk to me; she was inclined to overwhelm me with marks of friendliness -since I had succeeded in fastening her dress.</p> - -<p>I pretended to listen to Madame Giraud, but I had no idea of what she -was saying. I was listening to the young man who was talking to -Mademoiselle Eugénie. His remarks were very vague; he had nothing -particular to say to her, and talked about nothing but the play. I felt -that my ill humor was vanishing. I turned toward the ladies and joined -in the conversation, but I did not rest my eyes on Mademoiselle Eugénie. -I should have been sorry that she should think that I had come there on -her account.</p> - -<p>Before long the young man took leave of the ladies and returned to his -party. He left her; did that mean that he was not in love with her? I -cast a furtive glance at Mademoiselle Dumeillan. After that young man’s -departure she was as light-hearted and seemed to enjoy herself as much -as when he was there. I began to think that I was mistaken and that he -was not a lover.</p> - -<p>Thereupon I moved close to their box, and during the performance I -exchanged a few words with Mademoiselle Eugénie. Once my hand touched -hers, which was resting on the rail that separated us; the contact was a -mere chance; our two hands touched, she hastily withdrew hers, and I did -the same, faltering some words of apology. But that lovely hand when it -touched mine caused me a thrill of delicious emotion. A simple touch -produced such an effect as that! I would have liked to know if -Mademoiselle Eugénie—but she was not looking in my direction.<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a></p> - -<p>In the next intermission, Madame Giraud, who was talking with Madame -Dumeillan, suddenly turned to me and said:</p> - -<p>“By the way, madame, Monsieur Blémont is a lawyer; he knows all about -the laws, and what rights people have. My husband isn’t very well posted -in such matters; his forte is marriages. Consult Monsieur Blémont about -your business; he will tell you whether you are in the right or not.”</p> - -<p>“I should not dare to annoy monsieur,” replied the mother, “or presume -to take his time.”</p> - -<p>I eagerly offered my services and asked what the business was; but she -could not explain it to me at the theatre; it was necessary for me to -look over documents and title deeds. That was just what I hoped. Madame -Dumeillan gave me her address, and, while renewing her apologies for the -trouble I was about to take, thanked me in advance for calling upon her -some morning. She thanked me for something which I would eagerly have -asked as a favor! How happy I was! But I succeeded in concealing my -delight. I did not again put my hand near Mademoiselle Dumeillan’s; it -was especially essential then that I should be careful not to act like a -man in love. A novice throws himself at people’s heads, but a clever man -knows how to husband his privileges.</p> - -<p>Acting upon this principle, when Giraud arrived I paid my respects to -the ladies and left the theatre. Had I remained I should have seemed to -be looking for an opportunity to escort them home.<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br /><br /> -I GO TO THE HOUSE</h2> - -<p>The next day arrived and I hesitated about calling upon the two ladies. -Would it not be showing too much eagerness? No, it would be no more than -polite; since they chose to have confidence in my talent, I ought not to -keep them waiting.</p> - -<p>I waited until the clock struck two; then I went to Madame Dumeillan’s. -The condition of affairs there was not the same as at Giraud’s. The maid -had finished sweeping the rooms. The one who admitted me ushered me into -a room decorated without display, but with taste; there was a good fire -and I found the young lady of the house practising upon the piano.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Eugénie left her music to inform her mother of my arrival; -I dared not tell her that it was on her account alone that I had come; -that would have been going too fast. What a pity it is that one cannot -go straight to one’s goal. How much time we waste!</p> - -<p>The mother appeared. After the first salutations she explained her -business to me and showed me her papers. Eugénie left the salon while -her mother was talking to me; and it was well that she did, for I was -listening distractedly, and I think that I answered incoherently. After -she had gone I was all attention. The mother’s business concerned a -small farm which had descended to her husband, and her possession of -which was<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a> disputed by his brother-in-law. Her right seemed to me -incontestable; but I could not read all the papers at once. She thought -it quite natural for me to take them away in order to study them at -home.</p> - -<p>Eugénie returned and we talked of less serious things. The mother was -very agreeable; Eugénie was bright and well informed, and although I had -not yet become intimate with them, I was already on very good terms with -them. After an hour’s visit, I took my leave; I did not need to ask -permission to call again, for I had a foothold in the house.</p> - -<p>I did not go to Madame Dumeillan’s again for two days. I am a peculiar -man; I was determined to conceal my sentiments, and I should have been -distressed to have Mademoiselle Eugénie suspect the impression that she -had produced upon me. At last I made my second call. I had made a -thorough study of the case in which the widow was threatened with a -suit. I was persuaded that she was in the right; I so assured her and I -offered my services to look after the matter, which I considered as -already won. Madame Dumeillan was overjoyed; she thanked me and accepted -my offer. I was no longer a stranger in the house; they seemed to look -upon me as a friend.</p> - -<p>The mother and daughter received much company; but they had one special -reception day during the week. On that day there were cards and music -and sometimes dancing. Their guests were more select than those one met -at Giraud’s; they were an entirely different set. And yet there were -some whom I should have been glad not to see there; they were the young -men, very attractive young men, who were attentive and devoted to -Eugénie. How absurd I was! I had no objection to young women coming -there, but as to men, I would have<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> liked to have none but bewigged -heads. Those I found extremely agreeable.</p> - -<p>For my own part, I think that I was not often agreeable. No one ever is -when he is really in love. I liked to see the ladies in private; then I -was much happier. If Eugénie played, there was no young man leaning over -the piano, ready to turn the leaves for her. If I talked with her, we -were not interrupted by some dandy coming to pay her a compliment; and -yet I realized that they could not receive me and no one else.</p> - -<p>I did not neglect the business that was entrusted to me; the prospect of -winning the suit was doubly agreeable to me: I should oblige the ladies -and I should give them a favorable opinion of my ability. It did not -require much eloquence to succeed; madame triumphed over an adversary -who had sued her because he had a mania for litigation. Only two months -from the time of my first call, I had the pleasure of bringing the -affair to a successful termination.</p> - -<p>Although the property at stake was of no great value, Madame Dumeillan -thanked me effusively; mothers think a great deal of money. Eugénie -thanked me courteously, but that was all. As a general rule our -relations were rather cool. Why did she not treat me as she did other -men? Had she noticed that I was annoyed when men paid court to her, that -I moved away when others approached? Did she not like my disposition? In -truth she must have found me far from amiable. I was much less so than -any of the other men who visited her mother. I never made any flattering -remarks to her, I made no pretence of being devoted or gallant to her. -Was that the way for me to succeed in making myself agreeable to her? -Yes, I preferred that she should love me as I was! I wanted her to prove -to me that she had read my heart,<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> and I did my utmost to conceal from -her what was taking place in it! Love sometimes makes us very eccentric.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I promised myself to change my manner toward Eugénie; I tried -to do as the other young men did who came to her house: to be agreeable -and gallant, to laugh and joke when others were about her; but I did not -play my part well, my gayety was forced; Eugénie seemed to notice it, -and that made me still more awkward.</p> - -<p>The young men who were received at Madame Dumeillan’s were all men of -breeding; there was nothing in their attentions to Mademoiselle Eugénie -which could offend the greatest stickler for propriety. Why then should -I take offense? Because I could not be agreeable to her, was it any -reason that others should not be? I realized that I was wrong; but I was -determined to study and become thoroughly acquainted with Eugénie’s -character. I thought her a little inclined to flirt. In a girl of her -age, and so pretty, that is very excusable; and besides, are not all -women flirts? Yes, all, a little more or a little less; but it is a -failing inherent in their nature. But is it a failing? Innocent coquetry -is nothing more than a desire to please; that desire leads them to take -more care with their dress, with the arrangement of their hair, with -their whole personal appearance. What should we say of a woman who -neglected all such things? We should blame her, or we should think that -she had no taste. Why then should we call that a failing which is done -to charm and fascinate us? By their education, by the place they fill in -society, women are debarred from occupations in which they would be more -successful perhaps than we are; from important negotiations, which they -would untangle more quickly than many diplomatists; and from political -discussions, in which so many<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> men do not know what they are saying. We -have left to women the simple and less arduous occupations of the -household; but those occupations, even if they suffice to employ the -time, can not furnish sufficient occupation for the mind and the -imagination, to prevent them from seeking other employment. Some men -think that a needle, an embroidery frame, or a piano ought to be enough -to keep a woman busy. I do not think, like Cato, that wisdom and common -sense are incompatible with the female mind; I believe that their -intellects, their imaginations require other resources than a needle and -a piano. They are forced to become coquettes because the desire to -please is an employment which occupies the mind and gives it food for -dreams; they would be much less coquettish if they were employed upon -the same tasks that we are. And then there are so many degrees in -coquetry! The sort of which I speak is perfectly natural, and perfectly -legitimate for women. Eugénie had no other. She was fond of amusement, -that was natural; and yet she never showed any disappointment when her -mother declined an invitation to a ball. I was sure that she had an -affectionate heart; her eyes sometimes had such a tender expression, and -I had seen her shed tears at the performance of a sad play. But that was -not sufficient proof that she would ever love passionately.</p> - -<p>I was inclined to believe that she took no interest at all in me; she -was most cold and reserved with me. She noticed doubtless that I -followed her with my eyes, that I constantly watched her. I did not see -the sense of going to a house to be dismal when others are merry, and -perhaps to make oneself ridiculous. That thought made me blush for my -weakness; self-esteem has so much influence on our hearts! I determined -to think no more of Eugénie, and in order to forget her more<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> quickly I -determined not to call at her mother’s for a fortnight.</p> - -<p>It was very hard for me to adhere to that resolution, for I had never -passed more than two days without seeing her! However, a week passed, -and I had kept my word; on the ninth day I reflected that Madame -Dumeillan, who always was very friendly to me and always seemed to be -very glad to see me, would think it strange that I had allowed so long a -time to pass without calling. After all, if her daughter was cool to me, -it was not that excellent lady’s fault, and it should not make me -discourteous to her. On the tenth day I decided to call there in the -evening.</p> - -<p>I did not select a reception day; however, I found some old -acquaintances of Madame Dumeillan there who had come to play boston; two -ladies and an old gentleman were playing with the mother, and Eugénie -was alone, in a corner of the salon, embroidering.</p> - -<p>Madame Dumeillan inquired with interest for my health; she had been -afraid that I was ill and was intending to send to my apartment the next -day. I thanked her, and apologized on the plea of a press of business; -then I left the mother to her game and took a seat beside Eugénie.</p> - -<p>She bowed coldly to me; she did not raise her eyes and addressed to me -only the most trivial remarks; she was not even so polite as to reproach -me for having allowed a long time to pass without calling. It seemed to -me then that that young woman was as odious to me as she had been -fascinating; if I had dared, I would have taken my hat and left the room -instantly; but that would have been discourteous.</p> - -<p>Ah! if we had loved each other, how much we should have found to say at -that moment, when we were<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> practically alone in the salon, for no one -paid any heed to us! But we must needs confine ourselves to exchanging a -few meaningless words! Sometimes we were several minutes without -speaking; she would not raise her eyes from her work. Ah! how I should -have delighted to destroy that embroidery, which seemed to engross her -so completely!</p> - -<p>A half hour passed in this way. She continued to work with the same -assiduity, and I was still beside her, saying little and sighing -involuntarily. Suddenly the door of the salon opened; it was Monsieur -Gerval, one of Eugénie’s most persistent suitors, who often played and -sang with her in the evening. This Gerval was a good-looking fellow and -very agreeable; so that he was one of those whom I detested most -heartily. I am sure that I changed color when he came in; I instantly -felt an enormous weight settle down upon my chest. While Monsieur Gerval -went to pay his respects to Madame Dumeillan, I walked quickly to the -corner of the room where I had placed my hat; for I did not propose to -stay a minute longer; I wished that I were a hundred leagues away; I was -angry with myself for having come. I already had my hat in my hand and -was on the point of leaving the room without a word to anyone, when a -hand clasped mine, pressed it gently, and detained me; at the same -moment Eugénie, for it was she, said to me in a tone which I had never -before heard from her lips:</p> - -<p>“Why are you going away? To pass a fortnight without coming and then go -away like this! Really, I can’t understand you. What have we done to you -here, that you should stop coming?”</p> - -<p>I stood like a statue. That soft voice, in which there was reproach and -affection at the same time, that hand which still held mine, and those -eyes which looked into<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> mine with a fascinating expression—all those -things startled me, but also caused me a thrill of happiness hitherto -unknown to me. One must have loved truly to understand all that I felt -at that moment. I squeezed her hand frantically, and it returned the -pressure; then she gently withdrew it, still looking at me. All this was -the affair of a moment, but that moment decided the rest of my life. -Eugénie loved me; she had read my heart, and I felt that I could not -live without her, that Eugénie henceforth would be all in all to me.</p> - -<p>I thought no more about going away. Eugénie returned to her seat and -Gerval came to speak to her; but I was not jealous any more, Gerval had -ceased to be offensive to me; it had required only an instant to change -the whole current of my thoughts. I returned to Eugénie’s side. While -talking with Gerval, she succeeded in looking only at me. The young man -suggested to her that they should sing together. She looked at me again, -and seemed to ask me if that would be agreeable to me. I added my -entreaties to Gerval’s. She consented to go to the piano, but on her way -there she passed close to me and our hands met. When she sang with -Gerval a duet in which two lovers sing to each other of love, her eyes -addressed to me the words that she sang. Ah! when two hearts understand -each other, there are a thousand ways of proving it.</p> - -<p>After that duet, Gerval proposed another; she declined on the ground of -a sore throat, and returned to her seat by my side. Gerval remained for -some time; it seemed to me that he was less merry, less sparkling that -evening than usual. At last he said good-night and left.</p> - -<p>I drew nearer to Eugénie; she still held her work, but she was not -working; our eyes met often; we talked in undertones; I had so many -things to say to her now,<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> and yet we exchanged only a few words; but -our glances were more eloquent than our speech.</p> - -<p>How rapidly the time passed! I was so happy with her! The card players -finished their game, and Madame Dumeillan called to her daughter to give -her her purse. The others were going away, and I must needs do the same.</p> - -<p>“I hope that it will not be so long before you come again,” said Madame -Dumeillan kindly. And Eugénie, as she passed me, whispered:</p> - -<p>“You will come to-morrow, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>My eyes alone answered, but she must have understood them; I saw a -loving smile upon her lips. I went away, drunk with love and pleasure. I -returned home hardly touching the ground. It seemed to me that my -happiness bore me aloft and transported me to the third heaven,—that is -to say, if there is a third heaven.</p> - -<p>As I went upstairs, I thought of my young lovers on the fifth floor. I -had neglected them sadly for some time! But I had been constantly -depressed and jealous and in ill humor, and the picture of their love -would simply have aggravated my suffering. Now I could safely go to see -them. I should not be sad and gloomy with them, and they would -understand my happiness.</p> - -<p>It was only a quarter-past eleven, and I decided to see whether they had -gone to bed. I went upstairs, knocked and mentioned my name; Ernest -opened the door.</p> - -<p>“Where on earth have you been?” he said, laughing; “it’s a month since -we’ve seen you.”</p> - -<p>“He has just come from his Eugénie,” said little Marguerite. “Oh! how -happy we look! It seems that our love-affair is progressing finely!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very well indeed. Ah! I am the happiest of men to-night! She loves -me, I am sure of it now; she<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> prefers me to all the men who have made -love to her; and yet I was much less attentive, much less agreeable than -the others.”</p> - -<p>“What difference does that make? One is always agreeable when one is in -love.”</p> - -<p>I told them all that had taken place that evening between Eugénie and -me. They listened with interest, they understood me, for they loved each -other dearly. When I had finished my story, I sprang up and danced about -the room; I could not keep still.</p> - -<p>“Look out!” said Marguerite; “you’ll smash everything. Why, don’t you -see how fine it is here now, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>I had not so much as looked about the room. In fact, there was some -change: the wretched bed was replaced by a low bedstead of painted wood, -but very neat and clean. There were curtains and a canopy above the bed. -The chairs, which I remembered as almost all broken, had been replaced -by six new ones; and a black walnut commode had replaced the little -sideboard. Lastly, there was almost a good fire on the hearth.</p> - -<p>“Do you see how fine it is?” said Marguerite; “my Ernest gave me all -this. His play has succeeded. Oh, it is very pleasing indeed, his play -is! When the author was called for and his name was given, I was so -happy that I longed to shout: ‘It was my little man who did that!’—He -has a great mind, has my little man!”</p> - -<p>“Will you hold your tongue, Marguerite?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, I propose to talk. We are not so poor now as we were. -See, look at my mantel, see those two cups and the porcelain sugar bowl! -That box is to put the money in for the week’s expenses. When there’s -anything over, I put it in a Christmas box. Oh! we are very happy now!<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>”</p> - -<p>Poor child! how little she needed to esteem herself rich! So many people -would have considered that chamber a wretched place still. I -congratulated her and admired everything that she showed me. I -complimented Ernest on the success of his play. I shared their happiness -most sincerely; it made me happier to see how happy they were. I -remained with them for more than an hour, talking of Eugénie and of our -love. They told me of their little plans for the future, of the hopes in -which they indulged,—very modest hopes, which proved that, being -engrossed by their love, they knew neither ambition nor vanity.</p> - -<p>I had not begun to think of retiring, and I believe that we should have -passed the whole night talking thus; but suddenly we heard a loud noise -on the roof, and broken glass falling on the leads and into the yard. I -was startled at first; but I soon recovered myself and began to laugh as -I glanced at Ernest and Marguerite, who did the same. It was Monsieur -Pettermann breaking into his room.</p> - -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br /><br /> -THE PRELIMINARIES OF HAPPINESS</h2> - -<p>I went every day to see Eugénie, for I did not see why I should continue -to conceal my love. She loved me, she knew that I adored her; was it -possible that her mother was not also aware of our sentiments? I had -never dreamed of making Eugénie my mistress. My only desire and hope was -for an enduring happiness.<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> Eugénie should be my wife. I was sure of her -consent, but it would be necessary to have her mother’s as well.</p> - -<p>I believe that that good woman had divined my sentiments long before; -parents are not always deceived by our little stratagems, by our -affectation of coldness and ceremony; but when they pretend not to see, -it means that they secretly approve our inclinations. Madame Dumeillan -saw that I went there every day, and one does not go every day to a -house where there is a pretty woman, unless there is love underneath. -Eugénie pouted when I was late, and scolded me when I suggested going -away; her mother heard it all and simply smiled. I saw that our love was -no longer a secret to anyone.</p> - -<p>Eugénie no longer called me Monsieur Blémont; she called me Monsieur -Henri, and Henri simply, when we were alone. How pleasant it is to hear -the woman we love call us for the first time by our Christian name, -without that depressing <i>monsieur</i>! From that moment a stronger bond -united us, a more tender intimacy existed between us. Eugénie could love -as dearly as I; I read all her thoughts in her eyes; she no longer tried -to conceal from me what she felt. I had found the woman that I desired: -beauty, charm, wit and virtue. Yes, virtue; for Eugénie was kind, easily -moved, and submissive and affectionate to her mother; I never heard her -utter a murmur about complying with her slightest wish. I had judged her -to be very coquettish, but I was mistaken; she loved the amusements of -her age, she abandoned herself to them frankly and without reserve; but -that is not coquetry. She laughed with those who tried to please her, -but she gave false hopes to none of them. Now, when at her mother’s -receptions, young men came to pay court to her and to make complimentary -speeches, she no longer laughed; their flattering words<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> bored her; her -eyes sought me and followed me incessantly; and when she could escape -from the crowd, she would come to me and whisper:</p> - -<p>“Henri, I no longer enjoy society; I like it much better when you alone -come to see us.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps Eugénie was a trifle too susceptible; she yielded too readily to -first impressions. I found that she would sometimes take offence and -sulk for several days on account of a remark misunderstood, or a -perfectly innocent act; but I was sure that that trifling defect would -disappear with time and experience. I believed also that Eugénie would -be jealous, yes, very jealous; she changed color and was evidently -disturbed when I happened to talk a long time with the same lady. But, -far from blaming her for that sentiment, I was secretly overjoyed by it; -that jealousy was a new proof of the love that I inspired in her. I -should have been very sorry to have her indifferent when I was talking -with a pretty woman; for then I should have thought that she cared but -little for me. Moreover, I had not hoped to find a perfect mortal; they -say that such do not exist. And if there were such a thing as a perfect -woman, I should not care to marry her; I think that a man would be bored -with her.</p> - -<p>Eugénie agreed to teach me music; she declared that I had a sweet voice -and that I sang with taste; we began our lessons at once. I did not make -rapid progress, but as we enjoyed the lessons, and as they gave me an -opportunity to be with Eugénie, to tell her again and again that I -adored her, she gave them to me often, and I could not help becoming a -musician. In my turn, I was to teach her painting; she had some idea of -drawing and earnestly desired to be able to use a brush; and I had no -doubt in a short time she would do honor to her master.<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a></p> - -<p>Every day increased my love for Eugénie, and every day I obtained new -proofs of her attachment to me. Those delightful hours which I passed -with her, but always in her mother’s presence, made me long for a still -greater happiness. Why should I delay to settle my fate? Eugénie, I felt -sure, would accept joyfully the title of my wife.</p> - -<p>Thus far I had spoken to her of love only, not of marriage. But what -need had I to utter that word? And could Eugénie mention it to me? A -well-bred young lady doesn’t ask the man who is making love to her if he -proposes to marry her, for she cannot assume that he has any other -purpose. She who asks such a question always places herself in an -unfavorable position; it is as if she said: “I will love you when I am -sure that you will marry me.” A wretched sort of love that, which one -can order or countermand at will!</p> - -<p>One day I went to Madame Dumeillan’s. It was about noon. By an -extraordinary chance Eugénie was alone; her mother had gone to pay a -visit, and Eugénie had succeeded in excusing herself from accompanying -her; she hoped that I would come. She told me so with that charming -smile which transported me and filled me with rapture; she gave me her -hand, which I pressed ecstatically; then I seated myself beside her, -very close, as close as I possibly could. I talked to her of my love; I -told her—as I had told her a hundred times before—that I was happy -only with her. But one is never weary of listening to protestations of a -passion which one shares; when such assurances tire us, it means that -our hearts are beginning to change.</p> - -<p>As I talked with Eugénie, I passed my arm about her waist for the first -time, and I drew her lovingly toward me; but she gently extricated -herself and rose, saying:<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p> - -<p>“Come, monsieur, come to the piano, you must take a lesson this -morning.”</p> - -<p>I felt incapable of looking calmly at the notes; I detained Eugénie by -the hand.</p> - -<p>“Let us continue to talk, please! We have plenty of time for the piano.”</p> - -<p>“We can talk while we practise.”</p> - -<p>“It would be impossible for me to practise this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Why so, monsieur? Do you mean that you are tired of your music lessons -already?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! but I have so many things to say to you! It so seldom happens -that I find you alone!”</p> - -<p>“Does mamma’s presence prevent you from talking with me? Don’t we talk -hours at a time every evening, while they are playing cards?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but that isn’t the same thing; it’s much pleasanter to be alone! -Dear Eugénie! I would like to pass my life with you and nobody else!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you would very soon get tired of that!”</p> - -<p>“Tired of being with you! Impossible! But perhaps you yourself would not -be willing to sacrifice to me the attentions of this mob of young men -who sigh for you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how mean it is to say that! When I am bored to death everywhere -where you are not! Do you mean to say that I listen to the compliments -and flattery of a lot of young men? Nonsense! come to the piano, -monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“Just a moment!”</p> - -<p>I adored her, I was certain that she loved me, and yet I trembled at the -thought of mentioning the word marriage! What a strange thing! To -hesitate, to be embarrassed about mentioning to the person you love, a<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> -bond which you both desire! I had never hesitated with a pretty woman -about overcoming her modesty and abusing her weakness; it seems to me -that it requires more courage to behave oneself than to misbehave.</p> - -<p>I held Eugénie’s hand, which she abandoned to me; I could not speak, but -I covered her hand with kisses. I did not know if she guessed all that -was going on in my heart; but a deep flush covered her cheeks, and she -turned her eyes away in order to avoid mine. At last I stammered in an -undertone and with an almost shamefaced air:</p> - -<p>“Eugénie—will you be my wife?”</p> - -<p>She did not answer, but her hand pressed mine affectionately; her bosom -rose and fell violently; I met her eyes, which she tried to avert, and -they were wet with tears. How sweet are the tears which pleasure causes -one to shed! I fell at Eugénie’s feet, reiterating my oath to love her -all my life.</p> - -<p>I was still at her feet—one is so comfortable in that position before -the woman whom one adores! It has been said, I believe, that nothing is -more absurd than a man at a woman’s feet; that may be true with respect -to a woman who resists us, but with her who loves us, I can see nothing -absurd in that position—I was still at her feet, when the door of the -salon opened; it was Madame Dumeillan. She found me at her daughter’s -feet.</p> - -<p>I was not confused at being surprised in that attitude, for I had no -guilty designs; and Eugénie herself looked at her mother without alarm; -but she said to her, with a blush:</p> - -<p>“Mamma, he swears that he will love me all his life; he asks me if I -will be his wife.”</p> - -<p>The mother smiled; we had told her nothing new. But I ran to her, seized -her hands and pressed them in mine,<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a> and begged her not to stand in the -way of my happiness and to call me her son.</p> - -<p>“What answer has Eugénie given you?” asked Madame Dumeillan kindly. “I -am inclined to spoil her a little, you know; if she doesn’t want to -marry you, I warn you that I shall not force her.”</p> - -<p>As she said that, the good woman glanced at her daughter mischievously; -she knew very well that my love was returned. Eugénie threw herself into -the arms of her mother and concealed her sweet face upon her breast; she -could not speak, and I myself had hardly the strength to do so. Madame -Dumeillan took her daughter’s hand and placed it in mine. Eugénie’s face -was still hidden, but her hand answered my pressure. Her mother put her -arms about us and held us to her heart. What a blissful moment! Shall I -ever enjoy a purer happiness?</p> - -<p>This first outburst of enthusiasm passed, Madame Dumeillan exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Well, on my word! I am acting very thoughtlessly for a mother! Here I -am joining your hands, and I do not even know whether you have your -mother’s consent, whether an alliance with our family will be agreeable -to her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, madame, I have no fears in that direction. My mother will be -overjoyed to see me married; the choice that I have made cannot fail to -please her. I have never yet mentioned it to her because first of all I -wanted to know whether Eugénie,—whether mademoiselle your daughter——”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! say Eugénie, monsieur; you have that privilege now; you give -him leave, do you not, my daughter?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mamma.<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Dear Eugénie! oh! how kind you are, madame! But I will go at once to -see my mother; I propose that she shall come herself to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear me! give her a little time.”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, we must move quickly in order to be happy. You have given -your consent, may I not be in haste to call you my mother, too?”</p> - -<p>“To call her your wife, you mean, you rascal!”</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, I am crazy to call her my wife! Dear Eugénie! I am so happy! -I will hurry to my mother’s.”</p> - -<p>“So soon! Why, he is mad, on my word!”</p> - -<p>“You will come again this evening, Henri?”</p> - -<p>“Can you ask me such a question?”</p> - -<p>I kissed Eugénie’s hand and Madame Dumeillan’s, and hurried from the -house, to go to my mother. Ah! I was very happy; and yet I longed to be -a few weeks older, in order to be even happier. But we are forever -longing to grow old, and if we had our whole lives at our disposal, we -should use them up in a very short time.</p> - -<p>My mother was not at home. What a nuisance! She had gone out to make -some calls. Upon whom? Where should I look for her? I went away, -informing the servant that I would come again. I went away, but I had no -idea where to go. My mother lived on Rue du Pas-de-la-Mule, and I knew -no one in that neighborhood. Eugénie lived too far away for me to return -there, for I intended to go to my mother’s again soon. I determined to -walk about on the boulevards in the Marais; they are less frequented -there than elsewhere, and I could think of my Eugénie without being -distracted by the crowd.</p> - -<p>I walked there for fifteen minutes, then returned to my mother’s; she -had not come in, and I must needs walk still longer. What a bore! I -should have had time to go to see Eugénie; away from her, I seemed not -to live.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a></p> - -<p>A little man passed me, turned about, then stopped, barring my path. I -had paid no attention to his performance, but he called out:</p> - -<p>“I say! what in the devil are you thinking about, that you don’t -recognize your friends?”</p> - -<p>It was Bélan. I shook hands with him.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, my dear Bélan, but I did not see you.”</p> - -<p>“You were terribly preoccupied. You were thinking of your love-affairs, -I’ll wager.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, yes; I don’t deny it. I was thinking of the woman I shall adore -all my life.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! how exalted we are! I recognize myself in that!”</p> - -<p>I was like a child, I longed to tell everybody what made me happy. I -told Bélan of my love and of my impending marriage to Mademoiselle -Dumeillan. The little rake made a pirouette and clapped his hands, -crying:</p> - -<p>“The deuce! you are going to be married? On my word, there is a secret -sympathy between us: I am thinking of marrying too.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. In fact, I am fully decided upon it; I am tired of <i>bonnes -fortunes</i>. And then, when your life is always in danger, it becomes -wearisome after a while. Since my adventure with Montdidier—you -remember?”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes! perfectly; it was that day that I first saw Eugénie at -Giraud’s.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! so you met your future wife at Giraud’s, did you? Then it was they -who arranged the marriage?”</p> - -<p>“No indeed. Madame Dumeillan sees them very seldom. For my part, I have -never mentioned them to her; it doesn’t seem to me that I need Giraud to -arrange a marriage for me.<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Never mind; as it was at his house that you met the young woman, he -will be furious if he isn’t invited to the wedding, if he doesn’t manage -the whole thing, if his wife is not near the head of the table, and if -his three children aren’t allowed to stuff their pockets with dessert.”</p> - -<p>“In that case I fancy that he will have a chance to be furious.”</p> - -<p>“To return to myself, my dear fellow, I must tell you that since my -adventure with Madame Montdidier, I have had some very disagreeable -times: obliged to jump out of the window of an entresol; another time, -to pass the night on a balcony, where I caught a cold that cost me eight -bottles of syrup; and lastly, to avoid being surprised by a husband, -compelled to hide in a chest, where I nearly stifled! I stayed in it an -hour, and when they let me out, I was purple; my breath was all gone; -faith! that completely disgusted me with love-affairs and intrigues; and -like yourself, I propose to have done with them. I am courting a young -lady who lives on Rue de la Roquette. I am going there now. You may have -seen her at Giraud’s—Mademoiselle de Beausire?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t remember seeing her.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! she is a very handsome girl; regular features, aquiline nose—I am -very fond of aquiline noses—extraordinary eyes, small waist, beautiful -figure,—everything is there!”</p> - -<p>“Everything,—you are sure?”</p> - -<p>“Bah! you wicked joker! yes, I am sure of it. Anybody can see that at -once. I am paying most assiduous court to her, and I have reason to -believe that she does not look upon me with indifference. Not long ago, -while we were playing games at her mother’s house, she chose me to -whisper a secret to; she came to me blushing, and<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> said in my ear: ‘I -don’t know what to say to you.’ I was enchanted!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t wonder.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, for ‘I don’t know what to say to you’ meant: ‘I am afraid of -saying too much.’”</p> - -<p>“With a well-disposed person it might mean that.”</p> - -<p>“Since then I have made no secret of my intentions. Indeed, she is an -excellent match; she has a dowry of eighty thousand francs, and -brilliant expectations. Her family is noble. And look you, my dear -fellow, I confess that, in order to make myself more attractive to the -mother, I ventured to put a little <i>de</i> before my name; it was Giraud -who advised me to do it. I am now called Ferdinand de Bélan.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! so you have ennobled yourself on your own authority?”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I believe that I have a right to do it; while searching -through my family papers, I discovered that one of my ancestors was an -officer of the kitchen to Louis XV, and a man had to be of noble birth -to fill that post. It was during the Revolution, no doubt, that my -father dropped the <i>de</i>, from fright.”</p> - -<p>“But I have often heard you profess the most profound contempt for -titles, and make sport of old parchments.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! a man often says a thing, you know, just so as to seem to have an -opinion;—You must see my future wife, you must see her, that’s all I -say. And my mother-in-law—a superb woman still, and with such a manner! -she used to be at court, so she is a little strict in the matter of -etiquette; but she adores her daughter and she has sworn never to part -from her!”</p> - -<p>“So you are going to marry two women at once, are you?<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that is merely a figure of speech. But this is the time of day when -the ladies are visible. Adieu, my dear Blémont; I invite you beforehand -to my wedding; for I propose to have a magnificent wedding party at -Lointier’s; his rooms are superb. I have already in my mind the two -costumes which I shall wear on that great day, and the steps I shall -perform to open the ball. I trust that I shall go to your wedding, too?”</p> - -<p>“Really, I don’t know whether we shall have any celebration. That will -be as Eugénie wishes; I assure you that I do not give any thought to -that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I dream every night of weddings, banquets and dances; twice I -have tipped over my somno, thinking that I was opening the ball. Really -it is very nice to be married: if anyone would assure me twelve thousand -francs a year, I wouldn’t remain a bachelor. Adieu, my friend: I must -hurry to wait upon those ladies.”</p> - -<p>For my part, I went again to my mother’s, and that time I found her. She -had not finished asking me about my health when I began to tell her of -my love-affairs; and I did not stop until I had begged her to go to -Madame Dumeillan’s with me at once.</p> - -<p>But my mother did not share my eagerness, which indeed made her smile. -She was very glad that I was thinking of settling down, and she had no -doubt that I had made an excellent choice; but she fell back on the -heartless conventional phrases:</p> - -<p>“We must see; we must make sure; we must not be in a hurry.”</p> - -<p>Not be in a hurry when one’s happiness is in the balance! ah! parents -never choose to remember the time when they were in love! I urged and -entreated my mother to go at once to see the ladies. She calmly called -my attention to the fact that it was four o’clock, that<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> she was dining -out, and that it was too late for her to call upon Madame Dumeillan that -day. All that I could obtain from her was a promise to go on the -following day; she even gave me permission to inform the ladies that she -would call.</p> - -<p>I had no choice but to make the best of it. I left my mother, and I -would have sworn that, before I reached the foot of the stairs, she had -already forgotten my visit, and was wondering what partner she would -have at whist that evening.</p> - -<p>I returned to Eugénie after dinner. Nowhere else could I be patient and -find means of passing the time until the day when I should be her -husband.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, it was the evening of Madame Dumeillan’s reception; many -people came, and we could not talk. My eyes expressed to Eugénie all the -impatience that I felt because I was unable to talk to her of my love; -and her glances told me that she shared my annoyance. At that moment, -society was most disagreeable to us. If all those people had known how -pleased we should have been to see them go!</p> - -<p>However, the card tables being arranged, I hoped to be able to approach -Eugénie at last; but behold, Monsieur Giraud and his wife arrived. After -the usual greeting and exchange of compliments, Madame Giraud took -possession of Eugénie, and her husband joined me. He talked to me in -what, as I thought, he intended as a sly tone. He had evidently heard -that I was paying court to Mademoiselle Dumeillan; he thought that -perhaps I would ask him to negotiate my marriage, to speak for me, to -arrange the provisions of the contract. Poor Giraud! I saw what he was -driving at; I pretended not to understand his hints and allusions. When -he mentioned Eugénie, I changed the subject. He was offended; he rose<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> -and left me. That was what I wanted. I was sure that his wife was going -through the same manœuvres with Eugénie. Bélan was right: those -people would never forgive us if we married without letting them have a -hand in it; but we could do without their forgiveness.</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud walked away from Eugénie with evident displeasure. Eugénie -glanced at me with a smile; I had guessed aright the subject of their -conversation. The husband and wife met and whispered earnestly together; -then they walked toward Madame Dumeillan and surrounded her, one at her -right, and the other at her left; she could not escape them. They -evidently proposed to try to learn more from Eugénie’s mother; but I -knew that they would waste their time, that Madame Dumeillan would tell -them nothing; she invented an excuse for leaving them after talking a -few moments.</p> - -<p>Giraud and his wife were very angry. They came toward me again, and I -expected that they would hurl epigrams at me and tear me with their -claws. I was not mistaken; Madame Giraud began, speaking to her husband -so that I should hear:</p> - -<p>“It is very amusing, isn’t it, Monsieur Giraud?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Madame Giraud, very amusing; there is a great deal of diplomacy -here.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, they make a mystery of something that is everybody’s secret.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! they evidently take us for fools.”</p> - -<p>“It seems that way to me.”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t anyone say that it was a question of uniting two great -powers?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they are afraid they will have to invite us to the wedding.”</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! weddings! we have no lack of them; in fact, we have so -many that it is fairly sickening.<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I declined an invitation to another to-morrow. And there is poor Bélan -who has already invited us to his, which is to be at Lointier’s.”</p> - -<p>“That young man will make a very good husband. Does he get along all -right with Madame de Beausire?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! since I went to see the mother-in-law, all the obstacles have -disappeared. There are some people who aren’t afraid to let me take a -hand in their affairs, and who are greatly benefited by it.”</p> - -<p>“Let us go, Monsieur Giraud; we still have time to go and see our good -friends who have that expensive apartment on Rue de la Paix, and whose -daughter you found a husband for two months ago.”</p> - -<p>“You are right; I am sure that they expect us to have a cup of tea.”</p> - -<p>The husband and wife disappeared without a word to anyone. And those -creatures were offended with us because we found it natural and -convenient to manage our own affairs! But in society it takes so little -to make enemies, especially of narrow-minded people.</p> - -<p>The guests began to leave, and I found a moment to talk with Eugénie. I -told her that my mother would come to see her the next day. She blushed -and sighed as she replied:</p> - -<p>“Suppose she doesn’t like me? suppose she isn’t willing to have me for -her daughter?”</p> - -<p>Not like her! who could fail to like her? I was not at all disturbed. I -reassured Eugénie, and I left her at last when the clock so ordered, as -I had not as yet the right not to leave her at all.</p> - -<p>On returning home, I met Ernest coming down from his mistress’s room. -Since I had been spending all my time at Madame Dumeillan’s, I had sadly -neglected my friends of the fifth floor. Ernest reproached me for it<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> -mildly, but they were not offended; they knew that I was in love, and -thought it quite natural that I should think of no one but my love. But -Ernest said to me:</p> - -<p>“I hope that you will come to see us sometimes, although Marguerite will -soon cease to be your neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“Is she going to move?”</p> - -<p>“In a week. She is not going to live in an attic any longer, thank -heaven! Poor child! she has been miserable enough; she has made so many -sacrifices for me, that I may well be glad to offer her a pleasanter -position at last. Thank heaven! my affairs are prosperous. I have been -successful, my friend, and I have made money. I have not squandered it -at the cafés or restaurants, because I have always remembered -Marguerite, in her attic, poor and destitute of everything. You see -that, whatever my parents may say, it is not always a bad thing to have -a poor mistress, for it has made me orderly and economical in good -season.”</p> - -<p>“I see that you are not selfish, and that you are not like many young -men of your age, who think that they have done enough for a woman when -they have taken her to a theatre and to a restaurant,—pleasures which -they share with her,—but who cease to think about her as soon as they -have left her at home.”</p> - -<p>“I have hired a pretty little apartment on Rue du Temple, nearly -opposite the baths. That is where we are going to live; I say we, -because I hope that before long Marguerite and I shall not be parted. It -matters little to me what people say; I propose to be happy, and I shall -let evil tongues say what they will.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, my dear Ernest; happiness is rare enough for a person to -make some sacrifices to obtain it. I am going to marry my Eugénie! I -have attained the height of my ambition!<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I might marry Marguerite too; but we are so happy as we are! Why should -we change? Besides, we have plenty of time, haven’t we? Adieu, my dear -Blémont. You will come to see us, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I promise you that I will.”</p> - -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br /><br /> -MARRIAGE.—A MEETING.—THE BALL</h2> - -<p>My mother went to see Madame Dumeillan, and they suited each other. It -is a miracle when two women of mature years suit each other. My mother -found Eugénie very attractive; she complimented me on my choice, and she -was very hard to suit, too. I was overjoyed, in ecstasy. The provisions -of the contract were very soon arranged by the two ladies, each of whom -had but one child. For my part, I hurried forward the wedding day to the -best of my ability. And yet, I was very happy. I passed three-quarters -of my afternoons and all my evenings with Eugénie. If the ladies went -out, I escorted them. Our approaching union was no secret, and many -young men congratulated me on my good fortune. Some of them sighed as -they glanced at Eugénie; perhaps they were in love with her. Poor -fellows! I pitied them; but I could do nothing for them.</p> - -<p>It was decided that I should retain the apartment which I occupied. It -was large enough for my wife, and I had it decorated carefully in -accordance with her taste. It would not have been large enough if Madame -Dumeillan had come to live with us, as I expected at first.<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> Eugénie too -hoped that she would not leave her; but Madame Dumeillan said to her -affectionately but firmly:</p> - -<p>“No, my child, I shall not live with you. When a man marries, he wishes -to take but one wife; why give him two? I know that Henri is fond of me; -that he would be glad to have me live with him; but I know also, my -children, that a young couple often have a thousand things to say to -each other, and that a third person, no matter how dearly loved, is -sometimes in the way. In love, in jealousy, in the most trivial -disputes, the presence of a third person may be most harmful, and may -prolong for a week what need have lasted but a moment; it checks the -outpouring of love and intensifies the bitterness of reproach. But I -will live near you, and I shall see you often, very often. And whenever -you want me, you will always be able to find me.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie was obliged to yield to her mother, and for my part, I -considered that Madame Dumeillan was right.</p> - -<p>Should we have a wedding party? That was a question which I asked -myself, and which I was tempted more than once to put to Eugénie. But a -little reflection convinced me that I should be wrong not to celebrate -my marriage. To please me, Eugénie would pretend that she did not care -about a ball; but at twenty years of age, possessed of innumerable -charms, endowed with all the graces which attract and subjugate, is it -not natural for a woman to long to show herself in all the glory of her -happiness? Is that not a marked day in her life when she is called -madame for the first time, although she has not absolutely ceased to be -a maiden; when she has not as yet the assurance of the former, but on -the contrary has all the shrinking modesty of the other in an -intensified form? Yes, at the age of love and enjoyment, it is essential -to have a wedding party; doubly so, when one marries<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> the object of -one’s passion; for happiness is always an embellishment. My Eugénie -needed no embellishment; but why should I not have a little vanity? Why -should I not be proud of my triumph?</p> - -<p>So it was decided that we should have a wedding party: that is to say, a -grand breakfast after the ceremony, and in the evening a supper and ball -at Lointier’s. I determined to look to it that my Eugénie should have -magnificent dresses for that great day; not that she could possibly be -more beautiful in my eyes, but I wished that she should enjoy all those -triumphs which mark an epoch in a woman’s life. I gave her leave to be a -coquette on that day.</p> - -<p>The moment of my happiness drew near. We turned our attention to the -list of guests. For the breakfast there would be very few, enough -however to make sure that they would not be bored, and that it should -not have the aspect of a family party. For the evening, many people were -invited; the salons were large, and it was necessary to fill them. We -simply tried to make sure that in the throng none of those fine -gentlemen should worm themselves in, who are known neither to the groom -nor to the bride, nor to their relations, but who boldly present -themselves at a large party, where, under cover of their decent -exterior, they consume ices and often cheat at écarté.</p> - -<p>We had already written a multitude of names; I had not forgotten Bélan, -and as the ladies were slightly acquainted with Madame de Beausire and -her daughter, we sent them an invitation too; I knew that that would -rejoice poor Ferdinand. Suddenly I stopped, and looking at Eugénie and -her mother with a smile, I said to them:</p> - -<p>“Shall we put down their names too?<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I am sure that I know whom you mean!” cried Eugénie. “Henri is thinking -of the Giraud family.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>“Why invite them?” asked Madame Dumeillan; “they are terrible bores, and -their inquisitiveness actually amounts to spying.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you, and the last time they came to your reception they -made themselves ridiculous. But I cannot forget that it was at their -house that I first met Eugénie. And then our invitation will please them -so much! and when I am so happy, I like others to be so.”</p> - -<p>“Henri is right, mamma; let us invite them.”</p> - -<p>So Giraud’s name was put down on the list. At last, the solemn day -arrived. I rose at six o’clock in the morning, having slept hardly at -all. I could not keep still. What should I do until eleven o’clock, when -I was to call for my mother, and then for my Eugénie? To read was -impossible; to draw or to paint was equally impossible. To think of -her—ah! I did nothing else; but it fatigued me and did not divert my -thoughts. After dressing, I went all over my apartment, where I was -still alone; I made sure that nothing was lacking. I hoped that she -would be comfortable there. That apartment, which I had occupied four -years, involuntarily reminded me of a thousand incidents of my bachelor -life. That room, that little salon had seen more than one female figure. -I had received many visits. When a lady had promised to come to -breakfast or to pass the day with me, how impatiently I counted the -minutes! How, until the time arrived, I dreaded lest some inopportune -visitor should ring the bell in place of her whom I expected! How many -kisses, oaths and promises had been exchanged on that couch! And all -those things were so soon forgotten!—Ah! I was very happy in those days -too!<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> - -<p>But suddenly I thought of all the letters I had received; I had not -burned them, and they were in a casket on my desk. I had often enjoyed -reading them over; but suppose Eugénie should find them! I determined to -burn them, to burn them all; for what was the use of them now?</p> - -<p>I took out the casket which contained them; I opened it; it was stuffed -with them. There are some women who are so fond of writing, either -because they write well, or because they think they do, or simply -because they love one. I took all the letters and carried them to the -fireplace, where I made a pile of them. But before setting fire to them, -I opened one, then another, then another; each of them reminded me of an -episode, some day of my life. It is strange how quickly time passes amid -such old souvenirs. The clock struck nine, and I was still reading. I -was no longer in love with any of those women, but it was my last -farewell to bachelorhood.</p> - -<p>I set them afire, not without a faint sigh. At last my bachelor amours -were burned, and only a pinch of ashes remained; some day nothing more -will remain of all the riches, of all the marvels of this earth.</p> - -<p>Those were very serious thoughts for a wedding day, but they served to -pass the time, and that was something. Moreover, extremes always meet: -the happier one is, the more disposed is one’s mind to melancholy -thoughts. A grocer weighing sugar, or a postman delivering letters, does -not feel such impressions.</p> - -<p>But I almost forgot something else; for since I had thought of nothing -but Eugénie from morning until night, it was not surprising that I had -not set all my affairs in order. I had once amused myself by painting -miniatures of some of the ladies whose letters I had just<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> burned. Those -portraits were in the desk upon which I painted; there were eight of -them.</p> - -<p>Should I sacrifice them as well? It would have been a pity; not because -of the models, but because the miniatures were really not bad. Why -destroy them? In the first place, Eugénie would never see them; and even -if she should see them, they were fancy portraits. When one paints from -life, one must necessarily paint portraits. So I had mercy upon those -ladies, and replaced their pretty faces in the depths of the desk, -whence I thought that they would never come forth.</p> - -<p>Now I had carefully scrutinized and examined everything; nothing was -left which could possibly offend Eugénie’s eye. No, she could come there -now and reign as mistress; thenceforth no other woman should enter those -rooms than such as she should choose to receive.</p> - -<p>It was time to think about dressing. I thought it would do no harm if I -were at my mother’s a little before the hour. If only the carriages did -not keep me waiting. But someone entered my room; it was my concierge -and his wife, with a big bouquet. Did they think I was going to put it -in my buttonhole?</p> - -<p>The husband came forward with an affable expression and was about to -speak, but his wife did not give him time.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” she said, “this is your wedding day; we are very glad to be -able to congratulate you on such a happy day, by offering you this -bouquet and our compliments; these immortelles are the symbol of your -happiness, which will last forever.”</p> - -<p>While his wife glibly delivered this speech, the concierge tried to slip -in a few words, but he did not succeed. I took the bouquet, gave them -some money and dismissed them. A wedding day would have little charm<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> if -one must submit to many congratulations of that sort. At last a carriage -arrived. I went downstairs and passed rapidly before a long line of -cooks and some gossiping old women who lived in the house, who were -stationed in the courtyard to see me, as if a man who was going to be -married had his nose placed otherwise than usual on that day.</p> - -<p>I was driven to my mother’s, and found that she had just begun to dress.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t eleven o’clock yet,” she said; “we have plenty of time; go and -read the newspaper.”</p> - -<p>Read the newspaper! just at the moment that I was to be married! I, who -could not read one through when I had nothing to do! No, I preferred to -remain there, and each five minutes I knocked at the door of her -dressing-room to enquire if she were ready.</p> - -<p>At a quarter-past eleven I carried my mother off, I almost dragged her -away, although she declared that her bonnet was on crooked and that she -wanted to have the ribbons changed. I refused to listen, we entered the -carriage, and I swore to my mother that her headgear was in perfect -order; she became calmer and consented to be amiable once more.</p> - -<p>We arrived at Madame Dumeillan’s. Eugénie was ready; I was confident -that she would not keep me waiting, that she would have pity on my -impatience. Her dress was charming, according to all the people who were -there; for my part, I did not notice her dress, I saw only her, and I -should have thought her a thousand times lovelier if it had been -possible.</p> - -<p>One of our witnesses kept us waiting. There are people who would not -hurry one iota to please others, and who know of nothing in the world -that is important enough for haste. I could not live with such people.<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a></p> - -<p>At last the tardy witness arrived and we started for the mayor’s office. -I was not allowed to escort Eugénie. On that day everything was -subordinate to ceremony; a man must be happier on the day after his -wedding than on his wedding day.</p> - -<p>I have never cared much for ceremonial, and that of my marriage seemed -extremely long. To give me courage, I looked at my wife; she was more -impressed than I by the solemnity of the moment; she was deeply moved -and was weeping. Dear Eugénie! I thought of nothing but loving her -forever, and it was certainly not necessary for anyone to order me to do -it.</p> - -<p>It came to an end at last. We returned to the carriages, still in -procession, and through a crowd of curious folk who devoured us with -their eyes. I felt more buoyant, happier. I was so glad that it was -over!</p> - -<p>I spied Giraud and his wife at the church, in full array; they had -offered us congratulations which I had not listened to; but I had said -to them: “until this evening;” and they replied with a low bow.</p> - -<p>We drove to Lointier’s, where a handsome breakfast awaited us. But a -wedding breakfast is generally a decidedly gloomy affair. The bride can -hardly be expected to laugh, and even when she is happiest, she is -thoughtful and talks little; the grandparents are always intent upon -preserving their dignity. For my part, I was engrossed, or rather -annoyed, by the reflection that it was still early in the day. There -were in the party some jokers, or persons who tried to joke; one stout -gentleman, a kinsman of my mother, regaled us with some of those -superannuated jests concerning the occasion and happiness that awaited -us; but his sallies met with no success; nobody laughed at them, and he -was forced to keep to himself the ample store of <i>bons mots</i> with which<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a> -I am sure that he was provided. I was delighted, because I considered -such jests very bad form; they should be left for the weddings of -concierges or servants; the modesty of a young woman who has but one day -of innocence left should be respected; and we should assume innocence in -those who have none.</p> - -<p>Eugénie and I were at a distance from each other; we could not talk, but -we glanced furtively at each other and our eyes mutually counselled -patience.</p> - -<p>The clock struck five, and the ladies left to change their dresses. I -escorted my wife to the carriage which was to take her home with her -mother. I would have been glad to go with her, but Madame Dumeillan and -my mother persuaded me that it was my duty to remain with the guests who -were still at table. Eugénie leaned toward me and whispered in my ear:</p> - -<p>“Oh! we shall be much happier to-morrow, my dear! we shall not be -separated then, I trust.”</p> - -<p>Dear Eugénie, you were quite right. I had to return to the table, -because it pleased some of our guests to eat and drink through four -hours. If only I had been hungry!</p> - -<p>We left the table at last, at six o’clock. Several of the gentlemen -began to play cards. As courtesy did not require me to watch them lose -their money, I left the restaurant and drove to my wife’s house.</p> - -<p>The hairdresser had just arrived, and she had abandoned her lovely hair -to him. Really, those hairdressers are too fortunate, to be able to pass -their fingers through those lovely locks and to gaze constantly at the -pretty head which is entrusted to them. That one took at least -three-quarters of an hour to arrange Eugénie’s hair, as if it were -difficult to make her look charming! But women are wonderfully patient -with respect to everything that pertains to their toilet.<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a></p> - -<p>Her hair was arranged at last; but they took her away, for she was not -dressed. My wife was not yet mine; she was still in the grasp of the -conventionalities of that day. I was fain to be patient, until I once -had possession of her. But that night I would bolt all the doors, and no -one should see her the next morning until I chose.</p> - -<p>I saw that Eugénie would not be dressed for at least an hour, so I went -out and tried to kill time. I jumped into one of the carriages which -were waiting at the door, and was driven to the Tuileries. I alighted on -Rue de Rivoli, and entered the garden. The day was drawing to a close; -the weather was gloomy and uncertain. There were very few people under -those superb chestnuts toward which I walked. I was delighted, for I do -not care for a promenade where there is a crowd; the people who stare at -you or jostle you every moment prevent you from dreaming, from thinking -at your leisure.</p> - -<p>I rarely went to the Tuileries; to my mind that great garden was -melancholy and monotonous; but on that day it seemed pleasanter to me, -for I could think freely of my wife. My wife! those words still had a -strange sound to me. I was married, I who had so often laughed at -husbands! Had I been wrong to laugh at them, or should I prove an -exception to the rule?</p> - -<p>I walked at random. Finally I found myself in front of the enclosure -where the statues of Hippomenes and Atalanta stand. That reminded me of -a certain assignation. It was three years before, in the middle of -winter. There had been a heavy fall of snow; the garden, the benches -were covered with it, and it was very cold. But I had an assignation, -and on such occasions one does not consult the thermometer. It was with -a certain Lucile, who, for decency’s sake, called herself Madame -Lejeune, and who mended cashmere shawls. She was very pretty,<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> was -Lucile. About twenty-three years old at that time, with a pretty, -shapely figure, and an almost distinguished face which did not betray -the grisette. I had an idea that her portrait was among those that I had -preserved. She was accustomed to love madly for a fortnight; during the -third week she calmed down, and ordinarily she was unfaithful by the end -of the month. As I had been warned, I considered it more amusing to -anticipate her, and to take up with another before the fortnight had -expired. She did not forgive me; her self-esteem was wounded, for I have -no idea that she would have been more constant with me than with others; -but she tried to make me believe that she would have, and whenever I met -her I could always detect a flavor of bitterness in her speech and anger -in her glance.</p> - -<p>It was in front of that enclosure, close by those statues, that we had -arranged to meet. I remembered that Lucile was there before me, despite -the extreme cold. We had not known each other four days, and we adored -each other. She did not reprove me for keeping her waiting, and yet her -nose and chin were purple with cold, and her fingers were stiff; but her -eyes burned. I put her into a cab and took her to dine at Pelletan’s, at -the Pavillon-Français. It was one of the red-letter days of my -bachelorhood.</p> - -<p>Very good, but the whole business was not worth one smile from Eugénie. -I was about to turn away from Atalanta, when I saw within a few feet of -me a lady dressed with some elegance, who was looking at me with a smile -on her lips.</p> - -<p>“You must admit,” she said, “that the snow is all that is needed to make -the resemblance complete.”</p> - -<p>It was Lucile! What a strange chance! I walked toward her.<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a></p> - -<p>“You here, madame?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; and I beg you to believe that I have not come here in -search of memories.”</p> - -<p>“I am here, madame, by the merest chance. But, as I passed these -statues, I remembered a certain assignation, one winter, and I confess -that I was thinking of you.”</p> - -<p>“Really! Ah! that is most flattering on your part! You have to come to -the Tuileries to do that, do you not, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“If that were so, madame, you must admit that other men devote their -thoughts to you. One aspirant more or less—you can hardly detect the -difference.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! your remarks are exceedingly polite! But I am not surprised: you -have never been anything but agreeable to me! You are the same as ever!”</p> - -<p>“I do not see that I have said anything to you that——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! mon Dieu! let us drop the subject. You might conclude that I attach -great value to memories of you, and you would be much mistaken. But how -fine you are! Are you going to a wedding?”</p> - -<p>“Just so; I have been one of a wedding party since morning, and I came -here for a walk while the bride is dressing herself for the ball.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! you are a wedding guest to-day! Is the bride pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Lovely.”</p> - -<p>“A widow or unmarried?”</p> - -<p>“Unmarried.”</p> - -<p>“How old?”</p> - -<p>“Twenty years.”</p> - -<p>“Has she—you know what?”</p> - -<p>“I can tell you that better to-morrow, if I should happen to see you.<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Are you the best man?”</p> - -<p>“Better than that.”</p> - -<p>“Better than that! What! Do you mean—Oh, no! that is impossible. You -are not going to be married?”</p> - -<p>“Why is it impossible?”</p> - -<p>“Because you don’t do such crazy things as that.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether marriage is always a crazy thing, but I can assure -you that I was married this morning, and that, far from regretting it, I -congratulate myself upon it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! if it was only this morning, that is easy to understand.—What! are -you really married, Henri? Ha! ha! how amusing it is!”</p> - -<p>“What is there so amusing about it?”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha! Poor Henri! You are married! Upon my word, I can’t get over -it. But I promise you that it gives me the very greatest pleasure! Ha! -ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>Lucile’s sneering laughter had an ironical note that began to irritate -me. I bowed to her and turned away, but she detained me.</p> - -<p>“By the way, one moment, monsieur; it is probable that I shall not have -the pleasure of talking with you again for a long time, for a married -man doesn’t go out without his wife. So yours is very pretty, is she?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And are you very much in love with her?”</p> - -<p>“More than I have ever been.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how frank!”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t I say what I think?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure. Then you must try to make her love you more than you have -ever been loved. Ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>“I think that that will not be difficult.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so? You may be mistaken.<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, madame, if I leave you; but my wife must have finished -dressing, and I must return for her.”</p> - -<p>“If <i>your wife</i> is waiting for you, why, go, monsieur; and see to it -that she never waits for anybody else. Ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>I saw that Lucile had not forgiven me. I left her. I was unable to -conceal the vexation that that woman caused me to feel. I jumped into -the carriage which took me back to Eugénie. She was waiting for me; the -sight of her, a single word from her lips, speedily dissipated that -slight cloud. Eugénie was dazzling; her charms, her graces, her lovely -dress, everything combined to add fascination to her aspect. I took her -hand.</p> - -<p>“It is time to go to the ball; let us start,” said Madame Dumeillan and -my mother. I held Eugénie’s hand, I was looking at my wife, and I had -forgotten everything else.</p> - -<p>Our appearance in the salons was greeted with a flattering murmur. Words -of praise rang in my ears, and I admit that they flattered my heart too; -it was my wife who was the object of universal admiration. Eugénie -blushed and lowered her eyes; but it would have been difficult for her -to avoid hearing the compliments which were rained upon her as she -passed.</p> - -<p>There were many people already there, and my acquaintances came forward -to greet me. Giraud took my hand and pressed it. I felt inclined to be -friendly with everyone, I was so happy! The men crowded about my wife to -obtain the favor of dancing with her; they took their numbers, and I -overheard one of them say that he was number twenty-six. Judging from -that, it was evident that I could not look forward to dancing with my -wife that night. But I made the best of it, and invited other ladies to -dance.<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a></p> - -<p>I spied a little man, pushing and jostling everybody to make a passage -for himself; it was Bélan, escorting a young lady who was at least a -head taller than he, and with whom he was about to dance. When they -passed me, they stopped, and he said to me:</p> - -<p>“My friend, this is Mademoiselle Armide de Beausire, of whom I have -spoken to you so often.”</p> - -<p>I bowed low before Mademoiselle Armide, who was neither beautiful nor -ugly, and whose eyes were almost as large as her mouth; but there was in -her face and in her whole person something stiff and prim which smelt of -the province a league away.</p> - -<p>People crowded around Bélan and Mademoiselle Armide to see them dance. -The little man danced very well; and as he had a very good figure, he -had procured tight trousers, a tight coat and a tight waistcoat; there -was not a fold to be seen on his whole body; if his face had been black -you would have thought that he was a little negro <i>in puris -naturalibus</i>.</p> - -<p>Between the contradances I struggled through the crowd, to try to -introduce to my wife a crowd of people whom I hardly knew, but who said -to me:</p> - -<p>“Won’t you present me to madame?”</p> - -<p>At midnight the crowd had become so great that it was difficult to move. -Did I know all those people? No; but I had told several of my -acquaintances to bring their acquaintances, and that sort of thing -extends very far sometimes. However, it was a brilliant affair. There -were lovely dresses and very pretty women; the men were well-dressed, -and I saw none of those expressionless, ignoble faces, none of those old -creased caps which one is surprised sometimes to see at a fashionable -party, where however they often have more right to be than most people; -for those unattractive, common faces which<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> we see in corners at a -wedding party usually belong to some uncle or some cousin whom it was -impossible not to invite.</p> - -<p>Three times I found Giraud eating ices or carrying them to his wife. He -had brought only two of his children; the two older ones; that was very -considerate of him. I was so happy that I asked Madame Giraud to dance, -and she seemed highly flattered by that courtesy. But what did it matter -to me with whom I danced when it was not Eugénie? I no longer thought of -paying court to ladies; other times, other ideas.</p> - -<p>“Your ball is delightful,” said Bélan, leading me into a salon where -card playing was in progress, but where it was possible to move about. -“There are at least four hundred people here.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! I should be hard put to it to say how many there are here. If -they are enjoying themselves, that is all that is necessary.”</p> - -<p>“It will be like this at my wedding. What do you think of Armide?”</p> - -<p>“She is very attractive.”</p> - -<p>“And her eyes?”</p> - -<p>“They are superb.”</p> - -<p>“They are extraordinary, are they not? Well, my dear fellow, she has -everything like that,—wit, talents, and such an air of distinction! Did -you see us dancing together?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t we get along well?”</p> - -<p>“It is a pity that you are a little short beside her.”</p> - -<p>“Short! you are joking. She is a little tall! However, when a man is -built as I am, it is worth three inches of height. I certainly wouldn’t -change figures with that tall, lanky man in front of us. Those tall -fellows<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> are always awkward. Have you seen Madame de Beausire?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“Come then, and let me present you to her. You will see a woman who -hasn’t a single touch of the plebeian; she is the type of true -distinction.”</p> - -<p>I submitted to be led away; I did whatever anyone wanted that night. I -saw a tall, yellow woman who resembled a piece of old tapestry, and who -looked as if she had never laughed since she came into the world. I made -haste to bow and to run away. It seemed to me that one must necessarily -catch the <i>spleen</i> in Madame de Beausire’s company.</p> - -<p>The supper hour arrived; at last the ball was drawing to a close; and -although I was not exactly bored, still I should have been very glad to -be at home with my wife.</p> - -<p>The ladies were conducted to their seats. I looked after the comfort of -everybody; I saw that the tables, large and small alike, were properly -waited upon.</p> - -<p>“Pray rest a moment and eat something,” people said to me.</p> - -<p>Much I thought about eating! I preferred to hurry the supper of that -multitude.</p> - -<p>I found Giraud and his two children sitting at a small table with three -young men. Giraud had a currant cake on his knees, and he had slipped a -bowl of jelly under the table, not choosing to pass it, for fear it -would not come back to him. I called for fish, chickens, and pâté; I -covered his children’s plates with cakes. Giraud was in ecstasy; he -shook my hand, murmuring:</p> - -<p>“This is one of the finest weddings I have ever seen, and God knows that -I have seen a tremendous number of them!<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>”</p> - -<p>Madame Giraud, who had been obliged to leave the large table when the -other ladies rose, walked behind her husband and children at that -moment, with an enormous reticule hanging on her arm. While pretending -to pass the gentlemen what they wanted, I saw that she kept opening the -bag and thrusting cakes, biscuit, and even pie crust into it. Giraud, -seeing that I had noticed his wife’s manœuvring, said to her angrily, -as she was trying to force some macaroons into her bag:</p> - -<p>“What on earth are you doing, Madame Giraud? What sort of manners are -these? You are putting macaroons into your bag!”</p> - -<p>“Just for Azor, my dear, the poor beast. He is so fond of macaroons, you -know. They would be wasted, so what harm does it do? I want poor Azor to -have a little of the pleasure of this party.”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that I don’t like such things, Madame Giraud.”</p> - -<p>I appeased Giraud, who pretended to be very angry; then I walked away, -in order to leave his wife at full liberty; and she ended by making a -perfect balloon of her bag.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the tables were gradually deserted; many people returned to -the ballroom, but many others entered their carriages, and I considered -that the latter acted wisely.</p> - -<p>The ball was more agreeable perhaps, because it was more comfortable to -dance. Eugénie continued to be invited, and I must needs content myself -with dancing opposite her; but there were figures in which we took each -other’s hands, and then how many things we said by a soft pressure! it -seems that the heart, that the very soul, passes into the beloved hand -which presses ours lovingly.<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a></p> - -<p>The ranks became thinner. My mother had gone, and Madame Dumeillan was -only awaiting our departure to follow her example. It was five o’clock. -The daylight was beginning to show through the windows, and to lessen -the brilliancy of the candles. The number of ladies diminished every -moment. I went to Eugénie’s side.</p> - -<p>“I am tired of dancing,” she said, “and yet I am afraid to refuse.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it seems to me that we might venture to go now.”</p> - -<p>She lowered her eyes and made no answer. I concluded that I had done -enough for others and that I might think of myself at last. I took my -wife’s hand and led her from the room; Madame Dumeillan followed us; we -entered a carriage and drove away. We had to take Madame Dumeillan home -first. It was a short distance, but it seemed very long to me. The -nearer one’s happiness approaches, the more intense one’s impatience -becomes.</p> - -<p>We spoke but little in the mother’s presence. At last we reached her -house, and I alighted. Madame Dumeillan embraced her daughter; it seemed -to me that their embrace was interminable. Selfish creatures that we -are! it did not occur to me that that was the last embrace in which a -mother would hold her daughter, still a virgin, in her arms, and that I -should have all the rest of my life to enjoy my privileges as a husband.</p> - -<p>Madame Dumeillan entered her house. I returned to the carriage, and we -drove on. At last I was alone with Eugénie, with my wife. I believe that -that was the sweetest moment that I have ever known; it had seemed to me -that it would never arrive. I put my arms about Eugénie; she wept when -she embraced her mother; but<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> I embraced her, and she ceased to weep, -for I overwhelmed her with caresses, and unfamiliar sensations made her -heart beat fast.</p> - -<p>At last we reached my apartment, our apartment. The servant who was to -live with us, and who had been in her mother’s service, was waiting for -us in the concierge’s room, with a light; but it was broad day; we -needed no service. My wife and I entered our home. I led her by the -hand, I felt that she was trembling and I believe that I trembled too. -It is a strange effect of happiness that it suffocates one, that it -almost makes one ill.</p> - -<p>I closed the doors and shot the bolts. I was alone with my wife! At last -there was no third person with us! We were at liberty to love each -other, to tell each other of our love, and to prove it!</p> - -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br /><br /> -THE HONEYMOON.—BÉLAN’S WEDDING</h2> - -<p>How happiness makes the time fly! A fortnight after I became Eugénie’s -husband it seemed to both of us that we had been married only the day -before. That fortnight had passed so rapidly! It would be very difficult -for me to say how we employed the time; we had no leisure to do -anything. In the first place, we rose late, we breakfasted -<i>tête-à-tête</i>, and then we talked; often I held Eugénie on my knees; -people can understand each other better when they are close together.</p> - -<p>We made a multitude of plans, our conversation being often interrupted -by the kisses which I stole, or which<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> she gave me. We were much -surprised, when we glanced at the clock, to find that it was almost noon -and that we had been talking for two hours. Then we had to think about -dressing to go to see Madame Dumeillan, and sometimes to take a walk or -drive. We continued to talk while we dressed. I would ask Eugénie to -sing me a song, or to play something on the piano. If I chanced to have -a visitor, or a client who kept me in my office fifteen minutes, when I -came out I would find my wife already impatient at my long absence, and -we would talk a few minutes more to make up to ourselves for the -annoyance caused by my visitor. At last we would go out; but we always -acted like school children and chose the longest way, so that it was -almost dinner time when we reached my mother-in-law’s. We had been to -the theatre twice since we were married; we preferred that to going to -parties. At the theatre we were still alone and could talk when the play -was dull; but in society one is never free to do whatever one pleases. -We always returned home early, and we were always glad to get home. But, -I say again, the time passed like a flash.</p> - -<p>My wife found my apartment much to her liking; she told me that it was a -pleasure to her to live where I had lived as a bachelor. She often -questioned me about that period of my life, and listened to my answers -with interest and curiosity; but I did not tell her everything; I -slurred over many episodes; for I had discovered that Eugénie was -jealous. Her brow darkened when there were women in my adventures, and -she often interrupted me, saying angrily:</p> - -<p>“That’s enough, hush! I don’t want to know any more!”</p> - -<p>Then I would kiss her and say:</p> - -<p>“My dear love, I didn’t know you then.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>”</p> - -<p>But, despite my caresses, her ill humor always lasted some minutes.</p> - -<p>However, it was necessary that we should do something else than talk and -embrace. Eugénie agreed to teach me to play on the piano, and I to give -her lessons in painting. But first of all, I began her portrait. That -was an occupation which took an endless time, for we were constantly -distraught; when I looked at my model, and she fastened her lovely eyes -upon me and smiled affectionately at me, how could I always resist the -desire to kiss her? And she would pout so prettily when I failed to lay -aside my brush for a long while! At that I would rise and rush to my -model and embrace her. Such episodes led me to think that painters must -be very self-restrained, to resist the temptations they must experience -when they are painting the portrait of a young and pretty woman. A woman -whom we are painting looks at us as we wish her to look; we request a -very sweet glance and smile, and she exerts herself to make her -expression as pleasing and amiable as possible; for a woman always -desires her picture to be fascinating.</p> - -<p>For my own part, I had never needed to resist my desires, for I had -painted none but my mistresses; but when one must needs scrutinize in -detail innumerable charms, and stand quietly by one’s easel—ah! then, I -repeat, one must be most virtuous, and that particular sort of virtue is -not the characteristic quality of painters.</p> - -<p>Despite our frequent distractions, I worked assiduously at my wife’s -portrait; in ten sittings it was finished, and I was delighted with my -work; the likeness was striking. Eugénie herself uttered a cry of -surprise when she saw herself; but she feared that I had flattered her. -No; I had not painted her, to be sure, as she was in company, when she -looked at everybody indifferently,<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> but as she was when she looked at me -while I was painting her, with eyes overflowing with love. It seemed to -me that I had done wisely to select that expression; for it was for -myself and not for others that I had painted her portrait.</p> - -<p>Next, I must needs paint my own; Eugénie insisted upon it. That was a -much less amusing task, and I feared that it would be a long one. I had -already given myself several sittings, and it seemed to me that it did -not progress satisfactorily. Eugénie was not satisfied; she said:</p> - -<p>“You have given yourself a sulky, sober look; that isn’t the way you -look at me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear love, it is because it is a bore to me to look at myself.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! wait a moment, I have an idea. I will sit beside you; then, when -you look in the glass, you will see me too, and I trust, monsieur, that -you will not make faces at me.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie’s idea impressed me as a charming one. Thanks to her invention, -I was no longer bored when I sat for myself; for she was always there -beside me, and when I looked in the mirror she was the first thing I -saw; my portrait gained enormously thereby; I was able to paint myself -as she wished, and she was as well pleased as I had been with hers.</p> - -<p>I had her portrait set in a locket which I always wore; she had mine set -in a bracelet which she always had on her arm. We were not content to -have each other in reality, we must needs have each other’s image as -well; if we could have possessed each other in any other way, we would -have done it. But is it a mistake to love too dearly? Her mother and -mine both declared that we were unreasonable, that we were worse than -lovers; but<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a> Eugénie and I were determined never to change; we liked -each other well enough as we were.</p> - -<p>My wife insisted that I should begin to learn the piano; and I showed -her how to use a brush. Those lessons were most delicious to us; and -they occupied a large part of the day. I realized however that piano -playing and painting would not make me eminent at the bar. Since my -marriage I had neglected the Palais, and paid almost no attention to -business; but when I would propose to study, to shut myself up in my -office, Eugénie would detain me, saying:</p> - -<p>“What is the use of worrying yourself, of tiring your brain over your -Code and your Pandects? Are we not rich enough? Are we not happy? What -is the need of your trying cases, of your tormenting yourself for other -people? Stay with me, give me a lesson in painting, and don’t go to the -Palais.”</p> - -<p>I could not resist my wife. My mother scolded me sometimes for what she -called my laziness. Love is not laziness, but a happy love makes us -unfit for anything except making love.</p> - -<p>Three months passed almost as rapidly as the first fortnight of our -married life. But I had learned to play <i>On Dit qu’à Quinze Ans</i> on the -piano, and Eugénie was making rapid progress in painting. A new subject -of rejoicing added to our happiness: my wife was enceinte. We leaped for -joy, we danced about the room, thinking that we were to have a child. We -talked of nothing else, we made no plans for the future in which our son -or daughter had not a share. Good Madame Dumeillan shared our delight; -my mother complimented me, but without enthusiasm, and as if it were a -very trifling matter; whereas it seemed to me that it ought to mark an -epoch in the world’s history.<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a></p> - -<p>We went into society very rarely, and we had been to but two balls since -our wedding. But one morning we received cards and an invitation to the -wedding party of Monsieur Ferdinand de Bélan and Mademoiselle Armide de -Beausire. Eugénie was not far enough advanced to fear that dancing would -injure her; moreover, she promised to dance only a little; so we -determined to go to Bélan’s wedding, where I had an idea that we should -find something to laugh at. My wife agreed with me. Bélan had been to -see us twice since we were married, and Eugénie considered that he made -himself rather ridiculous by his chatter and his affectations. As for -the Beausire family, the little that I had seen of them seemed to me -rather amusing.</p> - -<p>The invitation included, upon a separate sheet, an intimation that we -were expected to attend the breakfast also.</p> - -<p>That was a pleasure of which we determined to deprive ourselves. We -mistrusted wedding breakfasts, which are about as amusing as an amateur -concert or a parlor reading; we had made up our minds to go to the ball -only, when Bélan appeared in our apartment.</p> - -<p>The little dandy bowed to the floor before my wife, which was not a -difficult feat for him; then he shook hands with me and said with an air -of triumph:</p> - -<p>“Did you receive our invitations?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear fellow. First, let us congratulate you.”</p> - -<p>“I accept your congratulations with pleasure. I certainly have reason to -be flattered by the preference accorded me. I had seventeen rivals, -three of whom were millionaires who owned iron foundries, factories or -coal mines; and two marquises, one of them with six decorations; but I -beat them all; and like Cæsar, <i>veni, vidi, vici</i>. We may rely upon you, -may we not?<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, we shall be at your ball.”</p> - -<p>“And at the breakfast?”</p> - -<p>“As to the breakfast, we cannot promise.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I beg your pardon, but I insist upon a promise. It would be horrid -of you to fail us. We have invited only a small number of people for the -morning, but most select. Two of my wife’s uncles, three cousins, and -five aunts, all of whom are women of my mother-in-law’s type. Great -heaven! my mother-in-law has done nothing but weep since our wedding day -was fixed; she drenches at least four handkerchiefs a day, and she -doesn’t let her daughter out of her sight. That embarrasses me a little -in my effusions of sentiment, but my time will come. However, you must -attend all the festivities. I address my entreaties to you, madame; -Henri will not refuse you.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie had not the heart to refuse; she glanced at me and we promised. -Bélan thanked my wife and kissed her hand, then he asked me for two -minutes in my office.</p> - -<p>“Have you any lawsuit on hand?” I asked him when we were alone.</p> - -<p>“No, but I want to consult you. Having just married a woman whom you -adored, you will be able to tell me——”</p> - -<p>“Tell you what?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know just how to put it. You know that I have been, like you, a -lady’s man, never embarrassed in a <i>tête-à-tête</i><i></i>. I was like a flash -of powder.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it is very strange, but with Mademoiselle de Beausire, although I -adore her, the effect is entirely different. It seems to me that I dare -not squeeze the end of her finger. In short, I do not feel the slightest -inclination to be enterprising. I confess that that worries<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> me and -makes me anxious; I don’t sleep at night; and the nearer my wedding day -approaches, the more apprehensive I feel.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! Poor Bélan! nonsense! don’t be afraid! Real love, love that is -too ardent, sometimes produces the effect which you complain of; but it -does not last. And besides, what have you to fear with your wife? You -are sure that she won’t escape you. She isn’t like a mistress, who often -refuses to give you a second assignation when she is not pleased with -the first. With one’s wife, what doesn’t happen the first night, will -happen the second.”</p> - -<p>“True; it might not happen till the eighth even. You make me feel a -little easier in my mind. You see, Mademoiselle de Beausire—such a -well-bred young woman as she is—isn’t like a grisette. Oh! with a -grisette, it goes all alone.—And then the mother-in-law is always -there!”</p> - -<p>“I imagine that she won’t be there on your wedding night.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! I wouldn’t swear to it. She does nothing but talk about not -being parted from her daughter, and says that she can’t sleep away from -her. I believe that she means to sleep in a closet adjoining our -bedroom.”</p> - -<p>“That will be very amusing for you!”</p> - -<p>“It is that sort of thing that keeps going through my head and takes -away my natural ardor. But no matter, between now and my wedding I will -have everything I eat flavored with vanilla; I will even have some put -in my soup. Adieu, my dear Blémont. We rely upon you. Your wedding was -very fine, but just wait till you see mine. That’s all I have to say.”</p> - -<p>Bélan went away. So we were simply compelled to attend the breakfast; we -had promised. However, perhaps it would be more amusing than we -thought.<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a> Indeed, there are parties which are so tiresome that they are -actually comical. The only remedy was to make the best of things; they -say that there is a good side to everything.</p> - -<p>Eugénie gave her attention to her dresses; for she must have two for -that day. I urged her not to lace herself too tightly; you can guess -why. A woman should think about being a mother rather than try to make -herself slender; but that is what she often forgets.</p> - -<p>Bélan’s great day arrived. A carriage came for us, the coachman, and the -groom behind, both dressed in apricot livery. I was compelled to admit -that that feature already excelled my wedding, and I expected to see -some magnificent things. We were to meet at Madame de Beausire’s, where -I had never been. It was an old house, on Rue de la Roquette. We passed -an old concierge; we ascended an old staircase, upon which rose leaves -had been scattered profusely. I was sure that that was an idea of Bélan, -and I did not consider it a very happy one, for it nearly caused my wife -to fall; but I caught her in time, and she said with a smile:</p> - -<p>“We were married without rose leaves, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear love; it was less romantic, but there was no slipping.”</p> - -<p>We entered an apartment of extraordinary height, on the first floor. It -was so high that I could hardly distinguish the mouldings of the -ceiling. We were announced by an old servant, who seemed to have been -weeping; perhaps that was a custom of the house. We were ushered into an -immense salon, where Bélan, who was doing the honors, produced the -impression of a dwarf amid a lot of Patagonians. We discovered a row of -old faces, a sort of continuation of the tapestry of which Madame de -Beausire had given me a specimen.<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> The men were solemn, sententious and -pretentious; the women stiff, affected and painted. There were a few -people of our own set, but only a few. I concluded that Bélan had not -obtained permission to invite many of his acquaintances. The poor fellow -did not seem at his ease amid the Beausire family; he was afraid to be -jovial, he dreaded to be dismal; he hovered about his new kindred, who -did not talk for fear of compromising their dignity.</p> - -<p>The groom was delighted when we arrived; he felt more at ease with us.</p> - -<p>“You will see my wife presently,” he said to us; “just now she is with -her mother, who is finishing her toilet, weeping.”</p> - -<p>“What! is your mother-in-law weeping still?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my friend, that woman is a regular fountain.”</p> - -<p>“But what is she weeping for?”</p> - -<p>“Grief at separating from her daughter. And yet she does not propose to -separate from her, for she declares that she will sleep in the same room -with us.”</p> - -<p>“In the same room? Ha! ha! that is rather strong.”</p> - -<p>“I swear to you that that is what she says. Indeed, I believe that she -hoped that I would not sleep with my wife; but on my word, despite all -my respect for Madame de Beausire, I refused to give in on that point, -and I think that Armide was glad of it. But here come the ladies.”</p> - -<p>The bride entered, escorted on one side by an old aunt with a nose like -a snail’s shell, and on the other by her mother, who, with her tall, -spare figure, her red eyes, and her leaden complexion, really looked -like a ghost.</p> - -<p>From the sighs heaved by those ladies, one would have thought that they -were leading a second Iphigenia to the sacrifice. The relations came -forward and delivered congratulations of the same style as their -costumes. In<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a> the midst of it all, the bridegroom was the person to whom -the least attention was paid. When he addressed his wife, she made no -answer; when he turned to his mother-in-law, she took out her -handkerchief and turned her back on him; and if he accosted any of the -relations, they pretended to pay no attention to him.</p> - -<p>We started for the church, each man escorting a lady; I gave my arm to -my wife; for I did not see why I should deprive myself of that pleasure -in favor of those creatures. We went downstairs, in the conventional -order, Bélan at the head, escorting his mother-in-law. The rose leaves -produced a wonderful impression.</p> - -<p>“This is lovely!” said an old aunt; “it’s like a procession!”</p> - -<p>“It’s an idea of mine!” cried Bélan; “I thought of it last night, while -thinking of my wedding; and I am delighted that——”</p> - -<p>Bélan had reached this point in his speech, when a tall cousin, who was -escorting the bride, slipped down two steps and fell, dragging the fair -Armide after him.</p> - -<p>Shrieks arose on all sides. Thank heaven, Armide had fallen decently, -and had made no exposé for the benefit of the company, which would have -been most unpleasant for the husband, who hoped to be the first to -behold her charms; and which would probably have made the mother-in-law -sob anew.</p> - -<p>The bride was quickly assisted to her feet, and the tall cousin rose -unassisted, uttering a most vulgar oath and exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“The devil take the rose leaves! A man must be an infernal fool to -scatter them on a staircase! I have hurt my scrotum.”</p> - -<p>Bélan was speechless with confusion at the accident due to his idea.<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a></p> - -<p>“Monsieur de Bélan, you must have all this swept away,” said the -mother-in-law; and the bridegroom replied with a low bow:</p> - -<p>“Yes, Madame de Beausire, I will look after it.”</p> - -<p>Our betrothed were united in a small church in the Marais. Nothing -extraordinary took place during the ceremony, except that the -mother-in-law used two handkerchiefs, and that Bélan made horrible faces -in his attempts to weep with her, but without success.</p> - -<p>I had hoped that the breakfast would be at a restaurant; but we were -bidden to return to the mother-in-law’s. That certainly required -courage. Eugénie and I looked at each other, vowing, albeit a little -late, that we would never be caught in such a scrape again.</p> - -<p>The bridegroom went ahead, doubtless to have his rose leaves swept away. -I was sure that he would do the sweeping himself rather than expose -himself to his mother-in-law’s wrath.</p> - -<p>A long table was laid in the dining-room. We took our seats; I was -between the old aunt with a nose like a snail’s shell and the tall -cousin who had fallen so hard on the stairway; my wife was a mile away -from me, between two old uncles with lace cuffs and curly wigs. How we -were likely to enjoy ourselves!</p> - -<p>I expected to see Giraud and his wife at the breakfast, for Giraud had -been declaring everywhere that it was he who had arranged Bélan’s -marriage. But evidently the mother-in-law had not deemed them worthy of -that honor, and we should not see them until evening.</p> - -<p>The bride kept her eyes on the floor and did not eat. The mother-in-law -looked at her daughter, wiped her eyes, and seemed not to realize that -there was anybody there. We sat at the table two minutes without -touching anything, no one having been requested to serve. Bélan,<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> -uncertain whether he was expected to do the honors, glanced at his wife -and his mother-in-law in turn, and faltered:</p> - -<p>“Who is to serve? Does Madame de Beausire desire me to serve?”</p> - -<p>But Madame de Beausire replied only by blowing her nose and sighing.</p> - -<p>I looked at my wife; I had such a mad desire to laugh that I dropped my -knife and fork on the floor, so that I might indulge it a little while -fumbling under the table. I chose to be considered awkward rather than -discourteous.</p> - -<p>At last an old uncle, who had not come to the wedding simply to look at -the dishes, although that would have been more dignified than to eat -them, drew an enormous pie toward him and gave the signal for the -attack. We decided to breakfast, notwithstanding Madame de Beausire’s -sighs; but we did it with a decorum and gravity which were interrupted -only by the noise of the plates and the forks.</p> - -<p>When the first edge of the appetite was dulled, some of the uncles and -cousins were pleased to indulge in various significant phrases, dwelling -upon every word they uttered, as if they considered that necessary in -order that we should understand them. Bélan put in a word here and -there, but it was not noticed. I discovered that he was trying to lead -the conversation around to the subject of poetry. I felt certain that he -had written some, or had had some written, and that he did not know how -to set to work to recite it. Whenever he reached the subject, an uncle -or an aunt would cut him short by speaking of something else. I felt -sorry for him and said:</p> - -<p>“My dear Bélan, has anyone written any poetry for your wedding?<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, just so; I myself have dashed off something in honor of this day, -and with your permission, I will——”</p> - -<p>“What! do you mean to say that you are going to sing, Monsieur de -Bélan?” cried Madame de Beausire, with an almost threatening glance at -her son-in-law. “For shame, monsieur! what sort of people have you lived -with, where it was customary to sing at the table?”</p> - -<p>“I never had any idea of singing, mother-in-law; nor have I any desire -to. I meant simply to recite some verses,—verses which do not in the -least degree resemble a song.”</p> - -<p>“Verses at a wedding! You should leave that to the Almanach des Muses,” -said the tall cousin, who sat beside me, and who still bore the groom a -grudge on account of his fall on the stairs. At the same instant Madame -de Beausire shrieked aloud:</p> - -<p>“You are pale, Armide! Don’t you feel well, my child?”</p> - -<p>I had not noticed that the bride had changed color; but as her mother -told her that she had, Armide probably thought it best not to feel well. -She passed her hand over her eyes and said in a faltering tone:</p> - -<p>“No, I feel——”</p> - -<p>Her mother did not allow her to finish. She sprang to her feet, crying:</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Armide is dying! We must carry her to her bed.”</p> - -<p>Instantly there was a general uprising. The aunt who was at my side -thrust her elbow in my face in her attempt to rise quickly in order to -go to the assistance of her niece, who thereupon concluded that she had -best be ill altogether. While they were taking Armide to her room, and -Bélan was running hither and thither like a madman,<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a> I went to my wife, -took her hand and led her to the door, saying:</p> - -<p>“This is quite enough for one morning.”</p> - -<p>Bélan overtook us on the stairs, and called out to us:</p> - -<p>“What! going already? Why, my wife will come to herself in a minute; I -am not worried about her health; my mother-in-law is forever telling her -that she is going to die, when she has no idea of doing anything of the -kind.”</p> - -<p>“We have an engagement.”</p> - -<p>“Until this evening, then.”</p> - -<p>“The ball is not to be at your mother-in-law’s, is it?”</p> - -<p>“No, at Lointier’s. It will be magnificent.”</p> - -<p>“We will be there.”</p> - -<p>How glad we were to be alone again! We had plenty to laugh about, as we -passed in review the original creatures whom we had met; and although my -wife is not malicious, she was fully alive to the absurdities of the -company.</p> - -<p>We had promised to attend the ball, so we had no choice but to go; -moreover, it was impossible that it should be so dreary a function as -the breakfast; and then it was to take place in the same salons in which -we had given ours, and we were not sorry to see them once more.</p> - -<p>We went late, because we hoped to find the dancing well under way; but -we were surprised to find the salons almost empty, and only two -quadrilles in progress, so that everybody had plenty of room to dance. -And yet it was after eleven o’clock.</p> - -<p>Bélan came to meet us. His face was a yard long, and he said to me:</p> - -<p>“It is most annoying: my mother-in-law would not allow me to invite more -than thirty people; for she said that, with her family and -acquaintances, that would be<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> quite enough; and you see how much empty -space there is. I am aware that the party is very select, but a few more -people would do no harm.”</p> - -<p>“One result, my dear Bélan, is that it is much more comfortable to -dance.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is so; the dancers will gain by it.”</p> - -<p>“And madame is no longer ill?”</p> - -<p>“No, that didn’t last. But now it is my mother-in-law’s turn to have -fits of suffocation. Just look at her eyes; she’s a regular rabbit; she -makes me sick. She is crying now because my wife dances every -contradance; she declares that her daughter will be killed. Great -heaven, what an emotional creature she is!”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t see the Giraud family here, and that surprises me, for of -course you invited them?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! my dear Blémont, don’t speak of it. I was distressed to -death, but my mother-in-law declared that the Girauds had manners which -would be entirely out of place with her family, and she would not allow -me to invite them.”</p> - -<p>“But Madame de Beausire used to go to their house, if I remember -aright?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but since the little Giraud girl stuck her tongue out at her, she -has sworn that she will never put her foot inside their door.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that Giraud was instrumental in arranging your marriage?”</p> - -<p>“True, he did start the business.”</p> - -<p>“And you haven’t invited him? He will never forgive you as long as he -lives.”</p> - -<p>“What could I do? My mother-in-law—But excuse me, I believe that she is -motioning to me.”</p> - -<p>We left Bélan, and I danced with my Eugénie. We were happy to dance -together, to be again in those rooms<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a> which had been the scene of our -own wedding. Our eyes expressed love and contentment. Surely we looked -more as if we were at a wedding than anybody else there.</p> - -<p>To dance is the best thing that one can do at a ball where one knows -nobody. All those Beausires, who stalked solemnly about the quadrilles, -and the old aunts who sat against the wall, seemed almost displeased to -see other people apparently enjoying themselves. I felt sure that they -considered us very ill-bred.</p> - -<p>Eugénie proposed to me that we should go before the supper; but I -preferred to remain, because I expected that there would be some amusing -scenes at the close of the festivity. The supper was not served as mine -was; the ladies alone were seated, and the men had to stand behind them. -Madame de Beausire insisted upon having it so, because it was much less -jolly than sitting at small tables.</p> - -<p>The feast lasted a very short time. Madame de Beausire gave the signal -by rising, and the other ladies had no choice but to follow her example. -I heard one old aunt mutter as she rose: “This is ridiculous; I didn’t -have time to finish my chicken wing.”</p> - -<p>As the fatal moment drew near, Madame de Beausire’s eyes became more and -more full of tears. At last, when the dancing drew to a close, Bélan -approached his Armide and suggested that they should go; whereupon -Madame de Beausire rushed between them, sobbing, and threw her arms -about her daughter.</p> - -<p>“You shall not separate us, monsieur!” she cried.</p> - -<p>Bélan stood as if turned to stone before his mother-in-law. The kinsfolk -surrounded them, and I heard the uncles and cousins say to one another:</p> - -<p>“That little fellow is behaving in the most indecent way. It makes me -ill to have him come into our family.<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>”</p> - -<p>The aunts and the old maids had led Madame de Beausire away, and she -left the restaurant with her daughter, while Bélan remained. He saw us -and came to bid us good-night, faltering:</p> - -<p>“I have let my wife and her mother go before, because, you know, they -have to put the bride to bed; and of course I cannot be there.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Bélan, I am afraid that Madame de Beausire will make another -scene to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! At all events, if she does, I will show my spirit.”</p> - -<p>We drove away, and as we returned home, Eugénie and I agreed that a man -is always very foolish to enter a family which thinks that it does him -much honor by allying itself with him. If chance has willed that he -should be born in a lower class, he should, by his intellect or his -character, show himself superior to those who try to humiliate him.</p> - -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br /><br /> -A QUARREL.—THE FIRST VEXATION</h2> - -<p>A few days after Bélan’s wedding, we received a visit from Monsieur and -Madame Giraud. I divined what brought them, and in truth they were -hardly seated before Giraud exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“You must have been greatly surprised not to see us at Bélan’s wedding?”</p> - -<p>“In fact,” added Madame Giraud, “it made an impression on everybody. It -was so terribly vulgar! So<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> extraordinary! Just think of it! It was at -our house that they met, and it was Giraud who took the first steps, who -sounded Madame de Beausire, and who enumerated to her the young man’s -property and good qualities; and yet we were not invited to the -breakfast, or even to the ball! It’s an outrage!”</p> - -<p>“More than that, it was indecent!” cried Giraud; “and if my wife hadn’t -restrained me, I would have demanded satisfaction.”</p> - -<p>“No, no; people would have thought that we cared about a wedding party; -but thank God! we have more of them than we want. By the way, they say -that that one was very dismal and tiresome!”</p> - -<p>“Why, it was not very lively,” said Eugénie.</p> - -<p>“Ah! yours was the lovely one, my dear Madame Blémont, and managed with -such taste and such profusion! I confess that I had thirteen ices; -salvers kept passing me, and I forgot myself.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that was a charming wedding,” said Giraud; “but they tell me that -at Bélan’s there weren’t enough people to form two quadrilles of twelve, -and that they were almost all outlandish creatures of the last century. -And that old Beausire woman did nothing but cry. And then that night—do -you know what happened?”</p> - -<p>“No, we don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I know all about it, because I have a maid who used to live in -the house where the Beausires live, and who still has friends there. -Well, that night the mother-in-law refused to leave her daughter. When -the husband arrived, Madame de Beausire sobbed so that she woke the -neighbors. Bélan lost his temper, and they had a terrible scene; -finally, in a rage, he went to bed in a little closet where they keep -coal, and the next morning he came out looking like a coal heaver! Poor -fellow! If<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> he doesn’t look out, those two women will shut him up in a -foot-warmer, and feed him through the holes when he’s a good boy.—Ha! -ha! It is too funny!” said Madame Giraud. “However, I won’t give him a -year to be—you know what—and he will well have deserved it.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur and Madame Giraud took leave of us, renewing the assurances of -their friendship, and they probably went about to all their -acquaintances to do the same thing.</p> - -<p>As her pregnancy advanced, my wife felt called upon to attend to a -thousand little duties which made it necessary for her to neglect music -and painting. Moreover, her health was often poor, and she needed a -great deal of rest; the result was that I had much more time to work in -my office. Besides, the title of father, which I hoped soon to have, -made me reflect more reasonably than I had done for some months past. -Although our fortune was large enough for Eugénie and myself, it would -cease to be large enough if we should have several children, and on -their account it would be well for me to think of increasing it.</p> - -<p>Bélan made his wedding call with his wife, who had lost none of her -stiffness and primness since her marriage. I found that the new -husband’s eyes were as red as his mother-in-law’s. Perhaps he too wept -sometimes to gratify Madame de Beausire. He was so attentive, so devoted -to his Armide, and he waited upon her with such humility, that he seemed -like his wife’s servant.</p> - -<p>We returned their visit ceremoniously, and we did not go again; we -remembered their breakfast.</p> - -<p>Since I had given my attention to business once more and had returned to -the practice of my profession, my mother said that we had become -reasonable and that I now had the aspect of a married man. I do not know -what aspect I may have had, but I know that I considered<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> that we were -becoming altogether too sedate; we no longer played together or fooled -the time away, as we did in the early days of our marriage.</p> - -<p>The longed-for moment arrived at last. Eugénie made me the father of a -daughter whom I considered a sweet little thing. My wife was -disappointed for a moment, for she had hoped for a boy and had convinced -herself that it would be a boy. For my own part, I was quite as well -satisfied with a girl. I comforted Eugénie. My daughter, to whom her -godmother, Madame Dumeillan, gave the name of Henriette, was placed in -the charge of a stout, motherly nurse, who lived only three leagues from -Paris, so that we could go often to see her. My wife soon recovered her -health, but she retained some unevenness of temper and some caprices; -what she decided to do in the morning she sometimes did not want to do -at night. I am extremely good-natured, but I like to have people do what -they have planned to do, and not act like weather vanes. My wife would -express a wish to go to walk; and when I called her for that purpose, -she would have changed her mind because it was necessary to change her -dress; thereupon I would return laughing to my office.</p> - -<p>“If you make up your mind to go,” I would say to her; “you must come and -call me.”</p> - -<p>As I passed through Rue du Temple one day, I heard someone call my name. -It was Ernest, who was behind me. I was overjoyed to see him again and -we shook hands warmly.</p> - -<p>“Is it really you, my dear Ernest? Mon Dieu! How long it is since we saw -each other!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, more than a year. I suppose that you are married now; for you were -just about to marry your dear Eugénie the last time that I saw you.<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am married and I am a father; I wasted no time, you see.”</p> - -<p>“That is splendid. Do you still live in the same apartment?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; my wife likes it very much. And you?”</p> - -<p>“We live in this street, only a step or two from here. I gave you our -address, and you promised to come to see us; but you have forgotten your -neighbors of the attic.”</p> - -<p>“I plead guilty; the change that has taken place in my situation is my -excuse.”</p> - -<p>“If you want us to forgive you altogether, you must come up and bid my -wife good-morning. I say my wife, although we are not married. But for -the benefit of concierges and strangers I feel bound to call her my -wife; that is a sacrifice to the proprieties. After all, what difference -is there between us and married people? Simply a signature on a great -book! And that signature, and the oath, and all the promises made before -men, do not make people behave any better.”</p> - -<p>“I am entirely of your opinion.”</p> - -<p>“At all events, we are very happy; we love each other as dearly as ever, -and we snap our fingers at evil tongues.”</p> - -<p>“You are quite right, my dear Ernest, one should live for oneself and -not for other people.”</p> - -<p>“Now that I am prosperous, I don’t care what my parents say; I owe -nothing to anybody and I am as happy as a king, I mean, happier than a -king. But come on; Marguerite will be very glad to see you; we often -speak of you.”</p> - -<p>I followed Ernest; he led me into a very attractive house, and we went -up three flights; he rang, and my former neighbor opened the door. She -uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me.<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a></p> - -<p>“Ah! it is Monsieur Blémont! What a miracle!”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! if he has come, my dear love, it is simply because I met him -and brought him by force; but for that, you wouldn’t have seen him yet.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! how wicked it is to forget one’s good friends, one’s neighbors!”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! madame, you see—that——”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! he is getting mixed up; he is ashamed of his wrongdoing,” said -Ernest, laughingly; “we must be generous and say nothing more to him -about it.”</p> - -<p>They ushered me into a bedroom which served as a salon; it was not -magnificent, but there was everything that was necessary, and there was -an atmosphere of order and of neatness which did much credit to the -mistress of the house.</p> - -<p>Madame Ernest, for I could call her by no other name, was a little -stouter than of old; she was most attractive, and her eyes and all her -features expressed a contentment, a happiness which added to her charm. -They made me sit down, and we talked of the evenings we had passed -together in the attic, long ago.</p> - -<p>“Are you married to your Eugénie?” asked Madame Ernest.</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, thirteen months ago.”</p> - -<p>“You must be very happy! for you were very much in love with her, and -she loved you dearly too.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame.”</p> - -<p>“Have you any children?”</p> - -<p>“What a foolish creature!” said Ernest; “do you suppose that they have -had six or seven in thirteen months?”</p> - -<p>“I mean a child.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have had a little daughter for two months and a half.<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you are luckier than we are. I should like so much to have a child; -and since my miscarriage—But this time I have hopes.”</p> - -<p>And the little woman glanced at Ernest with a smile; he smiled back at -her, saying:</p> - -<p>“Are such things mentioned before people?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! never mind! What harm is there in hoping to be a mother?—Besides, -Monsieur Blémont isn’t ‘people;’ he is our friend; he proved it that -night that I was sick.—But come and see what pretty rooms we have.”</p> - -<p>The little woman showed me over her apartments, which consisted of three -rooms and a small dressing-room. She stopped in front of the fireplace -in her bedroom and said:</p> - -<p>“Do you see? We have a clock!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Marguerite!” said Ernest.</p> - -<p>“No, no, I am going to speak. Ought I to pretend to be proud with -Monsieur Henri, who knew me when I was so poor and unhappy? I am sure -that it pleases him to see that we have all these things.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, you are quite right, madame; and you judge me aright in -thinking that I am happy in your happiness.”</p> - -<p>“I was right, you see. I also have a woman who comes in in the morning, -to do the heavy work. Ernest insisted upon it, because he declares that -I am not strong enough.”</p> - -<p>“How interesting to monsieur to know that!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, it is interesting.—He is always scolding me, because he says -that I am ignorant of the proprieties. Bless my soul! it isn’t my fault; -it seems to me that one may well talk to her friends about what -interests her; I am so happy!”</p> - -<p>And Marguerite began to dance about the room; then she ran and threw her -arms about Ernest’s neck and<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> kissed him. She was as much a child as -ever; but she was not yet eighteen. I prayed that she might retain that -happy disposition for a long time to come.</p> - -<p>The time passes quickly when one is in pleasant company. I suddenly -discovered that it was long past five o’clock; and my wife would be -expecting me to dinner, and I was to take her that evening to see a new -play! I bade my young friends good-bye. I promised to go again to see -them and I urged Ernest to come upstairs when he passed my house.</p> - -<p>It rarely happened that I was not at home some time before the dinner -hour; and that day we were to dine before five o’clock, in order to have -plenty of time to go to the theatre. I found Eugénie at the window, -anxious and impatient.</p> - -<p>“Where on earth have you been? It is almost half-past five; you never -come home so late.”</p> - -<p>“My dear love, I met a friend,—one of my old friends.”</p> - -<p>“Should a man’s friends cause him to forget his wife?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t think about the time.”</p> - -<p>“And you didn’t think of me, who have been waiting for you and who did -not know what to think.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! come to dinner.”</p> - -<p>“But tell me, where have you been?”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you at the table.”</p> - -<p>We sat down, and I told my wife the story of my acquaintance with Ernest -and Marguerite. I was obliged to begin some way back, in order to -explain to her how it happened that I went up to the attic room. -Eugénie, who listened at first with interest, became thoughtful, and her -brow darkened. I finished my story, and still she was silent for a long -time. I ate my dinner, but she did not<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> eat. She continued to keep -silent, and it vexed me at last.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you eat?”</p> - -<p>“Because I am not hungry.”</p> - -<p>“And why are you sulky with me?”</p> - -<p>“Sulky! I am not sulky.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say a word; is that the way we ordinarily act when we are -together?”</p> - -<p>“I am thinking about your former neighbor, about your friend’s mistress, -whom you used to go to see in her room under the eaves.”</p> - -<p>“I went to see her when Ernest was there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you were always sure to find him, were you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, for I seldom went except in the evening, and Ernest was almost -always there then.”</p> - -<p>“Almost always!”</p> - -<p>“Eugénie, I have told you the truth; you would do very wrong to believe -anything else.”</p> - -<p>“But you seem to be so infatuated with this little Marguerite. You say -that she is so pretty.”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, I did not say that she was pretty. But even if she -were, that isn’t what I admired in her; it was her love, her deep -affection for her lover.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! that was what led you up to the eaves!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was. Why do you think ill of a person whom you do not know?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you did so many things when you were a bachelor! You had so many -mistresses!”</p> - -<p>“A very good reason why I did not need to turn to somebody’s else, who -would not have listened to me if I had.”</p> - -<p>“You may very well have known Mademoiselle Marguerite before she knew -her Monsieur Ernest, as you were her neighbor.<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>”</p> - -<p>“If I had dreamed that you would imagine all this, I would not have -mentioned Ernest or his wife.”</p> - -<p>“His wife! She isn’t his wife.”</p> - -<p>“It is practically the same thing, as they live together.”</p> - -<p>“Such people are always very queer, and that woman would not be received -in decent society.”</p> - -<p>“Queer! What foolish prejudices! People in what is called good society -won’t receive a woman who has lived a long time with the only man whom -she ever loved; whose only care, whose only glory consists in making him -happy; who goes out with no one but him, adorns herself for no one else, -knows no pleasure without him; but they will welcome and make much of -the woman who ruins her husband by extravagance, who does not even take -the trouble to conceal her love-affairs, who goes about with no one but -her cicisbeo. And all because those women are married, forsooth! Upon my -word, it does great honor to society!”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! how you flare up, monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“Because I cannot tolerate injustice, and because this particular -injustice is often perpetrated in society. For my own part, I tell you -that I shall always rise above such prejudices, and that I should be -very glad to welcome Ernest and his wife at my house.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you, monsieur, but I trust that you will not do so.”</p> - -<p>“If you knew them, I am sure that you would not talk like this.”</p> - -<p>“I have no desire to make their acquaintance; it is quite enough for you -to be Mademoiselle Marguerite’s intimate friend.”</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! how absurdly you talk, Eugénie!”</p> - -<p>“And she used to live in this house?<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>”</p> - -<p>“To be sure.”</p> - -<p>“I am no longer surprised that you are so attached to your apartment.”</p> - -<p>I angrily threw down my knife and fork and rose from the table, saying:</p> - -<p>“Let us talk no more about it, for you will end with making me angry -too. Are you ready? It is time to go to the theatre.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to go.”</p> - -<p>“And this morning you were looking forward to it. What is the meaning of -this new whim?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a whim; I don’t care about going to the theatre; I don’t want -to go out.”</p> - -<p>“As you please. Then I will go without you.”</p> - -<p>I took my hat and went out, closing the door rather violently. One -absolutely must vent one’s ill humor on something.</p> - -<p>I was really distressed. That was the first quarrel I had had with my -wife. It pained me all the more because I knew that I was not in the -wrong; and when a person feels that he deserves neither reproof nor -blame, he is doubly incensed with those who reprove or blame him.</p> - -<p>To think of my being insulted by Eugénie! A few months before I could -not have believed that that could happen. To think of being hurt and -grieved by her! But it was jealousy that led her astray, that excited -her. I tried to find excuses for her. We always try to find excuses for -those whom we love; we should be so unhappy if we could not excuse them.</p> - -<p>I found but little enjoyment at the theatre; there were times however, -when, engrossed by the play, which was very pretty, I abandoned myself -to the pleasure it afforded me; but the memory of my quarrel with my -wife<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> soon returned to my mind; it was as if a weight had resumed its -place upon my chest; it embarrassed me and prevented me from enjoying -myself. What a child I was! after all, it was a most trivial dispute; I -was foolish to think that a husband and wife could always agree. Yet I -did think so; I believed it. That quarrel, trivial though it was, caused -me much distress, because it was the first, and because it destroyed one -of my illusions.</p> - -<p>My wife was in bed when I went home. The next day we did not mention our -dispute of the day before. We were not on bad terms, and yet everything -was not right between us. Eugénie was colder and less talkative than -usual; there was none of the delightful unreserve of former days. But I -could not ask her pardon when I had done nothing. Let madame sulk, if -that amuses her, I thought; I will seem not to notice it.</p> - -<p>A fortnight passed thus, during which I went once to Ernest’s; but I was -careful not to tell my wife; one must needs have secrets from people who -see evil in everything.</p> - -<p>One morning, Eugénie said to me:</p> - -<p>“We must see about finding a new apartment.”</p> - -<p>“A new apartment? what for, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Why, to move into, naturally.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you want to leave this apartment, which you like so -much?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I can’t endure it now! and if I had known all that I know now, we -certainly would have taken another when we were married.”</p> - -<p>“Known all that you know? Are you going to begin again?”</p> - -<p>“You can’t deny that this was the place where you knew Mademoiselle -Marguerite; everybody in the house knows it, and you cannot certainly -think it is pleasant for me to live here.<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Everybody in the house knows that I used to talk to my neighbor; and -everybody also knows that I was not her lover.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that isn’t what people say—even the concierges.”</p> - -<p>“What, Eugénie! do you talk with the concierges?”</p> - -<p>“No, not I; but our maid talks with them sometimes; that is natural -enough. And I know, monsieur, that Mademoiselle Marguerite was not -content to receive visits from you; she used to come to your room.”</p> - -<p>“That is false, madame.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t admit it, of course not. You could not say that she used to -come here with her lover.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I do remember now that she came once to my room, just once, -one morning, to ask me if I had seen her cat which she had lost.”</p> - -<p>“Her cat! ha! ha! a charming excuse! That virtuous young woman goes to a -bachelor’s room to look for her cat!”</p> - -<p>“I swear to you that that is the truth!”</p> - -<p>“And another time she came to ask about her dog, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>I made no reply, for I felt that I should lose my temper, and in such a -case it is wiser to hold one’s tongue. Eugénie saw perhaps that she had -gone too far, for after a moment she said to me gently:</p> - -<p>“We shall have to move anyway when our daughter returns from her -nurse’s; this apartment will be too small then. Why should we wait?”</p> - -<p>“This apartment suits me, madame, and I propose to remain here.”</p> - -<p>I was not in the habit of resisting my wife; but her suspicions -concerning my friendship with Madame Ernest made me angry, and it -annoyed me to think of leaving my apartment.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a></p> - -<p>Eugénie did not insist; for several days we were on cool terms, and the -question of apartments was not mentioned. I saw plainly enough that my -wife longed to speak of it, but she dared not. At last I reflected that, -after all, the neighbors and concierges and gossips might well have made -remarks; such people care for nothing except slandering their neighbors. -They had seen me go up to the young woman’s room and they might have -thought that Ernest was not there.</p> - -<p>Why should I force my wife to listen forever to the insinuations of -those people? The apartment was distasteful to her. Besides, one must -needs do something in order to have peace. Peace! ah, yes! I was -beginning to realize that peace is a precious thing, which does not -always dwell in families.</p> - -<p>“If you will dress at once,” I said to Eugénie one morning, “we will go -together to look at apartments.”</p> - -<p>At that she threw herself into my arms and kissed me affectionately; she -had recovered all her sunny humor of earlier days. To make the ladies -amiable, all that is necessary is to do everything that they want.</p> - -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br /><br /> -A SCENE</h2> - -<p>We hired an apartment on Boulevard Montmartre; it was rather expensive, -but very attractive. We could not take possession for three months. -Meanwhile, my wife was in a most delightful mood, save for the petty -discussions which occur between the most closely attached couples; for -after all, we are not perfect. My<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> Eugénie was as she used to be in the -earlier days of our married life; she never mentioned Ernest or -Marguerite, and I did not tell her that I went sometimes to see them.</p> - -<p>One lovely winter morning we determined to go to see our daughter. We -could not bear to wait until spring to embrace our little Henriette. No -sooner had we formed the plan than I went out to hire a cabriolet for -the whole day. I provided a cold chicken, a pie and a bottle of -bordeaux; things which are difficult to procure at a nurse’s house, but -which are never out of place anywhere. Eugénie wore a large bonnet which -protected her from the wind, and a large, thick cloak; I wrapped myself -in my own cloak, simply leaving my hands free to drive; and we started -for Livry.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful drive, the air was sharp, but the sun shone brightly. -And we had, what was better still, love and good spirits for travelling -companions; so that we made the journey merrily enough. When my hands -were too cold, Eugénie took the reins and drove for me.</p> - -<p>We sang and laughed and ate in our cabriolet; we were our own masters; -there were only we two; no tiresome coachman behind to grumble if we -went too fast or if we whipped the horse, or to sneer as he counted the -kisses we exchanged. It is so pleasant for people who love each other to -be alone!</p> - -<p>We drove along the outskirts of the famous forest of Bondy, which is -much less famous to-day, because there are fewer thieves in the forest -and more in the salons. In due time we reached Livry, a village where -there are almost no cottages, a town where there are few houses. We -found our nurse’s house, and made a triumphal entry into a yard full of -manure, mud and pools of water; what the peasants call piqueux. My wife -had already alighted from the carriage; she had spied the nurse with<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> a -little one in her arms; and she ran to her, and seized the child, -crying:</p> - -<p>“This is my daughter! I know her!”</p> - -<p>For my part, I confess that I should never have known her. When my -daughter left us, she was three days old; and I consider that at that -age all children resemble each other. She was now four months; one could -begin to distinguish something; but I should never have been able to -tell whether she was my daughter, or the nurse’s child, who was three -months older; mothers never make a mistake.</p> - -<p>Eugénie examined her daughter admiringly and insisted that she looked -like me already. With the best will in the world, I could detect no -resemblance; and although I felt that I should love my daughter dearly, -frankly, I could as yet see nothing adorable about her.</p> - -<p>What I admired was the corpulence and robust health of our nurse. That -woman surely had strength enough to nurse four children at once; and as -I contemplated her fat cheeks and her broad chest, I said, like Diderot: -“One could kiss her for six weeks without kissing her twice in the same -place.”</p> - -<p>I had done well to bring eatables, for we found nothing there but eggs, -milk and pork; rustic delicacies, but not succulent. I ate with the -peasants, while my wife held her daughter and crooned over her. Eugénie -said that I was a glutton, that I preferred the pie to my daughter. I -was very fond of both. I admit that I was unable to arouse any -enthusiasm for a little creature who could not speak and could not do -anything but make faces; but my heart told me that I should be none the -less a good father, for all that. Exaggeration leads one wide of the -truth, and enthusiasm does not demonstrate real feeling.<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a></p> - -<p>We went to walk about the neighborhood. We did not admire the verdure, -because it was freezing weather; but we discovered some lovely spots and -views, which must have been delightful in summer; and some fields too, -where it must have been very pleasant to roll about when the grass had -grown.</p> - -<p>We returned and sat down in front of a snapping fire; one can warm -oneself so luxuriantly in front of the huge fireplaces that we find in -the country; they are the only things that our excellent ancestors had -which I regret.</p> - -<p>We ate again, for we always return to that at last, and always with -pleasure; then we embraced the child, the nurse, everybody, and returned -to the cabriolet. It was almost five o’clock, and in winter darkness -comes on early.</p> - -<p>At night, the cold seemed more intense. Eugénie and I sat close -together. My cloak, which was very large, was wrapped around us both; we -tried in every way to keep warm. Eugénie sat on my knee and drove; I -made no objection; it was almost dark. Suddenly the horse stopped, and -Eugénie and I concluded that we were off the road. I had only a very -vague idea where we were; but the horse, finding that he was no longer -guided by the reins, had turned aside, and was standing across the road, -facing the ditch.</p> - -<p>We laughed over our plight and our distraction, which might have landed -us in the ditch. But luckily our horse was not in love. I took the reins -again, I steered the carriage into the right road, and we returned to -Paris, thinking that it had been a very short day, and fully determined -to go to see the nurse again.</p> - -<p>A few days after this visit to Livry, on returning home, I found Ernest -in the salon talking with my wife. I had often urged him to come to see -me, and he had never done so before. I was greatly surprised to find -that my<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a> Eugénie was making herself very agreeable; I feared that she -would treat him coldly at least. But I soon understood why she had not -laid aside her usual gracious manner: Ernest had given his family name -only, and I had not mentioned that to my wife.</p> - -<p>“Here is one of your friends, Monsieur Firmin, who has been waiting for -you a long while,” said Eugénie when I appeared. “I have never had the -pleasure of seeing monsieur before. I think that he was not at our -wedding.”</p> - -<p>“That is true,” I said, taking his hand. “I confess that—that I forgot -him. On that day a man is permitted to have a poor memory.”</p> - -<p>I was a little embarrassed. I dared not ask Ernest about his wife, for I -was certain that Eugénie did not know that her visitor was the lover of -my former neighbor. I began hastily to talk about the theatre and -literature; I led Ernest to his favorite ground, and he told me all the -news of the wings. But suddenly he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“I was very sorry not to be at home when you called the day before -yesterday. My wife told me that you waited for me a long while.”</p> - -<p>“Is monsieur married?” Eugénie instantly inquired.</p> - -<p>Ernest replied by simply bowing. Then he continued:</p> - -<p>“I was all the more vexed, because I had a box at the Vaudeville to give -you, which perhaps would have entertained madame.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie bowed, and I tried to lead the conversation back to the theatre; -but Ernest, having no suspicion of my apprehension, soon said to me:</p> - -<p>“Marguerite, who used to be so fond of the theatre, is beginning to tire -of it; I take her so often!”</p> - -<p>At the name of Marguerite, my wife turned pale; then she said to me with -a forced smile:<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a></p> - -<p>“Can it be that monsieur is Monsieur Ernest?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, this is Monsieur Ernest Firmin, whom I have mentioned to you many -times.”</p> - -<p>“Ah yes! I know, and whose <i>wife</i> used to live in this house.”</p> - -<p>Ernest bowed again. I held my peace, but I felt that I was blushing, for -Eugénie had said the word <i>wife</i> in a tone of irony which hurt me. There -was malice in it, and I could not understand how she could make -malicious remarks to a person who had never injured her.</p> - -<p>Luckily Ernest, I thought, did not detect my wife’s meaning. He -continued to talk of literature and theatres. Eugénie did not say -another word, and her manner was as cold as it had been affable when I -arrived. I carried on the conversation with Ernest. At last he rose and -said good-bye; and, as he took leave of my wife, he offered to send her -tickets sometimes if it would afford her pleasure. Eugénie replied that -she did not care for the theatre; but that reply was made in such a -contemptuous and discourteous tone that Ernest could not fail to be hurt -by it. However, he simply glanced at me, half smiled, pressed my hand -significantly and took his leave.</p> - -<p>I expected a quarrel or scene of some sort; for I was beginning to -discover that when one is married, one must often expect something. -Eugénie did not say a word, but went to her room; I let her go and -betook myself to my study. I passed the rest of the day without seeing -her.</p> - -<p>But, at dinner time, annoyed that she did not leave her room, I decided -to go in search of her. I found her sitting in a chair and weeping -bitterly. I ran to her and tried to kiss her, but she pushed me away.</p> - -<p>“What does all this mean, Eugénie? Why are you crying? What is it that -causes your sorrow?<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“I?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you make me very unhappy!”</p> - -<p>“I make you unhappy? I must confess that I did not expect such a -reproach. When I try to gratify all your desires, all your tastes; when -I have no other will than yours, I make you unhappy! Upon my word, women -are most unjust! What would you say, pray, Eugénie, if you had a -scolding, capricious, dissipated, or gambling husband?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! I am well aware, monsieur, that a husband thinks that he has -done his duty when he has given his wife the bonnet and shawl that she -wants; but for my part, I should prefer that you should have all the -faults that you just mentioned, if you would be faithful to me.”</p> - -<p>“And you reproach me with being unfaithful! you address such a reproach -as that to me!”</p> - -<p>“Do you dare to deny that you have been going to see your former -neighbor, this Madame Ernest?”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, I have never denied it; why should I deny anything when I -have done nothing wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Still, you have not told me of it, and but for that gentleman’s call, I -should not have known it.”</p> - -<p>“I have not told you of it because your absurd suspicions obliged me to -keep it secret. I felt sure that you would discover something wrong in -it; so that it was useless for me to tell you a thing which can hardly -be said to concern you.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! so it doesn’t concern me that you go to make love to other women! -What a horrible thing to say!”</p> - -<p>“Eugénie, you are perfectly absurd! I feel very sorry for you!”</p> - -<p>“When one discovers the intrigues of these gentlemen, one is absurd. -Will you say again that her lover is always<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> there when you go there? It -is a pity that he himself said that you waited for him a long time. -Idiot! not to see why you go to his house when he isn’t there!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how patient a man must be, to listen to such nonsense!”</p> - -<p>“I am sure that you go every day to see your old neighbor, this -Marguerite. I do not know her, but I detest her, I have a perfect horror -of her. Her Monsieur Ernest had better not think of bringing her here, -for I will turn her out of doors,—Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! after being -married only fifteen months, to have a mistress!”</p> - -<p>She hid her face in her hands and began to sob again. Her tears made me -forgive her injustice. I was about to go to her and to try to make her -listen to reason, when she suddenly sprang to her feet, saying:</p> - -<p>“Very well, monsieur, if you have a mistress, I warn you that I will -have a lover.”</p> - -<p>I confess that those words produced an exceedingly disagreeable effect -on me; I was well aware that they were said in anger; but I would never -have believed that Eugénie could conceive such a thought.</p> - -<p>“Madame,” I said, in a tone in which there was no trace of gentleness, -“do not drive me beyond bounds, or wear out my patience. I am willing to -tell you once more that I have no mistress, that Madame Ernest never was -and never will be my mistress, that I very rarely go to see them, and -that it is a mere chance that Ernest is not there when I go. Indeed, as -he is not a government clerk, it is impossible to be sure when he will -be absent. But now, madame, remember this: even if I had one or several -mistresses, if I neglected or totally abandoned my family, that would -give you no right at all to have a lover, A man’s position and his -wife’s are entirely different. I may have love-affairs, waste my -fortune, ruin my health;<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> that will not dishonor you, madame, and will -not bring strange children into the bosom of your family. It is not the -same with the conduct of a wife; a single misstep ruins her in the eyes -of society, and may compel her husband’s children to share their bread -with her seducer’s children.”</p> - -<p>“That is all very convenient, monsieur; it proves that you can do what -you please and that wives have simply to pass their lives weeping. Is -that fair, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“If you consider that too hard, too cruel, why do you women marry? You -should know what you undertake when you take that step.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, it would be much better not to marry—to do like -Mademoiselle Marguerite; then one is free to follow one’s inclinations, -to drop people and take them up again at pleasure.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply. I paced the floor back and forth. Meanwhile Eugénie had -ceased to weep and had wiped her eyes; a moment later she came to me and -laid her hand gently on my arm:</p> - -<p>“Henri, perhaps I was a little wrong. But if this woman never has been, -and is not now your mistress, if you do not love her—swear to me that -you do not love her.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I swear to you that I do not love her, and that I have never been -her lover.”</p> - -<p>“Well then, my dear, to prove that, you must promise me that you will -never in your life put your foot inside their door again.”</p> - -<p>“No, I am very sorry, but I will not promise that.”</p> - -<p>“Why not, if you do not love the woman?”</p> - -<p>“It is just because I have no relations with Madame Ernest that I -propose to continue to see her and her husband just when it suits me. -Besides, listen, my dear<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> love: to-day you are jealous of her and don’t -want me to go there any more; in a few days you will be jealous of -someone else, and you will forbid me to go somewhere else. Things cannot -go on so. I love you, I love you as dearly as on the day we married; but -I don’t propose to be your slave. There is nothing more ridiculous than -a man who does not dare to take a step without his wife’s permission; -there is nothing more impertinent for a woman than to say to her -husband: ‘You shall not go here or there, because I do not want you -to.’”</p> - -<p>“But, Henri, I don’t forbid you to go, I simply beg you not to.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear Eugénie; I am distressed to refuse, but I shall go where I -please.”</p> - -<p>“And you dare to say that you do not love that woman?”</p> - -<p>“If I loved her you would never have known that I went there, you would -never have heard of her.”</p> - -<p>“So you prefer the friendship of those people to my repose and -happiness? You sacrifice my peace of mind to them?”</p> - -<p>“Your peace of mind should not be disturbed by my visits to Ernest. I -say again, I will not give way to absurd suspicions, and I will do as I -please.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, monsieur; I appreciate your love at its real value now.”</p> - -<p>And madame returned to her room; I sat down at the table and ate my -dinner. Eugénie did not return; I dined alone. It was the first time -since our marriage; alas, I would never have believed that it could -happen.</p> - -<p>My dinner was soon at an end; nothing takes away the appetite like a -dispute. And to dispute with a person whom one loves makes one angry and -grieved at the same time.<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a></p> - -<p>I went out immediately after dinner. I walked aimlessly, but I walked on -and on; nothing is so good as the fresh air to calm ill humor. But it -was cold; and I finally went into the Variétés. That is a theatre where -there is usually something to laugh at, and it is so pleasant to laugh!</p> - -<p>I took a seat in the orchestra. I spied Bélan there, no longer becurled -and in a tight-fitting coat, as he always used to be before his -marriage, but clad in a full-skirted frock coat, buttoned to the chin, -and with a solemn face which in no wise resembled that of a man who was -in search of conquests.</p> - -<p>Was that the effect of marriage? Could it be that I myself had undergone -the same metamorphosis?</p> - -<p>I was glad to meet Bélan; I hoped that the meeting would divert my -thoughts from my own troubles. I took a seat beside him. The -ex-lady-killer was so absorbed in his own reflections that he did not -recognize me.</p> - -<p>“Well, Bélan, are you enjoying the play?”</p> - -<p>“Hallo! it’s my old friend Blémont! What a lucky meeting! Since we have -been married, we hardly see each other at all. Ah! we had lots of fun -together in the old days, when we were bachelors! those were the good -old times!”</p> - -<p>“What! do you repent already of being married?”</p> - -<p>“No, certainly not; I only said that in jest. Oh! I am very happy; but -what I mean is that a married man owes it to himself not to run wild -like a bachelor. However, I am exceedingly happy.”</p> - -<p>“I congratulate you. How does it happen that madame is not with you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! she is dining out with her mother, at a house where they couldn’t -invite me, because I would have made thirteen at the table. I am going -to call for her.<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a> But as it is a house where they dine very late, Armide -told me not to hurry, not to come until between ten and eleven. That is -why I came here to pass the time. But how is it with you, my dear -Blémont? I thought that you never left your adored wife; everybody -speaks of you as a pair of turtledoves.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! turtledoves don’t always agree. We have had a little quarrel and I -came to the theatre for distraction.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! really? you have had a quarrel? Well, that’s like me. I -often have quarrels with Armide, but that doesn’t prevent me from being -happy. They are little clouds which soon pass away.”</p> - -<p>“And does your mother-in-law still weep all the time?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t speak of my mother-in-law! I admit that she is my nightmare; -it is she who stirs up her daughter. I know well enough that she doesn’t -do it from any bad motive; she is too noble for that. But when one -doesn’t come up to the mark in a salutation or in any sort of ceremony, -when one does not offer his hand quickly enough, why there is no end to -the reproaches and complaints. However, I am very happy; although those -devilish Girauds have already tried to make people think that I am a -cuckold.”</p> - -<p>“What! the Girauds have said——”</p> - -<p>“That I am a cuckold. Yes, my friend, they have said that! Whereas, she -is a woman of the most rigid principle; and moreover, a woman with whom -a man can be perfectly at ease. One of those cold, marble women, you -know. When you kiss them, it is exactly as if you didn’t kiss them; it -produces the same effect.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! that is very comforting!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I promise you that when I am a cuckold, I shall make no objection -to its being advertised. But I know<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> why the Girauds say that: it’s from -spite because they weren’t at my wedding.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you. But still, I cannot believe that they have ventured -to say——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, they have. But let me tell you what pretext they have invented for -making such remarks. I told you that, before obtaining Armide’s hand, I -thrust aside a lot of rivals, among others a marquis who had six -decorations.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, instead of taking offence, like the others, because I triumphed -over him, the marquis came to me and complimented me frankly, and said -with charming affability: ‘You have beaten me, and it is quite right; -you are a better man than I; I appreciate you and do you justice. Marry -Mademoiselle de Beausire, and allow me to continue to be your -friend.’—What do you say to that, eh?”</p> - -<p>“That was very obliging.”</p> - -<p>“As you can imagine, I was touched by that proceeding. I urged the -marquis to come to see us, and he did so; in fact, he comes very often. -That is the basis for the slanders of the Girauds. When my wife heard of -that, being very strict in such matters, she insisted at once that I -should ask the marquis to cease his visits; but I showed my strength of -character; I said to the marquis: ‘you come every day, try to come twice -a day, and I shall be better pleased than ever.’ He does it. And in this -respect, at least, my mother-in-law considers that I did well.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply, but I laughed to myself. What selfish creatures we are! -we laugh at the misfortunes of others and we desire to be pitied for our -own misfortunes. At a quarter-past ten, although there was another play -to<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> be performed, Bélan went away to call for his wife. He was afraid -that if he stayed any longer, he should be late and be scolded by his -mother-in-law, which however did not prevent him, when he bade me -good-night, from saying again that he was very happy.</p> - -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII<br /><br /> -APPEARANCES</h2> - -<p>For several days Eugénie and I hardly spoke; she remained in her bedroom -almost all day, and I in my study. In that way we did not dispute, to be -sure; but that mode of life was very dismal; it was not for the purpose -of living on such terms with my wife that I married her; and I felt that -I should certainly regret my bachelor days if it was to continue.</p> - -<p>I went more than once to Ernest’s. Ah! what a difference! how happy they -were! they were still lovers. Love, pleasure, happiness—those are what -they gave to each other; and they were still as light of heart, as much -like children, as when they lived under the eaves. Ernest, as a matter -of courtesy, asked me about my wife; but I fancied that he was not -anxious to see her again; for my part, I dared not urge him to come, -although I was careful not to mention my quarrel with Eugénie.</p> - -<p>When two people are young, especially when they are fond of each other, -they cannot remain on bad terms long. Eugénie and I hovered about each -other, but our accursed pride and self-esteem continued to keep us -apart. It was a contest between us to see which should give way first;<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> -because, doubtless, she did not think she was in the wrong, and I was -perfectly sure that I was in the right. But one day, when Eugénie was -seated beside me, saying nothing, I threw self-esteem to the winds; I -embraced my wife affectionately, and we were reconciled. Ah! such -reconciliations are very sweet. However, as they are always the result -of quarrels, I consider that they are a pleasure in which one should -indulge in moderation. The time for us to move drew near, and I felt -that I should regret to leave that house in which I had passed such -happy hours. But I kept my regrets to myself, for my wife would have -ascribed them to other reasons. For Eugénie, that change was an -unalloyed joy. I pretended to share it. I think that her satisfaction -was twofold: in the first place, because she was leaving that house; in -the second place, because she was moving from that neighborhood, where -she knew that we were near the home of Ernest and his wife.</p> - -<p>On the eve of the day when we were to move, as everything in our -apartment was topsy-turvy, we preferred not to dine there; we could not -invite ourselves to dine with Madame Dumeillan, who had not been well -for some time; to go to my mother’s might cause her to lose her evening -game of whist; so we made up our minds to dine at a restaurant, in a -private room. My wife looked forward to it with delight. As my business -would detain me quite late in the Tuileries quarter, I arranged to meet -Eugénie on the Terrasse des Feuillants; she was to go to our new -apartment, and then to meet me at the place appointed, at five o’clock.</p> - -<p>I finished my business as quickly as I could, for I did not wish that -Eugénie should be at the rendezvous before me, and have to wait for me. -I made such haste that it was not half-past four when I reached the -Garden<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> of the Tuileries. No matter, I thought, I will stroll about.</p> - -<p>Less than three minutes after I had arrived, I heard a voice which was -not unfamiliar to me, say:</p> - -<p>“It seems that we are fated always to meet here; it is very strange, -really.”</p> - -<p>It was Lucile again. I had not seen her since my wedding day. She was -dressed very elegantly, and she was alone.</p> - -<p>“Is it you, madame?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I am obliged to come to the garden to meet you.”</p> - -<p>“It is true that in Paris, when people are not looking for each -other——”</p> - -<p>“And even if they are looking for each other, that is no reason why they -should find each other. Have you just been married again, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“No, madame. That is well enough when one is a bachelor—to take a new -wife every week.”</p> - -<p>“You have reformed now, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, entirely.”</p> - -<p>“I congratulate you. And yet, although you have reformed, you look very -much to me as if you were here to keep an appointment.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, madame, but appointments do not always mean -love-affairs.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what they mean; but you are waiting for someone, and I’ll -bet that it’s a woman.”</p> - -<p>“You are not mistaken; moreover, a woman whom I am going to take to -dinner in a private room at a restaurant.”</p> - -<p>“You have reformed with a vengeance! But I should have been more -surprised to find it the other way. It was well worth while to get -married!<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Madame, I will not prolong your error; it is my wife for whom I am -waiting, and whom I agreed to meet here.”</p> - -<p>“Your wife! I beg pardon, monsieur, pray receive my apology. I had no -suspicion that you had become a Philemon. Come, joking aside, is it -really your wife that you are waiting for?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to be sure. What is there so extraordinary in that?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you are still in love with your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Still! why it seems to me that I was married only yesterday!”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! how touching!”</p> - -<p>Lucile bit her lips with a sneering smile. I had no wish to prolong my -conversation with her, although I was certain that my wife would not -come so early. I made a motion to bid her adieu; she grasped my arm.</p> - -<p>“What, you are going to leave me so soon? Mon Dieu! don’t tremble so; -your wife will not come yet.”</p> - -<p>“I trust not; for, frankly, I would not like to have her see me talking -with you.”</p> - -<p>“Would she whip you?”</p> - -<p>“No, she wouldn’t do anything; but she is jealous, and it would make her -unhappy.”</p> - -<p>“She would be very foolish to be jealous of me.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; but jealous people often are foolish, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Henri, I am going to make a proposition to you.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“Take me to dinner instead of your wife. You can tell her this evening -that you had an engagement that you couldn’t break.”</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t reached that point yet, thank heaven!<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I was only joking, monsieur; I know that you are too virtuous to -play such a trick. Have you got ants on your legs?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I don’t want to stand here.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; let us walk then.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to walk with you.”</p> - -<p>“But what if I don’t choose to leave you?”</p> - -<p>“I beg you, Lucile, let me go.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me! monsieur assumes his sentimental air. Look you, the garden is -free to all; if I choose to walk beside you, you have no right to -prevent me. Besides, I am very curious to see your wife. Will she eat me -if she finds me with you? Ah! monsieur refuses to answer any more -questions; monsieur is angry.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, I confess that I don’t understand what motive induces you -to act as you are acting. It is pure malice, and it seems to me that I -have given you no reason to treat me so.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! it seems so to you, does it? You have a very short memory. It -seems to me that I have many reasons for revenging myself on you.”</p> - -<p>“Madame, you must have other people to think about who interest you much -more than I do; and in the four years since we ceased to see each other, -I am surprised that you remember me at all.”</p> - -<p>“It is certain that you hardly deserve it. But what would you have? -Perhaps that is the reason.”</p> - -<p>“Lucile, some other day we will talk as long as you wish; but to-day, I -beg you, leave me; don’t stay with me.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! you make me laugh!”</p> - -<p>I began to walk very fast; Lucile did the same, continuing to talk to -me, although I did not reply. I saw that people were staring at us, -because I had the aspect of<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> running away from a woman who was pursuing -me. I was in dismay. At last I stopped.</p> - -<p>“This is a horrible thing that you are doing, Lucile.”</p> - -<p>“Well, calm yourself, I will leave you, for you make my heart ache. You -start convulsively every time you see a woman! But tell me first, have -you my portrait still?”</p> - -<p>“Your portrait? Why, I don’t know, I will look.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to give it back to me. You can’t care anything about it, and -I want it, for it was very like me.”</p> - -<p>“I will give it to you.”</p> - -<p>“I still live on the same street, but two houses beyond.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; I will bring it to you.”</p> - -<p>“You promise?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that will be very kind of you. Adieu, my dear Henri. Come, don’t be -angry any more and don’t forget what you have just promised.”</p> - -<p>“No, I——”</p> - -<p>The words died out on my lips, for I caught sight of my wife within two -yards of us, pale and trembling, and gazing directly at us. And at that -moment, Lucile had offered me her hand as she bade me good-bye, and I, -overjoyed because she was about to leave me, was shaking hands with her -in the friendliest way! Eugénie had seen all that, and Lucile, noticing -the sudden change in my features, turned, glanced at my wife, smiled a -mocking smile, and walked away, bidding me adieu again in a most -unceremonious fashion. Ah! I did not know what I would do to her!</p> - -<p>I walked toward my wife. My manner was certainly as embarrassed as if I -were guilty.</p> - -<p>“So here you are. I was talking with a lady whom I had just met.<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I saw that lady, and I heard her too. What is the use, monsieur, -of making an appointment with me, of bringing me here to witness such -things?”</p> - -<p>“Well, upon my word! Now you are going to discover something wrong in -this; but I swear——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it costs you nothing to swear! Who is that woman? Is it your former -neighbor, Madame Ernest?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no indeed! It’s a woman whom I—whom I knew before I was married.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! one of your former mistresses, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Well! what if that were the fact? As I have not seen her for a long -time——”</p> - -<p>“You have ceased to see her, and yet she has the assurance to talk with -you so freely, holding your hand and looking into the whites of your -eyes! And she laughed in my face when she went away. Ah! she has a most -impudent manner! But I shall know her again. I had plenty of time to -look at her, for you didn’t see me, you were so engrossed with that -woman! You promised her something, for she said to you: ‘Don’t forget -what you have just promised me.’—Is that so, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! it is very possible, madame. I have no very clear idea -what she said to me, for I wanted but one thing, and that was to get rid -of her; for I suspected that if you saw me talking with her, it would -put a lot of crazy ideas into your head.”</p> - -<p>“Crazy ideas! you expect me to see you with a woman like that, and not -to object to it! Ah! I am suffocating! I cannot stand any more!”</p> - -<p>She put her handkerchief to her eyes. I took her hand and led her away, -for I had no desire to make a spectacle of myself again on the Terrasse -des Feuillants. We walked along the Champs-Elysées for some time, -without<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> speaking. I stopped in front of a restaurant and started to go -in.</p> - -<p>“What is this place?”</p> - -<p>“A restaurant, where we are to dine.”</p> - -<p>“It is no use, I am not hungry; I want to go home.”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that everything in our apartment is packed up, and -that we can’t dine there. Really, Eugénie, you are making yourself -miserable for no reason at all. How can you think that if I had -relations with that woman, I would be with her where I knew that you -were coming?”</p> - -<p>“What did you promise her?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! I have no idea; she had been boring me and annoying me for -ten minutes; I would have promised her all the treasures of the Indies -to get rid of her.”</p> - -<p>“But why did she hold your hand?”</p> - -<p>“Because it is the habit of all those women; they can’t say a word to -you without taking your arm or your hand.”</p> - -<p>“Is she a prostitute then?”</p> - -<p>“No, she is a—a kept woman.”</p> - -<p>“She has a very insolent manner, at all events.”</p> - -<p>At last I induced Eugénie to go in, and we were shown to a private room. -I wrote my order, for after all, I myself realized that I had not dined. -The waiter left the room, whispering to me in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur will ring when he wants the dinner served.”</p> - -<p>He evidently misunderstood the state of affairs. Husbands and wives are -not in the habit of dining in private rooms.</p> - -<p>Madame took a seat in the corner, a long way from the table. She rested -her head on one of her hands. She had ceased to weep, but she did not -look at me. How amusing it would be, if she acted like that all the -time<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> that we were dining, or that I was dining! So this was the little -spree to which I had looked forward so eagerly! Man proposes and woman -disposes.</p> - -<p>I wished Lucile at the devil with all my heart. It was her malice, her -obstinacy, that had caused all the trouble. The idea of her refusing to -leave me! It was simply because it annoyed me.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that if we were to maintain that attitude, I should do -well to ring for dinner at once.</p> - -<p>Our room looked on the Champs-Elysées. The weather was beautiful; -although it was only the middle of April, it was as warm as midsummer. I -opened the window and looked out at the passers-by for some time. -Eugénie did not budge; I walked to her side.</p> - -<p>“Eugénie, do you propose to stay a mile away from the table like this?”</p> - -<p>“I told you that I was not hungry. Eat your dinner, monsieur, I don’t -object.”</p> - -<p>“What a delightful pleasure party!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I shall remember it.”</p> - -<p>“And so shall I, madame. You must have a very bad temper to refuse to -listen to reason! The idea of thinking that I was looking for that woman -when I was waiting for you!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say that you were looking for her, monsieur, I am not foolish -enough for that; but I do think that she was looking for you, a task -which you often save her, no doubt. Besides, you have admitted that she -used to be your mistress.”</p> - -<p>“That I knew her before I was married, that is true, madame. Perhaps I -was foolish to admit that; but as I had done no wrong, I did not think -that I ought to lie.”</p> - -<p>“When a man has known a woman, and continues to see her, he must be on -as good terms with her as ever.<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You are very much mistaken! If it were so, men would have altogether -too much on their hands.”</p> - -<p>“Everybody has not known all Paris as you have!”</p> - -<p>“Madame, I have been no better nor worse than other men; but I see that -I should have been less honest with you.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to have been more honest with me before marrying me.”</p> - -<p>“How nice it would have been to tell a virtuous young lady about all my -adventures as a bachelor! Really, you are too absurd.”</p> - -<p>I seized the bell cord and jerked it violently, for I felt that my -irritation was getting the upper hand of me.</p> - -<p>The waiter came; he opened the door a crack and put the end of his nose -inside, saying:</p> - -<p>“What does monsieur wish?”</p> - -<p>“Our dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Instantly, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>And he went away after casting a furtive glance at Eugénie.</p> - -<p>“Madame, you need not eat, if you prefer not; but you should sit at the -table at least, in order not to attract the waiter’s attention.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie made no reply, but she took her seat at the table opposite me.</p> - -<p>The soup was brought, and I filled madame’s plate.</p> - -<p>“Why, monsieur, I told you that I should not eat anything.”</p> - -<p>“But, madame, I do not bid you to eat anything; I simply put some soup -in your plate so that you may seem to have dined.”</p> - -<p>Madame made no reply, but she did not touch her soup. I ate mine, -humming between my teeth. That is my way when I am angry.<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a></p> - -<p>The waiter appeared again; he always took the precaution to turn the -knob three or four times before coming in. The fellow was an idiot; he -must have seen that we were not thinking of making love.</p> - -<p>He brought us a beefsteak. At home, Eugénie always served; I did not -like to serve, or to carve. But madame would not so much as look at me. -I cut a piece for myself with an angry gesture, then pushed the platter -before Eugénie. But she would not touch it; she knew that it annoyed me -to see that she did not eat, and so she was very careful not to take a -mouthful.</p> - -<p>I found that vexation and impatience were taking away my appetite too; -but no matter! I ate a double quantity. To add to my annoyance, a little -violinist had stopped under our window; he had played the same tune ever -since we had been there, although I had shouted to him that I would give -him nothing. I was not in a mood to be generous.</p> - -<p>Well, upon my word! Once more the knob was turned and returned. What a -blockhead that waiter was! I should have been delighted to kick him. He -entered, still with an air of mystery, and placed some sweetbreads on -the table.</p> - -<p>Really these family quarrels are most tiresome, for there is no way to -avoid them, one must submit to them from beginning to end. If you are -bored at other people’s houses, you can go away and never go there -again; but at home it is different: you always have to go back. I know -that there are husbands who go out in the morning and do not return -until bedtime; but is it not a hundred times better to be a bachelor -than to be obliged to shun one’s house in order to lead a quiet life? -Then at all events, one has some little enjoyment; one laughs now and -then at home.<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a></p> - -<p>I had evidently been indulging in these reflections, and many others -which were not at all rose-colored, for a long time. The violin played -on, but I had ceased to attend to it; I had also forgotten the -sweetbreads which were before us; indeed I did not realize that I was at -a restaurant. I was recalled to myself by the noise of the knob being -turned. The waiter entered with a roast chicken. He placed his chicken -on the table, and looked at the previous dish, which had not been -touched. He was uncertain whether he should carry it away, and he looked -from one to the other of us. I am sure that he seldom saw such a -taciturn couple. As no one said anything to him, he decided to speak.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur and madame have not touched the sweetbreads yet. I brought the -chicken too soon; I will take it away again.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, leave it and take away your sweetbreads; we don’t want them.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I assure you, monsieur, that they are nicely cooked, and so -fresh——”</p> - -<p>“I tell you to take them away.”</p> - -<p>I do not know whether the tone in which I said this was terrifying, but -the waiter took the sweetbreads and disappeared like a flash, closing -all the doors behind him. The chicken was before us. I wondered if -madame would not be obliging enough to carve it. I placed it in front of -her and begged her to be good enough to do so. She pushed it back to the -middle of the table and said:</p> - -<p>“I will not carve.”</p> - -<p>I took up the platter again and handed it to her, saying:</p> - -<p>“Madame, you know very well that I am not in the habit of carving.”</p> - -<p>“You may do as you choose, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Do you refuse to carve it, madame?<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Will you do it—once, twice?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, as it is foolish to make the landlord a present of -it——”</p> - -<p>I took up the dish and threw the chicken out of the window. My wife -involuntarily gave a little shriek. I walked to the window, for I -noticed that the violin had stopped. I saw that the little Savoyard had -just picked up the chicken, and fearing doubtless that someone would -come out to get it, he hastily threw his violin over his shoulder, -concealed the bird under his jacket, and ran across the Champs-Elysées -as if the devil were at his heels.</p> - -<p>At that sight I was unable to keep a sober face; I burst into a roar of -laughter, which increased in volume when I saw that the little violinist -ran faster than ever on seeing me at the window. Madame was unable to -resist the desire to see what had become of the chicken. She saw the -little fellow’s performance, and bit her lips to avoid laughing; but -when I turned toward her, she could hold out no longer; she followed my -example.</p> - -<p>Nothing restores concord so quickly as laughter; disputes rarely take -place between laughter-loving people. We had drawn near to each other, -having both left the table to go to the window. I do not know how it -happened, but I soon found Eugénie in my arms; then we kissed, we walked -away from the window, and——</p> - -<p>Once more the door was opened, this time without rattling the knob. That -waiter was fated to do everything awkwardly; he never guessed right! -Eugénie, red as a cherry, hastily moved away from me, but not so quickly -that the waiter, who had seen us close together, did not instantly -disappear with the macaroni, muttering:<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a></p> - -<p>“Beg pardon! you are not ready. Besides, I don’t think the cheese is -cooked enough.”</p> - -<p>He closed the door. I ran after Eugénie, who murmured:</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! what will that waiter think?”</p> - -<p>I confess that that question worried me very little, and in a few -minutes I think that Eugénie forgot it too.</p> - -<p>I had to ring to get the macaroni. The waiter came at last; but he -hummed and talked to himself upon the landing before touching the knob; -then he fumbled over it for five minutes. All the time that he was in -the room, my wife kept her eyes down and dared not move or speak. She -was not used to such occasions.</p> - -<p>I ordered the dessert and the champagne. We ended our dinner much more -gaily than the beginning of it would have led one to think. I swore to -Eugénie twenty times over that I had ceased to see Lucile long before I -had married her. She recovered her amiability; she took nothing but -biscuit and champagne, but she declared that it was very pleasant to -dine in a private room, and I promised her that we would do it again.</p> - -<p>The day following that festivity was our moving day. Eugénie and her -maid went early to install themselves in our new apartment, where she -wished to have the furniture arranged at the outset according to her own -taste. I remained at our old apartment to look after the packing and -loading; indeed, I was not sorry to remain as long as possible in my -former bachelor’s quarters.</p> - -<p>The people who were hired to move us had promised that everything should -be done at four o’clock; at seven I was still there. Finally, the last -load drove away, and I was at liberty to do likewise. I walked once more -through those bare rooms, which to me were so rich in memories. It was -there that I had entertained so<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> many pretty faces. It was there too -that I had brought Eugénie as a bride, and that she had made me a -father. What a pity to leave a home where we had been so happy! Should I -be as happy elsewhere? But it was time to have done with such childish -thoughts. One is certain to be happy anywhere with the object of one’s -affections; my wife was probably impatient at my non-arrival, so I -started.</p> - -<p>I reached our new home on Boulevard Montmartre, and the maid admitted -me. The last furniture had been brought, but nothing was in place; -whereas I expected to find the apartment all arranged and all in order.</p> - -<p>What on earth had they been doing ever since morning! I asked the maid, -who seemed distressed.</p> - -<p>“Dear me, monsieur,” she replied, “I did not know where to put all these -things.”</p> - -<p>“What! hasn’t my wife been here with you all day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, madame has been here. At first she worked hard arranging -things; but after a little, as she was moving a piece of furniture——”</p> - -<p>“She hurt herself?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no, monsieur; madame did not hurt herself; but she found something, -I don’t know what, that made her unhappy; she cried, and then she went -to her room, and she hasn’t touched anything since.”</p> - -<p>The deuce! so there was something new! I wondered if I ever again should -enjoy two days of peace! But only the day before we had been reconciled; -and that very morning she had shown no signs of discontent. What on -earth could have caused this new outbreak? Asking myself these -questions, I went to Eugénie’s bedroom. I found her sitting in a chair, -but her eyes were dry, and she seemed to be reflecting profoundly. On my -arrival, she did not stir.<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a></p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, my dear love? It is impossible to find one’s -way about here, and the maid says that you will not give any orders; -what does it mean?”</p> - -<p>“It means, monsieur, that you may arrange everything to suit yourself; -for my part I will not lift a finger.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur! Well, well, so something else has gone wrong. Upon my word, -this happens too often. Tell me, what is the matter to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I ought not to be surprised; I ought to be prepared for everything -with you. But there are things which I shall never be able to take -coolly; and when a woman finds that she is deceived so shamefully——”</p> - -<p>“Deceived! come, come! explain yourself, madame, I beg you. What fable -has somebody been telling you to-day?”</p> - -<p>“No one has been telling me any fables, monsieur. This time I have -proofs, undeniable proofs. Do not think that I was looking for them; -they fell into my hands by the merest chance. When I was trying to put -your desk in place, something broke, the drawer opened and I saw—here, -monsieur, this is what I found.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie opened a drawer and threw upon a table in front of me the eight -portraits of women, which I had kept in my desk.</p> - -<p>I confess that at sight of them I was speechless for a few moments; but -I recovered myself at last.</p> - -<p>“Why should the discovery of these portraits offend you? You know very -well that I amuse myself by painting a little. When I was a bachelor, I -made these miniatures. They are fancy faces, and I saw no harm in -keeping them.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! they are fancy portraits, are they?” cried Eugénie; and she -trembled with anger, and her eyes gleamed. “Monster that you are! I -expected that reply.<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a> You forget that I saw one of the models yesterday! -Look, monsieur, is this a fancy portrait? Oh! the likeness is too good -for anyone to mistake it; it is a portrait of that woman who was with -you yesterday.”</p> - -<p>She held out the portrait of Lucile. I had forgotten that it was among -those which I had kept; and as it happened, it was one of the best -likenesses. I did not know what to say; I was so vexed to appear like a -culprit when I had done no wrong, above all, I was so irritated by my -wife’s reproaches that I threw myself on a chair and said nothing more.</p> - -<p>Eugénie pursued me, with Lucile’s portrait in her hand.</p> - -<p>“You are confounded, monsieur! you cannot think of any more lies to -tell; it’s a pity, you tell them so well! So this is the woman with whom -you have had nothing to do for a long time, whom you don’t see now, and -whom you never loved! But you have her portrait, you treasure it -carefully, with those of seven other women whom you probably meet <i>by -accident</i>, as you met that creature yesterday! Eight mistresses at once! -I congratulate you, monsieur; you make a most virtuous and orderly -husband! And this is the man who swore when he married me that he would -never love any woman but me! that I alone would suffice to make him -happy! Very well, monsieur, have eight mistresses, have thirty, if you -choose, but I will not continue to live with a man who acts so. I no -longer love you; I feel that I hate you, that I cannot endure the sight -of you. I am going home to my mother. Then, monsieur, you will be free -to receive your neighbors and all the women whose portraits you paint.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, madame, you will do as you choose. For my part, I confess that I -am beginning to be tired of your jealous disposition and of your -outbreaks, your scenes.<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> This is not the life that I looked forward to -when I married. It has ceased to be that pleasant, happy life which was -ours at first; and yet, I love you as dearly as ever; I have not ceased -for one instant to love you. It is not my fault if you manufacture -chimeras, if you detect intrigues in the most innocent things. I have -nothing to reproach myself for. If I were guilty, it is probable that I -should have taken precautions, and should have found a way to conceal my -guilt; but I did nothing wrong in keeping portraits which were painted -before I knew you, and which recalled my bachelor studies. It is true -that one of them is a portrait of the woman that I met yesterday. In -fact, that was what she asked me for, and what I had just promised to -send her, when you appeared.”</p> - -<p>“Not to send her, but to carry to her yourself. I remember perfectly -now. Oh! you can’t make me believe, monsieur, that that portrait was -painted long ago. It is that woman just as I saw her yesterday, while -she was shaking hands with you so lovingly. And the idea of your daring -to claim to be innocent, when I discover every day fresh proofs of your -faithlessness! But you shall not carry her her portrait,—neither hers, -nor any other. Look! this is what I do with them! Ah! I wish that I -could break the bonds that bind me to you in the same way!”</p> - -<p>Eugénie threw the miniatures on the floor; she jumped upon them and -ground them to pieces under her feet; I had never seen her in such a -frenzy of rage. I said nothing; I kept my seat, and my placidity seemed -to intensify her wrath. At last, when she had reduced the ivories to -powder, she raised the sleeve of her dress, snatched the bracelet from -her arm, in which my portrait was set, and then threw it upon the floor -and trampled upon it, crying:<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a></p> - -<p>“I will not keep the portrait of a man whom I can no longer love!”</p> - -<p>The sight of the destruction of the women’s portraits had caused me no -emotion; but when I saw Eugénie trample my image under her feet, my -image which she had sworn to keep as long as she lived, I felt a sharp -pang. A keen, poignant grief suddenly took possession of me. It seemed -to me that my happiness had been destroyed like that portrait. I -involuntarily started to stop Eugénie; but a feeling of just pride held -me back, and I allowed her to consummate the sacrifice.</p> - -<p>After shattering my portrait, Eugénie dropped into a chair as if -exhausted by the transport of passion to which she had yielded. I -fancied even that I could detect in her eyes some feeling of shame for -what she had done. Thereupon I rose and gazed sadly at the shattered -fragments of my portrait; then, glancing at my wife, I left the room -without saying a word to her. I left the house. I have no idea where I -went. I had not dined, but it was my turn not to be hungry. I could -still see Eugénie trampling upon my portrait, and it seemed to me that -she could no longer love me, that her love and her fidelity were -attached to that image for which she no longer cared.</p> - -<p>I realized that I must be a man rather than a lover, for love does not -last forever, but manliness sustains us throughout our whole life. While -reasoning thus with myself, I sighed profoundly, for I still adored -Eugénie; after all, jealousy is a proof of love, they say: my wife would -come to herself and I would forgive her. But the breaking of my -portrait, my work, which should have reminded her of the delicious -sittings, when she was beside me—Ah! that was very wicked! and I should -have difficulty in forgiving her for that.<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> - -<p>I walked a long while; at last I found myself in my old street; I -believe that our legs have an instinct of their own, and that they lead -us toward the places which they have often traversed.</p> - -<p>Suppose I should go to see Ernest and his wife, I thought, to divert my -mind from my troubles? They were my only friends, and would gladly share -my sorrows. However, I would not tell them of my woes, but I would -forget them in their company. So I betook myself to Rue du Temple.</p> - -<p>The concierge told me that they were at home. I went up. Madame Ernest -admitted me and ushered me into her room, saying:</p> - -<p>“By what miracle have you come in the evening, monsieur? It is seldom -enough that we see you even in the morning. Ernest is at the theatre, -but he promised to return early.”</p> - -<p>The little woman gave me a seat and then resumed her work. We talked, or -rather she talked; she talked of Ernest, of his work, of his success, of -their mode of life. I enjoyed listening to her. While she was speaking, -I looked at her, and it seemed like one of the evenings which I used to -pass in her attic room. Marguerite was still the same, and in my -thoughts I loved to call her by that name still.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she stopped and said to me:</p> - -<p>“I am doing all the talking. I must be wearying you, am I not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t say anything.”</p> - -<p>“I am listening to you.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, you are not usually silent like this. Are you unhappy?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so.<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>”</p> - -<p>“A little falling out with your wife? I will wager that I have guessed -it!”</p> - -<p>“That is true; we have had a little dispute.”</p> - -<p>“And that makes you unhappy. Ah! you are like me; when I have a dispute -with Ernest, it makes me very sad! Luckily it seldom happens, and it -doesn’t last long. I should die if it did!”</p> - -<p>And the little woman told me about some petty discussions between Ernest -and herself, the merest child’s play, which could not interrupt the -current of their love for an instant. I had been listening to my little -neighbor for an hour, without being bored for an instant; however, I was -anxious to know what was going on at home, so I rose.</p> - -<p>“I won’t try to detain you,” said Madame Ernest; “your wife is waiting -for you, no doubt, and you mustn’t let her get impatient. Ernest will be -sorry to have missed you.”</p> - -<p>I took leave of my former neighbor and left the house. As I stepped into -the street, a woman who was leaning against a post near the porte -cochère, seized my arm convulsively, and said:</p> - -<p>“You have been alone with her for an hour and a half; her Ernest wasn’t -there. I know, for the concierge told me so.”</p> - -<p>It was Eugénie. Eugénie, who had followed me, no doubt, and had seen me -go into that house, and had remained at the door all the time that I had -been with Marguerite.</p> - -<p>I was so surprised, so thunderstruck, that I could not answer. After -saying these few words, my wife left me and ran swiftly before me. I -called her, I tried to overtake her, and succeeded at last. But she -would not answer me, she persisted in refusing to take my arm.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a></p> - -<p>And thus we returned home. I tried to have an explanation with my wife, -but she locked herself into her bedroom and refused to admit me. A bed -was made for me in my study.</p> - -<p>So I was obliged to pass the night alone, and separate like that after -the scenes of the evening! Ah! that was a very gloomy housewarming in -our new apartment.</p> - -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII<br /><br /> -EUGÉNIE AND MARGUERITE</h2> - -<p>After passing several weeks without speaking to each other, my wife and -I came together again and became reconciled; but it seemed to me that -the reconciliation was not very sincere, that it was simply a sort of -smoothing over. Had these frequent scenes diminished our love? No, I -still loved my wife; but when often repeated, disputes sour the temper -and change the disposition. The words that people say to each other in -passion, although forgotten afterward, deal a fatal blow to our -illusions, and they never grow again.</p> - -<p>We went again to Livry, to our daughter’s nurse, on a superb day in -June. How little that excursion resembled the other! we had no dispute, -but the tranquillity which reigned between us was like that which -ordinarily follows twenty years of married life; and we returned home -without driving our horse to the edge of a ditch.</p> - -<p>A very sad event marked the first months of our life in our new home: -Eugénie lost her mother. Dear Madame Dumeillan was taken from us after a -short illness, when<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> we had every reason to hope that we might long -enjoy her presence and her affection. I felt the loss almost as keenly -as my wife, for Madame Dumeillan was our best friend. Careful not to -take part in our disputes, pretending not to notice them, Madame -Dumeillan, without blaming either of us, had the art of bringing us -together again, and of reviving the most affectionate sentiments in our -hearts. Whenever Eugénie had been to see her mother, I knew it at once, -because she was more amiable with me. Ah! how seldom do we see parents -who long for our happiness without trying to govern our conduct, our -actions; and without fatiguing us with their advice! The loss we had -sustained was irreparable; one does not meet twice in one’s life people -who love us for ourselves alone and who do not impose a thousand -obligations on us as the price of their affection.</p> - -<p>Eugénie’s sorrow was very deep and very keen. To divert her, I took her -into society. We went to evening parties, to the theatre, to concerts; -we received company at our house more frequently. The commotion of -society does not altogether enable one to forget one’s loss, but it -gives one employment and distraction. There are sorrows with which one -loves to withdraw into oneself; there are others which compel us to shun -ourselves, and in which reflection is deadly.</p> - -<p>We brought our daughter home. Her presence helped to divert my wife’s -thoughts from her grief. The sight of her Henriette, her caresses, her -first words, unintelligible to anybody but ourselves, enabled Eugénie at -last to endure the loss she had sustained. A woman is a daughter before -she is a mother, but she is a mother much longer than she has been a -daughter; and in our hearts affection does not look backward, it -inclines rather toward the later generation.<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a></p> - -<p>Madame Dumeillan’s death made my wife richer than I by four thousand -francs a year. I did not envy her her wealth, but I regretted that my -children should owe more to their mother than to me. That thought led me -to work much harder; I passed a large part of my time in my study and at -the Palais. We saw each other less frequently; was that the reason that -we agreed better? I hoped that that circumstance was not accountable for -it. I was always glad to return to Eugénie and I was very happy when I -held my daughter in my arms. My little Henriette was so pretty! she -seemed already very bright and intelligent to me, and I was disposed to -spoil her, to do whatever she wished; but my wife was more strict than -I.</p> - -<p>We saw my mother, but only very seldom; she considered that we played -whist badly at our house. The Girauds came sometimes to see us; they -were still busily engaged in negotiating marriages. I gave myself the -pleasure of having them, with Bélan and his wife, at my house. There was -a rattling discharge of epigrams on the part of Giraud. The superb -Armide did not seem to notice them, and as for Bélan, he entrenched -himself behind his wife, whose servant he seemed to be, and to whom he -never spoke without bowing.</p> - -<p>In the large parties, the boisterous entertainments which we frequently -attended, there were some pretty married women, and some exceedingly -pretty unmarried ones. I will frankly confess that I sometimes surprised -myself, oblivious of the fact that I was married, making eyes at the -ladies and paying court to the young women; the latter did not respond -to my glances; the fact that I was a married man prevented them from -taking any notice of me; but it was not always the same with the others. -Those periods of forgetfulness, however, lasted<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> only for an instant; -then I was greatly surprised to find that I had been behaving like a -bachelor. There is no great harm in casting a soft glance at another -woman than one’s wife; but if Eugénie had done as much, if she had cast -such a glance at a man, I should have considered it very wrong. Surely I -did not regret that I was married; why then did I behave sometimes in -society as if I were not? But that apparent frivolity was due to my -disposition and not to my heart. I do not consider that because a man is -married he must necessarily behave like an owl, and never dare to laugh -and jest except with his wife; in that case marriage would be too heavy -a chain.</p> - -<p>I went sometimes to see Ernest; he too, was a father, the father of a -little boy. He and Marguerite were happy beyond words. Fortune smiled -upon them; Ernest was earning money, and, if he had chosen, there were -plenty of people who would gladly have come to his table to congratulate -him upon his success and to flatter his wife, closing their eyes to what -was lacking in their union. But Marguerite did not choose to go into -society; she insisted that a few real friends are much to be preferred -to parties where women tear one another to pieces and men deceive one -another. She spoke of the world as if she were familiar with it.</p> - -<p>“This society in which you wish me to mingle,” she said to Ernest, -“would think that it did me much honor by receiving me; indeed many -women would blush to speak to me. ‘She is not married,’ they would say -to one another as they eyed me contemptuously. And I, my dear, do not -feel disposed to put up with such a greeting. In the bottom of my heart -I feel quite as worthy of esteem as any of those ladies; for I would -give my blood and my life for you; and there is more than one of them -who would not do as much for her husband.<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>”</p> - -<p>I considered that my old neighbor was right. Ernest himself had no -answer to make; and yet he would have been glad to have her go sometimes -into the world, in order to acquire the habits of society and to avoid -awkwardness if she should ever receive company. He wished to make his -little Marguerite a lady. It seemed to me that she was very well as she -was.</p> - -<p>For some time my wife had been less jealous; perhaps she felt that she -had always been wrong to be jealous; perhaps she had striven to correct -herself. But suppose that that were not the reason? Suppose that she -cared less for me? Mon Dieu! how ingenious we are in inventing tortures -for ourselves! I was unhappy because of my wife’s jealousy; and lo and -behold, I had begun to worry because she left me in peace!</p> - -<p>Sometimes, however, I saw that her eyes followed me as of old when I was -speaking to a pretty woman; but if, after playing the gallant, I -approached Eugénie, as if to set her heart at rest, she would look away -with an indifferent air, and pretend that she had not been noticing me. -Was that her new way of loving me, and was there no mean between that -frigid manner and the transports of jealousy?</p> - -<p>Among the people who came to my house, there were many men of letters -and artists. Their company was agreeable; they were at least witty in -their malice, and unceremonious in their manners. A very pleasant -painter, whom we had met at many functions, insisted, although a -bachelor, upon giving a ball for the ladies at whose houses he often -danced. Monsieur Leberger issued his invitations, and everybody -accepted. We looked forward to having much sport and merriment at a -party given by a bachelor painter. For my part, I was careful to obtain -invitations for the Bélans and the Girauds; I love to<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> bring enemies -face to face. Leberger invited everybody who was suggested to him, his -most earnest wish being to have a large number of guests; indeed, the -ballroom was to be his studio, and there would be plenty of room.</p> - -<p>My wife made some objections to going to the ball; she thought that it -would not be enjoyable, she declared that she no longer cared about -dancing. No longer cared about dancing, and she was but twenty years -old! I insisted that she should go, and she yielded at last. But we did -not start until our little Henriette was asleep; I wished that she were -old enough to go and dance with us.</p> - -<p>Two torches at Leberger’s door pointed out his abode when we were still -far away. Our artist was determined that nothing should be lacking at -his ball; the staircase was lighted by candelabra at frequent intervals; -there were no flowers on the stairs, but there were rugs. The strains of -the orchestra guided us, for the ball was already under way. An obliging -neighbor, who lived on the same floor as the artist, had lent him his -apartment, which served both as dressing room and laboratory; for the -punch was concocted and the refreshments prepared in the neighbor’s -apartment.</p> - -<p>The studio, transformed into a ballroom, presented a striking -appearance. It was spacious, but well-lighted. Finished pictures, -sketches and studies adorned the walls. Busts, statues, and torsos -served as candelabra; the musicians were perched upon a broad flight of -steps, above which ancient Roman costumes were draped. The orchestra was -made up of amateurs; but those amateurs had the self-assurance and -almost the talent of Tolbecque. Behind them stood a manikin, which held -a serpent to its mouth, as if it were playing on it; and a small flute -was placed in the mouth of an Ajax, and a trombone in the hand of -Belisarius.<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a></p> - -<p>There was a great crowd; Leberger had invited a great many of his -fellow-painters, and poets, musicians, and sculptors. The ball was -already well in train. I saw Giraud dancing with his daughter, while his -wife had accepted the invitation of her oldest son, who was beginning to -administer some very graceful kicks to his neighbors. I saw Madame -Bélan, who had deigned to accept the hand of a poet, while her husband -remained with his mother-in-law, Madame de Beausire, who was seated in a -corner of the studio, where she seemed to be posing as the <i>Mother of -the Maccabees</i>.</p> - -<p>My wife joined some ladies of her acquaintance, and I went to watch a -quadrille. My eyes fell upon a young lady who was dancing very timidly -but who was by no means without grace. I knew that face, yes, I -certainly knew it; but where had I seen it? Was it possible? Yes, it was -Marguerite, it was Madame Ernest. That dress, so different from the -simple one in which I had always seen her, had prevented me from -recognizing her. I was far from expecting to see her at that ball. By -what chance had she come? Probably her husband had insisted. But then he -must be there—yes, there he was, watching his wife dance and gazing at -her with evident pleasure. He was right; she was one of the loveliest -women in the room.</p> - -<p>I could see nothing surprising in the fact that Ernest had brought his -wife there; I could see no harm in his taking her everywhere with him; -but there were, in that assemblage, absurd people who did not agree with -me. Luckily a person’s station is not written on his forehead.</p> - -<p>But my wife! Since that evening when she had followed me, she was -convinced that I either was or had been on intimate terms with Madame -Firmin. I certainly should not tell her that my former neighbor was<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a> -there, but if she should see Ernest, she would undoubtedly find it out.</p> - -<p>I was as disturbed as if I were guilty; if I had been, perhaps I should -not have been so embarrassed. However, I could not avoid saying -good-evening to Madame Firmin; I certainly would not be impolite because -my wife was unjust; but I would try to do it without letting her see me.</p> - -<p>I walked toward Ernest, who had seen me and was coming toward me.</p> - -<p>“So you are here, my dear Blémont? I am delighted that you are; I didn’t -expect the pleasure of meeting you. So you know Leberger, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he comes to my house sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“His ball is very fine. I brought my wife; look, she is over there -dancing.”</p> - -<p>“I have seen her.”</p> - -<p>“Marguerite did not want to come; but I lost my temper, and at last she -consented. In the first place, Leberger told me: ‘It is just a small -affair, without any formality.’ Anyone would expect that, at a -bachelor’s quarters; and after all, my wife is quite as good as other -women here. The instant that I call her my wife, no one should presume -to call her anything else; and if we could know what all the people in -this room have done, I fancy that we should learn some fine things.”</p> - -<p>“You know my ideas on that subject, my dear Ernest; I am not one of -those who believe in virtue only after a visit to the notary’s office. -But no one here knows that you are not married, and it’s, not one of -those things which there is any need of proclaiming.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not. Just look at Marguerite; see how lovely she is! I was -frightened, because I thought she would be awkward before people; she -makes a better<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> figure than I expected. I said to her before we came -into the room: ‘My dear love, just persuade yourself that you are -better-looking than all the people whom you are to see here, and then -their staring will not frighten you.’”</p> - -<p>“That is what a woman should always say to herself, even when she goes -to court.”</p> - -<p>“Madame your wife is not here?”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, she is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! then I must go and bid her good-evening.”</p> - -<p>“I think that she is dancing now.—There are some very amusing faces -here, are there not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! there are some fine subjects for a farce.”</p> - -<p>I trusted that Ernest would forget to pay his respects to my wife; but -how was I to prevent him? The quadrille came to an end. I took advantage -of the moment when the ladies were being escorted to their seats, and I -went to Madame Ernest, who luckily was far away from my wife.</p> - -<p>My old neighbor seemed overjoyed to see me.</p> - -<p>“Do sit down here with me a moment,” she said; “I am so glad to find -someone that I know! I am lost in the midst of all these people. And -poor Ernest doesn’t dare to leave me. I am afraid that it is boring -him.—Do you think that my hair looks well?”</p> - -<p>“Very well, madame.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that it looks unbecoming. I much prefer myself in the -little cap that I always wear at home. But Ernest insisted upon bringing -me, so of course I had to make a toilet.”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, madame, I should be very pleased to stay with you; but, -you see, my wife is with me——”</p> - -<p>“Madame Blémont is here! dear me! and I am keeping you. Oh! do show me -your Eugénie; I should like so much to see her.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>”</p> - -<p>“At this moment there are too many people between us. But Ernest knows -her, he will show her to you. Excuse me, but I shall have the pleasure -of seeing you again.”</p> - -<p>I left Madame Ernest; she probably considered me far from courteous. Mon -Dieu! how horrible it is to have a suspicious wife; a man does not know -what to do nor how to behave in society.</p> - -<p>At that moment Bélan clutched my arm and said:</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, my friend; you know that I am not a cuckold.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! did I ever say that you were, my dear Bélan?”</p> - -<p>“My friend, I have my reasons for telling you this. Those blackguardly -Girauds have made most shameful remarks. My mother-in-law wanted me to -fight them.”</p> - -<p>“Fight Giraud and his wife?”</p> - -<p>“I mean the husband, of course; I was anxious to do it myself; but my -wife Armide insisted that it wasn’t worth while.—But those people are -here; and when I see them I cannot contain myself.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! do you mean to say that you believe everything that is told -you? Perhaps the Girauds have never mentioned you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, they have; they have even—Excuse me, my mother-in-law is -beckoning to me.”</p> - -<p>Bélan left me. I was still laughing at what he had said when I saw -Ernest talking with my wife. Well! there was no way of preventing that. -After all, I was very foolish to torment myself when I had no reason for -self-reproach.</p> - -<p>Ernest walked away from Eugénie, and I went to her. From her manner -toward me, I saw that she knew that Madame Firmin was there.<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p> - -<p>“I did not want to come to this ball,” said Eugénie; “it was clearly a -presentiment. I should have followed my inclination, and then I should -not have come into contact with people whom I don’t want to see. You -have been talking with your former neighbor, monsieur, of course?”</p> - -<p>“My neighbor? Oh! I beg your pardon—you mean Madame Firmin.”</p> - -<p>“I know that she is here,—her <i>monsieur</i> was good enough to tell me so -just now.”</p> - -<p>“It is true that Madame Firmin is here and that I have been to say -good-evening to her.”</p> - -<p>“How pleasant it is for me to be at a party with that woman!”</p> - -<p>“I give you my word that, if I had known that she was to be here -to-night, I would not have urged you to come.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I believe you! but you need not let that embarrass you, monsieur. -Ah! that is she, no doubt, just passing with her Monsieur Ernest. What -an ordinary face! anyone could see what she is. But pray go, monsieur; -perhaps she wants to speak to you. She is staring at me, I believe, the -impertinent creature! I beg you, monsieur, at least to forbid her to -look at me in that way.”</p> - -<p>I was on the rack; Ernest and Marguerite had passed very close to us, -and I trembled lest they had heard Eugénie. I walked away and took a -seat at an écarté table, where I remained for more than an hour.</p> - -<p>When I returned to the ballroom, I passed Madame Ernest. She looked at -me and smiled; evidently she had not overheard my wife; I walked toward -her, for I had made up my mind, and I was no longer disturbed about what -people might think.</p> - -<p>“Do you not dance, Monsieur Blémont?<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Not often.”</p> - -<p>“I have seen your wife; she is very pretty, but she has rather a serious -expression. Is she always like that?”</p> - -<p>“No, she has a headache.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to dance with her?”</p> - -<p>“She does not lack partners.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care if she doesn’t; I have been invited to dance a great deal; -but I insisted on dancing with Ernest too. I haven’t missed a quadrille -yet.”</p> - -<p>“Are you enjoying yourself here?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty well. But I prefer to be at home in our chimney corner.”</p> - -<p>A partner came up and claimed Madame Ernest’s hand. I sauntered about -the ballroom. My wife was dancing with a very good-looking little dandy. -Bélan was standing opposite his wife, at whom he gazed with admiration, -while tall Armide seemed vexed to have her husband for her vis-à-vis. -Giraud joined me and said in a sly tone:</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that Bélan has shrunk since he was married; his wife -crushes him.”</p> - -<p>“You are unkind, Giraud.”</p> - -<p>“Just look at the mother-in-law yonder. Either she has been weeping, is -weeping, or is about to weep.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is with pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, she has a very merry expression! How Bélan must enjoy himself -with those two women! It hasn’t brought him good luck, not inviting us -to his wedding. By the way, the marquis is not with them. How does that -happen?”</p> - -<p>“What marquis?”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! you pretend not to know, do you? It is everybody’s secret.—But -I believe that my daughter wants something to eat.<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>”</p> - -<p>Marguerite was right: the world is very unkind!—The quadrille came to -an end. I was standing near my wife, although I was not speaking to her. -Bélan stopped beside us, and, while passing the guests in review, -pointed to Marguerite, saying:</p> - -<p>“There’s one of the prettiest women in the room!”</p> - -<p>“You have wretched taste, monsieur,” cried Eugénie. “How can anyone call -that woman pretty? And what a style too! anyone can see what she is.”</p> - -<p>“What? What is she, pray? Do you know her?” Bélan instantly made haste -to ask.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t know her; but I know what she is, and——”</p> - -<p>“Madame,” I interposed, “why do you feel called upon to speak ill of a -person who has never injured you?”</p> - -<p>“Never injured me? oh! you are pleased to say that, monsieur; but I may -at least feel offended that Monsieur Leberger invites his friends’ -mistresses to a ball that he gives for us.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! what do you say? That little woman——”</p> - -<p>“Is Monsieur Firmin’s mistress.”</p> - -<p>“I was told that she was his wife.”</p> - -<p>“And she is his wife,” I said, with an angry glance at Eugénie. But she -continued in an ironical tone:</p> - -<p>“No, Monsieur Bélan, that little woman, whom you are kind enough to call -pretty, is not Monsieur Firmin’s wife; and monsieur knows that better -than anyone, although he tells you the contrary.”</p> - -<p>“What? Do you mean that——”</p> - -<p>I did not listen to what Bélan said; I turned my back upon Eugénie. I -did not believe that she was spiteful, but what she had just done -disgusted me. At that moment I believe that I detested her.<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a></p> - -<p>The dancing continued, but many people had gone. I walked about the -studio. It seemed to me that I heard several people whispering to one -another, and at the same time pointing at Madame Ernest. Bélan was quite -capable of having gone about to tell all his acquaintances what my wife -had told him. Poor Marguerite! she was pretty, so they were overjoyed to -calumniate her. They would have been more indulgent if she had been -ugly.</p> - -<p>There was to be but one more quadrille. The orchestra gave the signal. -Madame Ernest had a partner, who led her to a place opposite my wife. I -saw that Eugénie instantly led her partner away and took her place -elsewhere. Thereupon Madame Ernest’s partner led her to a place opposite -Madame Bélan. Tall Armide did as my wife had done; she turned on her -heel and returned to her seat, crying in quite a loud tone:</p> - -<p>“I prefer not to dance.”</p> - -<p>I was indignant. I hastily took the hand of the first lady I saw, -without even taking time to invite her; I led her away and we took our -places directly opposite Madame Ernest and her partner. Thereupon my -wife did as Madame Bélan had done; she left the quadrille, darting -glances at me to which I paid very little heed. While we were dancing, -Ernest approached me. His face was red and his eyes gleaming.</p> - -<p>“My friend,” he said to me in an undertone, “I thank you for what you -have just done; I shall not forget it.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you must have seen the ostentation with which those people refused -to stand opposite my wife. Indeed, I overheard some words from that -little man’s tall wife, and I had difficulty in restraining myself.<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken, Ernest.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! she is afraid of compromising herself by standing opposite a -woman who is not married! what a pitiful thing! If I chose to -investigate the conduct of many of these married ladies, I fancy that I -should make some very fine discoveries.”</p> - -<p>Ernest talked quite loud and glanced ironically about. I was afraid that -someone would hear him; I dreaded a scene. Luckily the quadrille came to -an end. Little Marguerite had also noticed that several ladies smiled -meaningly as they looked at her. She was not at her ease. She said to -Ernest immediately after the dance:</p> - -<p>“We are going now, aren’t we, my dear? It is late, and I am tired.”</p> - -<p>“No, we will not go yet,” replied Ernest sharply; “I should be very -sorry to go now; we will stay until the last.”</p> - -<p>His wife was not in the habit of replying, and besides, she saw plainly -that there was something wrong. Firmin took my arm and led me away. We -walked around the studio. I tried to divert his thoughts from the -subject which engrossed them, but Giraud came toward us, rubbing his -hands.</p> - -<p>“There is plenty of gossip here,” he said to me; “those Bélans are -evil-tongued, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Giraud, I care little about gossip, and——”</p> - -<p>“Do you see that young woman in blue over there, with blue flowers in -her hair?”</p> - -<p>Giraud was pointing to Madame Ernest. I did not reply, and I tried to -drag Firmin away in another direction; but he dropped my arm and walked -up to Giraud, saying:</p> - -<p>“What have you heard about that lady? I am very fond of gossip myself.<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>”</p> - -<p>“They say that she isn’t married; that she’s the mistress of a young -author who is here, and who introduces her everywhere as his wife.”</p> - -<p>In vain I looked at Giraud and made signs to him; he was not looking at -me, and he continued to speak to Firmin:</p> - -<p>“People don’t like it because Leberger invited her to his ball, and they -say that she doesn’t amount to much; that she has been an embroiderer, -or a lacemaker; someone even declared that she used to be in the ballet -at one of the boulevard theatres.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” said Firmin, seizing Giraud’s arm and squeezing it hard, -“pray go to all those people who have made such remarks, and tell them -from me that they are blackguards; that, although that young woman is -not married, she is none the less worthy of esteem; that she is a -thousand times more respectable than many lawful wives; and should I say -to the ladies here, in the words of the Scriptures: ‘Let her who is -without sin among you cast the first stone,’ I fancy, monsieur, that -even your wife herself would not dare to stone my poor Marguerite.”</p> - -<p>Giraud was sorely embarrassed; he realized what a fool he had made of -himself, and he confounded himself in apologies. But Ernest absolutely -insisted that he should point out the people who had made the remarks, -and the business agent hastened to designate Bélan. Thereupon Ernest -started toward the little man; I tried in vain to hold him back; he -would not listen to me. I followed him, to try to adjust the affair. -Bélan was in the act of handing a glass of orgeat to his wife. Ernest -brushed roughly against him, and jostled him so that the glass and its -contents fell upon the superb Armide’s dress. She uttered an -exclamation; her mother uttered two. Bélan turned to Ernest and -murmured:<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a></p> - -<p>“What the deuce! be careful what you are doing!”</p> - -<p>Ernest simply smiled and said:</p> - -<p>“That was very unlucky!”</p> - -<p>Tall Armide saw the smile, and said to her husband:</p> - -<p>“That man did it on purpose; he doesn’t even condescend to deny it.”</p> - -<p>And the mother-in-law added:</p> - -<p>“I trust, Monsieur de Bélan, that this is not the end of this business, -and that my daughter’s dress will not be ruined with impunity. This -gentleman must apologize,—he must!”</p> - -<p>Bélan had become much less belligerent since he was married; however, he -left his wife and walked up to Ernest, who had halted a few steps away.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, you have spoiled my wife’s dress, and I am surprised that you -do not at least apologize, like a man of breeding.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, you and your wife have tried to destroy my wife’s reputation; -a dress may be washed, but slanderous words are not to be effaced for a -long while; so that it is for you, monsieur, to apologize to me.”</p> - -<p>Bélan was speechless. I made haste to intervene between them.</p> - -<p>“My dear Ernest,” I said, “Bélan is guilty of thoughtlessness only; he -has simply repeated what he overheard.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; I only repeated what Madame Blémont told me,” said Bélan. “I -invented nothing. Notwithstanding that, monsieur, if you demand -satisfaction——”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Bélan; Ernest sees plainly that I am the only one with whom he -has to deal, and you will offend me seriously by interfering in matters -which concern myself alone.”</p> - -<p>Bélan walked away to join his ladies. I do not know what he said to -them, but he soon left the ball with them.<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a> As they went out, his -mother-in-law cast a withering glance at Ernest.</p> - -<p>I had remained by his side; he was lost in thought and said nothing to -me. I first broke the silence.</p> - -<p>“Ernest, my wife is the cause of all your disagreeable experiences this -evening. I cannot explain the motives which have led her to act thus. I -do not need to tell you that I disapprove of her conduct; but that -probably will not suffice, and I am ready to give you satisfaction.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear Blémont; we are not going to fight just because your wife -has made some unkind remarks; I do not need to have you explain her -motives, for I understand them perfectly.”</p> - -<p>“You understand them?”</p> - -<p>“I can guess them, at all events. Your wife is jealous of Marguerite.”</p> - -<p>“Who can have told you that?”</p> - -<p>“Look you, my dear fellow; a man does not get to be an author without -studying the human heart a little, and especially the female heart.”</p> - -<p>“It is only too true; my wife is horribly jealous of all the women whom -I knew before my marriage. But for that, do you suppose that I would not -have invited you and your wife to come to see us?”</p> - -<p>“I have guessed all that. I am sorry for you, my friend, but I bear you -no ill will.”</p> - -<p>“I am going to invite your wife for the next contradance.”</p> - -<p>“No, for it will make your wife unhappy.”</p> - -<p>“She has not hesitated to make me unhappy; and I choose to prove that I -have no share in her spiteful remarks.”</p> - -<p>I invited Madame Ernest for the quadrille; she accepted, saying with a -laugh:<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a></p> - -<p>“I am very glad that you have asked me, monsieur; I thought that you did -not consider that I danced well enough for you.”</p> - -<p>“I am going to dance opposite you,” said Ernest; “then I shall be sure -that you will have a vis-à-vis.”</p> - -<p>The violins struck up. I took my partner’s hand. There were only enough -people left to form one set. All our acquaintances had gone.</p> - -<p>I looked about for my wife. She was ghastly pale, and that made me -wretched; I felt all my anger fade away. I was almost sorry that I was -dancing; but she should not have driven me to the wall.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Eugénie rose and came toward me. What was she going to do?</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, I do not feel well, and I want to go.”</p> - -<p>“We will go after the quadrille, madame.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, I want to go at once.”</p> - -<p>Marguerite overheard my wife, and instantly said:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Blémont, if madame your wife is not well, go, I beg you; do -not mind me.”</p> - -<p>“No, madame; I shall have the pleasure of dancing with you; then we will -go.”</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur,” said Eugénie satirically; “you do not come when madame -gives you leave?”</p> - -<p>“Madame, that is enough; not a word more, I beg you.”</p> - -<p>“Very good! that is all, monsieur. I will leave you. Dance with this -woman; make her your mistress again as she used to be when she lived -under the eaves, in the attics of your house! I am going home.”</p> - -<p>And she did go. But Madame Ernest had heard all; Eugénie had spoken loud -enough to be sure of being overheard. Marguerite had turned red and pale -by turns. She hung her head, and I thought that I could see tears<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a> -glistening in her eyes. But she quickly recovered herself, wiped her -eyes with her handkerchief, and tried to resume a smiling expression as -she looked at her husband.</p> - -<p>I was thunderstruck and enraged at the same time. I did not know where I -was; and in the midst of all that perturbation of spirit, I had to -dance!</p> - -<p>“Well, it is your turn,” called Ernest. “Forward! what are you thinking -about?”</p> - -<p>Luckily he had heard nothing. I took advantage of a moment when we were -not dancing, to say to my partner in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“Madame, you heard what my wife said, I see. I do not ask you to forgive -her; she is unpardonable, jealousy has disturbed her reason; but be good -enough to believe that I am more hurt than you by what she has said.”</p> - -<p>“I confess, Monsieur Blémont, that I was so surprised, so shocked!—To -call me your mistress! Great heaven! who could have said that I had been -your mistress?”</p> - -<p>“I trust that you do not think it was anything that I have ever said to -her, madame?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no indeed, monsieur! But who can have told her that?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody told her, madame. I tell you again, that jealousy alone can -inspire such calumny.”</p> - -<p>“My attic! she thought to make me blush by reminding me that I once -lived in an attic. Oh! I don’t blush for it; there is often more virtue, -more refinement in an attic than in a boudoir! But do you mean to say -that your wife is jealous of me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, ever since I was unfortunate enough to tell her of the -evenings which I used to pass with you and Ernest. If you knew how -unhappy her jealousy makes me! Alas! the happy days of our married life -passed very quickly!<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am very sorry for you, Monsieur Blémont. I pity your wife too, -and I forgive her, for Ernest did not hear what she said. But I beg you, -never let him know what your wife said!”</p> - -<p>“Most certainly, I shall not be the one to tell him!”</p> - -<p>“Oh dear! I wish I had not come to this ball. I should have done much -better to stay at home.”</p> - -<p>That fatal dance ended at last. Everybody went away. Ernest and his wife -bade me good-night. I read in Marguerite’s eyes how glad she was to go.</p> - -<p>My wife had gone. Who could have escorted her? Could she have gone home -alone? One thing was certain, that she was no longer there.</p> - -<p>Leberger came to me and said:</p> - -<p>“Are you looking for your wife? She felt rather indisposed while you -were dancing, and Dulac took her home. You know Dulac?—a tall -fellow,—one of our amateur orchestra.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know the gentleman, but I will thank him when I see him.”</p> - -<p>“He is a good fellow, who plays the violin very well. I will bring him -to one of your receptions if you wish.”</p> - -<p>“Do so. Good-night; it is late.”</p> - -<p>“It was rather a pleasant affair, and people enjoyed themselves; don’t -you think so?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I enjoyed myself amazingly.”</p> - -<p>I returned home. I expected a scene; it is always an advantage to be -prepared. If only my wife might be in bed and asleep! But no, I heard -her walking back and forth in the salon. Aha! I met the maid carrying a -mattress. Madame was having a bed made for herself in her boudoir. What -a bore not to find peace and quiet at home! to have more scenes and -quarrels! And we had been married only three years and a half!<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a></p> - -<p>Well, I knew that I must face the storm, and I entered the salon. Madame -was in a most dishevelled condition; she almost frightened me. She was -holding a phial of salts to her nose.</p> - -<p>I was kind enough to go to her and ask her if she were ill. She did not -answer. I was on the point of taking a light and leaving the room, when -madame sprang to her feet and planted herself in front of me.</p> - -<p>“So you have left that woman at last, have you, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean by <i>that woman</i>, madame. I danced with a -lady whom I esteem, and who has been generous enough to forgive you for -the shameful remarks that you made before her.”</p> - -<p>“She has been generous enough to forgive me! really, that is most noble -of her! But I, monsieur, I do not forgive that lady, whom you <i>esteem</i>, -for having the assurance to dance with you in my presence. That her -clown of a husband should not object is quite worthy of him; but you, -monsieur, have you no shame?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, I was ashamed this evening, and I was ashamed because I -was the husband of a woman who behaved as you did!”</p> - -<p>“What an abominable thing! You dare reprove me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you, who slander in public a respectable woman.”</p> - -<p>“Say a prostitute, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“You who publicly exhibit your absurd jealousy!”</p> - -<p>“In truth, I am absurd to be jealous of you, you are not worth the -trouble!”</p> - -<p>“But do not expect, madame, that I will put up with such conduct! that -you can insult my friends and that I shall keep quiet!”</p> - -<p>“You ought to have made a scene before your mistress; that would have -pleased her.<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You did not hesitate to humiliate me before the world; for it is -humiliating for a man to be put in the position in which I was put at -that ball.”</p> - -<p>“I shall go nowhere else with you, monsieur; then you cannot say that I -shame you or humiliate you.”</p> - -<p>“You will do well, madame. It is much better not to go with your husband -than to behave as you did this evening.”</p> - -<p>“From the tone in which you speak to me, monsieur, I see who the people -are whom you have just left! You are profiting by their advice!”</p> - -<p>Those words put the finishing touch to my exasperation. I rushed from -the salon and locked myself into the bedroom.</p> - -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV<br /><br /> -MONSIEUR DULAC</h2> - -<p>Frequent disputes and rare reconciliations—so that was to be our life -thenceforth. After Leberger’s ball, we passed a whole month without -speaking to each other. That month seemed very long to me; I sighed for -my bachelor days, but even more for the early months of our married -life.</p> - -<p>We spoke at last, but not with the same effusion of sentiment as before. -On the slightest pretext my wife became excited and lost her temper. -When I argued with her, she had hysterical attacks and shrieked at the -top of her voice. When we were first married, if we had a little -discussion, she wept, but she never shrieked and she was never -hysterical.<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a></p> - -<p>My daughter was three years old and she had grown to be a lovely -creature; her features were as beautiful as her mother’s, but she never -sulked; she had already begun to talk and to argue with me. I was -passionately fond of my little Henriette; when I was at odds with her -mother, I would take my daughter in my arms, cover her with kisses, and -make up to myself with her for the caresses which I no longer bestowed -upon Eugénie.</p> - -<p>“You will always love me, won’t you?” I would say to Henriette; and when -her sweet voice answered: “Yes, papa, always,” my heart experienced a -thrill of well-being which often made me forget my quarrels with my -wife.</p> - -<p>When winter brought back the time of balls and parties, Leberger brought -Monsieur Dulac to our house; he was a tall, dark young fellow, very -good-looking, and with a somewhat conceited manner; but it is not safe -to trust to the manners that a person displays in society: to know -people well one must see them in private. However, Monsieur Dulac was -well-bred and very agreeable; he was said to be an excellent musician; -and he had an independent fortune; those recommendations were quite -sufficient to cause him to be popular in society.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Dulac seemed to enjoy coming to our house. He was a constant -attendant at our receptions, and sometimes he came to see me in the -morning. He had a trifling difference about a farm which he owned in -common with a cousin of his; he requested me to adjust the affair, which -I readily undertook to do. The young man manifested much regard for me, -and although I knew that one should not rely upon society friends, I -have always allowed myself to be taken in by manifestations of -friendship for myself, for I have never pretended to like people whom I -did not like.<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a></p> - -<p>Thanks to Monsieur Dulac, we had music at our house more frequently. My -wife had almost abandoned her piano; I need not say that she had ceased -to give me lessons, for one must be on the best of terms with a person -to have patience enough to teach him to play on any instrument. We were -not always on good terms, and Eugénie was not patient; she had declared -that I did not listen, and I had made the same complaint with respect to -her painting; so that brush and piano were alike neglected.</p> - -<p>But Monsieur Dulac, who played the violin very well, urged my wife to -take up music again; I myself was very glad that Eugénie should not -forget an accomplishment in which she was proficient. She consented, -because a stranger’s compliments are much more flattering than a -husband’s; the piano resounded anew under her fingers, and I listened -with pleasure; she used to play so often when I was paying court to her!</p> - -<p>With the taste for music, Eugénie also contracted a taste for balls, -receptions, the theatre—in a word, for the world. We began to see a -great many people; almost every day we had invitations to dinners or -other festivities; and then we were bound to return the courtesies we -had received; so that we had not a day to ourselves. That was not the -placid existence which we had planned in the early days of our married -life. For my own part, I confess that that constant rush made me dizzy; -but it pleased my wife and it was one way of obtaining peace.</p> - -<p>I earned enough money to meet the expenses of the life we led. Eugénie -now spent on her dress a large part of her income. She had become very -coquettish of late; however, she was not yet twenty-five, and she was as -pretty as ever.<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a></p> - -<p>What distressed me was that amid all this dissipation my wife paid -little attention to her daughter; our Henriette never lacked anything -and she was well taken care of, but it seemed to me that her mother did -not pet her enough. Eugénie loved her daughter dearly; I could not doubt -that; perhaps it was because I spoiled her a little that she was more -stern with her. I dared not reprove her; indeed at that moment I -carefully avoided everything that could excite her; once more she was -expecting to become a mother and I had received the news with the most -intense delight; I felt that I should be so happy to have a son! To be -sure I could not love him any more dearly than I loved my daughter, but -I should love him as much, and from the delight that one child afforded -me, I felt that with two my happiness would be twice as great. So I was -most assiduous in my attentions to my wife; but I did not see that she -was any more amiable to me.</p> - -<p>I went very seldom to see Ernest, but I knew that they were happy. They -had two children now, whom they adored, and Marguerite liked better to -remain by their cradles than to go to balls or parties. I confessed to -myself that I would have been glad if Eugénie had had such quiet tastes. -Marguerite always was kind enough to inquire for my wife; as for Ernest, -he had never entered our house again, and I approved his course.</p> - -<p>I had not met Bélan for a long while, when he entered my study one -morning, flushed, panting, and in a profuse perspiration. He sat down -beside me and did not give me time to question him.</p> - -<p>“I am, my friend, I certainly am! I am sure of it now. It is a most -frightful, most abominable thing!”</p> - -<p>“What is it that you are, then?” I asked, watching Bélan mop his -forehead.<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a></p> - -<p>“Parbleu! do you need to ask? I am a cuckold!”</p> - -<p>Bélan said this in such an absurd tone that I could not resist the -desire to laugh. While I indulged it, Bélan sprang to his feet and -muttered in a feeling tone:</p> - -<p>“I did not think that an old friend, a married man, would laugh like -this at my misfortune.”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, my dear Bélan,” I said, forcing him to resume his seat; -“I beg pardon. You certainly cannot suppose that I intended to hurt you. -But the fact is that you said that so suddenly that I thought it was a -joke.”</p> - -<p>“No, I swear to you that there is no joke about it. Mon Dieu! that -wicked Armide! Such a well-bred woman, and nobly born! A woman who -wouldn’t let me take off my shirt in her presence! I cannot stand it any -longer, and I have come to consult you as to what I had best do. You are -a lawyer and you will advise me.—Shameless creature!”</p> - -<p>“Come, come! First of all, calm yourself, Bélan, and then, if you desire -my advice, tell me what makes you think that your wife is deceiving -you.”</p> - -<p>“I have told you, my friend, of a certain marquis who used to pay court -to my wife, and who afterward came in the kindest way to visit us. Oh! -as to that, I must admit that he overwhelmed me with attentions. He came -often——”</p> - -<p>“It was you yourself who urged him to, so you told me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is true, because the Girauds had presumed to make remarks. -Besides, could I ever have imagined? Perfidious Armide!—A woman who -pinched and bit and scratched me on our wedding night, when I—you -understand?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear Bélan?<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Well, the marquis finally almost lived at our house. He escorted my -wife to the theatre, brought her home from parties and sang duets with -her; he has a very fine voice, I admit. All that was agreeable to me, it -was all right. Moreover, I said to myself: ‘My mother-in-law is with -them.’ But, the day before yesterday, having returned home when I was -not expected, I thought I would go to my wife’s room; she was locked -into her boudoir with the marquis. What for? There is no piano in her -boudoir. My friend, I remembered my bachelor adventures, all the -husbands I have wronged; it was as if someone had struck me with a -hammer. I ran to the boudoir and knocked like a deaf man; my wife -admitted me and made a scene. The marquis seemed offended by my air of -suspicion, and I concluded that I was mistaken. But it seems that when -those infernal ideas once get into your head, they don’t leave it again -very soon. I dreamed all night of Molière’s <i>George Dandin</i>, and <i>Le -Cocu Imaginaire</i>. Ah! my dear Blémont, jealousy is a terrible thing! You -know nothing about it and you are very lucky! And to think that it -struck me like a pistol shot!”</p> - -<p>“My wife has taught me all the suffering that jealousy can cause, my -dear Bélan, but go on.”</p> - -<p>“Well, yesterday I was to dine out, and my wife was to dine with one of -her aunts. I left the house. On the way I remembered my adventure with -Madame Montdidier—you remember, before we were married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember.”</p> - -<p>“She also had said that she was going to dine with one of her aunts, and -I was the aunt. Ah! my friend, I believe that it brings bad luck to have -injured others so much. In short, it occurred to me to go home and watch -my wife. I hurried back and went into a passageway opposite our door. -That also reminded me of my bachelor<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> days. After five minutes I saw -Armide come out and get into a cab in a very alluring négligé. My -mother-in-law was not with her, although she had told me that they were -going together. I followed the cab, at the risk of breaking a -blood-vessel. It took my wife to the new boulevards, which were in the -opposite direction from her aunt’s house. It stopped before a restaurant -celebrated for its fried fish and gudgeons. Armide went in; a few -seconds later I did the same; I put five francs in the waiter’s hand and -ordered him to tell me with whom that lady was dining. He drew the -portrait so accurately of the gentleman who was waiting for her that I -could not help recognizing the marquis. He pointed out to me the room -where they were, at the end of the corridor, and I ran there like a -madman. I found the key on the outside, I rushed in like a lunatic, and -I found myself in the presence of an artilleryman, who was toying with a -grisette from the twelfth arrondissement.</p> - -<p>“The artilleryman was enraged at being disturbed; I could not find -excuses enough; he blackguarded me, and while the damsel was readjusting -her neckerchief, he rushed at me, seized me by the shoulder and pushed -me out of the room, saying that he would see me again after dessert. You -will understand that I had no desire to wait for the artilleryman. -Finding myself in the corridor, where there were no other keys on the -outside, I began to shout in a stentorian voice: ‘Armide, open the -door!’ No one opened the door, and the waiter informed me that, during -my controversy with the soldier, the lady had hastily left with her -escort. But where had she gone? That was what no one could tell me. I -returned home; I found no one there but my mother-in-law, who called me -a visionary; and that night, at the first words that I said to my wife, -she locked herself into her room and refused<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a> to admit me. That is my -situation, my friend; I dreamed again of George Dandin, and I hurried -here this morning to tell you about it.”</p> - -<p>Bélan ceased to speak. I was still tempted to laugh, but I restrained -myself.</p> - -<p>“In all this that you have told me,” I said to him, “there are -presumptions, but no proofs.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! for us fellows, my dear Blémont, who have had so many adventures, -who know all about such things, they are quite as good as proofs.”</p> - -<p>“The waiter may have been mistaken; perhaps it wasn’t the marquis; you -didn’t see him, did you?”</p> - -<p>“No, for they had gone, and I had no desire to wait for the -artilleryman.”</p> - -<p>“You did not act shrewdly.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, I was a perfect donkey; I lost my head.”</p> - -<p>“You must distrust appearances, my poor Bélan; I am better able than -anybody to tell you that.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! do you mean that you have had suspicions about madame?”</p> - -<p>“I? Oh no! never! but she had suspicions about me, and very ill-founded -ones too, I promise you.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! suppose I was wrong! What do you advise me to do?”</p> - -<p>“Wait, keep your eyes open, and watch, but with prudence; or else -frankly ask your wife to explain her conduct yesterday; perhaps it was -all very simple and innocent.”</p> - -<p>“In fact, that is quite possible. The one thing that is certain is that -I acted like a child. Dear Blémont, you calm my passions. After all, -just because a young man comes often to one’s house, and is attentive to -one’s wife, that doesn’t prove—for you yourself are not jealous of -Monsieur Dulac, who is always at your house, and who<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> often acts as -escort to your wife. My mother-in-law was talking about it only the -other day to my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! those ladies were talking about me, eh?”</p> - -<p>“No, they were simply talking about Monsieur Dulac. Armide thinks that -he is a very handsome man, but for my part, I see nothing extraordinary -about him. Then they cited you as an example; they said: ‘There’s a -husband who is not jealous; look at him! Monsieur Dulac is his wife’s -regular escort, and he doesn’t seem to notice it; he is a husband who -knows how to live.’ And then they laughed, because, you know, when the -women begin to pass us in review, there’s no end to it.—Well, well! -What are you thinking about, my dear fellow? You are not listening to -me.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon; I was thinking that the world notices things, which -we, who are most interested in them, often do not notice at all.”</p> - -<p>“You advise me to wait, to watch, and to be prudent; I will do it. If I -should acquire proofs—Oh! then I shall explode, I shall be terrible, -inflexible. Adieu, my dear fellow, I will leave you, for I see that you -are preoccupied. Au revoir.”</p> - -<p>Bélan took his leave, and I bade him adieu with no desire to laugh. It -was strange what an effect had been produced upon me by what he had told -me of the comments of his wife and her mother. They noticed that -Monsieur Dulac was an assiduous guest at my house and very attentive to -my wife; and I myself had not noticed it. That was because I saw no harm -in it, whereas the world is so evil-minded! And calumny is such a -delicious weapon. Figaro was quite right: “Calumny, always calumny!”</p> - -<p>Although I knew that it was mere malicious gossip, I involuntarily -passed in review Monsieur Dulac’s conduct.<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a> I recalled his earnest -desire to be received at my house after the ball from which he had -escorted my wife home.</p> - -<p>I became sad and pensive; I was conscious of a discomfort, a feeling of -disquietude which I had never known before. I wondered if that was the -way in which jealousy made itself felt. But what nonsense! What was I -thinking about? It was that Bélan, who had upset me with his own -conjugal misfortunes. That his wife deceived him was possible, yes, -probable; she had never loved him; but my Eugénie, who used to love me -so much, and who loved me still, I hoped—although jealousy had soured -her disposition to some extent! But that very jealousy was a proof of -love. And she had ceased to be jealous. Why? Ah! Bélan need not have -reported those remarks to me! He did it from malice.</p> - -<p>To banish such thoughts, I left my study. I heard the piano; my wife was -in the salon, and the sight of her would cause me to forget all the -nonsense that had been passing through my mind. I entered abruptly. -Monsieur Dulac was there, seated near my wife,—in fact, very near, as -it seemed to me. At that moment, I admit that his presence caused me a -very unpleasant sensation.</p> - -<p>Dulac rose hastily and came toward me.</p> - -<p>“Good-afternoon, Monsieur Blémont. I have brought madame a lovely -fantasia on a favorite air of Rossini’s. Madame plays it at sight with -such assurance and such taste!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you always flatter me, Monsieur Dulac.”</p> - -<p>“No, madame; on my honor, you are a remarkable musician.”</p> - -<p>I walked about the salon several times; then I asked Eugénie:</p> - -<p>“Why is not Henriette here?<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Because she is playing in my room, I presume. Do you suppose, monsieur, -that I can always attend to her? A girl who will soon be four years old -can play alone.”</p> - -<p>I sat down to listen to the music, but in five minutes my wife said that -she was tired and left the piano. Monsieur Dulac talked a few minutes, -then took his leave. My wife returned to her room, and I to my study, -saying to myself that I must have seemed like a donkey to that man.</p> - -<p>When I was alone I blushed at the suspicions that had passed through my -head. In spite of that I became more constant in my attendance on my -wife. I did not leave to others the duty of escorting her to parties; I -went with her myself. But, as the time of her delivery drew near, -Eugénie went about less. Balls were abandoned, receptions less -frequented, and even music was somewhat neglected. At last the moment -arrived, and I became the father of a boy.</p> - -<p>Nothing can describe my joy, my intoxication; I had a boy! I myself ran -about to announce it everywhere; and among my visits I did not forget -Ernest and his wife, for I knew that they would share my delight. They -embraced me and congratulated me; they adored their children, so that -they understood my feeling.</p> - -<p>My mother was my son’s godmother, with a distant kinsman of my wife. I -gave him the name of Eugène and we put him out to nurse at Livry with -the same peasant woman who had taken our daughter, and whose trade it -was always to have a supply of milk.</p> - -<p>Eugénie seemed pleased to have a son, although her joy was less -expansive than mine. Our acquaintances came to see us; Monsieur Dulac -was not one of the last. That young man seemed to share my pleasure so -heartily that I was touched. I had totally forgotten the ideas<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a> that had -passed through my mind a few months before; I could not understand how I -had been able to doubt my Eugénie’s fidelity for an instant.</p> - -<p>Bélan also came to see me. He was satisfied now concerning his Armide’s -virtue. She had demonstrated to him that she had arranged to meet the -marquis on the new boulevards to go begging for the benefit of the poor; -and her reason for doing it secretly was that her modesty would have -suffered too much if people had known of all that she did for the relief -of her fellow-creatures. Bélan had humbled himself before his charitable -better half; he went about everywhere extolling his wife’s noble deeds; -he was no longer afraid of being betrayed. So much the better for him. I -congratulated him and bowed him out just when he seemed to be on the -point of mentioning Monsieur Dulac again. I gave him to understand that -I did not like evil tongues and that I should take it very ill of -anybody who tried to disturb the peace of my household.</p> - -<p>No, I certainly would not be jealous again. I blushed to think that I -had been for a single instant. If Eugénie was no longer the same with me -as in the first months of our wedded life, it was doubtless because we -are not permitted to enjoy such happiness forever. Enjoyment, if it does -not entirely extinguish love, certainly diminishes its piquancy; when -one can gratify one’s desires as soon as they are formed, one does not -form so many. And yet Ernest and Marguerite were still like lovers! To -be sure, they were not married. Could it be that the idea that they -could leave each other at any minute was the consideration that kept -their love from growing old?</p> - -<p>When she had entirely recovered her health, Eugénie’s taste for society -revived; she paid little attention to her<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> daughter, and that distressed -me. For our Henriette was fascinating. I passed hours talking with her, -and those hours passed much more rapidly than those which I was obliged -to spend at evening parties.</p> - -<p>I suggested going to see my son at Livry. My wife declared that he was -too small, that we must wait until his features had become more formed. -But I did not choose to wait any longer; I longed to embrace my little -Eugène, so I hired a horse one morning, and went to the nurse’s house.</p> - -<p>My son seemed to me a fascinating little fellow; I recognized his -mother’s features in his. I embraced him, but I sighed; something was -lacking to my happiness. I felt that it was wrong of Eugénie not to have -desired to embrace her son.</p> - -<p>The nurse asked me if my wife was sick. The good people thought that she -must be sick because she had failed to accompany me.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she is not feeling very well,” I said to the nurse.</p> - -<p>“Oh well! as soon as she’s all right again, I’m sure that madame will -want to come too.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we will come together the next time.”</p> - -<p>I passed several hours beside my son’s cradle. As I drove back to Paris, -I indulged in reflections which were not cheerful. In vain did I try to -excuse Eugénie, I felt that her conduct was not what it should be, and -it distressed me to feel that she was in the wrong.</p> - -<p>I reached home at six o’clock. Madame was not there; she had gone to -dine with Madame Dorcelles. She was one of her school friends whom she -had met again in society; one of those dissipated, coquettish women, who -consider it perfectly natural to see their husbands only by chance, when -they dine with him. I did not like that woman, and I had told Eugénie so -and had requested her<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a> not to see too much of her; and she went to dine -at her house!</p> - -<p>She had not taken her daughter. My little Henriette ran out to embrace -me, with outstretched arms! How could Eugénie take any pleasure, away -from her daughter? I could not understand it.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t your mamma take you?” I asked the child, taking her on my knee.</p> - -<p>“No, papa.”</p> - -<p>“Did you cry when she went away?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, papa, I cried.”</p> - -<p>“Poor child! you cried, and your mother left you behind!”</p> - -<p>“But mamma told me that if I was very good she would bring me a cake; so -then I stopped crying.”</p> - -<p>“Did anybody come to see your mamma to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you know, that gentleman who plays music with mamma, and who gives -me sweeties.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Dulac?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And did you stay with your mamma while she was playing music?”</p> - -<p>“No, because mamma said that I was making too much noise; she sent me to -play in the hall with my doll.”</p> - -<p>I felt a weight at my heart; and for a long time I was silent. Evidently -my little Henriette divined that I was unhappy, for she looked timidly -at me and said nothing. I kissed her lovingly, and then she smiled -again.</p> - -<p>Where could Eugénie be? That Madame Dorcelles did not receive that -evening; at least, I thought that it was not her day. At all events, I -did not choose to go to her house; I suspected that woman of giving -Eugénie very bad advice, and I might let my ill humor appear. It was -much better not to go there.<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p> - -<p>But why should I always hold myself in check? Why should I not tell my -wife frankly what my feelings were? In order to have peace, to avoid -quarrels. But in order to have peace, should a man let his wife make a -fool of herself and do rash things, if nothing worse? No, I determined -to tell Eugénie all that I had on my mind.</p> - -<p>Perhaps those ladies had gone to the play. I went out, after kissing -Henriette again and handing her over to her nurse. Where should I go? At -what theatre should I look for them? I went into the Variétés, the -Gymnase, and the Porte-Saint-Martin. And I remembered that I had met -Eugénie there on the day following Giraud’s ball, at which I saw her for -the first time. My eyes turned toward the box in which she sat that -evening. Ah! how glad I would have been to go back to that time! How -madly in love I was! I still loved her as dearly! but she——</p> - -<p>The time passes quickly when one is engrossed by souvenirs of the past. -The play came to an end unnoticed by me. I was aroused from my -reflections by seeing that everybody had gone; whereupon I understood -that I must do likewise. I returned home. As I approached the house, I -saw a gentleman and lady standing at the door, and I thought that I -recognized my wife. I stepped behind one of the trees on the boulevard, -where I could see them better. Yes, it was my wife and Monsieur Dulac. -He had brought her home. But they talked together a very long time! He -took her hand and did not release it. Why did he hold her hand like -that? When a man holds a woman’s hand so long, it means that he is -making love to her. I remembered very clearly that that was what I used -to do; and that I used to bestow a loving pressure upon the hand that I -held in mine. He was pressing my wife’s hand, no doubt, and she did not<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> -withdraw it! That idea maddened me, I could no longer restrain myself, -and I walked rapidly toward them. They dropped each other’s hands; Dulac -bowed ceremoniously, then exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Ah! here is Monsieur Blémont! I have brought madame home; she deigned -to accept my arm. Good-night, madame; pray receive my respects.”</p> - -<p>He bowed and walked away; I do not know whether I made any answer to -him. I pushed my wife into the house and we went upstairs without -exchanging a word. When we reached our apartment, madame entered her -bedroom, and I followed her. I paced the floor a long while without -speaking. I wanted to see whether she would ask me about my son, for she -must have guessed that I had been to Livry. But she did not say a word; -she simply began to arrange her hair in curl papers.</p> - -<p>I could stand it no longer. I went to her and said:</p> - -<p>“Where have you been to-day, madame?”</p> - -<p>“Why, wherever I chose, monsieur. I believe that I am not in the habit -of asking you where you go!”</p> - -<p>“That is no argument, madame, and I have the right to ask you for an -account of your actions.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! a right! I had that right too, but when I undertook to exert it, -it did not succeed!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean, madame. However, you do not answer my -question.”</p> - -<p>“I have been to dine with Madame Dorcelles; there was no mystery about -it; I told the nurse, and I thought that you would call there for me.”</p> - -<p>“You could not think that I would go to the house of a woman whom I do -not like; and you must have known too that you would not please me by -dining with this Madame Dorcelles, who has the reputation of being a -flirt and not a respectable mother of a family.<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Reputation! Was it Madame Ernest who told you that Laure was a flirt?”</p> - -<p>“Madame Ernest never speaks ill of anyone.”</p> - -<p>“She has her reasons for that.”</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake, let us drop Madame Ernest, whom I almost never see.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that is a matter of indifference to me now.”</p> - -<p>“I can well believe it; you have other things to occupy your mind.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by that, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“If you should find me escorting a woman home as I just now found you -with Monsieur Dulac, I should like to know what you would say?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! do you mean to say that you are jealous, you, monsieur, who -considered it so absurd that I should be?”</p> - -<p>“Without being jealous, madame, I may look to it that you do not expose -yourself to malicious gossip.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am obliged to you, monsieur, but I am old enough to know how to -behave.”</p> - -<p>“You are becoming most peculiar, Eugénie; I don’t know whose advice you -are following, but I cannot believe that you act thus of your own -accord; I doubt, however, whether this new method of treating me will -make either of us happy. Upon my word, I do not recognize you.”</p> - -<p>“I have said that of you for a very long time, monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“I can understand your not being the same to me; but with your children! -Why, you have not asked me anything about our son!”</p> - -<p>“Could I guess that you had been to see him?”</p> - -<p>“You leave little Henriette here, you abandon her to the care of a -maid!<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>”</p> - -<p>“As if one could always drag a child about, when one goes into society!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Drag about!</i> Ah! I prefer to believe, madame, that that word does not -come from you; it was probably Madame Dorcelles who taught it to you, in -speaking of her own children!”</p> - -<p>“It is doubtless because Laure is one of my school friends that you do -not like her, and that you say unkind things about her; but I warn you, -monsieur, that that will not prevent me from seeing her and from going -to her house whenever I please.”</p> - -<p>“But if I should forbid you?”</p> - -<p>“That would be an additional reason for me to do it.”</p> - -<p>“Magnificent, madame! Go your own way and I will go mine.”</p> - -<p>“Go where you please, it is all one to me!”</p> - -<p>I made the circuit of the room once more, then left madame, who -continued to adjust her curl papers.</p> - -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV<br /><br /> -A WOMAN’S SERVICE</h2> - -<p>Six months had passed, during which I had sought enjoyment apart from my -wife. At first that course of proceeding was the result of our quarrel -on the evening when I returned from Livry; afterward, spite and -self-esteem took a hand. One is never willing to take the first step, -especially when one has no reason for self-reproach. And yet that mode -of life was very far from being pleasant to me; it was not at all in -accordance with my tastes. The idea of being obliged to seek happiness -away from my<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a> Eugénie and my family, I, who still loved my wife and -adored my children! But to think of Eugénie behaving in that way! I -wondered if she enjoyed going nowhere with me? Every day I hoped that -she would come to me in my study and throw herself into my arms; but I -hoped in vain. Then I had paroxysms of anger, of vexation; I swore that -I would think no more of her, and I returned home still thinking of her.</p> - -<p>She could not say that I annoyed her in any way, that I prevented her -from doing as she pleased. I was determined to deprive her of every -cause of complaint. Often I had no idea where she went; but I could not -believe that Eugénie would ever forget what she owed to herself, or -would fail in her duty; if she did, then she would deserve my contempt -and not my love. Thus it is that a person is always foolish to be -jealous; for either the jealousy is unfounded, or the suspected person -does not deserve that one should worry about him.</p> - -<p>Despite this reasoning, which I indulged in when I was calm, I confess -that I sometimes thought of Monsieur Dulac. That evening when he held -Eugénie’s hand in his had not vanished from my thoughts. But there are -so many young men who pay court to all the ladies, as a matter of habit, -without anything coming of it! I believed that he was one of them. I -seemed to remember that when I was a bachelor, I could not see a pretty -woman without trying to make love to her. However, Monsieur Dulac came -much less often to my house. I did not know whether he continued to -escort Eugénie home, for I was not there.</p> - -<p>Ernest and his little Marguerite had gone to pass the summer in the -country, in a solitary region where they saw no one but each other and -their children; but they were never bored together; how I envied their -happiness!<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> I avoided Bélan, for he annoyed me; one day he believed that -he was betrayed, the next day he was certain of his wife’s loyalty. I -could not understand how a man could remain in that condition; if I had -had the one-hundredth part of his reasons for being jealous, I would -long ago have found out the truth of the matter.</p> - -<p>Nor did I enjoy meeting the Girauds; the sight of them reminded me of -too many epochs of my life. Giraud never saw me without finding a way to -insinuate a complimentary remark about my wedding, and the magnificence -of the supper during the ball. It vexed me to hear that day mentioned; -moreover, it seemed to me that there was a touch of malice, of mockery, -in their manner of congratulating me on my good fortune. Perhaps I saw -things in the wrong light.</p> - -<p>In general, society afforded me little amusement. I went about to forget -myself, but I enjoyed the theatre much more; there a man may do what he -pleases: he may listen or think. Sometimes I took my little Henriette -there; she seemed already to understand the plays, and I was so happy -when I had my daughter by my side! I had also been to Livry again, to -see my son; but he was not yet old enough to understand me and to answer -me as his sister did.</p> - -<p>I went occasionally to my mother’s. I had never mentioned my domestic -troubles to her; what would be the use? One should keep such things to -himself as much as possible. My mother would have told me that I was old -enough to know how to manage my wife and my household. I did not want -her to make the slightest remonstrance to her daughter-in-law. For I -knew that a mother-in-law’s advice is very rarely listened to. It was -much better therefore to say nothing, and that is what I did.<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a></p> - -<p>Winter had come again, and with it balls and receptions. Eugénie -determined to set apart one day in the week to receive our numerous -acquaintances. I allowed her to invite whom she chose. There were -moments when I thought that she was touched by my readiness to satisfy -all her wishes; I saw that she was sometimes sad and pensive and -preoccupied; but I saw no sign of coming back to me, although she was -more free and gentle with me; on the contrary, she seemed to avoid me -more, and to dread any manifestations of affection on my part. I -wondered what could be taking place in her heart.</p> - -<p>Dulac came to our house very often. That young man had become a terrible -bore to me. He seemed to be always there, between Eugénie and me. But -how could I forbid him the house? He was exceedingly polite to me and -most obliging to my wife. Everybody liked him; I alone did not agree -with the rest of the world.</p> - -<p>Madame Dorcelles came to our house sometimes, but I could not see that -my wife saw her any more frequently; on the contrary, I was inclined to -think that she saw less of her and I was very grateful to her. Madame -Dorcelles attempted to play the coquette with me; she called me a -savage, a misanthrope; I allowed her to call me what she chose, and paid -no attention to her ogling and her fascinations. I could not help -thinking that my wife had in her a most peculiar friend.</p> - -<p>I determined to make an effort to accompany my wife into society. It -vexed me that that Dulac should almost always be her escort.</p> - -<p>Eugénie seemed surprised by my new course of action, but she said -nothing. I could not make up my mind whether it pleased her, but I -fancied that I detected an exchange of glances between her and Monsieur -Dulac.<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a> Ah! if I had been sure of it! I fumed and raged anew; but I very -soon came to myself, and told myself that I was a fool.</p> - -<p>There was some talk of a magic lantern exhibition at the house of a lady -friend of ours who had a very fine one; she thought that it would amuse -the children and perhaps the grown people as well; so an evening was -chosen for that purpose.</p> - -<p>I escorted my wife; she was depressed, or rather, sullen; we took -Henriette, who was overjoyed at the prospect, and I was glad for her.</p> - -<p>We found among the company the Bélans, the Girauds, and the inevitable -Dulac. That man seemed to pursue me everywhere! It seemed to me that he -must always disturb by his presence the pleasure to which I looked -forward. I began to detest him.</p> - -<p>After remaining some time in the salon, we were requested to step into -the dining-room where the magic lantern was prepared. The company passed -into that room, where there was almost no light, because darkness is -necessary for the better exhibition of the lantern.</p> - -<p>The ladies were seated, the men remained standing. We all laughed in -anticipation of what we were about to see. Some of the gentlemen -imitated Polichinello, or the devil; they favored us with a performance -before the curtain rose. The darkness that reigned in the room seemed to -increase the merriment of many people.</p> - -<p>Giraud, who was beside me, whispered in my ear:</p> - -<p>“The scenes of the lantern won’t be the most amusing ones. Look, there -is Madame Bélan with monsieur le marquis over in the corner. It is very -amusing. Poor Bélan! but he has just the face for that.”</p> - -<p>Such jests no longer made me laugh. I looked about for my wife; I was -confident that Monsieur Dulac had<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> not left the salon, where he was -playing écarté, and I was reassured.</p> - -<p>The performance began. More people had arrived and we were so crowded -that we could not move.</p> - -<p>They showed us the sun and the moon, Pierrot and the devil, Cupid and -the wild man. The gentleman who explained the pictures made endless -speeches. The children shrieked for joy, and the ladies laughed -heartily. To me it seemed very long and tedious; I could not stir from -my place to go to my wife, and it was darker than ever.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in the very midst of his explanation, the gentleman pushed the -lantern too far, so that it fell from the table to the floor; the lights -were at once uncovered and the room was suddenly illuminated.</p> - -<p>I instantly turned my eyes toward my wife. Monsieur Dulac was seated -behind her, but one of her arms was hanging over her chair and her hand -was in her neighbor’s.</p> - -<p>I started up so suddenly to go to Eugénie that I trod upon Giraud’s -feet, he was so close to me. He uttered a piercing shriek and declared -that I had hurt him. I did not think of apologizing; I forced a passage -to my wife’s side; her arm was no longer over the back of her chair and -Monsieur Dulac was farther away.</p> - -<p>I do not know how I looked at them, but Eugénie seemed perturbed and -Monsieur Dulac’s face wore a most embarrassed expression.</p> - -<p>“Take your shawl,” I said abruptly to my wife; “call your daughter and -let us go.”</p> - -<p>“Why are we going so soon?” asked Eugénie, looking at me in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Because I wish it, madame. Come, no comments, but make haste.<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>”</p> - -<p>The tone in which I said this was so new to Eugénie’s ears that she rose -at once to obey; moreover, people might have heard me speaking to her in -that tone and I fancy that she did not desire that.</p> - -<p>She was ready in a moment; I took my daughter’s hand, and we prepared to -go.</p> - -<p>“Are you going already?” asked the mistress of the house. “Why, it isn’t -all over, he is going to mend the lantern.”</p> - -<p>“We cannot stay any longer,” I said, curtly enough.</p> - -<p>“I do not feel very well,” murmured Eugénie; “we must go.”</p> - -<p>I did not say a word to my wife on the way home, for our daughter was -with us. Poor child! I had deprived her of a part of the pleasure which -she had anticipated, but she dared not complain.</p> - -<p>When we were at home and her daughter was in bed, Eugénie said to me in -a bitter tone:</p> - -<p>“May I know why you dragged me away so abruptly from the party where we -were?”</p> - -<p>“May I know, madame, why your hand was in Monsieur Dulac’s, while the -room was dark?”</p> - -<p>“My hand in Monsieur Dulac’s? You dreamed it!”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, I did not dream it; I saw it, and saw it very distinctly.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know but that Monsieur Dulac did take my hand, by accident or -in jest. I certainly did not notice it! So that was why you rushed up -like a madman, and spoke to me in a threatening tone, as if you were -going to strike me; that is why you drew everybody’s eyes upon me, is -it? No one accustomed to society was ever before known to behave as you -did!”</p> - -<p>“Madame, when I consider myself insulted, I pay little heed to society. -There was a time when you thought<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> and acted in the same way. I do not -know what sort of jesting Monsieur Dulac presumes to indulge in with -you, but I warn you that I don’t like it. I request you not to allow it -any more.”</p> - -<p>“You expect me to mention your idiotic ideas to that young man? I will -do nothing of the kind! It is perfectly absurd.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; whenever it suits me, I shall not hesitate to turn the -fellow out of doors.”</p> - -<p>“I advise you to do it! The idea of turning that young man out of doors -because he is pleasant and agreeable and attentive to me! You only lack -that, to give you a most excellent reputation in society!”</p> - -<p>“Be careful, madame, that you do not give me a reputation which I should -like still less.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that it is hardly worth while to go with me in order to -indulge in such scenes. Formerly you went your way, monsieur, and I went -mine.”</p> - -<p>“I shall go with you whenever it suits me, madame. I am well aware that -it will be a terrible nuisance to you, and I am very sorry; but you will -go nowhere without me if I choose that you shall not.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! we will see about that!”</p> - -<p>I went to my room. I did not sleep that night, I constantly saw that -young man with my wife. And yet what Eugénie had told me was probable -enough and might be true. But a thousand circumstances, which I -remembered now, revived my suspicions when I tried to banish them.</p> - -<p>Suppose that she were deceiving me! At that thought, a shudder ran -through my whole being, and, since the evening before, I bore a heavy -weight which oppressed and suffocated me.</p> - -<p>Such torture! I was determined to know, to make sure whether I was -betrayed.<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a></p> - -<p>But to make sure was no easy matter; women are so cunning in taking -precautions! Not always, however; they who are not accustomed to -intrigues sometimes allow themselves to be detected. So I was jealous at -last! a jealous husband! I who had so often laughed at the type, and who -had deceived so many! My turn had come! And if I were—ah! I did not -know what I should do! Formerly I used to laugh about it, it all seemed -so simple and so natural to me! We never put ourselves in the places of -those at whom we laugh. To be sure, there are some who take the thing so -indifferently, others who joke about it. Husbands of the latter class -have ceased to love their wives. But the wisest, the most sensible, do -not try to make sure. On the contrary, they carefully avoid everything -that might disturb their peace of mind by opening their eyes. Ah! those -who act thus are very wise; why should I not do as they did?</p> - -<p>After that long and painful night I shut myself up in my study and tried -to distract my thoughts in business. It was not ten o’clock when Bélan -appeared; nothing could have been more disagreeable to me at that moment -than his presence. He threw himself into an armchair, and said:</p> - -<p>“This time, my dear fellow, it is impossible for me to doubt it; I am a -cuckold!”</p> - -<p>At that exordium I sprang from my chair and began to pace the floor, -exclaiming testily:</p> - -<p>“Morbleu! monsieur, you have been saying that so long that it would be -very strange if you weren’t.”</p> - -<p>Bélan stared at me and muttered:</p> - -<p>“If that’s the kind of advice you give me!—Indeed! so that’s your -opinion, is it?”</p> - -<p>“I have no opinion or advice to give you. There are times when a man -should look to nobody for advice but<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> himself. What I can’t conceive is -that a man should go about proclaiming his shame as you do.”</p> - -<p>“Proclaiming! what does that mean, I pray to know? Because I come to -confide my troubles to a friend, you call it proclaiming my shame! Look -you! I don’t care to be a cuckold myself; every man has his own way of -looking at things. I know very well that there are some husbands to whom -it doesn’t make any difference, who let their wives go about with their -lovers and seem to pay no attention to it.”</p> - -<p>I had listened to Bélan impatiently; at that moment I could contain -myself no longer; I jumped at him, seized him by the collar, and shook -him violently, crying:</p> - -<p>“Did you come here to say that for my benefit, monsieur? Do you mean to -insult me and to include me among those obliging husbands to whom you -refer? Morbleu! Monsieur Bélan, I am in no mood to endure any -impertinence on that subject.”</p> - -<p>The poor little man had submitted to be shaken, being totally unable to -defend himself, he was so dazed by my action. At last he cried out, -gazing at me in dismay:</p> - -<p>“Blémont, my friend, what on earth is the matter with you? You certainly -are ill; you are not yourself!”</p> - -<p>I relaxed my hold, and, ashamed of my outbreak of wrath, I threw myself -in a chair and faltered:</p> - -<p>“Yes—yes—I am not well. I thought that you meant to insult -me—but——”</p> - -<p>“I, mean to insult an old friend, when I came to confide my domestic -unhappiness to him. You cause me grief, Blémont, you affect me. However, -if you really think that I intended to jest about your—In the first -place, I didn’t know that there was any excuse for jesting about you. -However, if you want satisfaction, you know that I am not a fellow to -retreat, I have furnished<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> my proofs. I avoided the artilleryman, it is -true, but one doesn’t fight with a stranger; with a friend it’s a very -different matter.”</p> - -<p>I gave Bélan my hand, saying:</p> - -<p>“I tell you again, I don’t know what got into me. You and I fight! No, -no, my dear Bélan, let us forget it all.”</p> - -<p>Bélan shook my hand warmly.</p> - -<p>“Let’s forget it, so I say, and shake hands. Yes, my dear fellow, I -think that we may shake hands—most cordially. I will leave you, as you -are preoccupied and engrossed by—er—disagreeable thoughts.—Perfidious -Armide! Traitorous Armide! Pope was quite right!—Have you read Pope, my -friend?”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know. I think so.”</p> - -<p>“If I had read him sooner, I should have looked twice before marrying. -Do you remember what he says of women?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he says that every woman has a dissolute heart. What do you think -of that?”</p> - -<p>“I think that it is not polite.”</p> - -<p>“But I fear that it is true. For instance, Armide has a dissolute heart; -your wife also has a——”</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, Bélan, let us drop that subject!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will tell you about my new discoveries some other time. Oh! -these women! how sly they are! But you know that as well as I. Au -revoir, my dear fellow.”</p> - -<p>He did well to leave me; I was on the point of jumping at his throat -again. Was it possible that I could not listen to a word about betrayed -husbands, or unfaithful wives, without flying into a passion? I felt -that I must keep a tight hold upon myself, that I must be cool and -sensible; but I must also know the truth concerning the liaison between -Eugénie and Monsieur Dulac.<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a></p> - -<p>Eugénie and I no longer spoke to each other except to make bitter, -sneering remarks; most of the time we said nothing. Notwithstanding all -that, I went everywhere with my wife; I would not allow her to go out -without me. But in society I had that depressed, pensive manner which -prevents one from being agreeable; for we met Monsieur Dulac at almost -every party which we attended. If I played cards, I was inattentive to -the game, because I was constantly looking about for my wife, to see if -he was speaking to her, if he was with her. If she was playing, I sat by -her side, to make sure that no one else should take that place. If she -danced, and it happened to be with Monsieur Dulac, I compelled her to -leave the ball abruptly and she dared not resist, for she could read in -my eyes that I would make a scene before the whole assemblage. I am sure -that I was universally esteemed a morose, ill-tempered, jealous bear, -and that people said of Eugénie: “Poor little woman! her husband makes -her very unhappy! he’s a tyrant! he’s a miserable fellow!”—Yes, people -undoubtedly said such things of me; for the world almost always judges -by appearances.</p> - -<p>Only when caressing my daughter did I enjoy a moment’s happiness. Dear -child! if I had been deprived of your caresses, what would have been -left for me on earth? Her brother was still too young to understand me; -but she seemed to read my unhappiness in my eyes, and to try to divert -me from my sorrow by her soft words.</p> - -<p>One morning, fatigued by a sleepless night, and even more by my -thoughts, I dressed, and, contrary to my usual custom—which was to -remain in my study until ten o’clock, I left the house before eight.</p> - -<p>Chance—destiny, perhaps—led me to walk in the direction of Boulevard -du Temple. At first I thought of going to see my mother; but I reflected -that it was much<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> too early, as she seldom rose before ten o’clock. I -concluded that it would be better to call on my friends on Rue du -Temple; it was more than six months since I had seen them. So I walked -to Ernest’s house, where I was told that he had moved, and that he now -lived on Boulevard Saint-Martin.</p> - -<p>I was about to go thither, when a woman in a cap and morning jacket, -with a bowl of milk in her hand, nodded to me as she passed.</p> - -<p>I turned; it was Lucile. I had not seen her since the day that my wife -surprised us together on the Terrasse des Feuillants. She had turned and -stopped; she was smiling at me. As I no longer feared that my wife was -watching me, I walked back to bid Lucile good-morning.</p> - -<p>“We don’t meet at the Tuileries this time.”</p> - -<p>“No—that was a long while ago!—Do you think that I have changed?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no; you are still charming.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how gallant monsieur is to-day! For my part, I must confess that -you look thinner and paler. Marriage hasn’t been a great success with -you, I should say.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not. Do you live hereabout now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, on Rue Basse-du-Temple, and I came out to get my milk. What would -you have? I am getting economical, I don’t keep a maid now! Will you -come to breakfast with me? I will give you some coffee.”</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t; I must go home.”</p> - -<p>“Are you still afraid of being scolded, or followed, by your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I assure you.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you! She has something else to do than follow you!—Ha! ha! -ha! poor Henri!”</p> - -<p>When Lucile laughed I felt the blood rushing to my face; but I -determined to restrain myself.<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> - -<p>“Why do you laugh, Lucile? I don’t see how you can know it, even if my -wife has many things to do.”</p> - -<p>“I know more about it than you, perhaps. I am better informed than you -imagine.”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, you don’t know my wife.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know her! I saw her once on the Terrasse des Feuillants, and -once is enough for me to recognize a person; I give you my word that I -have recognized her perfectly since, and that I am not mistaken.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p> - -<p>“I mean that your wife plays her little games like other people. -Parbleu! I suppose you thought that you were a privileged mortal, didn’t -you? No, monsieur, she has given you horns to wear, and she has done it -very neatly too.”</p> - -<p>I strove to conceal the torture I felt and answered:</p> - -<p>“You enjoy saying spiteful things to me; that is your habit; but you -would be sorely embarrassed to prove your slanderous remarks about my -wife.”</p> - -<p>“Slanderous! No, monsieur, there is no slander about it. Your wife -looked to me like a drab the first time I saw her; but I wouldn’t have -said anything about her if I hadn’t been sure of my facts. I can’t say -that I am sorry that your wife has lovers; I should lie if I said that; -but still it wasn’t I who told her to give you your horns—she didn’t -need my advice for that.”</p> - -<p>“This is too much, Lucile! You must prove what you have told me, and -prove it instantly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what a hurry you are in, monsieur! I never hurry, myself. If you -want me to answer you, you must come to my room first of all; I must -have my coffee, I am hungry.”</p> - -<p>Lucile walked toward her house; I followed her, saying to myself every -minute:<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a></p> - -<p>“I must restrain myself, I must be a man; and if she has told me the -truth, I must still try to act with prudence.”</p> - -<p>Lucile entered a house with a passageway at the side, near Rue de -Crussol. She went up to the third floor, opened her door, and ushered me -into a modestly furnished, but neat and well-kept room. She went to the -fireplace, blew up her fire and prepared to boil her coffee. I seized -her arm and stopped her.</p> - -<p>“Will you leave me to suffer any longer, Lucile? I implore you, tell me -all that you know about my wife!”</p> - -<p>She looked at me; she seemed distressed.</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! what a state you are in, Henri! If I had known it would have -such an effect on you, I wouldn’t have told you. How stupid it is to -feel badly over such a small matter! Your wife goes her way and you go -yours—isn’t that the custom? You have mighty little philosophy!”</p> - -<p>“I shall have enough when I am certain of my fate. Once more—speak!”</p> - -<p>“Well, come to the window. Look: do you see that little low door over -there?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“That is the rear entrance of a restaurant, a café, where there are -private rooms—one of those assignation houses, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I understand you.”</p> - -<p>“If you go in this way, you are not seen, for you don’t go into the café -at all. You go right upstairs; a bell calls a waiter, who opens a -private room for you. Oh! it’s very convenient. I used to go there -often.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well! your wife goes there to meet her lover.”</p> - -<p>“My wife! It is false!<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I recognized her perfectly, although she generally comes in a cab -and gets out a few steps away. She is always hidden by a broad-brimmed -hat and wrapped in a shawl; but first of all I noticed her manner; I -watched her. It amuses me to watch the lovers who go there. I haven’t -anything to do, and it serves to pass the time! Yes, I am sure that it’s -she. She hasn’t been there once only, but at least ten times.”</p> - -<p>“What time does she come?”</p> - -<p>“Usually it is only quarter-past, or half-past seven when she arrives, -and she stays about an hour.”</p> - -<p>“What a lie! my wife never gets up before nine o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“So you think, my dear man! You imagine that she’s asleep.—What if I -should tell you that she is over there now?”</p> - -<p>“Now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I saw her go in half an hour before I met you. Stay at the window; -you will see a cab come that they will have sent for; madame will get -in, and the gentleman will go away five minutes later. I know the whole -programme.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of looking man is he?”</p> - -<p>“A young man, tall and dark. He’s very good-looking indeed; I must do -your wife that justice.”</p> - -<p>I took my hat and strode toward the door. Lucile ran in front of me.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?”</p> - -<p>“To make sure that it’s they.”</p> - -<p>“You are going to make a row! Can you think of such a thing?”</p> - -<p>“No, you don’t know me. When I am certain of my misfortune, I shall be -calm; but I propose to see them. Let me go, Lucile; I insist.<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Very well! on condition that I go with you. I know the house, and I -will show you the way, be your guide. But you promise——”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right! come.”</p> - -<p>Lucile put on her bonnet and threw a shawl over her shoulders. We went -downstairs and soon stood before the house opposite. We opened a small -wooden gate which rang a bell; then we ascended a short flight of -stairs. Lucile took my hand and walked before me. My heart beat so -violently that I was obliged to stop to recover my breath.</p> - -<p>We arrived in a courtyard, where an attendant was waiting for us under a -porch; he went upstairs before us. When we reached the landing, I -stopped him:</p> - -<p>“You have a gentleman and lady here?”</p> - -<p>The waiter looked at me, uncertain whether he should reply. I put twenty -francs in his hand and repeated my question, describing the two persons.</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know who you mean, monsieur. In fact we don’t usually have -anybody but them at this time of day. They’re there—on the front.”</p> - -<p>“Give us a room next to theirs.”</p> - -<p>The waiter opened the door of a large room. How was I to see them? If -there were only a partition between us! but it was a solid wall. No -matter! I would at least see her go out. The waiter received orders to -notify me when they sent for a cab.</p> - -<p>What a situation! to be so near one’s wife when she is in the arms of a -lover! I was tempted to break down the door. But no, no, I determined to -control myself, for my children’s sake. But suppose it were not she? I -went close to the wall and listened. I heard sounds, but could -distinguish nothing. Lucile softly opened the door leading into the -hall, and said, pointing to the next door:<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a></p> - -<p>“You can hear better there.”</p> - -<p>I walked to the door with the greatest caution and put my ear against -it. Yes, I could hear very distinctly; they were kissing. And I made out -these words:</p> - -<p>“I must go now. I want to be in my room before monsieur leaves his -study.”</p> - -<p>It was she, it was certainly she in that room! that voice went to my -heart, it caused a revolution in my whole being.</p> - -<p>I returned to Lucile. I do not know what had taken place within me, or -what expression my face wore; but Lucile threw herself at my feet, -weeping, and faltered:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me! oh! forgive me! Great heaven! if I had only known! How -sorry I am for what I’ve done!”</p> - -<p>I made no reply; I could not speak. The bell rang in the next room and I -listened.</p> - -<p>The waiter answered the bell and they sent for a cab. I recognized -Dulac’s voice then. I tore my hair, but I restrained myself. The waiter -came to me and told me when the cab was at the door; whereupon I left -the room and waited at the foot of the stairs.</p> - -<p>She came down at last; I heard the rustling of her dress. She had -reached the last stair when I abruptly stepped in front of her and -grasped her arm. Eugénie raised her eyes, and, terror-stricken, fell -without a sound on the stairs.</p> - -<p>I lifted her up, and put her, or rather, threw her into the cab; I gave -the address to the driver, then I walked rapidly away as if I could not -fly fast enough from that house where I had acquired proofs of my -shame.<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI<br /><br /> -THE INEVITABLE RESULT</h2> - -<p>I walked a long time; thoroughly tired out, I stopped at last. I was in -the country, in a lane bordered by hedges. I saw no houses; I had no -idea where I was; but what did it matter? I sat down on the ground at -the foot of a leafless tree; for nature was still dead, and there was no -greenery about me.</p> - -<p>I was alone; I rested my head on my hands and abandoned myself to my -grief, to my despair. Why not confess? I shed tears, yes, I wept; but no -one could see me, and it seemed to me that weeping afforded me some -relief.</p> - -<p>It was not her love alone that I regretted; it was the destruction of -all my happiness, of all my future. My happiness! for some time past, it -had ceased to exist; but I still flattered myself that it might live -again; I still hoped for those pleasant days of confidence and love -which had followed our wedding. But all was lost, and it was impossible -that happiness should ever be born again for me. Impossible! ah! that is -a cruel word; I could not believe that Eugénie had meant to condemn me -to everlasting sorrow.</p> - -<p>And yet there are many husbands who forgive or close their eyes to the -infidelity of their wives. They themselves deceive their wives, and they -think it quite natural that they should do likewise.<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a></p> - -<p>Ah! even if I had deceived Eugénie a thousand times, I could never have -borne the thought of being deceived. If only, on yielding to their -weakness, they did not cease to love us! But the new sentiment kills the -old one. In proportion as they grow to love another, we become less -lovable in their eyes, and ere long their hearts are entirely absorbed -by their new passion.</p> - -<p>I was resolved never to see her again; we must part, but without -scandal, without noise. I had children, and it was for their sake that I -determined to dissemble my unhappiness; it was for their sake that I had -controlled myself that morning.</p> - -<p>I might have struck Dulac, and a duel would have followed; but, after -the remarks that had already been made, everybody would have divined the -cause, the motive of the duel. I determined to find some other way of -satisfying my thirst for vengeance, without publishing my dishonor -before the eyes of the world.</p> - -<p>I rose. There were moments when the rush of my thoughts distracted me -from my misfortune and gave me new courage; but the next moment the -arguments lost their force and I remembered all that I had lost. I saw -myself alone on earth, when I had thought that the woman whom I adored -loved me; I saw all my plans destroyed, all my dreams unfulfilled. -Thereupon my heart broke, and my eyes filled with tears. I was like a -person trying to climb out of an abyss, but constantly falling back to -the bottom after every effort.</p> - -<p>I walked on. I saw houses before me and a servant told me that I was at -Montreuil. I looked at my watch: it was only noon. Great heaven! how the -time would drag now!</p> - -<p>I went into a sort of restaurant; I was not hungry, but I wanted to find -some way of shortening the day; I<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> did not wish to return to Paris so -early. It seemed to me that everybody would read my misfortune in my -face; but I dreaded especially the returning to my house. I hoped, -however, that I should not find her there. Her property would enable her -to live comfortably; let her go, but let her leave me my children; I -must have them; I believed that I had the right to take them away from -their mother. In any event, it would be no great deprivation to her; she -did not know how to love her children; in truth, she did not deserve -that I should regret her.</p> - -<p>I tried to eat, but it was impossible for me to swallow. I paid, and -left the inn. I walked on, and then looked at my watch again; the time -stood still. However, it was necessary for me to return to Paris sooner -or later. I arrived there at three o’clock.</p> - -<p>If she were still at my house, I felt that I could not endure her -presence; I therefore determined to ascertain before going in.</p> - -<p>It gave me a pang to see those boulevards again, and a still greater -pang to see my home. I looked up at our windows. She used to sit there -sometimes, watching for me, and smiling at me. Why was she not there -now? Oh! if it only might all prove to be a dream, how happy I should -be, what a relief it would be to me! but no, it was only too true, I no -longer had a wife! there was no Eugénie for me! What had I done to her -that she should make me so wretched?</p> - -<p>Fool that I was! I was weeping again, although I was in the midst of -Paris, amid that throng of people who would laugh at me if they knew the -cause of my grief.</p> - -<p>I must be a man, at least in the presence of other people.</p> - -<p>I entered the house and accosted my concierge.<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a></p> - -<p>“Is madame at home?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, madame went away about ten o’clock, in a cab, with -bundles and boxes, and with mademoiselle her daughter.”</p> - -<p>“My daughter? She took my daughter?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; it looked to me as if madame were going into the -country. Didn’t monsieur know it?”</p> - -<p>I was no longer listening to the concierge. I went upstairs and rang -violently. The maid admitted me; the poor girl began to tremble when she -saw me.</p> - -<p>“Your mistress has gone away?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, madame said that she was going into the country. In -fact, when madame returned from the bath she looked very ill.”</p> - -<p>“From the bath?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, madame went out very early to go to the bath.”</p> - -<p>“Does she go often to the bath?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, monsieur, quite often lately.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you never tell me?”</p> - -<p>“Madame—told me not to.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! Well?”</p> - -<p>“At first, madame shut herself up in her bedroom for a long time; then -she called me and told me to pack up, and to make haste; then she told -me to go and call a cab; she had the bundles taken down, and then she -went away with her daughter, saying: ‘Give this letter to monsieur.’”</p> - -<p>“A letter! where is it?”</p> - -<p>“I put it on your desk, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I rushed to my study. There was the letter. What could she have to write -to me? I broke the seal and looked for the marks of tears upon it, but -there were none. She had left me, left me forever, without even<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a> -shedding a tear! My heart sickened. Ah! if heaven were just, I thought, -the day would come when I should make her shed as bitter tears as I had -shed. I read the letter.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“Monsieur, I have deceived you. I might perhaps deny it still, but -I prefer to be more honest than you were with me. I am guilty, I -know it; but except for your example, I never should have been. -And, although in the eyes of the law, I am a greater culprit than -you, I do not consider myself so. I realize that we can no longer -live together. Indeed, I think that it will be a blessing to us -both to part. I shall keep my daughter, and you your son. My -fortune will suffice for me, and I shall never need to have -recourse to yours. Adieu, monsieur, pray believe that I sincerely -wish you happiness.</p> - -<p>“E<small>UGÉNIE</small>.”</p></div> - -<p>What a letter! not a word of regret, not a syllable of repentance! Well, -so much the better; that gave me courage. But my daughter, my Henriette; -so I must live without seeing and embracing her every day! What -inhumanity! Eugénie knew how dearly I loved my daughter, and she had -taken her away. It was not from maternal affection; no, she did not know -what it was to love her children. So that it was simply to make me more -unhappy. Henriette, dear child, you would no longer come and climb on my -knees every morning; I could no longer pass my hand through your fair -hair and hold your head against my breast; and, ceasing to see me, -perhaps you will cease to love me.</p> - -<p>I threw myself into a chair, and laid my head on my desk; I do not know -how long I stayed in that position.<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a></p> - -<p>I heard the maid; the poor girl was standing behind my chair and had -been talking to me for a long time, for all that I knew.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“Will not monsieur dine? It is after six o’clock; that is why I -ventured—I was afraid that monsieur was ill.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks, I will not dine. But what did my daughter say when she went -away? What did she do, poor child?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! she wanted to carry her doll, monsieur, but her mother would not -let her; she told her that she would buy her another one.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all?”</p> - -<p>“Then Mamzelle Henriette said: ‘Why don’t we wait for papa before we go -to ride?’”</p> - -<p>“Dear child, she thought of me!”</p> - -<p>Those words did me good. I came to my senses. Eugénie had not said where -she was going, but I could learn through her banker. I simply must know, -and then we would see if she would refuse to give me back my daughter. I -cast my weakness behind me and thought only of avenging myself on Dulac. -I knew where he would be that evening. I was to take madame there. But -suppose that she had written to him, suppose she had informed him of -what had taken place? But no, her first thought had been to fly.</p> - -<p>I asked the maid if madame had written any other letters; she did not -know. Ah! if Dulac should escape me that evening! It was nearly seven -o’clock, so I dressed to go out. To go into society! to pretend to be -calm, to smile, when my heart was torn! But it would not be for long, I -hoped.</p> - -<p>I put a large sum of money in my pocket. It was still too early to go to -an evening party, so I walked about<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> my apartment. “Accursed apartment,” -I said to myself, “where I began by being unhappy, you will not see me -much longer!”</p> - -<p>At last the clock struck eight; I left the house. The reception was at -the house of the lady where the magic lantern had been exhibited. It was -there that I had first had any enlightenment concerning my misfortune; -it was just that I should be revenged there.</p> - -<p>Some guests had arrived; but very few, and he was not among them. People -asked me about madame; I said that she was not feeling well, and I took -my place at a card table.</p> - -<p>Whenever the door of the salon opened, I turned with an involuntary -shudder. He did not come.</p> - -<p>Bélan and Giraud arrived, and came to me to say good-evening; I -pretended to be very intent upon the game, in order not to have to enter -into conversation with them; but Bélan succeeded in coming close enough -to me to whisper in my ear:</p> - -<p>“My friend, I am not; everything has been explained to my perfect -satisfaction. I will come some morning and tell you about it.”</p> - -<p>I contented myself with shaking his hand; a little convulsively, no -doubt, for he withdrew his, saying:</p> - -<p>“I am deeply touched by the pleasure which it gives you.”</p> - -<p>At last he appeared! he entered the salon and looked about; I divined -whom he was looking for. He came toward me. Good! he knew nothing! He -had the assurance to inquire for my wife’s health, and why she had not -come. I restrained myself, I said a few vague words in reply, and I -walked away from him.</p> - -<p>I waited until he took his place at the écarté table, which he did at -last. I bet against him. At the second<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a> deal, when we lost two points, I -declared that our adversary had not cut the cards; I spoke as if I -thought the cards had been stacked. The others looked at one another in -amazement, and said nothing. Monsieur Dulac became thoughtful and -distraught; he proposed to throw the hand out, but I refused.</p> - -<p>We lost. I instantly took the vacant seat. I trebled my stake, so that -the bettors should not bet on me; then I held my cards so that nobody -could see them. I discarded my aces in order to lose. I demanded my -revenge, and although it is customary to leave the table when one loses, -I did not rise, and I doubled my stake again, indulging in more epigrams -on my adversary’s good luck.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Dulac showed great patience; he seemed ill at ease, but he said -nothing. I lost again; I assumed the air of a determined gambler and -increased my stake again. Again I lost; thereupon I rose and threw my -cards in my adversary’s face.</p> - -<p>It was impossible to take that peacefully. Dulac rose in his turn and -asked me if I had intended to insult him. I laughed in his face and made -no reply. Others tried to adjust the affair by representing to him that -I was a bad loser and that my losses had irritated me. I saw plainly -that everybody thought me in the wrong. Dulac said nothing, nor did I. I -had done enough in public amply to explain a subsequent duel.</p> - -<p>After a few moments I walked up to Dulac and said to him in an -undertone:</p> - -<p>“I shall await you to-morrow, at seven o’clock, with a friend, at the -entrance to the forest of Vincennes; do not fail to be there, and be -sure that this affair cannot be adjusted.”</p> - -<p>He bowed in assent; I walked about the salon once or twice, then -disappeared.<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a></p> - -<p>I required a second; my choice was already made; our real friends are -never so numerous as to cause us embarrassment.</p> - -<p>I went to see Ernest at his new home. They had gone out, they were at -the theatre with their children. But they kept a servant now. I decided -to wait for them, for I felt that I must see Ernest that evening.</p> - -<p>The certainty of vengeance near at hand, or of an end of my troubles, -calmed my passions a little. I reflected on my situation. I was going to -fight. If I killed my opponent, that would not give me back my -happiness. If he killed me, my children would be delivered over to the -tender mercies of a mother who did not love them; so that even that duel -could not have a satisfactory result. Was it really necessary? Yes, -because I abhorred Dulac now. And yet he had only played the part of a -young man, he had done only what I myself had done when I had been a -bachelor. My wife was much the guiltier, and her I could not punish.</p> - -<p>I had nothing to write, in case I should be killed; for my children -would inherit all my property. I prayed that they might always remain in -ignorance of their mother’s sin.</p> - -<p>How much misery may result from an instant’s weakness! If a woman could -ever calculate it, would she be guilty? But did I myself calculate it -before my marriage? No; we must have passions and torments and -excitement. A pure and tranquil happiness would bore us, and yet there -are some people who know that happiness; there are privileged beings; -and there are some too who have no passions, who love as they eat, or -drink, or sleep. Having no knowledge of veritable love, they do not -suffer its torments; perhaps they are the happier for it.<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a></p> - -<p>After five years and a few months of married life, and a love marriage, -too! She seemed to love me so dearly! was it not real love at that time? -If not, what constrained her to tell me so and to marry me? Her mother -did only as she wished. The woman who is forced to give her hand to a -man whom she does not love is much less guilty when she betrays her -faith. But to manifest so much love for me, and—But no, I must forget -all that.</p> - -<p>Ernest and his wife returned from the play, and were told that a -gentleman was waiting for them in their salon. They came in and -exclaimed in surprise when they saw me:</p> - -<p>“Why, it is Blémont!”</p> - -<p>“It is Monsieur Henri! How long it is since we have seen you! how do you -happen to come so late?”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to see you; I have a favor to ask of Ernest.”</p> - -<p>They both looked at me and both came toward me simultaneously.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, pray? What has happened to you?”</p> - -<p>“How pale he is, and how distressed!”</p> - -<p>“Nothing is the matter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, my friend, something is wrong; is your wife sick? or your -children?”</p> - -<p>“I no longer have a wife, I have no children with me; I am alone now.”</p> - -<p>“What do you say?” cried Marguerite; “your wife?”</p> - -<p>“She has deceived me, betrayed me; she is no longer with me.”</p> - -<p>They did not say a word; they seemed thunderstruck. I rose and continued -in a firmer voice:</p> - -<p>“Yes, she has deceived me, that same Eugénie, whom I loved so dearly; -you know how dearly, you who were the confidants of my love. It was only -this morning that<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a> I obtained proofs of her perfidy. I am not used to -suffering as yet; I shall get used to it perhaps; but I swear, I will do -my utmost to forget a woman who is not worthy of me. I have been -unfortunate in love; I shall at least find some relief in friendship.”</p> - -<p>Ernest and Marguerite threw themselves into my arms; Marguerite wept and -Ernest pressed my hand affectionately. At last I released myself from -their embrace.</p> - -<p>“It is late, my friends; forgive me for coming thus to disturb your -happiness. Good-night, my little neighbor.—Ernest, a word with you, -please.”</p> - -<p>He followed me to a window.</p> - -<p>“I am to fight to-morrow; you can guess with whom and for what reason. I -need not tell you that there is no possible adjustment, although we are -supposed to be fighting because of a dispute at cards. Will you be my -second?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course.”</p> - -<p>“I shall expect you to-morrow morning, promptly at seven o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“I will be on time.”</p> - -<p>Marguerite had gone into another room. She returned at that moment and -said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t you wish to kiss our children before you go?”</p> - -<p>At that suggestion, tears came to my eyes; for I reflected that I could -not kiss my daughter before going to bed that night.</p> - -<p>Marguerite evidently divined my thought.</p> - -<p>“Oh! pray forgive me,” she said; “I have pained you. Oh dear! I didn’t -mean to.”</p> - -<p>I pressed her hand, nodded to Ernest, and hurried from the room.</p> - -<p>Once more I was compelled to return to that apartment. It was torture to -me. How empty it seemed!<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a> and in fact it was empty; no wife, no child -about me. It was not Eugénie whom my eyes sought; she had avoided and -shunned my presence for a long while. It was my daughter, my little -Henriette—she did not avoid me! What a miserable night I passed! not a -moment’s sleep. I wondered if she who made me so unhappy was sleeping -quietly.</p> - -<p>At last the day came, and at six o’clock Ernest was at my house. I took -my pistols; a cab was below, and I told the driver to go to Vincennes.</p> - -<p>I did not say a word during the drive. Just as we arrived, Ernest said -to me:</p> - -<p>“If you should fall, my friend, have you nothing to say, no orders to -give?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear Ernest, for except you and your wife, no one really cares -for me. My son is not old enough to understand the loss he would -sustain. My daughter—she would cry perhaps, and that is why nothing -must be said to her. Poor child! I do not want to make her shed a tear.”</p> - -<p>We arrived, and I saw two men walking to and fro a few gun shots from -the château; they were Dulac and his second. We hurried toward them and -joined them; they bowed to us; I did not respond to the salute, but -strode on toward the woods.</p> - -<p>I did not know Dulac’s second; he was not one of our circle; so much the -better. I do not know what Dulac had said to him, but I am convinced -that he was not deceived as to the motive which had caused me to pick a -quarrel with him the night before.</p> - -<p>We stopped; the seconds gave us the weapons after examining them; then -they measured off the distance.</p> - -<p>“Fire, monsieur,” I said to Dulac; “I am the aggressor.<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur,” he replied coldly; “it is for you to fire first, you are -the insulted party.”</p> - -<p>I did not wait for him to say it again; I fired and missed him. It was -his turn; he hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Fire,” I said to him; “remember, monsieur, that this affair cannot end -thus.”</p> - -<p>He fired. I was not hit. Ernest handed me another pistol. I aimed at -Dulac again, I pulled the trigger, and he fell.</p> - -<p>I am not naturally cruel, but I wished that I had killed him.</p> - -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII<br /><br /> -A NEW CAUSE FOR UNHAPPINESS.—AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE</h2> - -<p>I left the wood at once; Ernest followed me, after telling Dulac’s -second that he would send somebody to him.</p> - -<p>At last, fate had been just; my thirst for vengeance had been satisfied. -I should have felt a little relieved, but I did not; it was because I -was not avenged on her who had injured me most. I thanked Ernest and -left him, promising him to go often to his house. He insisted that I -should come that very day to dine with them; but I felt that I must be -alone a little longer. I would go when I had learned to endure, or at -least to conceal, my sorrow.</p> - -<p>I looked for an apartment in Ernest’s neighborhood, far away from that -in which I had lived. I hired the first vacant one that I found, then -returned home. I went to<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> my landlord and paid what he demanded to allow -me to move at once. At last I was free. I ordered my furniture to be -moved instantly.</p> - -<p>I dismissed my servant. I had no reason to complain of her, far from it; -but she had been in my service during the time that I was determined to -forget; I did not want to see her again. At last I was free. I gave her -enough to enable her to wait patiently for other employment.</p> - -<p>My furniture was taken to my new apartment on Rue Saint-Louis. I -installed myself there. I felt better at once, for I breathed more -freely there. There is nothing like change, for diseases of the heart as -well as for those of the body.</p> - -<p>I would have liked to go to see my son, but it was too late to start for -Livry that day. I went to Eugénie’s banker to try to find out where she -was. I wanted to write to her, I wanted her to give me back my daughter. -Two children would be none too many to take the place of all that I had -lost.</p> - -<p>The banker was a most excellent man. I was careful not to tell him the -real cause of my separation from my wife. I gave him to understand that -our dispositions and our tastes had changed, and we had both thought it -best to adopt that course, which was irrevocable. So that it was not for -the purpose of running after my wife that I wanted to know where she -was, but simply to write to her on the subject of some business matters -which we had not been able to adjust.</p> - -<p>He did not know where Eugénie was; she had not written to him; but he -promised to send me her address as soon as he knew it.</p> - -<p>So I was forced to wait before seeing my daughter. If I had had her with -me, it seemed to me that I might<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a> recover all my courage and be happy -again. Yes, I believed that I could be happy again, embracing that sweet -child. If only I had her portrait. I had often had an idea of painting -her, but business or quarrels with her mother had prevented me from -beginning the work. “I will wait a few days,” I thought; “then the -original will return to me, and I will not part from her again.”</p> - -<p>My regret at not having painted her portrait reminded me of that other -which I always carried with me. I determined to shatter it as she had -shattered mine long ago.</p> - -<p>Eugénie’s portrait was set inside a locket. I took it out, opened it, -and in spite of myself, my eyes rested upon that miniature, which -reproduced her features so exactly. I do not know how it happened, but -my rage faded away. I felt moved, melted. Ah! that was not the woman who -had betrayed and abandoned me! that was the woman who had loved me, who -had responded so heartily to my passion, whose eyes were always seeking -mine! That Eugénie of the old days was a different person from the -Eugénie of to-day; why then should I destroy her portrait? I looked -about me; I was alone. My lips were once more pressed upon that face. It -was a shameful weakness; but I persuaded myself that I saw her once more -as she was five years before; and that delusion afforded me a moment’s -happiness.</p> - -<p>Early the next morning I started for Livry. That road recalled many -memories. My son was only eleven months old; but I determined that as -soon as it could be done without injuring his health, I would take him -away from his nurse, and not go to that place any more.</p> - -<p>I reached the peasants’ house. They asked me about my wife as before. I -cut their questions short by telling them that she had gone on a long -journey. Then I asked for my son. They brought little Eugène to me. I -took<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a> him in my arms and was about to cover him with kisses, when -suddenly a new idea, a heartrending thought passed through my mind; my -features altered, I put aside the child, who was holding out his arms to -me, and replaced him in his nurse’s arms.</p> - -<p>That worthy woman utterly failed to understand the change which had -taken place in me. She gazed at me and cried:</p> - -<p>“Well! what’s the matter? You give me back your son without kissing him! -Why, he is a pretty little fellow, poor child!”</p> - -<p>“My son!” I said to myself, “my son! he is only eleven months old, and -Dulac began coming to the house before Eugénie was enceinte.”</p> - -<p>A new suspicion had come to aggravate my suffering. Who could assure me -that that was my child? that I was not on the point of embracing the -fruit of their guilty intercourse?</p> - -<p>At that thought I sprang to my feet.</p> - -<p>“Are you sick, monsieur?” the nurse asked me.</p> - -<p>I did not answer her, but left the house. I walked about for some time -in the fields. I realized that thenceforth I should not be able to think -of my son without being haunted by that cruel thought; when I embraced -the child, that suspicion would poison my happiness, and would diminish -the affection that I should otherwise have had for him. And these women -claim that they are no more guilty than we are! Ah! they are always sure -when they are mothers; they are not afraid lest they may lavish their -caresses on a stranger’s child. That is one great advantage that they -have over us. But nature does not do everything; one becomes a father by -adopting an innocent little creature; and he who neglects and abandons -his children ceases to be a father.<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a></p> - -<p>I returned to the nurse’s house, somewhat calmer.</p> - -<p>The poor woman was sitting in a corner with the child in her arms; she -dared not bring him to me again.</p> - -<p>I went to her and kissed the child on the forehead, heaving a profound -sigh. I commended him to the peasants’ care, I gave them money, and I -returned to Paris more depressed than ever.</p> - -<p>I found Ernest at my rooms waiting for me. He had been to my former -home, had learned my new address, and had been looking for me everywhere -since the morning, to divert me and comfort me.</p> - -<p>“What do people say in society?”</p> - -<p>That was my first question when I saw him; for I confess that my -greatest dread was that people should know that my wife had deceived me, -and it was much less on my own account than on hers that I dreaded it.</p> - -<p>I did not wish that she should be held guilty in the eyes of society; it -was quite enough that she should be guilty to my knowledge; so I begged -Ernest to conceal nothing from me.</p> - -<p>“Your duel is known,” he said, “but it is attributed to the quarrel you -had at the card table. You are generally blamed, and people are sorry -for your adversary. Dulac is not dead; indeed, it is thought that he -will recover; but he is seriously wounded, and he will be in bed for a -long while. I do not know how it happened that Giraud knew of your -change of abode, and that you have moved here without your wife. He -questioned the concierges, no doubt. He has been about everywhere, -telling of it. People are talking; and everyone makes up his own story; -the majority think that you made your wife so unhappy that she was -obliged to leave you.”</p> - -<p>“So much the better; let people think that, and let them put all the -blame on me; that is what I want. Only<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a> you and your wife know the -truth, my dear Ernest; and I am very sure that you will not betray my -confidence.”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not; although it makes me angry to hear people accuse you -and pity your wife. If I were in your place, I am not sure that I should -be so generous.”</p> - -<p>“But my children, my friend, my daughter!”</p> - -<p>“That is so; I didn’t think of them.”</p> - -<p>“What do I care for the blame of society? it will see little of me at -present!”</p> - -<p>“I trust, however, that you are not going to become a misanthrope, but -that you will try to amuse yourself, and try to forget a woman who does -not deserve your regrets; to act otherwise would be inexcusable -weakness.”</p> - -<p>“I promise to try to follow your advice.”</p> - -<p>“To begin with, you must come home to dinner with me.”</p> - -<p>I could not refuse Ernest, although solitude was all that I now desired. -I went home with him. His companion overwhelmed me with attentions and -friendliness; their children came to caress and to play with me. During -dinner they did all that they could to divert my thoughts. I was touched -by their friendship, but the sight of their domestic happiness, of that -happy family, was not adapted to alleviate my pain; on the contrary, it -increased it twofold. For I too had a wife and children! Ah! such -pictures were not what I wanted to see; they broke my heart. What I -wanted was a crowd, uproar, noisy amusements; I needed to be bewildered, -not moved.</p> - -<p>I left my good friends early. Three days later I received a letter from -Eugénie’s banker; he informed me that she was temporarily at Aubonne, -near Montmorency. So I knew where my daughter was, and that did me good; -it always seems that we are less distant from<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a> people when we know where -they are. I remembered that an old kinswoman of Eugénie’s mother lived -at Aubonne; she was probably living with her. I did not know whether she -would remain there, but I determined to write to her at once.</p> - -<p>I sat down at my desk. I did not know how to begin, for it was the first -time that I had ever written to Eugénie. We had never been separated. I -did not propose to indulge in any reproaches in regard to her conduct. -What good would it do? One should never complain, except when one is -willing to forgive. I would go straight to the point, without beating -about the bush.</p> - -<p>“Madame, you have taken my daughter away; I wish, I insist, that she -should remain with me. Keep your son; you can give him that name; but -ought I too to call him my son? Take that child, and give me back my -daughter. It will be no deprivation to you; besides, I will allow her to -go to see her mother whenever you wish. I trust, madame, that I shall -not be obliged to write to you a second time.”</p> - -<p>I signed this letter and sent it at once to the post; I was impatient to -have a reply.</p> - -<p>I could no longer attend to business, so I abandoned my profession. I -had enough to live on, now that I no longer proposed to keep house or to -receive company. But what should I do to employ the time, which is so -long when one suffers? I would return to my brushes; yes, I would -cultivate once more that consoling art; I would give myself up to it -entirely, and it would make my time pass happily. That idea pleased me; -it seemed to me like returning to my bachelor life. But for my children, -I would have left France and have travelled for<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> some time; but my -daughter was still too young for me to subject her to changes of climate -which might injure her health.</p> - -<p>Two days had not passed when I received a letter from Aubonne; it was -Eugénie’s reply. I trembled as I opened it.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“Monsieur, you are mistaken when you think that it would not be a great -deprivation to me not to have my daughter with me; I love her just as -dearly as you can possibly love her. As for your son, he is yours in -fact, monsieur. You know my frankness, so you can believe what I tell -you. Things will remain as they are; my daughter shall not leave me. -Appeal to the law if you wish; nothing will change my determination.</p> - -<p class="r">“E<small>UGÉNIE</small>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>I could hardly endure to read that letter. I was angry, furious. She had -dishonored me, she had made me unhappy, and she refused to give me back -my daughter! Ah! that woman had no pity, no delicacy of feeling! She -loved her daughter, she said; yes, as she had loved me; she defied me, -she told me to appeal to the law! Ah! if I could do it! if I had proofs -of her crime to produce! But no; even if I could, she knew very well -that I would not; that I did not propose that the courts should ring -with my complaints, that my name should never be mentioned in society -without being the subject of a jest. Yes, she knew me, and that is why -she had no fear. She declared that her son was mine and she expected me -to believe her word! No! I would never see that child again, I wanted -never to hear his name. But my daughter—ah! I neither could nor wished -to forget her.<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a></p> - -<p>For several days I was in a state of most intense excitement; I did not -know what to do, nor what course to adopt. Sometimes I determined to go -away, to leave France forever; but the thought of Henriette detained me; -sometimes I determined to go back into society, to have mistresses, to -pass my time with them, and to do my best to forget the past.</p> - -<p>A profound prostration succeeded to that feverish excitement of my -senses. I avoided society, I did not even go to Ernest’s, although he -had come several times to beg me to do so. Everything bored and tired -me; I cared for nothing except to be alone, to think of my daughter. I -hated and cursed her mother. Yes, I would go away, I would leave the -country. What detained me there? I had no idea.</p> - -<p>Several weeks passed, and I do not now know how I lived. I went out -early in order to avoid even Ernest’s visits, for I became more -misanthropical, more morose every day. I walked in solitary places, I -returned early, and always ordered my concierge to say that I was not at -home. My concierge was my servant also now; he took care of my -apartment, which was wretchedly kept.</p> - -<p>The house in which I was living suited me in many respects; it was -gloomy and dark, like most of the old houses in the Marais, and -contained but few tenants, I thought, for I never met anybody on the -stairs. I had one neighbor, however, with whom I would gladly have -dispensed; it was a man who lived in the attic rooms above my apartment, -the house having only three floors in all.</p> - -<p>That neighbor of mine was in the habit of beginning to sing as soon as -he got home, which was ordinarily between ten and eleven o’clock at -night; and I was forced to listen to his jovial refrains and drinking -songs until<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a> he was in bed and asleep. It annoyed me; not because it -prevented me from sleeping, for sleep never visited my eyes so early; -but it disturbed me in my thoughts, in my reflections. I was inclined -sometimes to complain to the concierge. But because I was unhappy, must -I prevent others from being light-hearted?</p> - -<p>For some days that music had become more unendurable than ever, because -my neighbor had taken to returning much earlier, and his songs often -began at eight o’clock. Although I never talked with my concierge, I -decided to ask him who the man was who was always singing.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” the concierge replied, “he’s a poor German, a tailor. I -don’t understand how he has the courage to sing, for he hasn’t a sou, -and apparently he never finds any work. That doesn’t surprise me, for he -is a drunkard and he works very badly. I gave him a pair of trousers, to -make a coat for my son; and it was very badly made, without fit or -style, and the patches all in front! I took my custom away from him. -However, he won’t trouble you long; as he doesn’t pay his rent, the -landlord has decided to give him notice.”</p> - -<p>I informed the concierge that I did not wish the man to be sent away; -but it seemed that the landlord cared for nothing but his rent. That -evening, about eight o’clock, I heard the tailor singing with all his -lungs; he executed trills and flourishes. Who would ever have believed -that the man had not a sou?</p> - -<p>I remembered the fable of the cobbler and the banker; suppose I should -go to my neighbor and give him money to keep silent? But perhaps that -would make him sing all the louder; for one could find few cobblers like -the one in the fable. However, I yielded to the idea of going to my -neighbor. If he was an obliging<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> person, perhaps he would consent to -sing not quite so loud. But I had little hope of it, for the Germans are -obstinate and they are fond of music. Never mind, I would go to see the -tailor none the less.</p> - -<p>I ascended the stairs which separated me from the attic. My neighbor’s -voice guided me to his door. The key was on the outside, but for all -that I knocked before opening the door.</p> - -<p>He continued to sing a passage from <i>Der Freischütz</i>, and did not reply; -thereupon I opened the door.</p> - -<p>I entered a room in which there was a mattress with a wretched coverlid -thrown over it, in one corner. A rickety chair, a few broken jars and a -long board which served doubtless as a table, but which was then -standing against the wall—that was all the furniture. Leaning on the -sill of the window, which was open, was a man, still young, whose -good-humored, bloated face was not unfamiliar to me. He was in his shirt -sleeves, and was seated after the manner of tailors, with his knees -outside the window, a position which made him likely to fall into the -courtyard at the slightest forward movement.</p> - -<p>On my arrival he stopped in the middle of a trill and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Hello! I thought it was the concierge to ask for money again. I should -have said to him: ‘prout, prout!’ Sit you down, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I sat down, for my neighbor seemed quite unceremonious; he had not -risen. I do not know whether he thought that I had come to hear him -sing; but he seemed inclined to resume his performance. I stopped him at -once.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, I am your neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! you are my neighbor, are you? Beside me or below?”</p> - -<p>“Below.<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! it’s a fact that on this floor there’s nobody but the cooks of -the house, all old women, unluckily. They don’t sing, they don’t make -love, they don’t know how to make anything but sauces,—reduced -consommés, as the one from the first floor says. For my part, I would -give all her consommés for a bottle of beaune. Ah! how delicious beaune -is! If I had any, I would give you some; but it is three days now that I -haven’t drunk anything but water. Prout, prout! I must make the best of -it.”</p> - -<p>While the tailor was talking, I examined him, because I was confident -that I had seen him somewhere before, but I could not remember where.</p> - -<p>“Have you come to order trousers or a coat?” continued my neighbor. “It -is just, the right time, for I have nothing to do, and I will make ‘em -up for you at once, and in the latest style, although that miserable -concierge presumed to complain of my skill. The idiot! he wanted me to -make a new coat for his son out of an old pair of breeches that had -already been turned three times.”</p> - -<p>“I have not come for a coat or a waistcoat, but to make a request of -you.”</p> - -<p>“A request?”</p> - -<p>“You sing a great deal, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! I have nothing else to do.”</p> - -<p>“You sing very well, certainly.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have some voice; we Germans are all musicians; it is born in -us.”</p> - -<p>“I know it; but do you think that for a person who works with his brain, -who is obliged to think, to reflect, it is very pleasant to hear someone -singing all the time?”</p> - -<p>“What has all that got to do with me?”</p> - -<p>“Look you, monsieur, I will come to the point; your singing -inconveniences and annoys me; and if you would<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> be obliging enough to -sing less, or not so loud, I would beg you to take this as a slight -token of my gratitude.”</p> - -<p>I had taken my purse from my pocket and I was looking about for -something to put it on, which was hard to find, unless I should put it -on the floor, when the tailor, who had abruptly left the window and -begun to dance about the room, strode toward me with a frown.</p> - -<p>“I say, monsieur from below, who don’t like music, do I look to you like -a man who asks alms? Who gave you leave to come to my room and insult -me? Has Pettermann ever been called a beggar?”</p> - -<p>“Pettermann!” I said, looking at him more carefully; “is your name -Pettermann?”</p> - -<p>“Schnick Pettermann, journeyman tailor from the age of fifteen. I have -never succeeded in getting to be a master tailor. It isn’t my fault. -Well, when will you finish staring me out of countenance?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know now; you used to live on Rue Meslay.”</p> - -<p>“I think so, but I have moved so often that I can hardly remember all -the rooms that I have occupied!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you remember that little room that you used to climb into so -often through the window in the roof, after breaking the glass, because -you had lost your key?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I remember now, there was a broad gutter; it was very convenient, I -used to walk on it.”</p> - -<p>“And that young neighbor of yours in whose room you used to light your -candle?”</p> - -<p>“Little Marguerite—ah, yes! I recognize you now. You were my neighbor’s -lover.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I was only her friend; but I used to go there often, and we -used to hear you come in. Ah! how happy I was in those days!”</p> - -<p>“You were happy when I broke the window? Did that amuse you?<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>”</p> - -<p>“It seems that I must always happen on something to remind me of that -time, although I try to avoid it. However, I am glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good, monsieur. That must be at least five years ago, more -than five years, in fact, and I wasn’t married then.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! have you been married since?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! don’t mention it! I don’t know what crazy idea came into my -head, I who never gave a thought to love, when one day—prout, -prout!—it took me like a longing to sneeze; I fancied that I was in -love with a young cook who had sometimes asked me the time, then for a -light; in short, trifling things which indicated a purpose to scrape an -acquaintance. Suzanne was very pretty; yes, she was a superb creature, -well put together; I will do justice to her physical charms. She had -saved twelve hundred francs by cheating her employers a little in -vegetables and butter. I said to myself: ‘That will be enough to set up -a nice little tailor’s shop, after the style of the Palais-Royal.’ I -offered my hand which she accepted, and we were married; I hired a shop -on Boulevard du Pont-aux-Choux, all went well for——”</p> - -<p>“For several months?”</p> - -<p>“Prout! you are very polite! For a few days, a week at most. After that -my wife complained that I was slow, that I talked too much, that I -drank. For my part, I claimed that she ought to do nothing but make -buttonholes. She refused to take hold of the buttonholes, and that made -me mad; I persisted, she was obstinate, and to make a long story short, -we fought! oh! we fought like prize fighters! and once we had got into -the habit of it, it was all over, we never missed a single day. Prout! -prout! morning and night! you should have seen how we hammered each -other!<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t it have been better to leave your wife?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure it would, and that is what I said to myself; one night when -my wife had almost torn off my left ear, I packed up my clothes and I -left her.”</p> - -<p>“Have you seen her since?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not such a fool. I have no desire to see her again, and for her -part I fancy that she isn’t anxious to see me. It’s all over now! To the -devil with love! Whether my wife dies or not, it’s all one to me; I -shall never marry again.”</p> - -<p>“You have no children?”</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose? As if we had time for that when we were always -fighting! And faith, I am glad that we hadn’t any; they would have been -left on my hands and I should have had to support the brats; and that -would be hard for a man who cannot feed himself every day.”</p> - -<p>“But your wife was faithful to you, at all events?”</p> - -<p>“Faithful? the devil! as if I paid any attention to that! In fact we -only lived together four months, and that didn’t make me rich! For some -time past I haven’t had any work at all, and a man’s fingers get stiff -doing nothing. But for all that, there’s no reason why you should come -here with your purse in your hand!”</p> - -<p>“Look you, Monsieur Pettermann, I have not made myself understood; I had -no intention of insulting you.”</p> - -<p>“I am not insulted, but——”</p> - -<p>“I was told that you were without work, and I simply proposed to give -you my custom.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that makes a difference! your custom, that’s all right.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t show you to-night what I want you to do; but I thought that -there would be no harm in offering you a little money in advance on what -you do for me. We<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a> have lived under the same roof before, and we know -each other; I should be very sorry to fall out with you.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, if you offer me that in advance for the clothes I may make -for you, that’s a very different thing. Give me what you choose; I will -take it and I will not charge you any more on account of it.”</p> - -<p>“All right; here is forty francs; we will settle up later.”</p> - -<p>“Forty francs; I will make you a nice coat and waistcoat and trousers -for that. And as for singing, if it disturbs you——”</p> - -<p>“No, sing on, Pettermann, sing on; now that I know that it’s you, it -won’t annoy me any more; I shall imagine that I am still living in my -old apartment.”</p> - -<p>I left the tailor, who could not make up his mind which pocket to put -his forty francs in, and I returned to my room. But neither that night, -nor during the next week, did I hear Pettermann sing, because he did not -come home until midnight, and because he was always drunk and went to -sleep as soon as he was in bed.</p> - -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br /><br /> -A MEETING.—DEPARTURE</h2> - -<p>My conversation with the tailor had quieted my thoughts; they were a -little less black, and I slept better; when we become depressed, we shun -all sorts of diversion, we avoid our friends, whose presence would -eventually allay our suffering. At such times we ought to be treated -like those invalids who are forced to take decoctions<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> which they refuse -to take, but which are essential to their cure.</p> - -<p>One morning I went to see Ernest, who had been to my rooms at least ten -times without finding me.</p> - -<p>His wife scolded me warmly for my behavior.</p> - -<p>“You avoid your true friends,” she said to me; “you live like a wolf! -that is perfectly absurd. Ought you to punish us for other people’s -faults? Your wife has chosen to keep her daughter—is that any reason -for you to despair? Can you not go to see her?”</p> - -<p>“Go to see her! oh! I have longed to do it a thousand times; but she is -with her mother; and I could not bear the sight of her.”</p> - -<p>“Her mother is not always with her,” said Ernest; “when she comes to -Paris, and that has happened quite often lately, she rarely brings her -daughter with her.”</p> - -<p>“What! Eugénie has come to Paris already? I did not believe that she -would dare to show herself here.”</p> - -<p>“You must remember that in society you are the one who is blamed. It is -you who have abandoned a lovely wife, whom you made wretched. I report -exactly what people say; it does not make you angry, does it?”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary, I am very glad to hear it. Go on, Ernest; tell me what -you have learned.”</p> - -<p>“After passing only a fortnight in the country, your wife returned to -Paris. She hired a handsome apartment on Rue d’Antin. She has been going -into society and has indulged in amusements of all sorts. She dresses -with the greatest elegance; she is seen at the theatre, at balls, and at -concerts. However, she returns often to the country, passes a few days -there, and then comes back here. The night before last I saw her at -Madame de Saint-Albin’s reception.”</p> - -<p>“You saw her?<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes; there were a great many people there. When I arrived, she was at a -card table. She was talking very loud, and laughing; attracted by her -loud voice, I walked in that direction. When she caught sight of me, my -eyes were fixed upon her; she turned hers away, and a great change came -over her face; her brow darkened, she stopped talking, and soon left the -table.”</p> - -<p>“Did you speak to her?”</p> - -<p>“No, I had no wish to; and for her part I think that she was no more -anxious than I, for she carefully avoided meeting my eyes. She went away -while I was still looking for her in the salon; I believe that my -presence was the cause of her going.”</p> - -<p>“Were not you at this reception, madame?” I asked Madame Ernest.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, Monsieur Henri! you know that people do not invite me; I am not -married.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that as she said this the little woman sighed and -glanced furtively at Ernest. After a moment she continued:</p> - -<p>“However, if I were married, I should not care any more about going into -society! The little that I have seen of it has not made me love it.”</p> - -<p>“My dear love,” said Ernest, “we should go into society as we go to the -theatre, not to please others but to enjoy ourselves; when the play is -tiresome, you are not compelled to stay to the end.”</p> - -<p>“And Monsieur Dulac?” I said after a moment; “you have not mentioned -him, Ernest. Don’t be afraid to tell me what you know. I suppose that he -is more devoted than ever to Madame Blémont.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken; he had no sooner recovered from his wound, and that -was not long ago, than he went on a journey; I am told that he has gone -to Italy.<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>”</p> - -<p>I confess that that news pleased me. And yet what did it matter to me -now whether it was Dulac or some other man who was attentive to Madame -Blémont, as I should have nothing more in common with that woman? Madame -Blémont! She still called herself so, Ernest assured me. I hoped that -she would have resumed her mother’s name. Was it not cruel to be unable -to take one’s name away from a woman who dishonored it? If Madame -Blémont should have other children, they too would bear my name and -would share my property. Was that justice? But divorce was prohibited, -because it was considered immoral! Oh! of course it is much more moral -to leave to a guilty wife the name of the husband whom she abandons, and -to strange children a title and property to which they have no right!</p> - -<p>And Ernest insisted that I should return to that circle where Madame -Blémont was welcomed and made much of; whereas they would consider that -they compromised themselves by inviting dear little Marguerite, who -loved her children, devoted herself to her family and made Ernest happy; -and why? because she was not married. Oh! that society, overflowing with -vices and absurd prejudices, disgusted me! I left it to Madame Blémont; -I did not propose to share anything with her thenceforth.</p> - -<p>I promised my friends to go often to see them. I had not yet made up my -mind what I would do; but I still intended to travel, to leave Paris, -especially since I knew that Madame Blémont had returned.</p> - -<p>My concierge informed me that a gentleman had called to see me for the -third time. From the description that he gave me I could not doubt that -it was Bélan, and I ordered the man always to tell him that I was out. -He also handed me a card upon which was the name of Giraud. Would those -people never leave me to myself?<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> Unluckily my business had made it -necessary for me to leave my address at my former apartment; but I -determined to settle all the cases which had been placed in my hands -with all possible speed, in order that I might leave Paris as soon as -possible.</p> - -<p>I spent a part of every day going about to my former clients, to whom I -restored their papers, on the pretext that my health compelled me to -abandon my profession. In my peregrinations I occasionally saw Bélan or -Giraud, but I always succeeded in avoiding them. I had just finished my -last business. I felt free once more, and was congratulating myself upon -being able to follow my inclinations, when, as I walked rapidly through -the Palais-Royal, I was stopped by Bélan. That time I had no opportunity -to avoid him.</p> - -<p>“Ah! I have caught you at last! Upon my word, I am in luck; where in the -devil have you been hiding, my dear friend? I have been to your -apartment a great many times, but you are always out.”</p> - -<p>“I have many matters to arrange, my dear Bélan, and at this moment I am -in a great hurry.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care for that, I don’t propose to let you go; I have too many -things to tell you. But I say, have you left your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we could not agree.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I said at once: ‘They did not agree.’ I admit that you are -generally blamed; you are looked upon as a jealous husband, a domestic -tyrant.”</p> - -<p>“People may say what they choose; it is quite indifferent to me.”</p> - -<p>“And you are right. As for myself, if I only could separate from my -mother-in-law! Great heaven! how happy I would be! But Armide refuses to -leave her mother, and the result is that I am constantly between two<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> -fires: when one is not picking a quarrel with me, the other is. To be -sure, I am perfectly at ease now concerning my wife’s fidelity. The -marquis no longer comes to see us; I don’t know why, but he has entirely -ceased his visits. As for Armide, she has become so crabbed, so sour; -mon Dieu! there are times when I think that I should prefer to be a -cuckold, and to have my wife amiable; and yet——”</p> - -<p>“Bélan, I am obliged to leave you.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! what’s your hurry? You are very lucky now, you are living as a -bachelor again; you are raising the deuce——”</p> - -<p>“I am giving my whole attention to settling up my business, and——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! playing the saint! I know you, you rake! faith! between -ourselves, I will tell you that I too have made a little acquaintance. -Look you, we men are not saints, and although one is married, one may -have weaknesses, moments of forgetfulness; indeed, that is quite -legitimate for us. But I have to take the greatest precautions, for if -my wife or my mother-in-law should surprise me——”</p> - -<p>“Adieu, Bélan. I wish you all the pleasure in the world.”</p> - -<p>“But where are you going so fast? I will go with you.”</p> - -<p>I was not at all anxious for the little man’s company; and to get rid of -him, I told him that I was going to the Bois de Boulogne. He clapped his -hands and cried:</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! how nicely it happens! That is just where I have arranged to -meet my little one—near the Château de Madrid. I never see her except -outside the barrier.”</p> - -<p>“But I have business in another direction.<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Never mind; we will take a cab and drive to the Bois together.”</p> - -<p>I could not refuse; it mattered little to me after all whether I went to -the Bois; I had plenty of time. And once there, I knew how to rid myself -of Bélan.</p> - -<p>We took a cab. On the way Bélan talked to me about his wife, his -mistress, his mother-in-law, and my duel with Dulac; which he believed -to be the result of our quarrel over the cards. I was careful not to -undeceive him.</p> - -<p>When we arrived at the Bois, Bélan insisted that I should go with him -and be introduced to his acquaintance. I assured him that somebody was -waiting for me too; but to satisfy him I agreed to meet him two hours -later at the Porte Maillot; and I determined not to be there.</p> - -<p>Bélan left me at last, and I entered a path opposite to that which he -had taken. The weather was fine; it was four o’clock and there were many -people, especially equestrians, in the Bois. I stood for several minutes -watching the young people who came there to display their costumes and -horses, and their skill in riding. There had been a time when I myself -enjoyed that pleasure; but now nothing of the sort had any temptation -for me.</p> - -<p>A cloud of dust announced the approach of a party. I thought that I -could see two women among the riders, and I stopped to look at them. The -cavalcade came up at a gallop and passed close to me. Having glanced at -one of the ladies, I turned my eyes upon the other. It was -Eugénie,—Eugénie, dressed in a stylish riding habit, and riding -gracefully a spirited horse. She almost brushed against me, her horse -covered me with dust and I was utterly unable to step back. I stood -there, so startled, so oppressed, that I had not the strength to walk.<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a></p> - -<p>The cavalcade was already far away, and my eyes were still following it; -I stood in the same spot, benumbed, motionless, with no eyes for -anything else. Other horsemen came up at a fast gallop. I did not hear -them. They called to me: “Look out!” but I did not stir. Suddenly I felt -a violent shock; I was thrown down upon the gravel, and a horse’s hoof -struck me in the head.</p> - -<p>My eyes closed and I lost consciousness. When I came to myself, I found -myself in one of the cafés at the entrance to the Bois. I saw many -people about me; among others, several young swells. One of them said to -me:</p> - -<p>“I am terribly distressed, monsieur; I am the cause of your accident. I -shouted to you, however; but my horse had too much impetus, and I could -not stop him.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is true,” observed a man who was holding my head; “I can -testify that monsieur shouted: ‘Look out!’ but why should anyone ride -like the wind? I shouted to you: ‘Stop!’ but prout! you didn’t stop.”</p> - -<p>I recognized Pettermann; it was he who was behind me. I accepted the -apology of the young cavalier and told him that I bore him no ill will. -I reassured him concerning my wound, although I felt very weak, for I -had lost much blood. Someone had sent for a carriage and I asked -Pettermann if he could go with me.</p> - -<p>“What’s that? can I!” replied the tailor; “why, if I couldn’t, I’d go -with you all the same. As if I would leave in this condition an -excellent neighbor of mine who paid me forty francs in advance! Prout! -you don’t know me!”</p> - -<p>They bandaged my head and helped me into the cab. Pettermann seated -himself opposite me and we returned to Paris.<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a></p> - -<p>On the way, my wound occupied my attention much less than the meeting I -had had. I asked Pettermann if he had not seen a woman riding past me -when they took me up and carried me away.</p> - -<p>“When you were thrown down,” said the tailor, “I was within thirty yards -of you. I was walking, loafing, I had nothing to do. However, I did go -to your room this morning, monsieur, to ask you for your cloth; but I -never find you in the morning and at night I can’t find your door.”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t what I asked you.”</p> - -<p>“True. Well, then, I was walking, and I had just noticed some ladies -pass on horseback. Prout! but they rode finely! Other horses came along -and I stepped to one side; and it was then that I saw you. They shouted: -‘Look out!’ I don’t know what you were looking at, but you didn’t move; -and yet I said to myself: ‘That gentleman isn’t deaf, for he heard me -sing well enough.’ Still the horses came on. I shouted ‘Look out!’ to -you myself, and I sung out to the riders to stop; but prout! you were -already on the ground, and with a famous scar! The young men stopped -then. I already had you in my arms. The man who knocked you down was in -despair, I must do him justice. We carried you to the nearest café; and -when I said that I was your neighbor and that I knew you, they sent for -a cab; and then you opened your eyes. But never mind! you got a rousing -kick!”</p> - -<p>“And while I was unconscious, you saw no other people near me? Those -ladies on horseback—did not one of them come back?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; there was no other lady near you except the one that -keeps the café; but she washed your head; oh! she didn’t spare the -water!<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>”</p> - -<p>I said no more. I was beginning to suffer terribly; the carriage made me -sick, my head was on fire and my brain in a whirl. At last we reached my -home. Pettermann and the concierge carried me upstairs, put me to bed, -and went to call a doctor. I had a violent fever; soon I was unable to -reply to the people about me; I did not know them.</p> - -<p>One evening I opened my heavy eyes and glanced about my room. It was -dimly lighted by a lamp. I saw Pettermann sitting at a table, with his -head resting on one of his hands, and his eyes fastened upon a watch -which he held in the other. I called him feebly; he heard me, uttered a -joyful cry, dropped the watch, and ran to my bed.</p> - -<p>“Ah! you are saved!” he cried as he embraced me. “The doctor said that -you would recover consciousness to-night, before nine o’clock. I was -counting the minutes; there are only five left and I was beginning to -doubt the doctor’s word. But you recognize me! <i>Sacredi</i>! you are -saved!”</p> - -<p>He embraced me again, and I felt tears upon my cheeks. So there were -still some people who loved me! That thought relieved me. I held out my -hand to that excellent man, pressed his hand, and motioned to him to sit -down beside me.</p> - -<p>“First of all,” he said to me, “you are going to drink this; it’s some -medicine ordered by the doctor, and you must do what he orders, since he -has cured you. I believe in doctors now.”</p> - -<p>I drank the potion; then Pettermann picked up the watch and put it to -his ear, saying:</p> - -<p>“It was your watch that I dropped on the floor, monsieur; but it hasn’t -even stopped. It’s like you, the spring is strong.<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>”</p> - -<p>He sat down and continued:</p> - -<p>“For five days now you’ve been there in bed, and in that time fever and -delirium have been playing a fine game with you! Your brain galloped -like the infernal horse that knocked you down. We tried in vain to calm -you; you called me Eugénie, you talked about nothing but Eugénie. -Sometimes you adored her, and the next minute you cursed her; so that -the concierge, who is a bit of a gossip, said that some woman named -Eugénie must have been playing tricks on you; and I replied: ‘You must -see that monsieur is delirious, and consequently he doesn’t know what he -is saying.’ In short, I don’t know whether I did right, monsieur, but -seeing you in that condition, and no one with you to nurse you, I -stationed myself here and I haven’t budged. The concierge undertook to -object, he wanted his niece, who is nine years old, to nurse you; but -prout! I didn’t listen to him, and I said: ‘I was the one who brought -monsieur home wounded, and I won’t leave him until he’s cured.’ If I did -wrong, I ask your pardon, and I will go away.”</p> - -<p>I offered my hand to Pettermann again.</p> - -<p>“Far from doing wrong, my friend, it is I who am deeply indebted to -you.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, monsieur, I owe you forty francs. But as soon as you get -your cloth——”</p> - -<p>“Let’s not talk about that.”</p> - -<p>“All right; besides, you mustn’t talk much, that’s another of the -doctor’s orders.”</p> - -<p>“Has anyone been to see me?”</p> - -<p>“Not a cat has entered the room except the doctor and the concierge.”</p> - -<p>Ernest and his wife could know nothing of my accident; otherwise I was -sure that they would have come to take care of me. So henceforth I could -have only<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a> strangers about me. Ah! if my mother had known—but I was -very glad that she had not been informed of the accident, which would -have frightened her. There were many other things too which she did not -know and which I would have been glad to conceal from her forever.</p> - -<p>I tried to rest, but Eugénie’s image often disturbed my sleep.</p> - -<p>It was she who was the cause of my being in that bed. It was impossible -that she should not have recognized me, for her horse passed close to -me; and she did not return! Had she heard the commotion caused by my -accident? That I did not know. While I shunned society as if I were -guilty, Eugénie was indulging in all forms of pleasure. She, who used to -mount a horse only in fear and trepidation, and to ride very quietly, -now rode through the Bois de Boulogne at a fast gallop and displayed the -rash courage of an experienced horseman! It still seemed to me that I -was dreaming, that I was delirious. Since the Eugénie of the old days no -longer existed, it seemed to me I must forget the new one, I must think -no more of the woman who had wrecked my life.</p> - -<p>I believed that, if I could embrace my little Henriette, I should be -entirely cured at once. I determined to go to see her before leaving -Paris, and to take her in my arms without her mother’s knowledge; and -even if her mother should know it, had I not the right to kiss my -daughter? I would be patient until then.</p> - -<p>The doctor came again to see me. He was a man whom I did not know; he -seemed abrupt and cold; he talked little, but he neither made a show of -his knowledge nor used long words to his patients. I like doctors of -that sort.<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a></p> - -<p>After a few days I was much better, and I began to recover my strength. -Pettermann was still in my room; he had told me to dismiss him as soon -as he annoyed me, and I had kept him. I had become accustomed to his -services and attentions. I could not doubt his attachment, for he had -given me proofs of it. One especially convincing proof was that he had -not drunk too much a single time since he had constituted himself my -nurse. It was not selfish interest that guided him, for by refusing my -purse when I went up to his room he had proved that he did not care for -money. I had noticed also that he was neither prying nor talkative.</p> - -<p>I indulged in all these reflections one evening as I lay upon a couch. -Pettermann was seated by the window; he said nothing, for he never tried -to converse when I did not speak to him. Sometimes we passed several -hours in succession without a word; that was another quality which I -liked in him.</p> - -<p>“Pettermann.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Are you very much attached to your tailor’s trade?”</p> - -<p>“Faith, monsieur, I have had so little work lately that I shall end by -forgetting my trade. And then, I may as well admit that I have never -been able to distinguish myself at it, and I am sick of it!”</p> - -<p>“As soon as I have fully recovered my strength, I propose to leave Paris -and travel, for a very long time perhaps. If I should suggest to you to -go with me, to remain with me, not as a servant, but as a confidential -friend and trusted companion, how would that suit you?”</p> - -<p>“Suit me! prout! that would suit me completely, monsieur. I will be your -groom, your valet, whatever you choose; for I am sure that you will -never treat me in a way to humiliate me.<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Of course not. But, Pettermann, you have one failing——”</p> - -<p>“I know what you mean; I get drunk. That is true; but it never happened -to me except when I had nothing to do. You will keep me busy, and that -will correct my habit of drinking. However, I don’t mean to swear to -give up wine entirely, for I should break my oath. If you take me with -you, you must allow me to get drunk once a month. I ask only that.”</p> - -<p>“Once a month, all right; but no more!”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a bargain! You will stay with me. You have nothing to keep you in -Paris?”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul, no, monsieur; I have nothing but my wife.”</p> - -<p>“We start in a few days; but I warn you that I intend to travel like an -artist, sometimes on foot, sometimes in a carriage; to defy the rain and -the sun when that is my pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur is joking. I am not a dainty woman; I will do whatever you -do.”</p> - -<p>“One word more: do you know my name?”</p> - -<p>“I have heard the concierge mention it once; I don’t remember it, -but——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t try to remember it. I mean to assume another under which I intend -to travel. I shall call myself after this, Dalbreuse, and I do not wish -to be called anything else.”</p> - -<p>“That is enough, monsieur; you understand that I will call you whatever -you please. So I have a profession at last. I have no further need to -try to get waistcoats and breeches to make! The deuce take sewing! And -then too I am very glad not to have to leave monsieur.<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>”</p> - -<p>Pettermann’s delight pleased me. I was very glad to have someone in my -service who had not known me during my married life.</p> - -<p>On the day following this agreement, Ernest entered my room, ran to me -and embraced me.</p> - -<p>“Do you know that I have been near death?” I asked him.</p> - -<p>“I have just learned it from your concierge. Ungrateful man! not to send -us any word! Is that the way that a man should treat his friends?”</p> - -<p>“My dear Ernest, when I was in condition to send you word, I was out of -danger; then I preferred to wait until I was entirely well, in order -that I might come and tell you myself.”</p> - -<p>“But what was this accident that happened to you?”</p> - -<p>I told Ernest the whole story; I did not conceal from him that I was -knocked down because I had gazed too long after Eugénie. Ernest was -indignant at my weakness, and he started to scold me.</p> - -<p>“My friend,” I said, “you will have no further cause for such -reproaches; to prove it, I refuse from this instant to hear my wife -mentioned. You will promise never to mention her name again, will you -not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I shall not be the one to break that promise!”</p> - -<p>“Besides, I am going to leave you, for a long time perhaps. I am going -to travel.”</p> - -<p>“Despite my grief at being separated from you, I can only approve this -plan. Change of scene will do you good. But are you going alone?”</p> - -<p>“No, I have found a faithful companion; that man who left the room when -you came in. You did not recognize him, did you? It is that poor -journeyman tailor who lived in the attic room near your dear Marguerite, -and who used to get into his room by breaking the window.<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Is it possible? And that man——”</p> - -<p>“Did not leave me for one minute while my life was in danger. And yet I -was a mere stranger to him. He is to travel with me, he will go wherever -I go.”</p> - -<p>“I am very glad to know that you will have some devoted friend with -you.”</p> - -<p>“Here, my friend, take this memorandum book.”</p> - -<p>“What shall I do with it?”</p> - -<p>“It contains the portrait of the woman whom I used to call my wife. I -must not keep it any longer. Later, if you choose, you may give the book -to—to her son.”</p> - -<p>“Her son? But, Blémont, he is your son too. Are you not going to see him -before you go away?”</p> - -<p>“No, the sight of him is too painful to me. I have told you all that I -thought,—all my torments. I shall never see that child again.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Blémont, are you not wrong? Is that child responsible for his -mother’s wrongdoing?”</p> - -<p>“It is possible that I am unjust; why did she give me a right to be? I -entrust you to look after everything that concerns him, and to put him -at school when he reaches the proper age. I will give you a letter to my -notary, instructing him to supply you with money whenever you need it. -Forgive me, my friend, for all the trouble I cause you.”</p> - -<p>“Do not speak of trouble. But consider that that child——”</p> - -<p>“Not another word about him, I beg you. I propose to try to banish from -my memory those persons whom I am forced to banish from my heart. By the -way, you must cease to call me Blémont, too; from this moment I lay -aside that name and assume the name of Dalbreuse. So that is the name -under which you must write to me, Ernest; for I trust that you will -write to me, my friend.<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to be sure; but I trust that you will not stay away from us a -century. There will come a time, my dear Henri, when you will be able to -live in Paris and to meet the—the person whom you avoid now, without -its producing too serious an effect upon you.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so. Meanwhile, I shall go away; I propose to visit Switzerland, -the Alps, the Pyrenees, Italy—no, I shall not go to Italy. But I shall -stop wherever I find that I enjoy myself. I shall try to paint some -lovely views, some attractive landscapes.”</p> - -<p>“Above all things, paint some portraits of beautiful women; they will -distract you better than anything else. But when are you going? You must -wait until you are perfectly well.”</p> - -<p>“I flatter myself that in a week I shall not feel my wound; meantime, -you will see me often; I am to be allowed to go out to-morrow, and I -will go to your house.”</p> - -<p>Ernest took his leave and I made arrangements for my journey. Ernest -would let my apartment all furnished during my absence, and I left him -in full charge of everything. I had but one wish, that was to be far -away from Paris; but first I absolutely must see and embrace my -daughter.</p> - -<p>At last I was able to leave my room. I purchased two horses, for I -proposed to travel by short stages as long as it amused me. Then I went -to see my mother; I trembled lest she should have learned that I was no -longer living with my wife. She did know it, in fact; some kind friends -had not failed to inform her that I had separated from Eugénie; but she -thought that it was nothing more than a quarrel which had caused the -rupture. She proposed her mediation to reconcile us, for she also -believed that it was I who was in the wrong; and she preached me a -sermon.<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a></p> - -<p>I thanked my mother and told her of my approaching departure, which I -said was due to important business. She hoped that at my return -everything would be forgotten between my wife and myself; I encouraged -her in that hope and bade her adieu. I was very certain that she would -not go to see my wife, for that would disturb her habits.</p> - -<p>I gave to Ernest and his companion all the time that remained before my -departure. They were sorry to lose me, and yet they were glad that I was -going; it was the same with myself. I urged them to send me news of my -daughter; in leaving her I was separating from a part of myself, but if -I remained I should not see her any more. I made them swear that when -they wrote to me they would never mention Madame Blémont. Finally, one -night I embraced Ernest and Marguerite and their children -affectionately; I was to start early next morning.</p> - -<p>Pettermann had long been ready. He told me that he was an excellent -rider. We had a good horse each, and at six o’clock we left Paris. My -comrade was very glad to be on the road; he hummed a refrain from the -<i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, which he had not done since my illness.</p> - -<p>I started in the direction of Montmorency, for Aubonne is in that -neighborhood, and I proposed to go there to see my daughter. During the -past few days I had made inquiries concerning Madame Blémont at her -house on Rue d’Antin. In Paris, by the use of money, one may learn -whatever one desires. The result of my inquiries was that Madame Blémont -was now at Paris, and that her daughter was not with her. So that -Henriette was in the country without her mother; I could not hope to -find a more favorable moment to see my daughter.</p> - -<p>We rode through Montmorency and arrived at Aubonne. Pettermann rode -behind without once asking<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> where we were going, and his discretion -gratified me. When we came in sight of the first houses of Aubonne, I -said to him:</p> - -<p>“I have business here, Pettermann; I have to see someone who is very -dear to me.”</p> - -<p>“Whatever you please, monsieur; it looks to be a pleasant place.”</p> - -<p>“First of all, you must inquire where Madame Rennebaut lives; she is an -old lady who owns a house in this neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“Madame Rennebaut? All right; I will ask the first baker that I see. -Perhaps there’s only one in the village, and Madame Rennebaut must -necessarily trade with him. Wait here for me, monsieur, I will soon be -back.”</p> - -<p>I let Pettermann go; I was then on the summit of a hill from which I -could see several country houses nearby; I had stopped my horse and my -eyes strove to look inside those houses, to find my Henriette; the hope -that I should soon see and embrace my child made my heart beat faster.</p> - -<p>Pettermann returned.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, I have found out about Madame Rennebaut: she is an old widow -lady, very rich and with no children, who keeps a gardener, a cook and a -maid.”</p> - -<p>“And her house?”</p> - -<p>“It is at the other end of the village; if we take this road to the -pond, then turn to the left, we shall see the house in front of us. It -is a fine house with an iron fence in front of it, and a garden with a -terrace, from which there is a splendid view.”</p> - -<p>“Let us go on, Pettermann.”</p> - -<p>We followed the road that had been pointed out to him. As I knew that -Madame Blémont was at Paris, I had no hesitation about calling at Madame -Rennebaut’s house; I did not know what Eugénie might have told her, but -I<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> would ask to see my daughter, and I could not believe that they would -deny me that satisfaction.</p> - -<p>We had passed the pond and were on a sort of path with the fields on one -side, leading to the lovely valley of Montmorency.</p> - -<p>I spied the house that had been described to us; I urged my horse, and -we were already skirting the garden wall, when I saw a woman walking on -the terrace which ran along the wall on that side, leading a little girl -by the hand.</p> - -<p>I recognized the woman and the little girl at once; and, instantly -turning my horse about, I rode into the fields and away from the house -as rapidly as we had approached.</p> - -<p>I did not stop until several clumps of trees concealed me from the -house. Eugénie was there; therefore my informant must have been misled, -or perhaps she had returned the night before. However that might be, she -was there and I could not go to that house; her presence debarred me; -perhaps she would think it was she whom I wished to see. I should be too -humiliated if she should have such a thought.</p> - -<p>However, I did not wish to go away without embracing my daughter. I did -not know what to do. Pettermann had followed me closely, and was right -behind me; but he waited and said nothing. I dismounted, and he was -about to do the same.</p> - -<p>“No,” I said, “remain in the saddle and hold my horse; we shall go away -again soon. Wait for me behind these trees.”</p> - -<p>I left him and walked toward the house, taking a roundabout way in order -to avoid being seen by the persons on the terrace; I was certain that -they had not seen me before, for they were not looking in my direction. -At last I reached the garden where I had seen them; a<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a> hedge concealed -me. I saw the edge of the terrace, but I could not look into the garden. -There was a walnut tree within a few feet of me; I looked about to see -if anyone was observing me, and in a few seconds I was in the tree. From -there I could look into the garden easily and had no fear of being seen.</p> - -<p>There they were; they were coming in my direction from a path where they -had been out of my sight. Henriette ran about playing. Her mother walked -slowly, her eyes often on the ground, or gazing listlessly about. Ah! -how much lovelier than ever my daughter appeared to me! How happy I was -when she turned her head in my direction!</p> - -<p>They drew near. The mother sat down on a bench near the corner of the -wall. She had a book, but she placed it by her side and did not read. -Why did she not read? Of what was she thinking? She did not talk with -her daughter; her brow was careworn and her eyes were heavy. Was she -already weary of dissipation?</p> - -<p>Henriette ran to her and offered her some flowers which she had just -plucked. She took her daughter between her knees, gazed at her, and -suddenly kissed her several times in a sort of frenzy, then released her -and relapsed into a reverie.</p> - -<p>Never had she embraced her daughter like that in my presence; was it -that she was afraid of pleasing me by allowing me to witness the -caresses which she bestowed upon our child?</p> - -<p>Nearly an hour passed. She was still there, sitting on the bench, not -reading, from time to time glancing at her daughter, who was playing on -the terrace. And I gave no thought to the passing of time, to poor -Pettermann who was waiting for me; I could not turn my eyes away from -that garden.<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a></p> - -<p>Suddenly, as she ran toward her mother, Henriette made a false step and -fell on her face. I uttered a cry simultaneously with Eugénie. She ran -to the child, lifted her up and kissed her; the little one cried a -little, but soon became calm and smiled, and I heard her say:</p> - -<p>“It isn’t anything, mamma.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon Eugénie looked about in every direction. Still holding her -daughter in her arms, she walked to the edge of the terrace and looked -out upon the road. I heard her say to her daughter:</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t you who cried when you fell, was it?”</p> - -<p>“No, mamma.”</p> - -<p>“Who was it then?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, mamma.”</p> - -<p>“Is your nurse in the garden?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“But no; it wasn’t the nurse who cried out in that way.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes were still searching; she looked in every direction, and I -dared not stir; I was afraid to move a leaf; but in a moment she said:</p> - -<p>“Let us go in, Henriette.”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather stay in the garden.”</p> - -<p>“But if you should fall again——”</p> - -<p>“No, I won’t run any more; I will play quietly.”</p> - -<p>She walked away, and my daughter remained behind. I wondered if I might -take advantage of that moment. But the wall was rather high; how could I -get to her? Ah! by mounting my horse, I could do it perhaps.</p> - -<p>I climbed down from my tree, and ran back to Pettermann, who was still -in the saddle; I mounted my horse and motioned to my companion to follow -me. In a moment I was beside the garden wall again. I stood on my horse, -reached the top of the wall, jumped, and in<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> a moment was on the -terrace, leaving Pettermann staring at me with amazement, but without -uttering a word.</p> - -<p>I walked a few steps into the garden; I saw my daughter, I ran to her, -took her in my arms and covered her with kisses before she had time to -recognize me; at last she was able to look at me and she cried joyfully:</p> - -<p>“It is papa! my little papa! you have come back, haven’t you? I keep -asking mamma every day if you are coming back.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush, my child; come this way, on the terrace; I don’t want to be -seen from the house.”</p> - -<p>“Wait; I will go and call mamma.”</p> - -<p>“No, no; don’t go; stay with me, don’t leave me; it is so long since I -have kissed you, dear child! Do you think of me sometimes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, papa, I longed so for you.”</p> - -<p>“You longed to see me? And your mother, what does she say when you ask -her about me?”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t say anything; she just says: ‘That will do; don’t mention -your papa.’”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t want you to think of me, she wants you to forget me!”</p> - -<p>“And yet she talks about you all day.”</p> - -<p>“Your mother?”</p> - -<p>“Let me go and tell mamma that you are here.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear love, I haven’t time to speak to her now. I must leave you -too, for a very long time perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“What? are you going away again? Oh! stay with us, papa, don’t go away!”</p> - -<p>Poor child! I should have been so glad to stay with her. I sat down on -the bench where her mother had sat just before, I took her in my lap and -threw my arms about her. For a moment I had an idea of taking her with -me, of stealing her from Eugénie; but the dear child could<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> not travel -with me, and perhaps she would cry for her mother every day in my arms; -for a child can do without her father much better than without her who -gave birth to her. No, I must leave her with her mother; it was much -better that I should be the one to suffer and to be unhappy.</p> - -<p>These reflections made my heart ache; I sighed as I held my little -Henriette in my arms; she gazed at me, and, seeing that I was sad, she -dared not smile. Poor child! and I had thought of taking you with me! -No, in my arms you would too often lose that lightness of heart which is -the only treasure of your age.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I heard a voice calling:</p> - -<p>“Henriette, Henriette, aren’t you coming?”</p> - -<p>“Here I am, mamma,” cried the child. I sprang to my feet, placed her on -the ground, kissed her several times, and ran away.</p> - -<p>“Why, papa, wait, here comes mamma.”</p> - -<p>Those words gave me wings; I reached the wall, I dropped on the other -side, then I ran to Pettermann, leaped on my horse, and shouted:</p> - -<p>“Gallop! gallop!”</p> - -<p>We both urged our horses and were already far away from Aubonne before I -dared to turn, for fear of seeing her on the terrace.<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX<br /><br /> -MONT-D’OR</h2> - -<p>Two years had passed since I left Paris. Accompanied by my faithful -Pettermann, I had travelled all over Spain; the memory of Gil Blas made -my sojourn there more delightful; I looked for him at the inns, and on -the public promenades; and more than once, when a beggar threw his hat -at my feet, I looked to see if he were not taking aim at me with a -carbine. The scullery maids and the mule drivers reminded me also of Don -Quixote and his facetious squire; I would have liked to meet them riding -in search of adventures. All honor to the poets who depict their heroes -so vividly that one becomes convinced that they have really existed. Gil -Blas and Don Quixote are only imaginary characters, and yet we sometimes -fancy that we recognize them; we look for them in the country where the -author has placed them. They must be very lifelike therefore, those -pages of the novelist, since we attribute life to them, and they become -engraved in our memories. For my own part, I know that it would be -impossible for me to visit the mountains of Scotland without recalling -Rob Roy; to visit Mauritius, without talking of Paul and Virginia; and -to visit Italy without thinking of Corinne.</p> - -<p>I crossed the Pyrenees, but the idea of seeing Switzerland occurred to -me, and we left France again. My depression had vanished, I was no -longer morose and taciturn as when I left home; Pettermann too had -resumed<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a> his habit of singing. We had travelled on horseback for some -time; then I sold our steeds and we went through a large part of -Andalusia on foot; after that, public conveyances or hired post-chaises -carried us to other places. It was by diversifying thus our random -journeyings, that I triumphed over the trouble that was consuming me; -and it was not an easy matter. In truth, there was still a tinge of -bitterness in my smile, and I concluded that that was something of which -I could never rid myself.</p> - -<p>In the different countries I had visited, I had seen many husbands who -were in my position and who worried little about it. Some, jealous -through self-esteem, were themselves unfaithful and tyrannized over -their wives; others, pretending to be philosophical, treated very badly -in private the wives whom in society they seemed to leave entirely at -liberty. Many of them closed their eyes, and the great majority believed -themselves too shrewd to be betrayed. But I had seen very few who really -loved their wives, and who deserved by their attentions and their -conduct that those ladies should be true to them.</p> - -<p>I had had some love-affairs, but I had not lost my heart. I believed it -to be no longer susceptible to love; it had been too cruelly lacerated. -My heart was like an invalid with whom I was travelling; it was still -weak, and it dreaded violent emotions.</p> - -<p>Pettermann gave little thought to the other sex, and I was very glad of -it for his sake; but he did not forget the promise I had given him, and -he got completely drunk once every month. The rest of the time he drank -moderately. I had had no reason to complain of him since he had entered -my service. His disposition was equable and cheerful; he sang when he -saw that I was<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a> in good humor, he held his peace when I was pensive. But -never a question, never an inquisitive word; he did not once mention -Aubonne, where he had seen me scale the wall. I had every reason to -think that he believed me a bachelor.</p> - -<p>During the first year of my absence, I received letters from Ernest -quite frequently, and I wrote to him whenever I sojourned for any length -of time in one place. Faithful to the promise he had given me, he had -abstained from mentioning her whom I hoped to forget entirely. He wrote -me about my daughter and little Eugène; he said that my Henriette was as -fascinating as ever; he had seen her several times. Did that mean that -he had been to her mother’s house? That was something that I did not -know. Ah! how I longed to see my daughter again, and to embrace her! It -was for her that I had determined to return to Paris; I would hold her -in my arms just once, and then I would set out on my travels again; I -should have laid in a store of happiness which would last for some time. -As for my—as for little Eugène, I could not think of that child without -reviving all my suffering. I should have taken such pleasure in loving -my son, in dividing my affection between him and his sister! and that -happiness I was destined never to enjoy! Poor Eugène! what a melancholy -future for him!</p> - -<p>The last letters which I had received from Ernest had seemed to me -different from the first ones; the style was no longer the same, and I -detected embarrassment and reticence in them. In the last of all, I had -noticed this sentence:</p> - -<p>“There has been a great change here of late, my friend; you would not -recognize the person from whom you fled. I dare not say more for fear of -breaking my promise and<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> being scolded. But come back soon, my dear -Henri; your children long to see you and your friends to embrace you.”</p> - -<p>My children—he persisted in saying my children. But I had only one. As -for the change that he mentioned, what did it matter to me? Did he want -to arouse my interest in that woman? No, I could not believe that. I did -not mention the subject in my reply.</p> - -<p>I was anxious, before returning to Paris, to see Auvergne, that -mountainous and picturesque province, the Scotland of France, which -those Frenchmen who rave over cliffs and glaciers and precipices would -visit oftener if it were not so near them. We admire only what is at a -distance; our only ambition is to see Scotland and Italy, and we do not -give a thought to Auvergne, Bretagne, and Touraine.</p> - -<p>I had visited Talende, with its lovely streams, La Roche Blanche, and -the Puy-de-Dôme. Sometimes, when I was enchanted by a beautiful spot, I -would turn to Pettermann and say:</p> - -<p>“What do you think of this?”</p> - -<p>But Pettermann was no painter; I never detected any enthusiasm on his -face; he would shake his head and reply coldly:</p> - -<p>“It is very pretty; but prout! it doesn’t come up to the views in -Munich.”</p> - -<p>Munich was his home. There was one man at least who honored his own -country.</p> - -<p>As we passed near Mont-d’Or, I determined to go there to taste the -waters, and to see the little town to which so many invalids and -sightseers resort, and, generally speaking, those people who do not know -what to do with their time.</p> - -<p>I took rooms at the best hotel in the place. I found a large number of -guests there; many foreigners, especially<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a> Englishmen, but many -Frenchmen too, notably those <i>chevaliers d’industrie</i>, men with refined -manners, who are seen in Paris at routs and large receptions, and who go -to Mont-d’Or solely to gamble; for there is much gambling at those -watering places; and often a traveller who arrives in a handsome -carriage with liveried servants, goes away on foot and unattended, as a -result of yielding to the passion for play.</p> - -<p>I did not play cards; but there were also dancing and musical parties. -Music no longer had any attractions for me, and the sound of a piano -made me ill; I did not dance, either; so that I must needs try to pass -my time in conversation. Among the visitors with whom I was thrown every -day, I could not help noticing a young lady from Paris who seemed to be -about twenty-five years old. She was pretty, and was too well aware of -the fact, perhaps; but there was in her coquetry a flavor of frankness -and amiability which seemed to say: “I am a flirt but I can’t help it; -you must overlook my faults and take me as I am, for I shall never -change.”</p> - -<p>Her name was Caroline Derbin. At first I thought that she was married or -a widow, for her manner and her decided tone did not suggest a -<i>demoiselle</i>; she was unmarried, however; she was said to be rich and -already in control of her property. Rich, pretty and still -unmarried,—it was probable that it was her own choice.</p> - -<p>She was with her uncle, one Monsieur Roquencourt; he was a little, thin -man, about sixty years of age, but alert and jovial. His little eyes -gleamed when he was ogling a lady. He was well-bred, gallant, and -attentive to the fair sex; a little inclined to loquacity; but we may -well leave liberty of speech to those who have nothing else. Moreover, -he was most devoted to his niece, whose lightest wish was law to him.<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a></p> - -<p>Although Caroline was coquettish and tried to attract, at all events she -had neither the peevishness nor the affectation of a <i>petite-maîtresse</i>. -One became acquainted with her very quickly, and was soon on most -friendly terms with her. Did that unreserve speak in favor of her virtue -and her principles? That was a question that I could not answer. I had -determined not to judge by appearances again. Of what account to me were -her coquetry and her heedlessness? I did not propose to marry her or to -make love to her. Her company pleased and amused me, and that was -enough.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt liked to talk, and I was a good listener; a talent, -or patience, which is more rare than one would think. I soon became his -favorite companion.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Dalbreuse,” he said to me on the day after my arrival at -Mont-d’Or, “just fancy that I had no idea of coming here to take the -waters. In the first place, I am not sick; but it occurred to my niece -that she would like to see Mont-d’Or, and crac! we had to start. I -remember being at Plombières thirty-five years ago, with the famous -Lekain. Did you know Lekain?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not, you were too young. I acted in Lekain’s presence the -part of Crispin, in <i>Les Folies Amoureuses</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you have acted, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Because I enjoyed it,—with amateurs. Oh! I was mad over acting. I had -a complete wardrobe. I still have several costumes in Paris; I used to -play the upper servants.”</p> - -<p>“And your niece?”</p> - -<p>“My niece? oh, no! she declares that she could not act well. As I was -saying, I played before Lekain; it was a party hastily arranged at a -contractor’s country house.<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> We had a pretty little theatre, on my word, -and Mademoiselle Contat was there and acted with us. Did you know -Mademoiselle Contat?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you haven’t seen anything, monsieur! Such talent! such soul! and -such a face! One day—I forget what play it was in; wait, I believe that -it was <i>Tartufe</i>. No, it wasn’t <i>Tartufe</i>.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt’s niece joined us at that moment, which fact I in -no wise regretted. She took her uncle’s arm and said:</p> - -<p>“This is the time for our drive; the weather is superb. Come, uncle, you -can talk of plays another time. Are you coming with us, Monsieur -Dalbreuse?”</p> - -<p>She asked me that as if we had known each other for years. I admit that -I liked her manner; I have always been susceptible to anything which -resembles sincerity or frankness; moreover, it mattered little to me -then whether I was mistaken or not.</p> - -<p>I went to drive with Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece. A pretty -calèche was awaiting them at the door. I noticed that the male visitors, -as they bowed to Caroline, gazed at me with an envious eye as I took my -seat opposite her in the carriage. I could understand that a charming -woman of twenty-five, who had her own carriage, was likely to make -numerous conquests everywhere. Some were in love with the woman, and -others with the carriage. But I, who coveted neither, took my seat with -the utmost tranquillity opposite Mademoiselle Derbin, and enjoyed the -drive at leisure, because I was not occupied in making eyes at my -vis-à-vis.</p> - -<p>At times, Mademoiselle Derbin raved over the landscape; then, all of a -sudden, she would begin to laugh at the costume of a water-drinker who -passed us. While<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> laughing at her remarks, I pretended to be listening -attentively to her uncle, who described the effect he had produced -playing Mascarille before Molé.</p> - -<p>The drive seemed short to me. We returned to the hotel, and in the -evening we met again in the salon. I amused myself watching Mademoiselle -Derbin. In company she was more coquettish and therefore less agreeable -than in private. As I was not paying court to her, I discreetly walked -away when I saw a number of adorers coming her way. So that, as a result -of that eccentricity which is not uncommon in women, Mademoiselle Derbin -seemed to seek my company, and often came to my side.</p> - -<p>“You do not dance?” she asked me toward the end of the evening.</p> - -<p>“No, I no longer care for dancing.”</p> - -<p>“And you do not play cards?”</p> - -<p>“They play for very high stakes here. I have an income which is -sufficient for my needs; I do not care to endanger it with men who would -consider it the most natural thing in the world to rob me of it.”</p> - -<p>“You are a wise man!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!”</p> - -<p>“And you have no love-affairs here?”</p> - -<p>“Do you think then that one must absolutely have love-affairs when one -goes to a watering-place?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say that, but I think you are a most original person.”</p> - -<p>“Original? no, I assure you that there are many men like me.”</p> - -<p>She left me, after glancing at me with a singular expression. Did she -desire to number me among her numerous conquests? It was possible; what -she had just said to me might give me a poor idea of her virtue. An -unmarried woman who considers it strange that a man<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> has no -love-affairs! And yet, I preferred to think that that was simply due to -her original character.</p> - -<p>I had been a fortnight at Mont-d’Or, and I had intended to pass only one -week there. But I was enjoying myself; the company was agreeable; -however, if Caroline and her uncle had not been there, I should have -gone away; I was becoming accustomed to their society. There was nothing -to do there but converse, so that we were together almost all day. I was -not making love to Caroline, but she was very pretty; her black eyes -alternated in expression between gentleness and mischief. Although one -be not in love, there is always a charm attached to the presence of a -pretty woman; it was probably that charm which detained me.</p> - -<p>There was not a ball or a concert in the assembly room every day; when -there was none, we remained at the hotel, and those guests who were -congenial met in the salon in the evening. Some played cards, but the -greater number conversed. There were some titled persons, and they were -not the most agreeable; but we left them to bore one another in their -corner, and we chatted with the clever artist, who always had a store of -amusing anecdotes in reserve, or with the lady’s man, who told us of his -latest adventures. In that circle, Monsieur Roquencourt was not among -those who talked least. If anyone mentioned a city, he had acted there; -if anyone mentioned a famous personage, he had known an actor who had -mimicked him to perfection, and he would proceed to give us a specimen.</p> - -<p>I enjoyed listening; but I talked very little, and in what I did say, I -did not mention myself. Caroline, who, for all her frivolous and -coquettish air, observed very closely everything that took place in the -salon, said to me one day:<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a></p> - -<p>“Monsieur Dalbreuse, everybody here tells us his or her own experiences; -you alone have kept silent thus far. Why is it?”</p> - -<p>“Presumably, I have none to relate, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Or that you don’t choose to relate them. However, you are your own -master. For my part, I tell everything that concerns me, because -hitherto I have had nothing to keep secret. I am an orphan; my father, -who was an army contractor, left me twenty-five thousand francs a year. -I live with Monsieur Roquencourt, my mother’s brother and my guardian; -and he lets me do just as I choose, because he knows that I have been -accustomed to that from my childhood. That is my whole history, and you -know me as well now as if we had been brought up together.”</p> - -<p>She thought perhaps that her confidence would provoke mine; but I -replied simply:</p> - -<p>“How does it happen that, being as rich and lovely as you are, you have -never married?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I was certain that you would ask me that question; I am asked it so -often! Bless my soul! monsieur, is there such a terrible hurry about -being married, and placing myself under the control of a man who perhaps -would not let me do as I wished? I am so happy with my uncle and he is -so good, especially when he doesn’t talk about his Crispins and his -Lafleurs! really, I tremble at the thought of losing my liberty; and -then, I tell you frankly, I have never yet met any man who deserved that -I should sacrifice so much to him.”</p> - -<p>“You are happy, mademoiselle; believe me, you are very wise to remain -so; do not risk the repose of your whole life by binding yourself to -someone by whom you think that you are loved, and who will betray you in -the most dastardly way! No, do not marry.<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>”</p> - -<p>Caroline gazed at me in amazement; she was silent for a few moments, -then she began to laugh, saying:</p> - -<p>“You are the first person who ever talked to me like that; I was right -in thinking that you did not resemble the rest of the world.”</p> - -<p>On the day following this conversation, after listening, and laughing -heartily the while, to the gallant remarks of a number of young men, -Mademoiselle Derbin came, as she was accustomed to do, to the window -from which I was gazing at the landscape which stretched out before us.</p> - -<p>“Always admiring these mountains, are you not, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle; I consider this region very interesting.”</p> - -<p>“Are you a painter, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle; I paint a little, however, but simply as an amateur.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you paint? in what line?”</p> - -<p>“Miniatures.”</p> - -<p>“Do you paint portraits?”</p> - -<p>“I have tried it occasionally.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it would be awfully good of you to paint mine. We have a great deal -of time to ourselves here. I will give you sittings as often as you -choose. I have been painted many times, but I have never thought the -likeness good. Will you do it, Monsieur Dalbreuse?”</p> - -<p>How can you refuse a lovely woman when she addresses a request to you, -with her charming eyes fixed upon yours? Indeed, I had no reason for -refusing what she asked.</p> - -<p>“I will paint your portrait, mademoiselle, but I do not flatter myself -that I shall be more fortunate than those who have done it before.<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! perhaps you will; at all events, what does it matter? It will amuse -us, and occupy the time. When shall we begin?”</p> - -<p>“Whenever you choose.”</p> - -<p>“Right away then; we will have a sitting in my uncle’s room; but I must -have my hair dressed first, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“No, I prefer to paint you as you are, and not in a ball dress; do not -make any preparations at all.”</p> - -<p>“As you choose.”</p> - -<p>“I will go for my box of colors.”</p> - -<p>“And I will go to tell my uncle. Oh! it is awfully good of you.”</p> - -<p>On going to my room, I found Pettermann humming a tune as he brushed my -clothes, which he was always careful to look over to see if there were -any buttons missing, or any holes in the pockets; and he always repaired -the damage.</p> - -<p>“Is monsieur going to paint?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Pettermann; and I fancy that we shall stay here a few days longer. -You are not bored here, I hope?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, I am never bored anywhere, myself; besides, the wine is -good here. By the way, what day of the month is it?”</p> - -<p>“The seventeenth.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! only the seventeenth! this month is very long!”</p> - -<p>I guessed why he asked me the question, and I said to him:</p> - -<p>“As you consider the wine good here, as I am enjoying myself, and as it -is fair that you should do the same, act as if it were the end of the -month.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! a bargain is sacred, monsieur. Since I have been with you, I -have learned to respect myself; and if I do get drunk once a month -still, it is because<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a> I should be sick if I should stop drinking -entirely. But never mind; if the wine is good here, the women are -terribly inquisitive! prout!”</p> - -<p>“The women are inquisitive? How do you know that?”</p> - -<p>“Because these last few days they have done nothing but hang round me to -try to make me talk.”</p> - -<p>“Who, pray?”</p> - -<p>“At first it was the landlady and the servants in the inn; but when they -found that that didn’t work, there was a good-looking young woman who -came to me herself, as if by accident.”</p> - -<p>“A lady who lives in the hotel?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the one with the little uncle who talks all the time.”</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Derbin?”</p> - -<p>“Just so.”</p> - -<p>“What did she ask you?”</p> - -<p>“She acted as if she just happened to pass through the yard where I was; -she asked me first: ‘Are you in Monsieur Dalbreuse’s service?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, mademoiselle.’”</p> - -<p>“You should have told her, Pettermann, that you were travelling with me, -but not as my servant.”</p> - -<p>“Why so, monsieur? I consider myself very lucky to belong to you; and as -there must always be one who does what the other says, it is right that -you should be the one to give the orders; therefore you are the master.”</p> - -<p>“What then, Pettermann?”</p> - -<p>“Then, that young woman—or rather that lady—continued: ‘Have you been -with Monsieur Dalbreuse long?’</p> - -<p>“‘About two years.’</p> - -<p>“‘He seems like a very agreeable man, Monsieur Dalbreuse?<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>’</p> - -<p>“‘He isn’t cross, mademoiselle.’</p> - -<p>“‘What does he do in Paris?’</p> - -<p>“All those questions began to tire me, and I replied rather short:</p> - -<p>“‘He does what he chooses, mademoiselle; it doesn’t make any difference -to me.’—At that she went away. But in a minute she came skipping back, -and said to me almost in my ear, as she tried to slip a gold-piece into -my hand:</p> - -<p>“‘He is a bachelor, isn’t he?’—I didn’t take the money, but I touched -my hat and said:</p> - -<p>“’ Yes, mademoiselle, he is a bachelor.’—At that she began to laugh, -and went away, saying:</p> - -<p>“‘The servant is almost as unique as the master.’—Upon my word, if she -isn’t inquisitive, I don’t know who is.”</p> - -<p>So Mademoiselle Derbin was determined to find out who I was, what my -rank and position were in society. My silence had piqued her. But to go -so far as to ask if I were married—that was decidedly peculiar. -Pettermann believed me to be a bachelor; I had never said anything in -his presence which would lead him to suppose that I had ceased to be -one. What did it matter to that young woman whether I was married or -not? Could it be that she had taken a fancy to me? I could not believe -it; I had never said a word of love to her. So that it was probably the -whim of a coquette who desired to subject everybody to her empire. She -had known me only a fortnight. Moreover, it seemed to me that I was no -longer likely to inspire love, that no one could ever love me again.</p> - -<p>I said all this to myself as I looked over my box of colors. But it did -not prevent me from going to Mademoiselle Derbin, for she expected me; -and even if I did attract her, that would be no reason for avoiding<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a> -her. We must leave such noble acts to the patriarchs of Genesis, whom we -are by no means tempted to imitate.</p> - -<p>They were waiting for me. The uncle was there; he congratulated me on my -talent, and thanked me for my good-nature. Caroline was much perplexed -as to the position she should take. I begged her to act as if I were not -painting her portrait, so that there should be no affectation in the -position, and I set to work.</p> - -<p>My model was very docile; she looked at me and smiled very affably. The -uncle walked about the room, and soon said:</p> - -<p>“She will make a very pretty portrait, monsieur. I was painted once in -the costume of Scapin. It was an artist of great talent—I have -forgotten his name but it will come to me directly. It was at Bordeaux, -at Madame la Comtesse de Vernac’s, who entertained the leading artists -of Paris—Molé, Saint-Phal, Fleury, Dugazon. In fact, it was at her -house that I met Dugazon. Oh! the rascal! as amusing in society as he -was on the stage. You must have seen Dugazon?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I think so; but I was so young that I hardly remember. -Mademoiselle, raise your head a little, if you please.”</p> - -<p>“To return to my portrait,—the artist considered me so amusing in <i>Les -Fourberies de Scapin</i>, my face was so absurd when I came out of the -bag—You know <i>Les Fourberies de Scapin</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how can you keep asking monsieur such questions, uncle? Does he -know Molière? You would do much better to see if the picture looks like -me yet.”</p> - -<p>“Are you crazy, my dear love, to expect that it will look like you after -fifteen minutes?—So I was painted as Scapin, and it was an excellent -likeness. That <a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>wasn’t my favorite part, however; I won my triumph as -Pasquin in <i>Le Dissipateur</i>. I made them cry, monsieur, yes, I made them -cry, by the way I said: ‘The little that I possess!’ There are a great -many ways of saying that. I had heard Dugazon say it, and if you please, -monsieur, I gave it an entirely different expression: ‘The little that I -possess!’ There are some who declaim it; Dugazon always declaimed it, -but I maintain that you should simply put truth and soul into it: ‘The -little that I possess!’—And I saw tears in people’s eyes!—‘The little -that——’”</p> - -<p>“Oh! for heaven’s sake, uncle! are you trying to make us cry too? You -distract monsieur’s attention; you will be responsible for my portrait -not looking like me.”</p> - -<p>“Your uncle may talk, mademoiselle; I assure you that it doesn’t -interfere with my work at all.”</p> - -<p>Caroline gave a little pout of vexation, which I would have liked to -reproduce on the ivory, because it was very becoming to her. I thought -that she wanted her uncle to leave us; but Monsieur Roquencourt had no -such intention.</p> - -<p>After walking about the room several times, he came to watch me work, -then looked at his niece and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Caroline has in her face, especially in her eyes, much -resemblance to Mademoiselle Lange. You did not know Mademoiselle Lange, -who used to act at the Français, did you?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Monsieur Dalbreuse, she was perhaps the one actress who had more -truth, more charm in her way of speaking than any other; and a charming -woman besides! I knew her well; she taught me to put on my rouge. It is -a very difficult thing to put on one’s rouge well; I used to daub my -face all over with it. She said to me one<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> evening when I had just done -Gros-René—you know, Gros-René in <i>Le Dépit Amoureux</i>:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘La femme est, comme on dit, mon maître,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Un certain animal difficile à connaître,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Et de qui la nature est fort encline au mal;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Et comme un animal est toujours animal,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Et ne sera jamais——’”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>“Oh! we have seen <i>Le Dépit Amoureux</i>, uncle! That speech isn’t the best -thing in Molière, in my opinion.”</p> - -<p>“As I was saying, I had been playing Gros-René, and with great success, -on my word! I had made the audience laugh until they cried. Lange led me -aside after the performance, and said to me: ‘You acted like a god! you -acted divinely; but, my friend, you don’t know how to put on your rouge; -you make big daubs everywhere; that isn’t the way; you must put on a lot -under the eyes; your eyes are very bright already, but you will see how -much brighter that makes them; then, put on less and less toward the -ears, and almost none at all on the lower part of the face.’—I followed -her advice, and I gained greatly by it.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle, weren’t you to play a game of backgammon this morning with that -Englishman who challenged you yesterday?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t this morning, my dear girl, but to-night that we are to play.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that it was this morning.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken.—Backgammon is a very fine game; do you play it, -Monsieur Dalbreuse?”</p> - -<p>“A little, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“It was Dazincourt who taught me; he was a very fine player. I remember -that one evening we played for one of his wigs; it was the wig that he -wore in—wait<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a> a minute—a beautiful wig, and that counts for a great -deal on the stage. It was the wig he wore in——”</p> - -<p>Caroline rose and exclaimed impatiently:</p> - -<p>“That will do for to-day; I do not want to tire monsieur; let’s go to -drive; it is a fine day and I long for the fresh air. Uncle, will you be -good enough to fetch my bonnet?”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt went to fetch the bonnet, scratching his ear and -muttering:</p> - -<p>“Strange! I can’t remember the name of the part.”</p> - -<p>When he had left the room, Mademoiselle Derbin said to me:</p> - -<p>“To-morrow, if you choose, we will have a sitting earlier, when my uncle -is reading the papers; for really he is terrible with his actors and his -acting. One forgets what one is doing; it seems to me that you must be -able to work better when there is no one beside you, talking; that is to -say, monsieur, unless you are afraid to be alone with me.”</p> - -<p>She smiled as she said that; but there was a touch of sadness in her -smile. “Really,” I thought, “this young woman is able to assume every -sort of expression. Sometimes laughing, playful, mocking; sometimes -serious, thoughtful, and languishing; she is never the same for two -minutes.”—Was it art, I wondered, or was it that the different -sensations that she felt were instantly depicted upon her features? It -mattered little after all. However, I had not yet answered her question; -I felt almost embarrassed. At that moment her uncle returned with her -bonnet, crying:</p> - -<p>“This much is certain, that I won the wig by a <i>carme</i>, which gave me -twelve points. Dazincourt jumped from his chair in vexation, and said: -‘I won’t play with you again.<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>’”</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle did not care to listen to any more; she took my arm, and we -left the room. She took me to drive, without even asking me if I would -like to go with them; she evidently divined that it would give me -pleasure. She was successful at divination: I was never bored with her.</p> - -<p>The next morning I went to her uncle’s room at the hour she had -appointed; I found her alone; I had no feeling of confusion or -embarrassment, for I had no declaration to make to her; even if she had -attracted me, I should not have told her so. I was not free, and I did -not propose to deceive her; but I had nothing to fear. My heart would -never know the sensation of love again; I liked Mademoiselle Derbin’s -company, I liked her disposition, her wit, her unreserve; I did full -justice to her charms; but I was not in love with her.—I could never -love again.</p> - -<p>We set to work at once. I labored at her portrait with pleasure; but -sometimes a cruel memory awoke in my heart; I remembered the delightful -sittings which my wife had given me. What a joy it was to me to paint -her! Ah! her smile was very sweet too, and her eyes were filled with -love for me.</p> - -<p>When such ideas assailed me, a very perceptible change took place in my -expression, no doubt, for my model said to me for the second time:</p> - -<p>“What on earth is the matter with you, Monsieur Dalbreuse? Don’t you -feel well?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“You assumed such a melancholy expression all of a sudden! If it is a -bore to you to paint me, monsieur, there is no reason why you should go -on.”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle, on the contrary it is a great pleasure to me.<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you say that in a very peculiar tone.”</p> - -<p>I did not reply but went on with my work. Caroline became very serious -and did not say another word.</p> - -<p>“Would you mind smiling a little, mademoiselle? You do not usually have -such a serious expression.”</p> - -<p>“It’s because you say nothing to amuse me, and you yourself have -sometimes an expression—oh! mon Dieu! what an agreeable man you are!”</p> - -<p>“I may have memories which are not very cheerful; and what I am doing at -this moment reminds me——”</p> - -<p>“Of what?”</p> - -<p>“Of a person whose portrait I once painted.”</p> - -<p>“A woman?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“A woman whom you loved, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>Caroline changed color and rose abruptly, saying:</p> - -<p>“That’s enough for to-day; I won’t pose any more.”</p> - -<p>“But, mademoiselle, we have just begun.”</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry, but I am tired; besides, I don’t care any longer about -having my portrait painted!”</p> - -<p>“What new whim is this?”</p> - -<p>“Well, monsieur, if I choose to have whims——”</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry too, but I have begun your portrait, and I want to -finish it.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you that I don’t want a portrait; you would be obliged to keep -it, and I should like to know what good it would do you? A man doesn’t -wear a portrait. Oh, yes! in a locket sometimes, I believe.—Well, well! -now you are assuming your solemn expression again. Well, here I am, -monsieur, here I am, don’t be angry; great heaven! I will pose as long -as you wish.”</p> - -<p>She resumed her seat. I glanced at her; she had hastily wiped her eyes, -and yet I saw tears still glistening<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a> in them. What an extraordinary -woman! What a combination of coquetry and sensibility! What on earth was -going on in her heart? I was sometimes afraid to guess.</p> - -<p>We worked for a long time, but I made little progress with my task, for -I was absent-minded; the past and the present engrossed me in turn. -Caroline herself was thoughtful. Sometimes she talked to me about Paris, -and I divined that she was anxious to learn what my business was. I saw -no reason why I should not tell her that I was an advocate. She seemed -pleased to learn that I practised that profession. Why did she take so -much interest in my concerns? I had not addressed a word of love to her.</p> - -<p>Our second sitting was more cheerful; we were becoming accustomed to -each other. When I sighed, she scolded me and told me to work more -carefully. When she was pensive, I begged her to smile, to play the -coquette as she did in society. Those sittings passed very quickly. -Really I could hardly recognize myself; there were times when I was -afraid that I was becoming too thoroughly accustomed to Caroline’s -company. Ernest was quite right when he urged me to paint pretty women, -in order to obtain distraction from my troubles.<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX<br /><br /> -THE GAZETTE DES TRIBUNAUX</h2> - -<p>We had had ten sittings and the portrait was almost finished. In fact it -might have been left as it was, for Caroline was delighted with it, and -her uncle considered it as good a likeness as that of himself as Scapin; -but I desired to do something more to it; and Caroline herself wished -for some slight changes in the dress and in the hair. I thought that we -should both be sorry when the sittings came to an end.</p> - -<p>One evening, when the weather was bad and we had remained in the hotel -with several other guests, the conversation became general. An old -gentleman who was almost as loquacious as Monsieur Roquencourt, but much -less affable, told us about a scandalous lawsuit which was reported in -the Gazette des Tribunaux. It was a husband’s petition for divorce on -the ground of his wife’s infidelity.</p> - -<p>“There are many interesting details,” he said, “which the newspaper -gives with its own reflections thereon.”</p> - -<p>The old gentleman went up to his room to get the paper, which he was -determined to read to us. I would gladly have dispensed with that favor. -Whenever that subject was discussed I felt ill at ease. Those gentlemen -laughed and jested freely concerning betrayed husbands. To no purpose -did I pretend to laugh with them; I could not do it. I would have liked -to change the subject, but I dared not; it seemed to me that they would<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a> -fathom my motive. Luckily, Mademoiselle Derbin was beside me, and she -did not seem to pay much attention to the trial reported by the Gazette -des Tribunaux.</p> - -<p>“Messieurs,” said an Englishman, “among us, the subject is viewed in a -different light. It becomes almost a business transaction. We make the -co-respondent pay very heavy damages.”</p> - -<p>“Can damages restore the honor of an outraged husband?” demanded an old -Spaniard. “In my country, the reparation is swift, but it is terrible!”</p> - -<p>“Messieurs,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, “I remember acting in <i>Le -Mariage de Figaro</i> with a friend of mine who was in the plight of the -husband in the Gazette des Tribunaux. He was playing Almaviva. As -everybody knew what had happened to him, you can imagine the personal -applications of his lines that were made during the performance. There -was much laughter; but for all that he acted very well. I was Figaro. I -had the prettiest costume it is possible to imagine; white and cherry -colored, all silk and embroidery and spangles. It cost me a great deal! -But Dugazon, who saw it, was so delighted with it that he asked me to -lend it to him so that he could have one made like it.”</p> - -<p>At that moment I was overjoyed to hear Monsieur Roquencourt talk about -the parts he had acted; I hoped that that would change the subject -permanently, and I was about to ask him for some more anecdotes of -Dugazon when the infernal old gentleman arrived, newspaper in hand, -crying:</p> - -<p>“Here is the Gazette; I assure you that there are some very amusing -details, which one may safely read before ladies, however.”</p> - -<p>“Does this conversation amuse you?” I asked Caroline in an undertone.<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a></p> - -<p>“Do you suppose that I listen to these chatterboxes? No indeed; I think -that my thoughts are worth quite as much as their words.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she cast a tender glance at me and laid her hand on my -arm, for I had taken a seat beside her. I lowered my eyes; I was -entirely engrossed by the Gazette des Tribunaux.</p> - -<p>The old gentleman put on his spectacles and drew near a lamp. We were -definitively condemned to listen to the newspaper. There are people who -insist upon amusing you against your will.</p> - -<p>“This is the article, messieurs; it is in the Paris news; and the names -are in big letters.”</p> - -<p>“That is very pleasant for the husband!” said the Spaniard, under his -breath; “all Europe will know that he is a cuckold!”</p> - -<p>“When a husband is foolish enough to go to law about such a bagatelle,” -said a young Frenchman, “he well deserves to have the whole world laugh -at him.”</p> - -<p>“Bagatelle!” repeated the Spaniard, “when a man’s honor is involved!”</p> - -<p>“What a devil of a place has he put his honor in? Ha! ha! It was -Beaumarchais who said that, and Beaumarchais had a devilish lot of wit! -When I acted his Figaro, I was with——”</p> - -<p>“I say, messieurs, don’t you want to hear the newspaper?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed; we are listening.”</p> - -<p>“‘A case, of common enough occurrence in its general character, but very -interesting in its details and in the course of the trial, was heard -to-day in the Court of First Instance. Monsieur Ferdinand-Julien Bélan -married in June, 1824, Mademoiselle Armide-Constance-Fidèle <a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>de -Beausire. For several years——’”</p> - -<p>“Ferdinand Bélan?” I exclaimed, waking from my reverie. All eyes were -turned upon me, and someone exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours? What sort of man is he? Tell -us about him.”</p> - -<p>“I do know a person of that name, but perhaps it is not the same man. My -Bélan is married, it is true, but I lost sight of him a long while ago. -I know nothing whatever about him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it’s probably this man.”</p> - -<p>“He must look a fool!” cried a young guest.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that to be a betrayed husband must give a man a queer -look!”</p> - -<p>“That is a young man’s reflection,” said the Englishman. “If such things -could be read on the face, the French would laugh much less at them.”</p> - -<p>“Messieurs, I once played Sganarelle in <i>Le Cocu Imaginaire</i>; it was at -Bordeaux. I played it afterward at Paris; but this that I am going to -tell you about happened at Bordeaux. It was a performance that had been -planned long before, and I was not to be in it. But all of a sudden the -amateur who was to play Sganarelle became involved in a disastrous -failure; he lost two hundred thousand francs. You can imagine that he -didn’t care to act in theatricals then. The company was in dire -perplexity, when Molé, who was one of them, said: ‘Pardi! I know a man -who can help us out of the scrape if he will; he is a friend of mine, -who acts like a little angel, and he happens to be in Bordeaux at this -moment.’ And everybody said: ‘Oh! bring us your friend! Bring us your -friend!’ Molé came to me and said: ‘Will you play Sganarelle in <i>Le Cocu -Imaginaire</i>?’ I answered: ‘Why not?’</p> - -<p>“‘You will restore life to some charming women, whom you will -embrace—Do you know the part?<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>’</p> - -<p>“‘No.’</p> - -<p>“‘It is very long.’</p> - -<p>“‘I will know it to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>“‘I defy you to do it!’</p> - -<p>“‘What will you bet?’</p> - -<p>“‘A truffled turkey!’</p> - -<p>“‘Done.’—The next day I played Sganarelle and I had a tremendous -success!”</p> - -<p>“I believe, messieurs, that I brought this newspaper in order to read it -to you; and if you will permit me——”</p> - -<p>That devil of a man would not be denied; and although I knew very well -that it was about the Bélan whom I knew, I was not at all curious to -hear the report of his suit. Luckily, the mistress of the house entered -the salon at that moment. After saluting everybody, she went to -Mademoiselle Derbin.</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! if I dared, mademoiselle—if it would not offend you, I——”</p> - -<p>“What is it, madame?”</p> - -<p>“We have a new guest, a French lady who has been here since morning. She -has come to take the waters, and anyone can see that she is not -travelling for pleasure solely, for she seems to be very ill, to suffer -a great deal.”</p> - -<p>“Is it the young lady whom I saw this morning?” asked the Englishman.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my lord.”</p> - -<p>“She has a very interesting air.”</p> - -<p>“But what can I do, madame?” asked Caroline.</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, mademoiselle, it’s like this. This lady, who has very -good style and excellent manners, has nobody with her but her maid. She -has not left her room since morning, and I am afraid that she is bored. -I went up to her room for a moment just now, and told her that the -guests were assembled in the salon this evening,<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a> and that she ought to -come down, that it would divert her. She neither consented nor refused. -She seems very shy; but if anyone of the party, like yourself, -mademoiselle, should go up and urge her to come, I am certain that she -would not refuse. Poor woman! she seems so miserable! I am convinced -that in company she would forget her suffering a little.”</p> - -<p>Several of the guests added their entreaties to the landlady’s. I -myself, well pleased that the newspaper should be forgotten, urged -Mademoiselle Derbin to bring us the invalid.</p> - -<p>“Since you are so curious to see this lady, messieurs,” said Caroline, -rising, “I will go to her as your ambassador. But do not rejoice -overmuch beforehand, for I do not agree to succeed; and you will perhaps -be obliged to content yourselves with addressing your compliments to the -ladies who are in the salon now.”</p> - -<p>Having said this with fascinating gayety, she left the salon with the -landlady. That incident cast Bélan’s lawsuit into the shade, and I hoped -that no one would recur to it; but I noticed that the old gentleman, who -did not admit that he was beaten, had gone to a corner of the salon in -evident ill humor, with the Gazette des Tribunaux still in his hand.</p> - -<p>Several moments passed.</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Derbin will not succeed,” said the Spaniard; “if that lady -is ill, she will not leave her room.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” said a young man; “need a person become a hermit because she -comes here to take the waters?”</p> - -<p>“I believe that my niece will succeed, messieurs; for in truth she -succeeds in everything that she undertakes, and if she has taken it into -her head to bring this new<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a> guest here, be sure that she will not return -alone. My niece takes after me; I have played perhaps thirty parts in my -life—what am I saying? I have played more than fifty!—Well, I assure -you that at least a dozen of them I have learned in twenty-four hours, -on the spur of the moment, like that of Sganarelle. But that was very -long!—By the way, I haven’t told you the effect that I produced on -Molé. He had never seen me except in a servant’s part; to be sure, -Sganarelle is a servant’s part, if you choose, but——”</p> - -<p>“Here comes Mademoiselle Derbin, and she is bringing the lady,” said a -young man who had opened the door of the salon.</p> - -<p>Instantly in obedience to a natural impulse of curiosity, we formed a -circle and all eyes were turned toward the door.</p> - -<p>Caroline appeared, leading the newcomer by the hand. Everybody bowed to -the lady, and I, as I was about to do the same, stood as if turned to -stone; then I fell back upon my chair. In that pale, thin woman, -evidently ill and suffering, who had entered the room, I recognized -Eugénie.</p> - -<p>She had not seen me; for, as she came in, she bowed, without looking at -all the people assembled in the room; and then, guided by Caroline, she -went to a seat at once. I was almost behind her; I dared not move or -breathe.</p> - -<p>“Messieurs,” said Mademoiselle Derbin, “madame has consented to accede -to my entreaties; but I had a vast deal of difficulty in inducing her to -leave her retreat, and you owe me much gratitude.”</p> - -<p>The gentlemen thanked Caroline, who had seated herself near Eugénie. The -conversation began anew. Eugénie took little part in it; she talked with -no one but Mademoiselle Derbin, who questioned her about her<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a> health. I -heard one of the young men say to Monsieur Roquencourt:</p> - -<p>“I recognize that lady, I saw her at a party in Paris two years ago. Her -name is Madame Blémont, and her husband has deserted her; he was a -good-for-nothing, a gambler, a rake.”</p> - -<p>“Poor woman!” said Monsieur Roquencourt; “there are so many of those -rascals of husbands who act in that way! to say nothing of the -Beverleys, the Othellos, the—I was asked once to play Beverley, and it -is the only part that I ever refused!”</p> - -<p>I glanced at the young man who had named my wife. I was quite certain -that he did not know me, for I could not remember that I had ever met -him in society. But I cannot describe what I suffered; the sight of -Eugénie had revived all my pain. I would have liked to fly, but I dared -not; I was afraid to move hand or foot; if she should turn her head -slightly, she would see me.</p> - -<p>However, that situation could not last long. Caroline, having ceased to -talk to Eugénie, turned to me and said:</p> - -<p>“Well, Monsieur Dalbreuse, why do you stand so far away? You look as if -you were sulking. Pray come and talk with us a little.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what reply to make. But Eugénie had pushed her chair back -as if to make room for me beside her neighbor; at the same moment she -turned her eyes in my direction. Instantly I saw her sway from side to -side, and her head fell against the back of her chair.</p> - -<p>“This lady is ill!” cried Caroline, leaning over her. “Some salts, -messieurs, quickly! Open the window; perhaps she needs air.”</p> - -<p>There was a general movement. I rose with the rest and was about to -leave the salon, but Caroline called me, detained me, begged me to help -her to carry the invalid to<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a> the window, which had been opened. How -could I avoid doing what she asked? And then too, the sight of that -woman, whose eyes were closed and whose pale lips and emaciated features -indicated great suffering, caused me profound emotion, and a sentiment -which almost resembled pleasure. I was not hardhearted, but she had -injured me so deeply! It seemed to me that I was beginning to have my -revenge. Why then should I leave that salon? Was it for me to fly? No, I -proposed to see how she would endure my presence.</p> - -<p>While these ideas flitted through my mind, Caroline pushed me toward the -chair in which Eugénie was sitting, saying:</p> - -<p>“Well! for heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you propose to stand there -without budging? Oh! how awkward men are under some circumstances!”</p> - -<p>We carried the chair to the window, and someone brought salts.</p> - -<p>“Hold the lady’s head,” said Caroline to me. “Come this way. Upon my -word, I don’t know what you can be thinking about to-night, but you act -as if you did not hear me.—Poor woman! how pale she is! But she is -pretty, for all that, isn’t she? Tell me, don’t you think her pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“I am very lucky to be able to get that out of you. Ah! she is coming to -herself.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie opened her eyes. She seemed to be trying to collect her -thoughts. At last she looked slowly about her, and I was the first -person whom she saw. She instantly lowered her eyes and put her hand to -her forehead.</p> - -<p>“You frightened me terribly, madame,” said Caroline. “How do you feel -now?<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, mademoiselle, it was an attack of vertigo; I am better. But -I would like to go back to my room.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she tried to rise, but fell back in her chair, faltering:</p> - -<p>“I feel quite helpless!”</p> - -<p>“Pray stay with us; this will pass away; it comes from the nerves. You -will be comfortable by the window. Solitude causes ennui, and ennui -increases one’s suffering. Isn’t that so, Monsieur Dalbreuse?—Well! he -isn’t listening to me; I can’t imagine what is the matter with him -to-night.”</p> - -<p>While Caroline was speaking, I had walked away from Eugénie’s chair. She -remained seated there, with her face turned toward the window; she did -not look into the salon again.</p> - -<p>“I never had an ill turn but once in my life,” said Monsieur -Roquencourt, “and that was caused by the heat. I had agreed to play the -part of Arlequin in <i>Colombine Mannequin</i>; I was not very anxious to do -it, for I dreaded the mask; but the company begged so hard that I had to -yield. It was Madame la Marquise de Crézieux who played Colombine. A -fascinating woman, on my word! I had a weakness for her. When I saw her -as Colombine, she looked so pretty, that I made it a point of honor to -do my best, and I played Arlequin magnificently. I performed a thousand -capers and tricks; I was a regular cat! At the end of the play they -threw flowers to me; the audience was in transports, in delirium! But I, -bless my soul! I could stand it no longer! I fell when I reached the -wings; and if they hadn’t torn my mask off at once, it would have been -all over with me; I should have suffocated!”</p> - -<p>Several persons went to Eugénie to ask her how she felt. I did not hear -her replies, but she did not move.<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a></p> - -<p>She was afraid of meeting my eyes again, no doubt, if she turned her -head. She had not brought her daughter with her. What a pity! And yet, -if she had brought her, should I have been able to conceal my affection? -Ah! I felt that I had remained there too long! I should have returned to -Paris to see my daughter long before.</p> - -<p>For several moments the conversation had lagged; some persons were -talking together in undertones, but there was no animation. The old -gentleman who had remained in a corner, with his newspaper in his hand, -deemed the moment favorable, and drew his chair toward the centre of the -room, saying:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen and ladies, I believe that we were talking just now of the -trial which is reported in the Gazette des Tribunaux, which I have in my -hand; in fact, I was about to read what the paper says, when someone -went to bring madame here. I imagine that you will not be sorry to hear -the report now, and I will begin. Hum! hum!”</p> - -<p>“It is very hard to read well,” said Monsieur Roquencourt; “we have many -authors who don’t know how to read their works. Larive was the one who -could read well; yes, he read perfectly! For my part, when I had a -letter to read on the stage, I would not have the prompter give me a -single word! But once a very amusing thing happened to me. It was in -<i>L’Etourdi</i>, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” said the old gentleman angrily, coming forward with his -newspaper, “do you or do you not wish me to read you the Gazette?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! beg pardon! Read on, I pray you. I will tell you my story -afterward; it will make you laugh.”</p> - -<p>I was on thorns. Was I to be compelled to listen to the report of that -trial? And yet, was it not the<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a> beginning of my revenge? Eugénie would -suffer terribly on listening to all those details. But it seemed to me -that I should suffer as much as she. The pitiless reader had unfolded -the journal and put on his spectacles; we could not escape him.</p> - -<p>“‘A case, of common enough occurrence in its general character, but very -interesting in its details, and in the course of the trial——’”</p> - -<p>“You have read us that, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“That is so; let us come to the trial. ‘Monsieur Bélan seeks to obtain a -divorce from his wife Armide de Beausire, for infidelity. The facts -which led Monsieur——’”</p> - -<p>At the first words that he read, I watched Eugénie; she tried to rise -and leave the room; but she had taken only a few steps when a low groan -escaped from her lips, her limbs stiffened, and she fell at Mademoiselle -Derbin’s feet.</p> - -<p>“It is a nervous attack!” people exclaimed on all sides; “she is very -ill; we must take her to her room.”</p> - -<p>Several of the gentlemen offered their assistance; Eugénie was taken -from the room, and Caroline followed. I remained there, and walked to -the window. That sight, that groan which I seemed still to hear, had -rent my very soul. I felt that I desired no more revenge at that price. -I would leave that very night. I did not wish to kill her. If it -depended only upon me, she would speedily be cured. People went and came -in the salon. Some discussed that second swoon; others went to inquire -about the invalid’s condition. The old gentleman alone had returned to -his corner, with an ill-humored scowl, and had put his paper in his -pocket.</p> - -<p>Caroline returned at last and everybody crowded about her. “The lady is -a little better,” she said, “but really I am afraid that all the waters -of Mont-d’Or will not restore her health.<a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I say, I can guess what caused that second fainting fit,” said the -young man who had mentioned Eugénie before. “Poor Madame Blémont! That -is the lady’s name——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember that the landlady called her so. Well! you were saying -that the lady——”</p> - -<p>“She was very unfortunate in her marriage; her husband left her, -deserted her; she probably thought of all that, when she heard something -about a husband bringing a suit against his wife.”</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur!” said Caroline; “that lady has been deserted by her -husband?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle; I have seen her several times at parties in Paris. I -recognized her at once, although she is greatly changed.”</p> - -<p>“And her husband?”</p> - -<p>“I did not know him; it seems that he was a monster! a gambler, -dissipated and jealous—all the vices, in short; he left his poor little -wife with two children on her hands, a boy and a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! mon Dieu! There are some shameless men! That young woman has such a -sweet and amiable manner! Certainly she is well adapted to make any man -happy who is able to appreciate her! and perhaps she still loves him; -for we are so soft-hearted, we cannot hate you, even when you most -deserve it! Uncle, I certainly shall never marry.”</p> - -<p>Having said this, Caroline looked at me as if to read in my eyes what I -thought about it. But I looked away and did not say a word.</p> - -<p>Everybody prepared to retire. We bowed to one another and said -good-night. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm; it was Caroline, who said -to me with an offended air:<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a></p> - -<p>“So it seems that I must wish you good-night this evening, monsieur! You -can certainly flatter yourself that you have made yourself very -unpleasant!”</p> - -<p>That reproach brought me to my senses; I reflected that I proposed to go -away before dawn, and that perhaps this was the last time that I should -see Mademoiselle Derbin; so I stepped forward to take her hand; but she -drew it back, saying in an offhand tone:</p> - -<p>“I do not forgive so quickly; to-morrow we will see whether you deserve -that I should make peace with you.”</p> - -<p>She left me, and I returned to my room. I felt that I must go away, that -I must leave that house, that town. I felt that I could not endure to be -in Eugénie’s presence; moreover, she was ill and I must have compassion -for her. But why had she come to disturb the happiness which I was -enjoying in that spot? I had almost forgotten the past, Mademoiselle -Derbin was so attractive! But after all, I should have had to leave her -a little sooner or a little later. Suppose that she should find out that -I was that Blémont, that man who was called a monster in society!—How -they abused me! But that did not offend me in the least; on the -contrary, I was overjoyed that people were deceived; I would rather be -looked upon as a scoundrel than to air my grievances before the courts, -like Bélan. Poor Bélan! I suspected that he would come to that.—But -Caroline believed that I was a bachelor; an additional reason for going -away. What could I hope for from that acquaintance? To have a friend? -Oh, no! at Caroline’s age, a husband is what is wanted; love is the -essential sentiment; friendship is not enough for a heart of twenty-four -years. She would eventually fall in with the man whom she was looking -for, and she would forget me as quickly as she had made<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a> my -acquaintance. And I—oh! as soon as I had my daughter in my arms, I was -quite certain that I should forget the whole world.</p> - -<p>“I will call Pettermann,” I thought, “and send him to the post-house to -order horses, and tell him to pack our trunks.”</p> - -<p>I called my faithful companion several times, but I received no reply. -He was not in the habit of going to bed before I did. I went up to his -room, but he was not there. I asked the people in the hotel if they had -seen him; a maid-servant remembered that about noon he had gone into a -small cabinet adjoining a building at the end of the garden, and that he -had had brought to him there, with an abundant luncheon, several bottles -of Burgundy. She assured me that he had not come out since morning. I -remembered then that it was the first of the month, the day which -Pettermann ordinarily selected to divert himself; so I guessed what he -was doing in the cabinet. I requested the maid to show me the way. We -went with a light toward the building which the ex-tailor had selected -for his celebration.</p> - -<p>We saw no light through the window, so we went in. Pettermann, who -evidently was as conscientious about getting completely drunk once a -month, as in keeping sober the rest of the time, was stretched out, dead -drunk, by the table, at the foot of a bench upon which he was probably -sitting when he was able to sit erect.</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! is he dead?” cried the servant; “he doesn’t move!”</p> - -<p>“No, don’t be alarmed, he is only drunk; and as that happens only once a -month now, he doesn’t get drunk by halves. What an unfortunate chance, -when I wanted to go away to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Go away! Why monsieur has not ordered horses.<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Can I not obtain horses at any hour at the post-house?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! but your servant here is in a fine state to start! I did not -suppose that monsieur was thinking about going away.”</p> - -<p>I went to Pettermann, I seized his arm and shook him, and called him by -name.</p> - -<p>“Prout! I am asleep,” murmured the tailor at last.</p> - -<p>“But, my friend, I need you, so try to wake up.”</p> - -<p>“Prout! I propose to drink enough to-day for a month; let me sleep; you -can wake me when I am thirsty.”</p> - -<p>It was utterly impossible for me to obtain a word more from him.</p> - -<p>“I advise you, monsieur, to let your servant pass the night here,” said -the girl; “he will be left in peace, nobody will disturb him. Anyway, -you see that it would be hard to make him stir. You can’t take him away -in this condition!”</p> - -<p>The girl was right; I could not hope for anything from Pettermann that -night. If I left Mont-d’Or, he was in no condition to accompany me. -Should I go without him, or wait until the next day before leaving the -town? The latter course seemed to me the more reasonable. Besides, I -remembered that I was in possession of Mademoiselle Derbin’s portrait; -after all the courtesies which she and her uncle had lavished upon me, -would it not have been boorish to send the portrait to her without so -much as bidding her good-bye? I determined to remain until the morrow; -and to see to it that I did not meet Eugénie again before my departure.</p> - -<p>I returned to my room and went to bed. I longed to go away, and yet I -believe that I was not sorry to be obliged to remain.<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI<br /><br /> -A CHATTERBOX</h2> - -<p>On waking the next morning, my first thought was that Eugénie was under -the same roof with me. How changed she was! How pale and sad! Was it -remorse, repentance, that had caused that change? Ah! it was very good -of me to assume that it was; had she shown any remorse when I wrote to -her to inform her that we must part and to ask her for my daughter? Had -she shown any when she passed me so haughtily in the Bois de Boulogne? -No; and moreover the sin that she had committed is the one for which -repentance is least frequently felt; this is not a moral truth, but it -is the truth none the less.</p> - -<p>No matter, I was determined to go. I did not propose to have a -repetition of the previous evening. I did not propose to meet Madame -Blémont again, and I did propose to return to my daughter. Poor child! -With whom had she been left? And Ernest did not write to me! But I -forgot that I had not let him know that I had made a prolonged stay in -that town, where I expected to remain only a day or two.</p> - -<p>I rose and was about to ring for Pettermann, when, happening to glance -at my mantel, I saw a note and a memorandum book which were not there -the night before.</p> - -<p>I walked toward the mantel. That memorandum book was mine; it was the -one that I had handed to Ernest when we parted; by what chance did I -find it there? I<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a> took up the note. Ah! I recognized that writing. It -was Eugénie who had written: “For Monsieur Dalbreuse.” It was she who -had sent me that book. The idea of her wanting me to have her portrait! -What insolence! Should I not send it all back to her, without reading -her note? Yes, I should have done it; but as one does not often do what -one should do, I did not resist my curiosity, but I opened the note.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“I have learned, monsieur, that you wished to leave this hotel last -night. Let not my presence cause you to leave a place where you -seem to be enjoying yourself; I swear to you, monsieur, that you -will not meet me again; I shall not leave my room again, and if my -strength had allowed, I should have gone away instantly. I have -left your daughter with Madame Firmin. She and her husband -consented to undertake to act as parents to your children. I think -that you will approve of my having left your Henriette with them; -however, you will be at liberty to dispose of your daughter as you -choose; I give her back to you, I no longer desire to retain -anything except my tears and my remorse.”</p></div> - -<p>How weak we are! I was incensed with her when I opened the note, and -when I had read it I was deeply moved, completely upset! That letter was -still wet with her tears. What a difference between it and the one with -which she answered mine two years before! If she had written thus to me -then—I did not know what I would have done. She gave me back my -daughter, she had left her with Marguerite; how did it happen that she -had entrusted her daughter to her? What change had taken place in her in -two years? I was utterly at sea; but I was<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a> delighted to know that my -little Henriette was with my loyal friends.</p> - -<p>As for the memorandum book, I could not understand with what purpose she -had sent it to me. Did she hope to force me to love her again, did she -hope to obtain forgiveness by restoring that portrait to me? Oh, no! I -had loved her too dearly to forgive her. Why had Ernest given her that -souvenir? I determined to send it back to her.</p> - -<p>I took the book in my hands and turned it over and over, as if to make -sure that it was really mine; finally I opened it, to see if the -painting had faded much in two years.</p> - -<p>What did I see? The portrait of Eugénie was no longer there, but the -portrait of my daughter, of my Henriette! Dear child! Yes, it was really -she; there was her smile, there were her eyes. It seemed to me as if I -had her before me! I kissed my child’s image. “Dear book,” I thought, -“you shall never leave me again now; for although a child may tire of -seeing her father, a father always takes pleasure in gazing at his -child’s features.”—Ah! how grateful I was to Eugénie for sending me -that portrait! If anyone could still plead for her, who could undertake -that duty better than her daughter?</p> - -<p>I desired to know who had placed those things on my mantel. I rang and -Pettermann appeared, still rubbing his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Pettermann, you were drunk yesterday?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, it was my day.”</p> - -<p>“How long have you been awake?”</p> - -<p>“Why, not very long. I had a downright good one yesterday. Prout!”</p> - -<p>“I know it, for I saw you and spoke to you.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, I didn’t see you or hear you, monsieur.<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Then you haven’t told anybody in the inn that I intended to go away -last night?”</p> - -<p>“Go away last night?”</p> - -<p>“And it wasn’t you who placed this memorandum book and this note on my -mantel this morning?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, I haven’t been into your room since yesterday morning.”</p> - -<p>“Pettermann, send me the little maid-servant, whose name I believe is -Marie,—a stout, short girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know, monsieur, she is the one who brought me my breakfast -yesterday.”</p> - -<p>The maid appeared. She denied having brought the note and the book; but -she confessed that she had said that morning, before the other servants, -that I had wanted to go away in the night.</p> - -<p>What did it matter by whom Eugénie had sent me those things? I was no -longer angry with her for doing it; but as I did not wish to compel her -to keep her room, I would go away. And yet, if I should go at once, she -would think that I could not endure to be near her, and I did not want -to convey that idea to her, as a reward for the presents she had made -me. I did not know what course to pursue.</p> - -<p>I had ordered breakfast served in my room, and was about to sit down, -when Monsieur Roquencourt appeared.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Monsieur Dalbreuse.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, accept my respects. What happy circumstance affords me the -honor of this early visit?”</p> - -<p>“My dear friend, my niece has sent me to ask you to come to breakfast -with us and to drink a cup of tea. She hurried me, she hurried me so! -Luckily, I dress very fast. When one has acted in theatricals, one is so -accustomed to change one’s costume! By the way, my dear Monsieur -Dalbreuse, what is this that my niece tells me?<a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a> You attempted to go -away last night, to leave us without even bidding us good-bye?”</p> - -<p>“It is true, monsieur, that——”</p> - -<p>“The idea of skipping scenes like that! of running away! I don’t -understand that anyone is pursuing you, like Monsieur de Pourceaugnac. -Ha! ha! ha! how I have made people laugh playing that devilish -Pourceaugnac! It is a terribly hard part; many people have acted it, but -the man whom I rank above all others in it is Baptiste Cadet. Ah! such -admirable fooling, monsieur! For Pourceaugnac is not stupid, he’s a -fool, but a well-bred fool; he shouldn’t be made an idiot with no -manners. Baptiste Cadet grasped perfectly all those delicate shades of -character, and——”</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur, if mademoiselle your niece is waiting for us——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are right, she is waiting for us. I warn you that she is -terribly angry with you. That’s why she wants you to come to breakfast -with us. She said that you were a horrid man. Ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>I followed Monsieur Roquencourt. So Caroline proposed to scold me -because I had intended to go away; had she a right to do it? To my mind, -she had not.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Derbin was sitting down and drinking tea; she honored me -with a slight nod; I saw plainly enough that she was angry, but that she -did not mean to appear so.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt took my hand and presented me to his niece with a -comical expression on his face.</p> - -<p>“‘Bourguignon, here is Lisette; Lisette, here is Bourguignon.’”</p> - -<p>“What does all this mean, uncle?” said Caroline testily. “What are you -talking about, with your Bourguignons and your Lisettes?<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What! what does that mean? Do you mean to say that you never saw <i>Les -Jeux de l’Amour et du Hasard</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Did you bring monsieur here to act? I thought that it was to breakfast -with us.—Pray sit down, monsieur; my uncle is unendurable with his -theatricals!”</p> - -<p>“In other words, you are cross this morning; that’s the real fact.”</p> - -<p>“I, cross? Upon my word! why should I be cross? What reason have I for -being cross?”</p> - -<p>“I tell you that you are. However, I warned Monsieur Dalbreuse; I said -to him: ‘My niece is mortally offended with you!’”</p> - -<p>“Really, uncle, I don’t know what is the matter with you to-day. Did I -tell you to say anything like that? Why should I be offended with -monsieur? Because he intended to go away last night without even bidding -us adieu? But after all, is not monsieur his own master? We are nothing -more than mere acquaintances of his; people with whom he is content to -amuse himself when it does not put him out, but of whom he ceases to -think as soon as he has left them.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I trust you don’t think that, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I do think it; in fact I am convinced of it; if you had -looked upon us in any other light, if you had had ever so little regard -for us, you would not have wanted to leave us thus, and we should not be -indebted solely to the drunkenness of your servant for the pleasure of -seeing you again to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle, an unexpected circumstance sometimes forces us to part -from those persons who are most attractive to us.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to be sure, when there are other persons whom we are in a hurry to -see, and for whom we forget even the simplest rules of courtesy.<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a>”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I warned you—she is very angry with you.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! how disagreeable you are to-day, uncle!”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt laughed and drank his tea; I did the same. Caroline -said nothing more, and did not turn her eyes in my direction. The uncle -bore the whole weight of the conversation.</p> - -<p>After a few moments, Caroline said to him:</p> - -<p>“Have you heard from Madame Blémont this morning, uncle?”</p> - -<p>“No, not yet.”</p> - -<p>“That lady has a most distinguished air; I like her appearance very -much.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she has very beautiful eyes; she reminded me of Mademoiselle -Contat in——”</p> - -<p>“Uncle, would it not be polite for you to go in person to ask how she -passed the night?”</p> - -<p>“I! why my dear girl, that lady is all alone; would she care to receive -a visit from a man?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you have reached the age, uncle, when visits from you are of no -consequence.”</p> - -<p>“What do you say, niece? Do you know that I am still quite capable of -making conquests? And if I chose——”</p> - -<p>“But I am sure that you do not choose, my dear uncle. Go up to that -lady’s room, I beg you.”</p> - -<p>“I will go, but I will not answer for the consequences.”</p> - -<p>When her uncle had left us, Caroline turned to me, and said in a tone -which denoted a depth of feeling that I had not supposed her to possess:</p> - -<p>“Why were you going away so suddenly and without seeing me? Tell me why, -I beg you.”</p> - -<p>“Urgent business summoned me to Paris.<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I do not believe that; you had no letter yesterday. What had I done to -you to cause such an abrupt departure? Had I said anything which hurt -you? I am sometimes so foolish, so thoughtless——”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle, far from it. I am overwhelmed by your kindness, your -indulgence.”</p> - -<p>“My kindness! my indulgence! anyone would think that you were talking to -your tutor! But why were you going, then?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell you, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! so monsieur has secrets. All right! I prefer to have you tell me -that. But my portrait—did you intend to carry that away?”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle, I should have had it delivered to you.”</p> - -<p>“You would have sent it to me! but it is not finished; there is a great -deal still to be done on it.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the uncle returned and said:</p> - -<p>“The lady is not visible yet. I expected as much. But she is greatly -touched by our thoughtfulness and feels a little better this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad of that. I will go to see her.—By the way, uncle, when do we -return to Paris?”</p> - -<p>“When! upon my soul! that is a sensible question! I do exactly as she -wishes, and she pretends to wait upon my desires. Ha! ha! that’s a good -joke!”</p> - -<p>“Well, it seems to me that we might pass another week here. And if -Monsieur Dalbreuse’s business were not so urgent, we would invite him to -accept a seat in our carriage, and take him to Paris with us.—Well, -monsieur, will you tell us what you think of my uncle’s proposition?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear fellow; for although my niece always arranges everything -to suit her own whim, I must needs<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a> pretend to have done it. However, be -sure that I shall be most delighted to have you for a travelling -companion.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what to say, what to decide upon; it seemed to me that I -ought to go, and yet it would be most agreeable to me to remain. A week -soon passes. I should not come into contact with Madame Blémont, since -she would remain in her room, and she herself had entreated me not to go -away.</p> - -<p>While I made these reflections, Caroline came to my side. At last she -tapped me lightly on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Whenever you are ready, monsieur,—we are waiting for your reply.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, excuse me, mademoiselle; I was thinking——”</p> - -<p>“Will you return to Paris with us?”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid of incommoding you. I have someone with me.”</p> - -<p>“Your German? There is a seat behind the carriage.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, I accept, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that is very kind of you!”</p> - -<p>Once more Mademoiselle Derbin was in a charming humor. She arranged a -drive for the day, intending to visit some points of view in the -neighborhood of which someone had told her. We must be ready in an hour; -she left us to attend to her toilette; we were to have no sitting for -the portrait that day.</p> - -<p>Caroline was a spoiled child; that was evident from her wilful manner, -from her fits of impatience when her whims were not gratified; but she -was so attractive, so fascinating when she chose to be agreeable, that -it was really difficult to resist her. I believed that she had an -affectionate, susceptible heart, a little inclined to enthusiasm -perhaps. The interest that she manifested in me troubled me sometimes; I -dreaded lest she should be in love with me. I dreaded it, because that -love could not<a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a> make her happy; but in the depths of my heart I should -have been flattered, yes, enchanted; for our self-esteem is always more -readily listened to than our reason.</p> - -<p>To divert my mind from such ideas, I gazed at my daughter’s portrait, I -asked her pardon for not returning to her at once; but I knew that she -was with Ernest and his wife, and I was certain that she was well and -that they often talked to her about me.</p> - -<p>The hour for our drive arrived and I joined Mademoiselle Derbin and her -uncle. Caroline wore a lovely costume; her great dark eyes shone with a -deeper light than usual; they expressed pleasure and satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“Do you think that I look well in this dress, monsieur?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I think that you always look well, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Is that true? Do you mean what you say?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure I do. Besides, I am only the echo of the whole world.”</p> - -<p>“I do not like to have you an echo; I don’t ask you what other people -say; that is entirely indifferent to me.”</p> - -<p>We were just about starting when Caroline exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“By the way, suppose I should invite Madame Blémont to go with us?”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that she is ill, mademoiselle; she will refuse.”</p> - -<p>“A drive cannot fail to do her good. I am going to ask her.”</p> - -<p>“You are taking useless trouble, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“We will see about that, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>She paid no heed to me and left us. But I was not alarmed; Eugénie -certainly would not accept.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt came up to me and, pointing to his waistcoat, which -was made of white silk, with colored flowers, and cut after the style of -Louis XV, said to me:<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a></p> - -<p>“What do you think of this waistcoat?”</p> - -<p>“It is very original.”</p> - -<p>“I wore it in the part of Monsieur de Crac.”</p> - -<p>“I can well imagine that it must be very effective on the stage.”</p> - -<p>“All the ladies raved over it; but I played Monsieur de Crac very nicely -too. In the first place, I talk Gascon as well as if I were a native of -Toulouse, and Dugazon gave me a few lessons for that part. My first -lines were admirable:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘Enfants, pétits laquais qué jé né logé pas,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Jé suis content; allez, je paîrai vos papas.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">On né mé vit jamais prodigué dé louanges,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Mais ils ont rabattu commé des pétits anges.’”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt might have recited the whole play if he pleased, -for I was not listening to him; I was awaiting Mademoiselle Derbin’s -return most impatiently. At last she appeared, and, as I hoped, alone; -there was an expression of something more than annoyance on her face.</p> - -<p>“Let us go, messieurs,” she said; “Monsieur Dalbreuse predicted that my -trouble would be thrown away; Madame Blémont refuses to come with us.”</p> - -<p>We entered the carriage and began our drive. I was most anxious to know -what those ladies had said to each other, but I dared not question -Caroline. She saved me the trouble, for she said, gazing earnestly at -me:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Dalbreuse, do you know Madame Blémont?”</p> - -<p>“I, know that lady? Why,—no, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“You act as if you weren’t quite sure.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, but why did you ask me that question?<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Because she did nothing but talk about you all the time I was with her; -asking me if I had known you long, if we had ever met anywhere before. -That struck me as rather strange. When I told her that we intended to -return to Paris together, she made a wry face. Ha! ha! it is very -amusing.—And you say that you never met her in Paris?”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Then you apparently made a conquest of her last night; isn’t that so, -uncle?”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, what would there be so extraordinary in that? I myself -made ten conquests in the part of Figaro. To be sure, my cherry and -white costume was very elegant.”</p> - -<p>“It seems that Monsieur Dalbreuse does not need to be dressed as Figaro -in order to fascinate the ladies. I confess that this particular one -does not attract me so much as she did. I looked closely at her this -morning. Great heaven! such thinness! such pallor! She certainly can -never have been very pretty.”</p> - -<p>I was on the point of contradicting her, but I restrained myself and -said nothing.</p> - -<p>After a drive of several hours, we returned to the hotel. We noticed -much commotion among the people of the house, and a servant informed us -that new guests had arrived: two English lords and their ladies, and a -gentleman from Paris, who alone made as much fuss as four people.</p> - -<p>Caroline went at once to change her dress, in order to outshine the -Englishwomen, and perhaps also to turn the heads of the Englishmen and -the Parisian.</p> - -<p>I returned to my room and reflected upon what Mademoiselle Derbin had -told me of her conversation with Madame Blémont. What did my intimacy -with Caroline<a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a> or with any woman matter to Eugénie? Was I not at liberty -to dispose of my heart as I chose? But women have so much self-esteem -that even when they no longer love you they are vexed to see that you -follow their example. Men are much the same too.</p> - -<p>I went without apprehension to the evening reception, being fully -persuaded that Madame Blémont would not be tempted to appear.</p> - -<p>There were many people in the salon. The English party was already -there; the two young women were young and pretty and their travelling -companions—I did not know whether they were their husbands—paid no -attention to them, but were already deep in politics with the Spaniard -and some Frenchmen. Several young men were already playing the gallant -with the young women. I joined Mademoiselle Derbin, who was almost -deserted for the new arrivals, although they were not to be compared -with her.</p> - -<p>I sat down beside her; I was pleased to see that she was not annoyed at -the desertion of her little court.</p> - -<p>“So you don’t do like the rest?” she said with a smile; “you don’t go to -offer incense to the strangers?”</p> - -<p>“I have no inclination to do so; why should one change when one is well -off?”</p> - -<p>“That often happens, however.”</p> - -<p>“Alas, yes! but apparently it may be that one is well off and does not -realize it.”</p> - -<p>“I trust that I shall never have the experience.”</p> - -<p>I do not know how it happened that at that moment Caroline’s hand was -under mine. She did not take it away, and we sat thus for a long while, -paying no heed to what was taking place in the salon. But the touch of -that hand reminded me of Eugénie and of the time when I was paying court -to her. Doubtless Caroline had no<a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a> suspicion that the pressure of her -hand made me think of another woman, and that it was that which made me -pensive. But we very often deceive ourselves with respect to the -sensations which we arouse. And the thing which flatters our self-esteem -would sometimes cause us naught but vexation if we knew its real cause.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the door of the salon was noisily opened and someone entered, -talking very loud and making a great uproar. I turned, for whenever -anyone entered the salon, I felt a thrill of uneasiness.</p> - -<p>“This is the gentleman from Paris, no doubt,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>I looked at the newcomer, who was just saluting the company; it was -Bélan!</p> - -<p>He had already turned in our direction; he bowed to Mademoiselle Derbin, -and, in spite of the signals that I made to him, exclaimed when he saw -me:</p> - -<p>“I am not mistaken! it is Blémont! dear Blémont, whom I have not seen -for two years! Ah! my dear friend, embrace me!”</p> - -<p>He opened his arms; it seemed to me that I could choke him with great -good will. All eyes were turned upon us. I could not conceal my -embarrassment, my irritation. Bélan seized me and embraced me in spite -of myself, still exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Dear Blémont! how pleasant it is to meet a friend when travelling, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Hum! may the devil take——”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? He has not yet got over his surprise.”</p> - -<p>Caroline, her attention attracted by the name of Blémont, gazed -steadfastly at me and said to Bélan:</p> - -<p>“Why, are you not mistaken, monsieur? It is Monsieur Dalbreuse whom you -are speaking to. Am I not right, monsieur? Pray answer!<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a>”</p> - -<p>I did not know what to say. Bélan rejoined:</p> - -<p>“So his name is Dalbreuse now? Faith, my dear fellow, I never knew you -by that name, but I understand—ah! the rascal!—it was when he left his -wife that he changed his name, in order to play the bachelor.”</p> - -<p>“His wife!” cried Caroline.</p> - -<p>“His wife!” several others repeated.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” I said, with great difficulty restraining my anger, “who -requested you to go into details which concern nobody but me?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! I had no idea that it was a secret, my dear Blémont; and -then, I have just met your wife in the garden; and now I find you here; -so I suppose that it’s all settled, that you have come together again, -and——”</p> - -<p>“That is enough, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Your wife in the garden! what! is she your wife?” said Caroline, under -her breath.</p> - -<p>I lowered my eyes. At that moment I wished that the earth would open and -conceal me from every eye; I heard people saying on all sides:</p> - -<p>“He is the sick woman’s husband!”</p> - -<p>Bélan, observing my embarrassment and the effect his words had produced -in the salon, gazed at me with a stupid expression, muttering:</p> - -<p>“If you are angry, I am very sorry; but I could not guess! you ought to -have warned me. Of course you know what has happened to me? Parbleu! -there is no mystery about that; my case was reported in the Gazette des -Tribunaux a few days ago. I am—oh! it is all over; I am—I don’t care -to say the word before these ladies. But see how unlucky I am! the court -has decided that there were no proofs; it condemns me to continue to -live with my wife, and insists that I am not a cuckold.—Bless my soul! -the word slipped out after all!<a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Cuckold!” repeated several young men with a laugh. “Can it be that -monsieur is the Monsieur Ferdinand Bélan of whom the Gazette des -Tribunaux had something to say recently?”</p> - -<p>“I am the man, messieurs: Julien-Ferdinand Bélan, who sought a divorce -from Armide-Constance-Fidèle de Beausire. They have condemned me to keep -my wife, but I shall appeal. I am certain that I am a cuckold; my judges -were bribed.”</p> - -<p>They surrounded Bélan, they examined him, exchanging smiles, and -questioning him. The result was that attention was diverted from me. I -took advantage of that fact, and without raising my eyes, without -noticing Caroline’s condition, I hurried from the salon.</p> - -<p>I went up to my room, I sent for Pettermann, and ordered him to make -everything ready for our departure. I determined to go away at the -earliest possible moment. Ah! how I regretted that I had not followed my -plan of the day before! If I had gone then, I should have avoided that -scene, and no one would know—But I should never see all those people -again. And Caroline—and her uncle—in what aspect should I appear to -their eyes? As a villain, a schemer perhaps! people always form a bad -opinion of a man who conceals his name. That infernal Bélan! what fatal -chance led him where I was?</p> - -<p>I went downstairs to pay my bill. I determined to return to Paris by -post, and not to stop <i>en route</i>, for fear of other encounters. The -landlady was very sorry, she said, at my sudden departure; but I paid -her and ordered my horses.</p> - -<p>While I was waiting for the post-chaise to be made ready, and the horses -to arrive, I paced the courtyard of the hotel in great agitation. I did -not wish to go into<a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a> the garden, for fear of meeting Madame Blémont, -who, Bélan said, was there alone; I did not wish to return to the house -either, for I feared to meet someone from the salon. So I sat down on a -stone bench in a corner of the courtyard. It was dark and I could not be -seen from the house. I abandoned myself to my thoughts; there were some -persons there whom I regretted to leave, but I tried to console myself -by thinking that I was going back to my daughter, and that I should soon -see her.</p> - -<p>Someone passed me; it was a woman. She stopped, then walked toward me. -Had she seen me? Yes, she came to where I was and sat down beside me. It -was Caroline! I could not see her features; but from her tremulousness -of voice and her hurried breathing, I divined her agitation.</p> - -<p>“I was looking for you, monsieur; I wanted to speak with you.”</p> - -<p>“And I myself, mademoiselle, was distressed that I was unable to bid you -adieu. But I am waiting for the post horses; I am going away.”</p> - -<p>“Going away? I suspected as much. You are right, monsieur; indeed, you -should have gone away before. I am very sorry that I detained you this -morning. Ah! I can understand now why you wished to shun Madame -Blémont’s presence! So it is true, monsieur, that you are her husband?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“You are married, and you concealed it from me, and you—oh! your -behavior has been shocking! I hate you, I detest you, as much as I -esteemed and liked you before. You are married! Why didn’t you tell me -so, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“As I had ceased to live with my wife, it seemed to me, mademoiselle, -that I was at liberty to——<a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a>”</p> - -<p>“At liberty, yes, of course you were at liberty. What do you care for -the distress, the torture you may cause others? Perhaps you laugh at it -in secret. I see that there was no mistake in what people said of you. -And yet the portrait was not flattering. However, you must have heard it -yourself yesterday. Was it the truth, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“So you abandoned your wife without cause, without lawful reason?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“And you saw her condition, her suffering—and it did not touch you? you -did not throw yourself at her feet and ask her pardon for your -wrongdoing?—Oh! you are a monster!”</p> - -<p>She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and wept and sobbed. I could do -nothing but sigh and hold my peace. At last she continued:</p> - -<p>“You must go back to your wife, monsieur; it is your duty. Won’t you do -it? Remember what an effect the sight of you had upon her! Poor woman! -how far I was from suspecting! And that does not make you repent of your -conduct? Mon Dieu! your heart is pitiless! Ah! I had not formed that -opinion of you.—But, Monsieur Dalbreuse—that name alone comes to my -mind—promise me, swear to me that you will go back to your wife.”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle, I cannot make you a promise which I have no intention -of keeping. We are parted forever.”</p> - -<p>“Forever! In that case, monsieur, I must bid you adieu, and forever -also; it would not be proper for me to see again a man who has -represented himself to be what he is not. You had not enough confidence -in me<a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a> to tell me.—But, after all, what could he have told me? That he -had abandoned his wife and children. Oh, no! such a confidence would -have aroused my indignation; it was much better to be agreeable, to try -to please me, to conceal the fact that he was bound for life; for that -is the way you behaved toward me. And yet, monsieur, if I had loved you, -if I had allowed myself to be seduced by these deceitful appearances, -would you have made me unhappy too?—Well! why don’t you answer me, -monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“I believe, mademoiselle, that I have never said a word to you which -could lead you to believe that——”</p> - -<p>“No, that is true, you have said nothing to me. I am a coquette, a -foolish girl. Oh, no! you have never tried to please me.—But you have -my portrait, and it seems to me that it is useless, to say the least, -for you to keep it: for I trust that we shall never see each other -again, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Here it is, mademoiselle; I intended to send it to you from the first -post-office.”</p> - -<p>Caroline took, or rather, snatched the portrait from my hands; at that -moment a servant called me and Pettermann shouted that the horses were -ready.</p> - -<p>I rose: Caroline did the same; but at the first step that I took she -seized my arm and said to me in an imploring tone:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, I cannot believe that your heart is deaf to the names of -husband and father. Perhaps your departure will cause the death of her -who came here, I doubt not, in the hope of being reunited to you. Oh! do -not disappoint her hope. Give her back a husband, give your children a -father. Will all the pleasures of which you are going in search equal -those which await you with the wife who adores you? For she does adore -you,<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a> I am sure, and she will forgive you. Just think that she is here, -in yonder garden. She hears you, perhaps. Look, see that white shadow -which I can make out near the garden gate.”</p> - -<p>In truth, despite the darkness, I fancied that I saw a woman. I -instantly disengaged my arm and hurried away from Caroline; I ran across -the courtyard and jumped into the carriage which was awaiting me; -Pettermann followed me and we drove away.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII<br /><br /> -THE CHILDREN</h2> - -<p>We made the journey without stopping. The farther I left Eugénie behind, -the more relieved I felt. I could not understand how I had ever -consented to remain where she was. Mademoiselle Derbin must have had -great influence over me to make me forget all my resolutions. Should I -ever have reached the point of standing in Madame Blémont’s presence -without emotion? Oh, no! that could never be. When she defied me, I was -angry; but now that she seemed to be suffering, I was more embarrassed -than ever before her.</p> - -<p>We arrived in Paris. When we left the chaise, poor Pettermann could not -walk, his trousers were stuck to him; despite all his efforts to conceal -his suffering, he made wry faces, which would have amused me if I had -not been in such haste to reach Ernest’s house. I hired a cab and -assisted my companion to enter it; he sat opposite me, exclaiming:<a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a></p> - -<p>“Prout! this is what one might call travelling fast: two relays more and -my rump would have been cooked.”</p> - -<p>I was going to see my daughter again, to embrace her at my ease. How -slow that driver was! how lazily his horses went! At last we arrived in -front of Firmin’s house; I jumped from the cab before Pettermann had -succeeded in moving.</p> - -<p>Another disappointment: Firmin and his wife were at Saint-Mandé, where -they had bought a little house; they passed the whole summer there. So I -must go to Saint-Mandé. I procured their address, I returned to the cab, -and we started again, to the utter despair of Pettermann, who had risen -and could not sit down again.</p> - -<p>Luckily, Saint-Mandé is not far from Paris. When we reached the village, -I alighted, for I could go more rapidly on foot; I hurried forward and -soon spied the house that had been described to me: two floors, gray -blinds, an iron gate, and a garden behind; that was the place. I rang, -or rather jerked, the bell. A servant came to the door.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Firmin?”</p> - -<p>“This is where he lives, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I asked no more questions, but hastened up the first flight of stairs -that I saw; I paid no attention to the maid, who called after me: -“Monsieur is at work and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”—I was sure that -Ernest would forgive me if I interrupted him in the middle of a scene or -of a couplet.</p> - -<p>I reached the first floor and passed through several rooms; at last I -found my author. He opened his mouth to complain of being disturbed; but -on recognizing me, he threw down his pen, and rushed to embrace me.</p> - -<p>“So you have come back at last, my dear Henri! We have been expecting -you every day.<a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, here I am, my friend, and in a terrible hurry to see my daughter.”</p> - -<p>“She is here. Your—your wi—Madame Blémont placed her in our charge.”</p> - -<p>“I know it.”</p> - -<p>“You know it? And I hoped to surprise you! Who told you?”</p> - -<p>“Eugénie herself.”</p> - -<p>“You have seen her?”</p> - -<p>“At Mont-d’Or. I will tell you all about it. But pray tell me where -Henriette is.”</p> - -<p>“All the children are in the garden with my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Come, show me the way. But I beg you, say nothing to her; I want to see -if she will recognize me; a child forgets so quickly at her age!”</p> - -<p>“My friend, it isn’t the children alone who forget quickly. I am sure -your daughter will recognize you.”</p> - -<p>We went down into the garden; my heart beat fast with pleasure. At the -end of a path I saw Madame Firmin seated on a grassy bank; a little -beyond was a patch of turf, on which four children were playing. My eyes -sought my daughter only, and I recognized her at once. She had grown, -but she had changed very little.</p> - -<p>The children were engrossed by their play, and they did not hear us -coming. Marguerite caught sight of us, and on recognizing me she started -to meet us. I motioned to her to stay where she was and to say nothing. -I walked softly to the patch of turf; I crept behind Madame Ernest, to -where a lilac bush concealed me from the children. Then I called -Henriette aloud.</p> - -<p>She raised her head and looked about her in amazement, saying:</p> - -<p>“Who called me? It wasn’t you, was it, my dear friend?<a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a>”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Marguerite, “but perhaps it was my husband, for here he is -now.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, it wasn’t his voice. It is funny, but it was a voice that I -know.”</p> - -<p>I called again without showing myself. Henriette seemed startled; her -face flushed and she trembled; she looked about in all directions, -crying:</p> - -<p>“Why, I should think that it was papa’s voice!”</p> - -<p>I could hold out no longer; I stepped from behind the bush; Henriette -saw me, uttered a shriek, and rushed into my arms, saying again and -again:</p> - -<p>“Oh! it is my papa! it is my papa!”</p> - -<p>“Dear love! how happy it makes me to hold you in my arms again! how -could I have delayed my return so long!”</p> - -<p>I sat down beside Madame Ernest and took my daughter on my knee.</p> - -<p>“So you recognized me, did you?” I asked her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, papa; I recognized your voice too.”</p> - -<p>“Have you thought of me sometimes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, papa, and I said that you were an awful long time away.”</p> - -<p>“My dear love, after this, I won’t leave you any more.”</p> - -<p>Ernest’s two children had left their play and had drawn near to look at -me. A little boy, about three years old, alone had remained on the -grass; he looked at us with a timid air. Suddenly my daughter left my -knee and ran to the little boy, took his hand, and led him to me, -saying:</p> - -<p>“Come, Eugène, and kiss papa.”</p> - -<p>I had guessed that it was he. I examined him closely: he had pretty -chestnut hair, lovely eyes, a pink and white complexion, and a gentle -expression; he looked very<a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a> much like Eugénie; that was all that I could -discover in his features.</p> - -<p>Doubtless my face had grown stern, for the child seemed to be afraid to -come forward. I could not help smiling, however, when he said to me with -a comical gravity:</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, papa.”</p> - -<p>I kissed him on the cheek, but sighed as I did so, with a heavy weight -at my heart. Then I put him down and he returned at once to the grass. -It seemed that the poor little fellow noticed that I had kissed him -against my will.</p> - -<p>I took my daughter on my knee again; she jumped about and clapped her -hands for joy, saying:</p> - -<p>“Now, when mamma comes back, I shall be happy; she will come soon, won’t -she, papa? Why didn’t you bring her back? She told me that she was going -to get you.”</p> - -<p>I turned my eyes away and made no reply. Ernest said to me in an -undertone:</p> - -<p>“My friend, you forbade us to mention your wife to you; but you must -expect now that Henriette will mention her very often. You certainly -would not want your daughter to cease to think of her mother?”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not; besides, I am more reasonable now than I used to be. -I am now curious to learn—Henriette, go and play with your little -friends.”</p> - -<p>My daughter went back to her brother and Ernest’s children. I sat -between Marguerite and Ernest and said to them:</p> - -<p>“Tell me what has occurred since I went away, and how it happened that -my daughter was placed in your charge.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we will tell you all about it,” said Marguerite. “But first—I -say, Ernest, have you told him?<a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a>”</p> - -<p>Ernest smiled but said nothing.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” I inquired.</p> - -<p>“We are married!” cried Marguerite, jumping up and down on the bench. -“It is all settled—three months ago. Ah! I am not afraid of his leaving -me now; I am his wife.”</p> - -<p>She ran to Ernest, took his head in her hands, and kissed him; he -extricated himself, saying:</p> - -<p>“Stop! you are rumpling my shirt.”</p> - -<p>“You see, Monsieur Henri, he is less agreeable already!—Oh! I only said -that in fun.”</p> - -<p>“My dear friends, you have done well to be married, since that was your -wish. I do not think that you will be any happier than you were, but I -hope that you will be as happy. You have pledges of happiness.”</p> - -<p>I kissed Marguerite and shook hands with Ernest, who said:</p> - -<p>“That is enough about ourselves, now let us come to your matters.—When -you had gone, I determined to ascertain how Madame Blémont was behaving. -But she appeared in society very little; and yet—for you know how just -the world is—people pitied her, praised her highly, and blamed you for -deserting her. One night she came to a large party where I was. Her -costume was as elaborate as ever; but I thought that she had lost color, -that she had greatly changed. I fancied that her gayety was forced, and -I noticed that she relapsed constantly into a gloomy reverie, from which -she emerged with difficulty. You know what sentiments Madame Blémont -aroused in my breast. I was the only person in the world who looked at -her with a more than severe expression, and I am convinced that she felt -that I was the only one to whom you had confided your misfortunes; so -that my presence always produced a magical effect<a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a> upon her; she ceased -to talk, and it seemed to me that in my presence she dared not even -pretend to be light-hearted.</p> - -<p>“Bélan came to that same party with his wife and his mother-in-law. I do -not know whether it was from malice or from stupidity, but on seeing me, -he said to me:</p> - -<p>“‘Well! so poor Blémont was nearly killed! He was knocked down in the -Bois de Boulogne by some people riding. I heard about it from a young -man who helped to pick him up.’</p> - -<p>“Your wife happened to be standing behind us. I glanced at her and found -that her eyes were fastened upon mine with an expression which I could -not interpret. They seemed to implore me to listen to her. At once I -turned my back and left the party. The next morning, at seven o’clock, -your wife was at my house.”</p> - -<p>“At your house?”</p> - -<p>“Imagine my surprise when she entered my study, trembling and hardly -able to stand.—‘Monsieur,’ she said, ‘I am convinced that you know of -all my wrongdoing toward Monsieur Blémont; I have read in your eyes the -contempt which you feel for me, and it has required much courage for me -to venture to call upon you; but what I heard last night has made it -impossible for me to enjoy a moment’s rest. Monsieur Blémont was hurt in -the Bois de Boulogne by some people on horseback. I remember very well -that I passed him; can it be that I was unconsciously the cause of that -accident? Have I that crime also to reproach myself with? Can it be that -Monsieur Blémont has not recovered? For heaven’s sake, take pity on my -anxiety and conceal nothing from me.’</p> - -<p>“I told your wife how the accident happened. She could not doubt that -she was the original cause of it.<a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a> She listened to me without a word; -she seemed utterly crushed. I felt bound to take advantage of that -opportunity to tell her of the repulsion that you felt for your son, of -your intention not to see him; and I concluded by handing her the -memorandum book which you had left with me and which contained her -portrait. When she saw it, a cry of despair escaped her, and she fell -unconscious to the floor. Marguerite came and I placed her in her care. -She will finish the story now.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! I have little to add,” said Marguerite. “I found the poor -woman unconscious; I did what I could for her, but when she came to -herself she was in the most horrible state of despair. She desired to -die, she tried to end her own life. She called upon you and her -children, and gave herself the most odious names. Ah! I am sure that if -you had seen her then, you would have had pity on her; for my own part, -as I saw that she had an attack of fever, and that her mind wandered at -times, I would not let her go home alone, but I went with her; then I -sent and asked my husband’s permission to stay with her until she was -better, and he consented.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what a kind heart you have, madame! you forgot the way that she -treated you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I forgot that long ago, I promise you. In this world we must forget -much, I think, and forgive often. Madame Blémont, in her lucid -intervals, looked at me and pressed my hand without speaking. When she -was really better, she thanked me for taking care of her, as if what I -had done was not the most natural thing in the world; she asked me to -forgive her for the evil opinion she had had of me. Oh! I forgave her -with all my heart. She confessed that I had always made her very -jealous, and I scolded her for suspecting you; I told her that you used -to come to my little room solely to talk to us about<a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a> her, and she wept -as she listened to me. But she wept much harder when she told me about -her wrongdoing; and I too shed tears while she was telling her story, -for I saw that she had always loved you, and that, except for her insane -jealousy, her anger, and the bad advice she received——”</p> - -<p>“Well, madame?”</p> - -<p>“Well, she told me that she regretted having refused you your daughter, -and, notwithstanding the grief it would cause her to part with her, she -had decided to comply with your slightest wish. She begged me to take -charge of little Henriette until she returned. You can imagine that I -consented. She also recommended your son to me—yes, your son, and she -repeated the words several times. She told me that she was going to live -in retirement, and to turn her back on society forever.”</p> - -<p>“And in fact,” said Ernest, “she did abandon altogether the sort of life -she had been leading formerly; she lived in the most complete solitude. -But I learned a few days ago that she had gone to Mont-d’Or to take the -waters, because her physician had prescribed that journey, her health -being much impaired.—That is what has happened, my dear Henri. In -telling you this story, we have not tried to move you by dwelling upon -your wife’s repentance, although we believe it to be sincere. We know -that her fault is not one a husband can forget, especially when he loved -his wife as you did yours; but, even without forgetting, one sometimes -forgives; and there are many guiltier women in the world. We cannot help -pitying Madame Blémont, and sighing over the future of your children.”</p> - -<p>“My dear friends,” I said, taking a hand of each, “when I went away two -years ago, your only wish was that I should forget a guilty wife; you -had witnessed<a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a> my despair, the tortures of my heart, and then you were -perhaps more angry than I with the author of all my woes. To-day, the -sight of Eugénie in tears, of her remorse, which I am quite willing to -believe is sincere, has moved you, has touched you to the heart. You -would like to induce me to forgive her; but do not hope for it. Although -two years of absence have partly cicatrized the wounds in my heart, do -not believe that it can ever forget the blow which was dealt it. Even if -I should forgive her who destroyed my happiness, that happiness would -not be revived, her presence would always be painful to me, I could -never hold her in my arms without remembering that another also had -enjoyed her caresses; such an existence would be a constant torment; I -will not condemn myself to it. I cannot give my daughter a mother at -that price; I think that I have done enough by maintaining her honor. -Let us never return to this subject. As for little Eugène, I will do my -duty. If I have not a father’s heart for him, it is because I must have -some enlightenment to banish from my heart the suspicions which have -found their way thither. Ah! I am greatly to be pitied for not daring to -love the child whom I called my son.”</p> - -<p>Ernest and Marguerite looked at each other sadly, but could find nothing -to reply. I rose, thinking of Pettermann, whom I had left in the cab.</p> - -<p>“Your house strikes me as a charming place; can you give me a room -here?” I asked Ernest.</p> - -<p>“It is all ready, and it has been waiting for you a fortnight.”</p> - -<p>“Very good; but I don’t need Pettermann here; have I my apartment in -Paris still?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I would not give it up on the last rent day, because I expected -you.<a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a>”</p> - -<p>“In that case Pettermann can go there; and I, as you consent, will board -with you; I shall go to Paris as little as possible.”</p> - -<p>Pettermann was still sitting in the cab which was waiting in front of -the house. I told him that he was to return to my apartment in Paris, to -take up his quarters there, and to be always ready to bring what I -needed to Saint-Mandé. Pettermann bowed, and drove away, saying:</p> - -<p>“I am very glad that I didn’t have to get out of the carriage.”</p> - -<p>Ernest and Marguerite showed me to the room which they had set apart for -me. It looked on the garden, and I found it very much to my liking, -especially when they pointed out to me, opposite my room, the room in -which Henriette and her brother slept; I was very glad to be able to -kiss my daughter as soon as I woke, and without disturbing anyone.</p> - -<p>It only remained to show me the property. That was a joy for a landed -proprietor, and Ernest and his wife were enchanted to do it. The house -was not large, but it was pleasant and convenient. Moreover, Ernest was -a genuine poet; he had no ambition; he would have been bored to death in -a palace, and he agreed with Socrates. As for Marguerite, she fancied -herself in a château, and she was never tired of saying, “our property.” -But she would add at once: “When I used to live in my little room under -the eaves, I hardly expected that I should have a house of my own some -day.”</p> - -<p>“A person is worthy of having a house of her own, madame, when it does -not make her forget that she once lived under the eaves,” I would -rejoin.</p> - -<p>Only the garden remained to be inspected. It was quite large, and at the -farther end there was an iron gate<a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a> leading into Vincennes forest. At -the end of the wall I saw a small summer house with two windows, one of -which looked into the forest; they were both secured by shutters.</p> - -<p>“What do you do with this summer-house?” I asked Ernest.</p> - -<p>“I expect—I intend it for a study.”</p> - -<p>“True, it will be a quiet place for you to work in.”</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t arranged for that yet,” said Marguerite; “and as we have -spent a great deal of money on our estate already, we shall wait a while -before furnishing the summer-house; shan’t we, husband?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, wife.”</p> - -<p>Ernest smiled as he said that, and so did I, for Madame Ernest -emphasized the word <i>husband</i>, which she uttered every instant, as if to -make up for the time when she dared not say it.</p> - -<p>I took my daughter by the hand to walk about the garden. Henriette was -seven years old; she was not very large, but her wit and good sense -amazed me. All the evening I kept her talking; her answers delighted me, -for they denoted no less sense than goodness of heart. I could not tire -of looking at her and of listening to her. More than once I had been -terribly bored in a fashionable assemblage, but I was very sure that I -should never be bored with my daughter.</p> - -<p>The days passed quickly at Ernest’s house. Painting, reading, walks with -my daughter, occupied the time. In the evening we talked; a few friends -and neighbors dropped in, but informally and without dressing; the men -in their jackets or blouses, the women in their aprons. That is the -proper way to live in the country. Those who carry to the fields the -fashion and the etiquette of the city will never know the true pleasures -of country life.<a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a></p> - -<p>I had been a fortnight at Saint-Mandé, and I had not once been tempted -to go to Paris. Pettermann brought me all that I desired and did my -errands with exactness. I always asked him if anybody had called, -although I never expected visitors. In society no one knew that I had -returned from my travels. Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece did not -know my address in Paris, and even if they had known it, I could not -expect a visit from them. Doubtless Caroline had ceased to think of me. -She did well. For my part, I confess that I very often thought of her, -and sometimes I regretted that I had given her her portrait. But a smile -or a word from my daughter banished such ideas.</p> - -<p>There was another person of whom I often thought, although Ernest and -his wife never mentioned her. I continually saw her, changed and pale as -I had seen her at Mont-d’Or; and at night, in the woods or in the -garden, I fancied that I still saw sometimes that white spectre, the -sight of which had caused me to fly so hurriedly from the hotel at which -I was living.</p> - -<p>How could I forget Eugénie? Did not my daughter talk to me every day -about her mother? Did she not constantly ask me if she would come home -soon? I tried in vain to avoid that subject, Henriette recurred to it -again and again; I dared not tell her that she made me unhappy by -speaking to me of her mother; but could I hope ever to enjoy perfect -happiness? Was there not always someone whose presence would prevent me -from forgetting the past?</p> - -<p>Poor child! it was not his fault that his mother was guilty. That was -what I said to myself every day as I looked at him; but in spite of -that, I could not conquer my feelings and conceal the depression which -his presence caused me. I did not hate him, and I felt that I<a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a> should -love him if I dared think that he was my son; but those cruel suspicions -hurt me more than the certainty of the worst, for then I could have made -up my mind with respect to Eugène, whereas now I did not know what -course to pursue.</p> - -<p>The poor boy had never seen a smile on my face for him; so that he -always held aloof from me, and never came near me except when his sister -brought him. Sometimes, as I walked in the garden, I saw Eugène in the -distance playing with Ernest’s children. Then I would stop, and, -standing behind a hedge, would watch him for a long while. I passed -hours in that way. He did not see me and abandoned himself without -restraint to the natural gayety of his age, which my presence seemed -always to hold in check. He feared me, no doubt, and he would never love -me. Often that thought distressed me; at such times I was seized with a -wild longing to run to him and to embrace him, to overwhelm him with -caresses, for I said to myself: “Suppose he were my son?” but soon the -painful thought would return, my heart would turn to ice, and I would -hurry away from the child’s neighborhood.</p> - -<p>My daughter noticed that I did not caress her brother as I did her; for -a child of seven makes her own little observations, and children notice -more than we think. Henriette, who considered herself a woman beside her -brother, because she was four years older than he, seemed to have taken -little Eugène under her protection; she told him what games to play, -scolded him, or rewarded him; in short, she played the little mamma with -him. But when I called Henriette, I did not call Eugène; when I took her -on my knee, I did not take her brother. Having observed all this, she -said to me one morning as I had my arms about her:<a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a></p> - -<p>“Tell me, papa, don’t you love my brother? You never kiss him, you never -speak to him; but he is a nice little fellow. He loves you too, my -brother does; so why don’t you take him in your arms?”</p> - -<p>“My dear love, because we don’t treat a boy as we do a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! don’t people kiss little boys?”</p> - -<p>“Very seldom.”</p> - -<p>“But, papa, Monsieur Ernest kisses his little boy as often as he does -his daughter.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what to reply; children often embarrass us when we try to -conceal things from them. Mademoiselle Henriette, seeing that I did not -know what to say to her, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Oh! if you didn’t love my brother, that would be very naughty!”</p> - -<p>To avoid my daughter’s remarks and questions, I determined to kiss her -less frequently during the day. However, as I desired to make up to -myself for my abstinence, I always went into the children’s chamber when -I rose. They were still asleep when I went in. Eugène’s cradle was by a -window, and Henriette’s little bed at the other end of the room, -surrounded by curtains, which I put aside with great care in order not -to wake her. I never went to the cradle, but I left the room softly and -noiselessly when I had kissed my daughter.</p> - -<p>I had been doing this for several days. Henriette said no more to me -about her brother, but glanced furtively at me with a mischievous -expression; it seemed that schemes were already brewing in that little -head.</p> - -<p>One morning I went as usual to the children’s room; I drew the curtains -partly aside and kissed my daughter, and I was about to steal away on -tiptoe when I heard a burst of laughter behind me; I turned and saw -Henriette<a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a> in her nightgown, crouching behind a chair; she came from her -hiding-place, and began to hop and dance about the room, saying:</p> - -<p>“I knew that I would make you kiss my brother.”</p> - -<p>I looked at her in surprise, then hastily pushed aside the curtains of -her bed; it was her brother who was lying there; she had put her little -cap on his head, and his face was turned to the wall. He was the one -whom I had kissed, as his sister had put him in her place. I was deeply -moved. At that moment Eugène’s little voice was heard; he called out -without moving or turning:</p> - -<p>“Can I move now, sister?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, it’s all over,” Henriette replied.</p> - -<p>“What? What does he mean by that?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, he wasn’t asleep, he was only making believe; I turned his -face to the wall and I said to him: ‘if you move, if you turn your head, -papa will know you, and he won’t kiss you.’—He was very good, you see, -he didn’t move at all.”</p> - -<p>I could hold out no longer; I took Eugène in my arms and covered him -with kisses, as well as his sister, crying:</p> - -<p>“After this you will both receive the same caresses from me; my heart -shall know no difference between you; you shall be alike my children. -Ah! it is better to love a stranger than to run the risk of spurning my -son from my arms.<a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII<br /><br /> -THE MARRIAGE BROKER</h2> - -<p>Ernest and his wife very soon noticed the change that had taken place in -my manner toward my son, and they seemed overjoyed. I told them what -Henriette had done, and that the change was due to her. They lavished -caresses upon her, and I did the same, for I owed it to her that I was -much happier. Arriving one day from Paris, with books for me and toys -for the children, Pettermann remained standing in front of me; it was -his custom when he wished to say something to me to wait for me to -question him; I had become used to that peculiarity.</p> - -<p>“What is there new, Pettermann?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, monsieur, except that I met someone on my way here this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Met someone? Does that interest me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was some acquaintances of monsieur, some people who were at -Mont-d’Or at the same time that we were; that pretty young lady with -such a fine figure and the thin, lively, good-natured little man.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you see them?”</p> - -<p>“On the boulevard, as I was on my way to Faubourg-Saint-Antoine.”</p> - -<p>“You did not speak first to them, I fancy?<a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Prout! as if I would ever have thought of such a thing! I didn’t even -see them! All of a sudden I felt someone tap me lightly on the shoulder; -I turned; it was the uncle. He was all out of breath; his niece was some -distance behind. He said to me first of all: ‘You walk terribly fast, my -friend! Ouf! you made me run.’—I answered: ‘Bless my soul, monsieur, I -didn’t know that you were following me.’—Just then his niece joined us. -She seems to be as inquisitive as ever, the young woman; you remember, -don’t you, monsieur, that she asked me a lot of questions at Mont-d’Or?”</p> - -<p>“Well, what did she ask you to-day?”</p> - -<p>“First of all, how monsieur was; then as I had a package under my arm, -she said: ‘Where are you going with that?’—‘To Saint-Mandé, -mademoiselle.’—‘Does Monsieur Dalbreuse live at Saint-Mandé?’—‘Yes, -mademoiselle.’—‘And is that bundle for him?’—‘Yes, mademoiselle.’—At -that she began to laugh, with a queer expression, and I noticed that the -head of a jack-in-the-box was sticking out of the bundle. The uncle -asked me: ‘Is Monsieur Dalbreuse running a marionette theatre?’—‘No, -monsieur; there are some books in the bundle for my master, but the toys -are for the children.’—‘What! has he children with him?’ cried the -young woman.—‘Prout!’ I said to myself at that; ‘there seems to be no -end to these questions.’—So I took off my hat and saluted them, and -told them that I was in a hurry.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all, Pettermann?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>So Caroline had not forgotten me, although we had not parted on very -good terms. But that was no reason why we should cease to think of each -other; so many people part on most excellent terms and forget each other -at once! That reminder of Mademoiselle Derbin caused<a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a> me a pleasant -emotion; she had such a strange temperament, a way of thinking that was -not like other people’s; and in spite of that, she had all the charm of -affability of her sex.</p> - -<p>If Pettermann had still been there, I would have asked him whether -Mademoiselle Derbin had changed, whether she seemed as bright and -cheerful as formerly. I would have asked him—I don’t know what else. -But he had gone. He had done well too. What occasion was there for me to -think of Caroline? I had determined thenceforth not to love anybody -except my children. It was a pity, however, for love is such a pleasant -occupation!</p> - -<p>It was three days after Pettermann had told me of that meeting. I was -walking in Vincennes forest with my children. Eugène had become less -timid with me; he smiled at me and kissed me, although he was not yet so -unreserved as his sister, who made me do whatever she wished. I held a -hand of each of them. I was listening to the chatter of Henriette and -her brother’s lisping replies, when my daughter mentioned her mother, -and my brow darkened.</p> - -<p>“Papa, why doesn’t mamma come back?”</p> - -<p>“She is ever so far away, my child. It may be that you won’t see her for -a very long time.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t like that. Why don’t we go to fetch her?”</p> - -<p>“That is impossible.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know where she is now.”</p> - -<p>“Oh dear! suppose she was lost!”</p> - -<p>Henriette’s eyes were full of tears; she looked at me as she asked that -question. Poor child! if she had known how she hurt me! I did not know -how to comfort her. If Eugénie had returned, I felt sure that she<a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a> would -have asked to see her child; and I should never have denied her that -satisfaction. But I heard nothing of her. Ernest and his wife never -mentioned her to me, and although their silence was beginning to vex me, -I did not choose to be the first to speak of Eugénie; besides, it was -quite possible that they had heard no more from her than I had.</p> - -<p>Henriette was still looking at me; impatient at my failure to answer, -she exclaimed at last:</p> - -<p>“Why, papa, what are you thinking about?”</p> - -<p>“About you, my child.”</p> - -<p>“I asked you if my poor mamma was lost, and you didn’t say anything. And -Monsieur Eugène never asks about his mamma! That is naughty! He’s a -hardhearted little wretch!”</p> - -<p>Eugène looked at his sister with a shamefaced air, then began to call -out to me as if he were reciting complimentary verses:</p> - -<p>“Papa, tell me about mamma, please.”</p> - -<p>I kissed Eugène, and he was content with that reply; but my daughter -caused me more and more embarrassment every day. However, she was -capable of listening to reason, for her intelligence was in advance of -her age. I stopped and sat down at the foot of a tree; then I drew my -children to my side, and I said to Henriette:</p> - -<p>“My dear love, you are no longer a child; I can talk reasonably to you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, papa, I am more than seven years old, and I know how to read!”</p> - -<p>“Listen to me: your mamma has gone away, to a very distant country; I do -not know myself when she will come back; you must see that it makes me -feel grieved not to see her, and whenever you mention her to me you -increase my grief. Do you understand, my dear love?<a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, papa. So I must never speak to you about mamma, eh?”</p> - -<p>“At all events, do not ask me questions that I can’t answer.”</p> - -<p>“But I can still think about mamma, can’t I?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear Henriette; and be very sure that as soon as she returns to -Paris, her first thought will be to come to embrace you.”</p> - -<p>My daughter said no more. That conversation seemed to have saddened both -the poor children. They said nothing more, and I myself sat beside them, -lost in thought.</p> - -<p>A few moments later a gentleman and lady came toward us. I had not -raised my eyes to look at them, but I had heard my own name. It was -Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece.</p> - -<p>They stopped in front of us.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my niece was right, it is our dear friend Monsieur Dalbreuse!”</p> - -<p>I rose and bowed to the uncle and niece. Caroline’s manner was cold but -polite.</p> - -<p>I did not recognize that animated and playful countenance which attached -so many people to her chariot at Mont-d’Or; she had assumed a much more -serious expression. Her glance was almost melancholy; but how well that -new manner became her! How great a charm that change gave her in my -eyes!</p> - -<p>“My niece said a long way off: ‘There is Monsieur Dalbreuse;’ but I -admit that I didn’t recognize you; and yet my sight is very good, I have -never used spectacles. But who are these lovely children?”</p> - -<p>“They are mine.”</p> - -<p>“Yours? Oh yes! I remember now—my niece told me that you were married. -They are charming; the<a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a> little girl has magnificent eyes, and quite a -little manner of her own. We shall make many conquests with those -eyes.—And you, my fine fellow. Oh! you will play the handsome Leander -with great success some day; you would be amazing with a club-wig.”</p> - -<p>While Monsieur Roquencourt was looking at my children, his niece drew -near to me and said in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“So you have your children with you now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>Then she stooped over Henriette and said:</p> - -<p>“Will you give me a kiss, my dear love?”</p> - -<p>My daughter made a dignified curtsy, then allowed herself to be -embraced. Mademoiselle next took Eugène in her arms and kissed him. I do -not know why I took pleasure in watching her do it.</p> - -<p>“So you live at Saint-Mandé? We learned that from your servant, whom we -happened to meet.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I am passing the summer here; I am staying with a friend -who was kind enough, with his wife, to take charge of my children while -I was travelling.”</p> - -<p>“There is one thing that you don’t know, and that is that we have been -neighbors of yours since yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I mean it. We have hired a little house, all furnished, at -Saint-Mandé and we have installed ourselves there for the rest of the -summer. It was an idea that came into my niece’s head. After we met your -servant, she said to me: ‘I am not feeling very well, uncle.’—It is -true that she has been out of sorts ever since we returned from -Mont-d’Or.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me, uncle! all this has very little interest for monsieur. What is -the use of giving him all these details?<a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Anything that concerns you, mademoiselle, cannot fail to interest me.”</p> - -<p>Caroline turned her face away. Her uncle continued:</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear girl, you are not well; it is of no use for you to try to -conceal it, for anybody can see it; and this solemn, melancholy -expression which has taken the place of your former gayety—for you have -lost all your gayety and——”</p> - -<p>“Why, you are mistaken, uncle; I am just the same as always.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you insisted on coming here for your health—at all events you -told me so; and when you insist upon a thing—you know, my dear -Dalbreuse, it’s just as it was when she made us go to drive at -Mont-d’Or—it has to be done on the instant. And so, inside of -twenty-four hours, we came, we saw, and we hired a house! And we must -needs take possession of it at once.”</p> - -<p>“It was because I was bored to death in Paris; and then I—I did not -know this neighborhood——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I know it; but I am very fond of it. Dugazon had a country house -at Saint-Mandé! I will show it to you when we return. We used to come -here to have little supper parties and theatricals, and to enjoy -ourselves. I played <i>L’Avocat Patelin</i>, and Petit-Jean in <i>Les -Plaideurs</i>; and by the way, in <i>Les Plaideurs</i>, I played a wicked trick! -You know, when——”</p> - -<p>“But we are detaining monsieur, uncle; we are taking his time, perhaps!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! by no means, mademoiselle; I was just going back to Saint-Mandé.”</p> - -<p>“We are going back there too; we will go together. As I was saying, it -was in <i>Les Plaideurs</i>. In the third act, you know, some little dogs are -brought on. Dugazon had said to me: ‘Will you undertake to provide some<a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a> -little dogs?’ I already had my plan in my head, so I said: ‘Yes, I -will.’ Very good. The performance began and the moment came when the -unfortunate orphans are called for. I brought on a large open basket. -Guess what came out of it: a dozen mice, which I had concealed inside -and which instantly ran about all over the stage, and jumped down into -the orchestra; and the men laughed and the women shrieked, for everyone -of them thought that she had a mouse under her skirt! I held my sides -with laughter! After the play, those ladies said that I was a monster! -That affair was worth three conquests to me!”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt chattered on, and in due time we reached the -village. Caroline had held Eugène’s hand all the way, and had talked -frequently with my daughter.</p> - -<p>“Here is our hermitage,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, stopping in front of -a pretty house within two gun shots of Ernest’s. “I trust that you will -come to see us, Monsieur Dalbreuse. In the country one must be -neighborly,—isn’t that so, niece?”</p> - -<p>“If monsieur chooses to give us that pleasure, if he would bring his -children to see us, I should be delighted to see them again.—Would you -like to come, my dear love?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame.”</p> - -<p>“And you, my little man? you must like sweeties and I always have some.”</p> - -<p>Eugène replied with great solemnity that he would like to come to see -the sweeties. I thanked her for the children and took my leave, -promising to bring them the next day.</p> - -<p>So Caroline wished to see me again; her fiery wrath against me was -allayed; doubtless it was because the sentiment that had given birth to -that wrath had also<a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a> vanished. But why had she lost her former playful -humor? Upon my word, I was very conceited to think that it had anything -to do with me. Might not Mademoiselle Derbin have some heartache, or -some secret, with which I was absolutely unconnected? I would have been -glad to know if she had seen Madame Blémont again before leaving -Mont-d’Or. However, I was not sorry for the meeting. When Ernest was at -work, it was impossible to talk with him; and his wife was constantly -busy with her children and with her household cares. So I thought that -it would be pleasant to go sometimes to Monsieur Roquencourt’s for a -chat.</p> - -<p>At dinner I informed my hosts of our meeting.</p> - -<p>“If they are pleasant people, ask them to come to see us,” said Ernest.</p> - -<p>I noticed that his wife did not second that invitation. I had said that -Caroline was lovely, and wives sometimes dread the visit of a lovely -person; Marguerite was a wife now.</p> - -<p>“My friend,” she said, “if they are people with twenty-five thousand -francs a year and a carriage, I shall never dare to receive them.”</p> - -<p>“Why not, pray, my dear love? I am an author, and genius goes before -wealth. Isn’t that so, Henri?”</p> - -<p>“It ought to be so, at all events.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear, I am not an author, I have no genius——”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t follow, my dear love; one is often found without the -other.”</p> - -<p>“At all events, I shall not dare, or I shall not be able—you yourself -say that we must not make acquaintances which will entail expense.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that Marguerite was getting mixed up; I fancied that I -could see her making signals to her<a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a> husband; but he was trying to -compose the concluding lines of a quatrain, and was not listening to -Marguerite. I comforted the little woman by telling her that she was -under no obligation to receive Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece.</p> - -<p>“But you will go to see them?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I don’t see what should prevent me.”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not. But you see, according to what I have heard of this -young lady, who does not choose to marry, I have an idea that she is a -flirt.”</p> - -<p>“Even if that were so, so long as her company is agreeable, I do not see -that I have anything to fear.”</p> - -<p>Madame Ernest said no more; I saw plainly that she was not pleased with -her new neighbor, and I could not imagine the reason; I did not propose -that that should prevent me from going to see the new arrivals.</p> - -<p>The next day I took my children to Monsieur Roquencourt’s house. I found -the uncle walking in his garden, with several people from the -neighborhood. Rich folk soon become popular; the neighbors vie with one -another in becoming intimate with people who own a carriage. Monsieur -Roquencourt was telling his new acquaintances about a scene from -<i>Monsieur de Crac</i>; he took my son and daughter by the hand, and offered -to show them his garden and to let them taste his peaches. I let them go -and went into the house to pay my respects to Caroline. I heard the -notes of a piano. A piano! how many things that instrument recalled to -my mind! Those chords caused me a sharp pang now. I remembered that -Mademoiselle Derbin had told me that she played the piano. I strove to -overcome my emotions, and I entered the salon where Caroline was. I -listened to her for some time without speaking; I cannot describe my -sensations. She stopped at last and I approached her.<a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a></p> - -<p>“Were you there?” she asked me.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have been listening to you.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you bring your children?”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, they are with your uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Your children are lovely, and I congratulate you, monsieur, upon having -them with you. It is a proof that your wife has forgiven your -wrongdoing, since she entrusts to you her dearest treasures. That leads -me to think that before long she herself——”</p> - -<p>“Did you see her again before leaving Mont-d’Or, mademoiselle?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; she left the hotel where we were staying, on the day -after you. Don’t you know where she is now?”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, monsieur, I utterly fail to understand your conduct. You -seem to love, to be devoted to your children, and you abandon their -suffering, unhappy mother! If I had never seen you, and anybody had told -me about you, I should have imagined you as hideous physically as -morally; but when one knows you, one cannot think that.”</p> - -<p>Caroline smiled and I held my peace; that was the best course that I -could pursue when that subject was broached. Henriette and Eugène came -in from the garden. Caroline ran to them and embraced them and lavished -toys and bonbons upon them; then, as I still remained silent, she sat -down at the piano again and allowed her fingers to run over the keys for -a few moments. Eugène was sitting in a corner, engrossed by his bonbons; -Henriette was gazing in admiration at a lovely doll which had just been -given her; but I noticed that, at the first sound from the piano, she -stopped playing and listened. I listened too, for it seemed to me that<a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a> -it was Eugénie to whom I was listening; there were the same talent and -the same expression. Soon my illusion was intensified, for Mademoiselle -Derbin, after a brilliant prelude, began a tune which I recognized: it -was Eugénie’s favorite. I was convinced that it was Eugénie who was -playing, as in the early days of our married life. I was roused from -that illusion by sobs; I looked up and saw that my daughter was sobbing -bitterly and that the doll had fallen from her hands. I ran to -Henriette, and Caroline did the same.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with you, my dear child?” I asked, taking her in my -arms. “Why are you crying?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! papa, it was because—because I thought that it was mamma playing!”</p> - -<p>Poor child! I pressed her to my heart and I hid in her hair the tears -which fell from my eyes.</p> - -<p>Caroline was still standing before us, and I heard her say in an -undertone:</p> - -<p>“You see this child’s tears, and still you do not give her back her -mother!”</p> - -<p>I came to my senses and comforted my daughter; Caroline overwhelmed her -with caresses; but, despite her efforts to detain me, I went away with -the children; for I heard Monsieur Roquencourt coming, and at that -moment it would have been impossible for me to endure a stranger’s -presence.</p> - -<p>I paid several visits to my neighbors, but Caroline did not play the -piano again when I was there. She lavished caresses and presents upon my -children, which they could not refuse; with me she was sad and silent, -but she always declared that I went away too soon.</p> - -<p>I saw that at Ernest’s house the new neighbors were not liked; that -seemed to me very unjust, because they did not know them. They cast -disdainful glances upon<a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a> the toys that my daughter and Eugène received -from Caroline; was it from jealousy, because her own children had not so -many, that Madame Ernest cried down the presents that were given to my -children? No, I knew Marguerite’s warm heart; it was not susceptible of -envy. Why was it then that she showed so much prejudice against Monsieur -Roquencourt’s niece?</p> - -<p>On going one day to call upon Caroline, I was greatly surprised to meet -Monsieur Giraud there. But I soon learned that he had been presented by -a neighbor with whom he was passing the day. In the country one friend -brings another to call, and Giraud was one of those people who ask -nothing better than to be brought. He seemed delighted to see me; one -always likes to find acquaintances in a house to which one goes for the -first time; it puts one more at ease. When he discovered that I was a -welcome guest in the house, that the uncle and niece manifested much -regard for me, Giraud redoubled his cordiality toward me. I guessed his -motive; he had not come there without a purpose; he must have heard that -Mademoiselle Derbin was a marriageable person. A lovely and rich young -woman—what a fine chance to negotiate a marriage! He desired to -establish friendly communications in the house. He overwhelmed Caroline -with compliments, which, I thought, did not touch her at all; but he -listened with imperturbable patience while Monsieur Roquencourt recited -the rôle of Mascarille; that might obtain him an invitation to come -again.</p> - -<p>But the neighbor who had brought him expressed a wish to go home. Giraud -took his leave regretfully, asking permission to pay his respects to the -uncle and niece when he happened to be driving at Saint-Mandé. They made -a courteous reply, and he went away enchanted.<a name="page_375" id="page_375"></a> I went at the same time, -for I saw that he wished to speak to me. In fact, we were no sooner -outside the house, than he put his arm through mine, slackened his pace, -calling to his friend to go ahead, and plunged at once into conversation -with me.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, it seems to me that you are very intimate, received on -very friendly terms at Monsieur Roquencourt’s?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Monsieur Giraud, I flatter myself that I am well received wherever -I go. If it were otherwise——”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t what I mean. Bless my soul! I know your merit, my friend, -although you no longer live with your wife; but that doesn’t prove -anything. Look you, this young Derbin woman is a magnificent match, if -what they tell me is true. But I shall make inquiries. Twenty-five -thousand francs a year, unencumbered, and expectations from her uncle! -and with all the rest, a pretty face, a fine figure, and talents! She -plays the piano; does she play anything else?”</p> - -<p>“I never asked her.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind! she is a most excellent match, and I have just the man that -she wants.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! you have——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you know very well that I always have husbands to offer. And so -when Dupont, who is ahead of us there, spoke to me about this young -lady, I said to him at once: ‘You must take me there.’—He has brought -me, and I shall come again. Are they always at home?”</p> - -<p>“Except when they go out.”</p> - -<p>“But I mean, are they going back to Paris?”</p> - -<p>“I have no idea.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, I shall come again soon; it is too good a chance not to -make haste; somebody else will get ahead of me. Luckily Saint-Mandé -isn’t far away, and<a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a> there are the omnibuses. But you must help me a -little, my dear fellow. Sound the uncle and niece and mention my young -man to them.”</p> - -<p>“What young man?”</p> - -<p>“The one whom I shall propose as a husband; a fine young fellow of -twenty-two, an only son, with some money, who wants to buy a drug shop. -However, if he doesn’t suit, I have others. The important thing is to -find out whether the girl has any previous attachment.—Do you know -whether she has?”</p> - -<p>“By what right, Monsieur Giraud, should I ask that young lady such a -question?”</p> - -<p>“Bah! one can always find that out, without asking; however, never mind, -help me a little inside the house; and I will try to have Dupont help -too. I must overtake him now. My friend, sound the young lady, I beg -you. You can offer a very good-looking fellow, with a hundred thousand -francs, and two handsome inheritances in prospect. By the way, if she -doesn’t like the idea of a drug shop, which is very likely when she has -twenty-five thousand francs a year, he will buy a solicitor’s -practice—that will suit her better; or, if necessary, he won’t buy -anything at all.—Hallo! I say, Dupont, here I am!—The deuce! he is -quite capable of dining without me.”</p> - -<p>Giraud left me. I could not help laughing at his mania for marrying -everybody; I had an idea that it was his only business, and that in -addition to ordering the wedding banquet, he obtained a commission from -the husband.</p> - -<p>If he relied upon me to speak to Mademoiselle Derbin, he would be -disappointed in his expectations. Fancy my speaking in favor of a person -whom I did not know! Indeed, I did not see that it was so necessary for -people to marry at all.<a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a></p> - -<p>Three days had passed since that meeting. I had forgotten Giraud, and I -am inclined to think that they thought little about him at Monsieur -Roquencourt’s.</p> - -<p>I had gone out for a moment without my children; I did not intend to see -Caroline, but she was at the window when I passed; she saw me and -beckoned to me to come in. Her uncle was in the garden and she was alone -in the salon. Since our parting at Mont-d’Or, for some reason or other I -was always embarrassed when I was alone with her.</p> - -<p>For some time we did not speak. That is what often happens when two -people have a great many things to say to each other. Caroline was -sitting at her piano, but she did not play.</p> - -<p>“Why do I never hear you play now?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Because it depresses you, and I do not see the sense of causing you -pain.”</p> - -<p>“There are memories which are painful and sweet at the same time. I -would like to hear once more that tune which you played the last time.”</p> - -<p>“And which made your daughter cry? Poor child! how dearly I love her!”</p> - -<p>Caroline turned to the piano and played Eugénie’s favorite piece. I -abandoned myself to the charm of listening and to the illusion of my -memories. My heart was swollen with tears, and yet I enjoyed it. -Caroline turned often to look at me, but I did not see her.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a great uproar roused us from that situation, which had much -charm for us both. The doorbell rang violently. Soon we heard several -voices and the barking of a dog.</p> - -<p>“What a nuisance!” cried Caroline; “one cannot be left in peace here a -moment; my uncle receives all his neighbors! I absolutely must lose my -temper with him.<a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a>”</p> - -<p>The noise kept increasing, and it seemed to me that I heard familiar -voices. At last they came toward the salon, and lo! Giraud entered, with -his wife, his daughter, one of his sons, and a tall young man dressed as -if for a ball, who dared not move for fear of disarranging the knot of -his cravat or rumpling his shirt collar.</p> - -<p>Caroline watched the entrance of all those people with wide-open eyes. -Giraud came forward with an offhand air and introduced his wife, saying:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle, I have the honor to offer my respects, and to introduce -my wife. Wife, this is mademoiselle, the niece of Monsieur Roquencourt, -from whom I received such a cordial welcome last Sunday, and who urged -me to call again when I was driving in this direction. These are my -eldest son and my daughter. Bow to the lady, my children. Monsieur is -one of our intimate friends; he was in our party and I took the liberty -of introducing him.—Good-day, my dear Blémont; delighted to find you -here again!”</p> - -<p>Caroline bestowed a decidedly cool salutation upon the party; she -contented herself with pointing to chairs. The Giraud family seated -themselves; the young dandy took his seat on the edge of a couch, and -Giraud at once continued:</p> - -<p>“But where is our dear uncle, the amiable Monsieur Roquencourt? Bless my -soul! how I did enjoy hearing him recite the part of Mascarille in -<i>L’Etourdi</i>! and Monsieur de Crac! Ah! how good he was! I made my wife -laugh heartily by telling her about it.—Didn’t I, my love?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear.—But, mon Dieu! what does Azor mean by searching under -all the chairs like that? Come here, Azor.—Monsieur Mouillé, just give -him a kick, if you please, to make him keep still.<a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a>”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Mouillé—that was the dandified young man’s name—rose and -tried to catch the dog. Being unable to do it, he gave him a kick, which -made Azor fly from the salon yelping just as Monsieur Roquencourt -entered. Everybody rose once more. Once more Monsieur Giraud introduced -his family and his young man, adding:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Mouillé does not come to the country often; he has so much -business to attend to since he inherited from his uncle the merchant, -who left him a hundred and fifty thousand francs and a buggy.—Was it a -buggy or a tilbury that your uncle had?”</p> - -<p>“It was a jolting affair,” replied Monsieur Mouillé, without turning his -neck.</p> - -<p>Giraud made a wry face and continued;</p> - -<p>“Yes—in short, a carriage. That is very well for a young man of -twenty-three. But when I told him that we were going to pay a visit to -such agreeable people, he no longer hesitated to accompany us. Wife, -this is Monsieur Roquencourt, who, as I was saying just now, used to act -so well! Dieu! how you did make me laugh when you recited Mascarille!”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt seemed at first rather surprised to find so large a -party, brought by a man whom he had seen but once; but the instant that -the subject of acting was mentioned, his features dilated, his eyes -gleamed, and he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Yes, pardieu! I should say that I have acted! and before Dugazon, -Larive and many others!”</p> - -<p>“That is what I told my wife and Monsieur Mouillé, that you acted before -Dugazon. My dear, monsieur acted before Dugazon!”</p> - -<p>“Mascarille is a fine part, very long; but, although I was very good in -it, especially when I said: <i>‘Vivat <a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a>Mascarillus, fourbum imperator——’</i>”</p> - -<p>“Ah! charming! delightful! isn’t it, wife? What did I tell you? <i>Fourbum -imperator</i>!—Stop your noise, children!”</p> - -<p>“I had other parts that I preferred. First of all, Figaro. Ah! Figaro! -the costume is so pretty, and it was so becoming to me!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the costume must have been very becoming to you. Monsieur Mouillé, -didn’t you disguise yourself as Figaro once, to go to a magnificent ball -given by a contractor?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, I went as Pinçon, in <i>Je fais mes Farces</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that is different.”</p> - -<p>“To return to my costume,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, “it was white and -cherry, and made of silk throughout. I believe I have it yet.”</p> - -<p>“White and cherry; and you have it yet! Ah! if you would put it on, how -kind it would be of you!”</p> - -<p>Caroline, who had not uttered a word during this whole conversation, now -leaned over to me and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Have these people come here with the purpose of making fun of my -uncle?”</p> - -<p>“No, there is another motive, which I will tell you.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt looked at Giraud a moment, but replied -good-naturedly:</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I can’t wear that costume again. It was twenty-five years ago -when I wore it, and since that time I have taken on flesh, a great deal -of flesh!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is true, in twenty-five years one does change, one does grow -fat.—Monsieur Mouillé, it seems to me that you have grown since last -year.”</p> - -<p>“Three lines,” replied Monsieur Mouillé with a bow.</p> - -<p>“Three lines! the deuce! You will make a fine man! Mademoiselle has a -fine figure too, one of those graceful<a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a> and slender figures which make -it impossible for a small man to offer her his arm.”</p> - -<p>It was Caroline to whom this complimentary speech was addressed. She -glanced at me with an impatient gesture, but Giraud, who thought that he -had done the most graceful thing in the world in praising fine figures, -had not thought of Monsieur Roquencourt, who was very short. The uncle -stepped forward into the centre of the circle and said:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, you are greatly mistaken when you say that a man of medium -height should not offer his arm to a tall woman; Mademoiselle Contat was -by no means short, and she certainly found me a most satisfactory -escort.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Monsieur Roquencourt! Why, that is not what I said, or what I meant -to say! The devil! let us understand each other. Little man! deuce take -it! why, everybody knows that the heroes, the Alexanders, the -Fredericks, the Napoléons, were all men of short stature. Isn’t that so, -Monsieur Mouillé?—Wife, for heaven’s sake, make your daughter stop her -noise.”</p> - -<p>“And on the stage, monsieur, it is much better to be short than tall, -for the stage makes everyone appear taller.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I have said twenty times to my wife,—the stage makes -people taller; and you know something about it, Monsieur Roquencourt.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed I do. A tall man cannot play Figaro, or Mascarille, or -Scapin.—Ah! how quick and active I was as Scapin! I had my portrait -painted in the character.”</p> - -<p>“Your portrait as Scapin! Was it exhibited in the Salon?”</p> - -<p>“They wanted to paint me as Monsieur de Crac too.<a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur de Crac! My wife is still laughing because I repeated some -scenes to her, after you. Ah! Monsieur Roquencourt! if you would only be -good enough—Monsieur Mouillé has never seen Monsieur de Crac,—Have -you, Monsieur Mouillé?”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” replied the young man, “I think that I have seen it -acted at Bobino’s.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! at Bobino’s, eh?” cried Monsieur Roquencourt. “Pardieu! that -must have been fine! A difficult rôle like that! In the first place, you -must be careful about the accent:<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Dé façon qué dé loin sur lé pauvre animal<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Lé perdreau, sans mentir, semblait être à chéval,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Et fût resté longtemps dans la même posture,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Si mon chien n’avait pris cavalier et monture.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Eh donc, que dites-vous?”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> That is, the Gascon accent.</p></div> - -<p>During this declamation, Giraud stamped on the floor and pretended to -writhe with pleasure on his chair; Madame Giraud was occupied solely in -keeping her children quiet, and Monsieur Mouillé did not stir.</p> - -<p>“Ah! bravo! bravo!” cried Giraud. “I say, wife, you never heard such -acting as that, did you?—Monsieur Mouillé, you should consider yourself -very fortunate to have come to Saint-Mandé with us! very fortunate in -every respect, indeed, for there is everything here that can seduce and -fascinate!—Oh! Monsieur Roquencourt, something else—just a fragment or -two.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if this sort of thing is going to last long,” Caroline -whispered to me. I smiled but said nothing. Monsieur Roquencourt did not -wait to be asked twice. He stepped forward again to the centre of the -salon:<a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a></p> - -<p>“Here is a passage from the scene in which he is asked about his son; -and it is his son himself who questions him, unrecognized by him.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes! I see.—Wife, somebody asks him about his son. Attention, -Monsieur Mouillé! And it is his son himself. Do you understand?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand at all,” replied the young man.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you do; yes, you do.—Hush! be quiet, children!”</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“.... Il sert contré lé Russe;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Mais il sert tout dé bon. Ah! lé feu roi dé Prusse,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Savait l’apprécier; et lé grand Frédéric,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">En fait d’opinion, valait tout un public.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Il admirait mon fils—J’en ai——”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt was interrupted in his declamation by the cook, who -rushed into the room, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! what on earth is this dog that’s just come here, -mademoiselle? He came into my kitchen and jumped at everything there is -there; he ate at one gulp the remains of the chicken that was on the -table, and he’s just carried off the leg of mutton that was for your -dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it’s because he’s thirsty!” cried Giraud; “give him some water; he -was very hot, give him some water, if you please, and then he will fawn -all over you.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” said Caroline, rising and walking forward, with a very -decided air, toward Giraud, “I am very sorry, but you really must give -your dog water somewhere else; my uncle should remember that we have to -go out this morning, we have very little time, and we cannot have the -pleasure of detaining you any longer.”</p> - -<p>As she said this, Caroline gave her uncle a glance which he understood -very clearly, and he faltered:<a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a></p> - -<p>“Yes—yes, I believe that we have to go out.”</p> - -<p>Giraud seemed thunderstruck; he looked at his wife, who looked at -Monsieur Mouillé, who looked at his trousers to see if they were -creased.</p> - -<p>However, the family rose; the dandified young man followed their -example, and Giraud bowed low, saying:</p> - -<p>“As you have an engagement, of course we do not desire to detain you; -another time I trust that we shall be more fortunate, and that we may -form a connection of which the fortunate result—Monsieur Mouillé, -present your respects to mademoiselle. Bow, children.—Monsieur -Roquencourt, we shall not forget your great amiability.—Azor! here, -Azor! Azor! Oh! he will certainly come.—Au revoir, my dear Blémont.”</p> - -<p>The family backed out of the room, bowing, and Giraud whispered in my -ear:</p> - -<p>“Has she a previous attachment? If this young man doesn’t suit her, I -have others to offer. Write me what she has said to you.”</p> - -<p>They left the salon at last, and they succeeded in finding Azor, who -rushed out of the house with a mutton bone in his teeth.</p> - -<p>When the visitors had gone, Caroline said to the maid and the gardener:</p> - -<p>“If those people ever show their faces here again, don’t forget to say -that we are not at home. Really, their impertinence is beyond bounds.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear, mademoiselle,” said the cook; “I don’t want to see the -masters again any more than the dog. I’ve got my dinner to prepare all -over again now.”</p> - -<p>“It’s my uncle’s fault; he invites everybody he sees; so long as they -talk of the theatre and acting to him, that’s enough for him; he would -declaim before chimney sweeps!<a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You go too far, niece; did I go in search of this gentleman, and tell -him to bring his wife and children and dog? He thinks that I act well, -and I see nothing extraordinary in that; many other people besides him -have thought the same. But as to declaiming before chimney sweeps! -However, chimney sweeps may have a very keen perception; the common -people aren’t such bad judges as you seem to think, and Dugazon told me -several times that at free performances the applause never came except -when it was deserved. But you have no appreciation of acting, and before -you it would be useless to have talent.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Roquencourt was offended; he left us and went to his room. I -also attempted to leave, but Caroline detained me, saying:</p> - -<p>“Just a moment, if you please. You know this Monsieur Giraud, who seemed -determined to plant himself here with his whole family and his friends -too. He spoke to you in an undertone. You told me that you would tell me -the purpose of his visit; will you be kind enough to do so, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>I sat down again beside Caroline, and I could not help smiling as I said -to her:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle, this Monsieur Giraud has a mania, or a vocation for -arranging marriages. When he learned that you were still unattached, he -at once conceived the plan of finding a husband for you.”</p> - -<p>“The impertinent fellow! Why should he mix himself up in the matter?”</p> - -<p>“As he is convinced that everybody must always come to that at last, he -displays the most incredible perseverance in his schemes. He had already -requested me to speak to you in favor of the young man whom he brought -here to-day.<a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What! that great booby?”</p> - -<p>“He was an aspirant for your hand, yes, mademoiselle; and, despite the -unflattering welcome that you bestowed upon Giraud and his protégé, I -should not be at all surprised if he returned to the charge again soon, -with a new <i>parti</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I assure you, monsieur, that I shall not receive him again. What you -have told me makes the man more intolerable to me. The idea of -attempting to arrange a marriage for me! Can one imagine such a thing?”</p> - -<p>Caroline’s face had become serious. She lowered her eyes and seemed to -be lost in thought; after a moment she continued:</p> - -<p>“Marry! oh, no! I shall never marry. For a moment I thought that it was -possible. It was a delightful dream that I had, but it was only a dream. -I deceived myself cruelly!”</p> - -<p>Those words distressed me greatly, and yet, could I be sure that they -were addressed to me? I could not try to ascertain; but in spite of -myself, I moved nearer to Caroline, who had dropped her head sadly upon -her breast, and I took her hand, which I had never done before; but she -seemed so depressed that I longed to comfort her. I did not know what to -say to her. I dared not ask her the reason of her determination. We sat -a long while thus without speaking; my hand gently pressed hers, but -that did not comfort her, for tears poured from her eyes. Then I put my -arm about her waist; I felt her heart beat beneath my fingers. I almost -breathed her breath.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she pushed me away, moved her chair away from mine and -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I did not believe that I was so weak; but at all events I will not -be wicked; no, I will not add to the<a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a> grief of a woman whom I pity, -whose happiness I would like to restore. And since I am unable to -conceal my feelings from you, we must meet henceforth only in company, -only before strangers; yes, I swear to you that this is the last -tête-à-tête that we shall have.”</p> - -<p>Having said this, she hurried from the salon, and I left the house, -realizing that we should in truth do well to avoid each other.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV<br /><br /> -THE SPECTRE</h2> - -<p>After my last tête-à-tête with Caroline I went less frequently to her -house, and never went there without my children. The season was -advancing; we were to stay in the country but a short time, and I took -them to walk with me in the woods every day. Sometimes Madame Ernest -went with us; I noticed that she was more friendly with me, that she was -in better spirits since I had ceased to pass so much time at Monsieur -Roquencourt’s. I concluded that she must have something against her -neighbors. But as she was as kind and attentive as always to me and my -children, and as her husband’s affection for me showed no diminution, I -asked them for nothing more.</p> - -<p>I often noticed that Madame Ernest seemed to want to speak to me. I -could read faces well enough to feel sure that she had something to say -to me. But if that was so, what prevented her? When I was lost in -thought,<a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a> I saw her scrutinize me furtively, then look at my children; -but she either said nothing or talked about things which could not -interest me.</p> - -<p>One afternoon we all went into the forest of Vincennes together. I led -Henriette and Eugène by the hand, and Madame Ernest led her little son -and daughter. Night was approaching. As we entered a shaded path, Eugène -cried:</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’m afraid of the spectre here!”</p> - -<p>“Of the spectre?” I said, taking him in my arms. “Who has told you -anything about a spectre, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“The nurse,” cried Madame Ernest’s little girl; “she says there’s a -spectre in our house, and that she’s seen it in the garden.”</p> - -<p>“Your nurse is a silly creature, and so are you, mademoiselle,” said her -mother hastily; “I shall forbid her to talk to you about such things.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I have heard about it too,” said Henriette, “and the nurse declared -that she has seen, or heard, the spectre near the little summer-house.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! what idiots those people are! And how can you repeat such -things, Henriette—such a sensible girl as you are?”</p> - -<p>Madame Ernest seemed very much irritated that there had been any talk of -spectres. I began to laugh.</p> - -<p>“Why, really,” I said, “it almost seems as if you took the thing -seriously. Do you imagine that I am going to run off as fast as I can -because these children say that there’s a spectre in your house?”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not; but don’t you agree with me that it’s wrong to make -children timid by talking to them about such things?”</p> - -<p>“That is the very reason why it is better to laugh with them than to be -angry. I am very sure that you are<a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a> not afraid of the spectre, -Henriette, because you understand that there are no such things.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! papa, I don’t know whether there are any such things, but I’m a -little bit afraid too. And the other night I woke up and thought I saw -something white going out of my room. Oh! I wanted to shriek; but I just -put my head under the bedclothes.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear love, you ought to find out first of all what you’re -afraid of. What is a spectre? Tell me.”</p> - -<p>“It is—I don’t know, papa.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know,” cried little Ernest, “a spectre is a ghost.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! and what is a ghost?”</p> - -<p>“A spectre.”</p> - -<p>“Bravo! you are quite capable of explaining the Apocalypse!”</p> - -<p>“A spectre,” cried the little girl in her turn, “is a devil with a red -tail and green horns, that comes at night and pulls naughty little -children’s toes.”</p> - -<p>That definition made Marguerite and me laugh; but I agreed that she -would do well to scold the nurse for telling the children such tales. -Young imaginations should never be terrified and darkened. The time when -things cease to look rose-colored to us comes quickly enough.</p> - -<p>We returned to the house talking of spectres. I kissed my children, who -went off to bed; then I walked in the garden. It was a magnificent -evening and seemed to me to invite one to breathe the cool, moist air. I -soon found myself near the summer-house, which was not occupied. The -moon was shining on that part of the garden; but its light always -inclines one to melancholy. As I glanced at the clumps of trees about -me, I remembered the spectre of which we had been talking, and although -I am not a<a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a> believer in ghosts, I realized that, by assisting one’s -imagination a little, it was easy to see behind that foliage ghostly -figures which moved with the faintest breeze.</p> - -<p>I seated myself on a bench by the summer-house. The night was so soft -and still that I did not think of returning to the house. The image of -Caroline, the memory of Eugénie, presented themselves before my mind in -turn. I sighed as I reflected that I must fly from the first because she -loved me, and forget the other because she did not love me. But she was -the mother of my children. They had spoken of her again that day, and -had asked me if she would come home soon. I did not know what reply to -make. Ernest and his wife never mentioned Eugénie, and their silence -surprised and disquieted me. Not a word of her—nothing to tell me where -she was, what she was doing, or if she were still alive. She was so -changed, so ill, at Mont-d’Or! I would have liked to hear from her. I -could not love her, but she would never be indifferent to me.</p> - -<p>In these reflections I forgot the time. A sound quite near me caused me -to raise my head. It was like a faint sigh. I saw nobody, so I stood up. -It seemed to me that I could distinguish, through the leaves, something -white running toward the other end of the garden. I remembered the -spectre. My curiosity was aroused; I walked to the path where I thought -that I had seen something; but I found nothing, and I decided to go to -my room; for it was late and everybody else had already retired, no -doubt.</p> - -<p>I certainly did not believe in ghosts; but I recalled Madame Ernest’s -impatience when the children mentioned the subject, and I suspected that -there was some mystery at the bottom of it all. I determined to solve -it, for something told me that I was interested in it.<a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a></p> - -<p>I went to bed, but I could not sleep. Tormented by my thoughts, I -decided to rise again, and I was about to open my window when it seemed -to me that I heard a noise at the end of the corridor, in my children’s -room. I opened my door very softly. At that instant a sort of white -shadow came out of the other room. I confess that my heart fluttered -slightly at first. I was on the point of rushing toward that mysterious -being; but I restrained myself and waited silently, without moving a -hair, to see what was the meaning of it all.</p> - -<p>After closing the door of the children’s chamber, the shade stopped and -picked up a lantern; then it walked slowly toward me. It was a woman; I -could see that.—But I recognized her: it was Eugénie!</p> - -<p>She walked very softly, apparently afraid of making a sound. Her white -dress, and the long muslin veil that was thrown back from her head, gave -her a sort of ethereal, unsubstantial aspect at a distance. I had no -doubt that she was the spectre that had frightened the nurse and -children.</p> - -<p>Poor Eugénie! her face was almost as pale as her clothes. What a sad -expression in her eyes! what prostration in her whole person!—She -stopped; she was standing at the head of the stairs. She turned her face -toward the room she had just left, then looked in my direction. I -trembled lest she should see me; but no, I had no light and my room was -very dark. She made up her mind at last to go downstairs; I ran to my -window and saw the little lantern pass rapidly through the garden and -disappear near the summer-house.</p> - -<p>So it was Eugénie who occupied that building, which was always carefully -closed; Ernest and Marguerite had given it to her so that she could -readily go to the house to see her children. So she was there—very near -me—<a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a>had been there a long while perhaps, and I had no suspicion of it. -What was her object, her hope? Was it because of her children only that -she had concealed herself there?—But Ernest and his wife knew perfectly -well that I would not prevent her from seeing them.</p> - -<p>I determined to learn the motive of Eugénie’s conduct, and the plans of -Marguerite and her husband. To that end, I must be careful not to let -them suspect that I had seen the pretended spectre; and I must try to -learn something more the next night.</p> - -<p>The intervening time seemed terribly long to me. During the day, I -involuntarily walked toward the summer-house several times; but -everything was closed as usual. I noticed that the door, which was on -the side of the building toward the forest, was very conveniently -situated for anyone to go in and out of the garden unseen.</p> - -<p>The night came at last. I kissed my children and they were taken to -their room. When I supposed that they were asleep, I bade my hosts -good-night and withdrew to my room, on the pretext that I had a violent -headache; but I had no sooner entered the room than I stole forth again -softly, without a light, and went to that occupied by my children. The -key was in the door; I went in, and sat down by my daughter’s bed to -wait until somebody should come; both she and her brother were sleeping -quietly.</p> - -<p>At last, some time after everybody was in bed, I heard stealthy steps -outside. I instantly left my chair and hid behind the long window -curtains. I was hardly out of sight when the door was softly opened, and -Eugénie entered the chamber, carrying her little lantern, which she -carefully placed at the foot of her son’s cradle.</p> - -<p>She threw her veil back over her shoulders, and, stealing forward on -tiptoe, leaned over Henriette’s bed<a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a> and kissed her without waking her; -she did the same with Eugène, then sat down facing the children and -gazed long at them as they lay sleeping.</p> - -<p>I dared not move; I hardly breathed; but Eugénie was almost facing me; I -could see her face and count her sighs. She put her handkerchief to her -eyes, which were filled with tears, and I heard broken sentences come -from her lips.</p> - -<p>“Poor children! What an unhappy wretch I am! But I must deprive myself -of your caresses—you will never call me mother again. And he—he will -never more call me his Eugénie!—Oh! cruelly am I punished!”</p> - -<p>Her sobs redoubled, and I had to summon all my courage to refrain from -flying to her, wiping away her tears and pressing her to my heart as of -old.</p> - -<p>We remained in those respective positions for a long while. At last -Eugénie rose and seemed to be on the point of taking leave of her -children, when someone softly opened the door. Eugénie started back in -alarm; but she was reassured when she recognized Marguerite. The latter -carefully closed the door, then seated herself by Eugénie’s side; and -although they spoke in low tones, I did not lose a word of their -conversation.</p> - -<p>“My husband is working; I did not feel like sleeping, and I thought that -I should find you here; so I came as quietly as possible. However, -there’s no light in Monsieur Blémont’s room, and I fancy that he has -long been asleep.—Well! still crying! You are making yourself -worse—you are very foolish.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! madame, tears and regrets are my lot henceforth. I cannot expect -any other existence.”</p> - -<p>“Who knows? you must not lose hope; if your husband could read the -depths of your heart, I believe that he would forgive you.<a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a>”</p> - -<p>“No, madame, for he would always remember my sin; nothing would make my -motives less blameworthy in his eyes. And yet, although I am very -guilty, I am less so perhaps than he thinks. You have understood me, for -women can understand one another. But a man! he sees only the crime, -without looking to see what might have driven a woman to forget her -duties. And yet, heaven is my witness that, if I had loved him less, I -should never have become guilty. If he should hear me say that, he would -smile with pity, with contempt; but you—you know that it is true.”</p> - -<p>Eugénie laid her head on Marguerite’s shoulder, and sobbed more bitterly -than ever. For some minutes they said nothing. At last Eugénie -continued:</p> - -<p>“I know that my jealousy did not justify me in becoming guilty; but, my -God! as if I knew what I was doing! I believed that I was forgotten, -deceived, betrayed, by a husband whom I adored. I had but one desire—to -repay a part of what he had made me suffer. ‘Play the flirt,’ I was -told, ‘and you will bring your husband back to your arms; men soon -become cold to a woman whom no one seems to desire to possess.’—I -believed that; or, rather, I believed that Henri had never loved me; and -then I tried to cease loving him. You know, madame, how jealous I was of -you. That ball at which you were—at which he danced with you—oh! that -ball fairly drove me mad. Before that, my jealousy had banished peace -from our household. Alas! it was never to return! I plunged into the -whirlpool of society; not that I was happy there; but I tried to forget, -and I was pleased to see that he was distressed by my conduct.</p> - -<p>“Fatal blindness! I preferred his anger to his indifference! When I had -once sinned, I cannot attempt to<a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a> tell you what took place within me; I -tried to deceive myself as to the enormity of my sin; I lived in a -never-ending whirl of dissipation, afraid to reflect, doing my utmost to -put Henri in the wrong, to convince myself that he had betrayed me a -hundred times, and, for all that, realizing perfectly that I had -destroyed my own peace of mind forever. When my husband learned the -truth, I did not stoop to try to obtain forgiveness by tears. No, I -preferred to try to deceive myself still.—Great heaven! what must he -have thought of my heart on reading the two letters that I wrote him! A -woman who detested him would not have written differently. But, as if I -were not already guilty enough, I tried still to make him believe that I -felt no repentance for what I had done. I continued to go into society. -‘He will know it,’ I said to myself; ‘he will think that I am happy -without him;’ and that thought strengthened me to hold myself in check -in the midst of the crowd and to affect a gayety which was so far from -my heart. But I knew nothing of his duel and his illness. Those two -things, which I learned at almost the same time, made it impossible for -me to put any further constraint on myself; it seemed to me that a -bandage fell from my eyes. The thought that I might have caused his -death terrified me. From that moment the world became hateful to me! I -realized the depth of my wrongdoing; when I knew you and heard what you -said, I found that I had suspected Henri unjustly, that he really loved -me when I believed that he was unfaithful to me. He loved me, and it was -by my own fault that I lost his love! Oh! madame, that thought is -killing me—and you expect me to cease weeping!”</p> - -<p>“But why shouldn’t you consent to let us mention you to him, to let us -try to move him?<a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! that is impossible; somebody else has tried it already, and to -no purpose, as I have told you. That young woman, Mademoiselle Caroline -Derbin, whom he met, I believe, at Mont-d’Or,—that young woman, who -thought that he was a bachelor at first, learned, I don’t know how, that -he was my husband; then, believing that it was he who had abandoned me, -she begged him, implored him, to return to me. I was near them, without -their knowing it, in the courtyard of the inn; I overheard all their -conversation. He was kind enough also to allow himself to be blamed for -wrongs of which he was not guilty; he did not try to disabuse her with -regard to me. But, when she begged him to return to me, I heard him say: -‘We are parted forever!’—Ah! those cruel words echoed in the depths of -my heart, and I cannot understand why they did not kill me, although I -had lost all hope of obtaining forgiveness.”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing to prove that his answer to Mademoiselle Derbin -represents his opinion to-day. I told you how he had changed to his son, -poor little Eugène, whom he would hardly look at when he first came -here; now he seems as fond of him as of his daughter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! since I first sinned, I have known but one moment’s happiness—that -was when I learned that he no longer refused to take his son in his -arms! Poor child! because your mother was guilty, could your father -treat you as a stranger all your life? But I solemnly swear that I was -without reproach when my son was born, and Henri can safely take him in -his arms!”</p> - -<p>What I had heard caused me such intense pleasure that I cannot describe -it; I had to lean against the window; for joy often takes away all our -strength. Luckily Marguerite continued the conversation; they did not -hear the movement that I was unable to restrain.<a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a></p> - -<p>“What makes me hope that Monsieur Blémont may yet forgive you, madame, -is the pains that he has taken to conceal your wrongdoing. Nobody knows -anything about it; he alone has incurred all the blame.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he has done that for the honor of his name, for his children; but -do not infer from that that he will forgive me. Henri loved me too -dearly—and I wrecked his life! No, I entreat you again, never speak to -him about me! Let him forget me—but let him love his children! Is not -that all that I can ask? Thanks to your kindness—to your compassion for -me—I can at least see him. Hidden in the summer-house which you have -given me, I can look into the garden through a hole in the shutters. -Henri often walks there; sometimes I hear his voice, I see him with his -children.—Then—oh! madame, such joy and such agony as I feel!—Had I -not a place between my children and him?—And I can never occupy it -again!”</p> - -<p>“Poor Eugénie! Calm yourself, for heaven’s sake.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I must restrain my sobs, for I don’t want to disturb my -children’s sleep. I can kiss them every night; that is my sole -consolation; but they do not call me their mother any more. Oh! madame, -it is ghastly never to hear that name!”</p> - -<p>“You could come to see them if you chose. You could send for them to -come to you. Monsieur Blémont has never had any idea of depriving you of -their caresses.”</p> - -<p>“No, I am no longer worthy of them. Besides, they will grow up. What can -you reply to children who ask you why you do not live with their father? -It is much better that they should not see me; that they should forget -their mother!”</p> - -<p>After another interval, filled only by Eugénie’s subdued moans, she -continued:<a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a></p> - -<p>“Alas! my heart is torn by still another pang. You have guessed it—you -who can read my heart so well, who are so kind to me, and whom I -misunderstood and blamed for so long!”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” said Marguerite, embracing her; “haven’t I forbidden you to -mention that again? But I have some good news for you: for some days -Monsieur Blémont has been to see Mademoiselle Derbin much less -frequently; he passes less time with her.”</p> - -<p>“He goes there less? Is it possible? Oh! I no longer have any right to -be jealous, madame, I know; I have no claim to his heart; and yet I -cannot reconcile myself to the thought that he loves another. And this -Caroline is so lovely; and then she loves him—I am perfectly sure of -that.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! women are never mistaken about such things, you know. I discovered -it at Mont-d’Or; I was certain of it when I overheard their conversation -on the evening that he left. To be sure, she begged him to come back to -me; but her voice trembled, she could hardly restrain her tears. In -short, she spoke to him as one speaks to a person whom one loves, even -when one is trying to pretend to hate him. Poor Caroline! she had -thought that he was free and a bachelor. She had abandoned herself -without fear to the pleasure of loving him.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; but now when she knows perfectly well that he is married, -and above all, when she thinks that it was he who deserted you, why does -she bring her uncle here to Saint-Mandé, and settle down within two -steps of us? Why does she invite Monsieur Blémont to come to see her? Is -that the way for a woman to act with a man whom she is determined not to -love, whom she is<a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a> trying to forget? I confess that that has not given -me a very favorable opinion of that young lady, and Monsieur Blémont -must have noticed more than once that I don’t like her, although I don’t -know her.”</p> - -<p>“What can you expect? She still loves him—she longed to see him again. -But if only he might not love her! Since I have seen him every day, -since, thanks to you, I have been living so near him, I have indulged in -illusions; I have fancied sometimes that I still reigned in his heart; -and the awakening is very bitter!—No, I am nothing more than a stranger -now; I can never recover the place that I once filled in his heart. -Others must have his love.”</p> - -<p>“Why forbid us to speak to him of you sometimes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! never, never, I implore you! My children speak of me to him; I -often hear them ask about their mother. If he is deaf to their voices, -do you think that he will be moved by yours? Wait until he himself—but -he will never ask what has become of me!”</p> - -<p>“I cannot believe that he has entirely forgotten you.—But it is late; -you must go; it is time for you to be in bed.”</p> - -<p>Marguerite took the light, while Eugénie went to look at her children -and kiss them once more. But Marguerite led her away and they both left -the room, closing the door with great caution.</p> - -<p>I listened to their footsteps for a few seconds, until I could no longer -hear them. Then I left my hiding-place, and I too kissed my children, -but with a keener delight than usual; and, taking equal precautions to -make no noise, I returned to my room. The conversation that I had -overheard was engraved on my memory, and my course was already resolved -upon, my plan of action formed.<a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV<br /><br /> -LUCILE AGAIN</h2> - -<p>On the day following that night which was to change my destiny, I wrote -to Pettermann to come to Saint-Mandé to receive some commissions to -which I wished him to attend. My faithful German speedily appeared; but -he seemed to me to act with some constraint, and when he stood in front -of me he did not speak.</p> - -<p>“Well, Pettermann, what is there new?” I asked him. “I can see that you -have something to tell me; why don’t you speak?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, yes, I have something to tell you, but I don’t know how -to put it.”</p> - -<p>“Explain yourself!”</p> - -<p>“You see, I’m afraid that you’ll think I’m an idiot; when I say one -thing and do another.—Faith, prout!—but never mind! Monsieur knows -well enough that men are not phœnixes! Here goes! Monsieur knows that -I am married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And that I left my wife because we didn’t agree. She beat me and didn’t -want me to drink; I wanted to drink and not to be beaten.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Pettermann?”</p> - -<p>“Well, monsieur, a few days ago I met my wife, and she spoke to me; she -was as sweet as honey—in short, we melted toward each other. She asked -me if I still got drunk; I told her that it only happened once a month;<a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a> -she said: ‘Nobody can find fault with once a month.’—In short, -monsieur—you see—I’ve promised to take my wife back. But what makes me -miserable is that then I shall have to leave you; and I’m afraid -monsieur is angry with me too.”</p> - -<p>“No, Pettermann, no; take back your wife. Far from reproaching you, I -approve your resolution. What is your wife doing now?”</p> - -<p>“She’s a concierge, monsieur, in a fine house within ten yards of the -one where we live.”</p> - -<p>“Well! it is possible that you may remain with me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! ten thousand prouts! how I should like that!”</p> - -<p>“Is there a pleasant apartment to let in your wife’s house?”</p> - -<p>“Two magnificent ones—partly decorated; one on the second, one on the -third; with wood-shed and cellar; plenty of mirrors. I know everything -there is in the house.”</p> - -<p>“Hire the apartment on the second floor for me. Is it empty now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“You will have my furniture moved there. Go to my upholsterer—here is -his address. He will look over the apartment and do whatever he -considers necessary, so that there may be nothing lacking. Everything -must be finished and all ready for our reception in four days at the -latest; for then—I am going to tell you something in confidence, -Pettermann—then I am going to take back my wife too.”</p> - -<p>“Your wife? Why, is monsieur married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my friend; and like you, I have not always agreed with my wife, -although the causes of disagreement were not at all the same.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I imagine not.<a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a>”</p> - -<p>“But to-day I realize that I have done wrong, and I hope to find -happiness once more with my wife and my children.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! it pleases me to know that, monsieur. As monsieur does the same -thing that I do, my mind is at rest. And I shall still be in monsieur’s -service?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my friend. You understand me, do you not? See that everything is -ready in four days.”</p> - -<p>“It shall be ready.”</p> - -<p>“But until then not a word—no indiscretion!”</p> - -<p>“I am as dumb as a dead man.”</p> - -<p>Pettermann returned to Paris.</p> - -<p>I felt more content with myself, better satisfied; and yet—I may -confess it to myself—I had no love for Eugénie—no. But perhaps it was -for the very reason that I had no love for her that it was possible for -me to return to her. I saw in her the mother of my children, and I did -not wish to condemn her to never-ending misery. We should never be to -each other as we had been—that was impossible. I would treat her with -consideration and affection, and time would do the rest. I should have -to cease entirely to see Caroline. Ah! that was not the least of the -sacrifices I should have made to my children. But, since everything was -decided, since my resolution was irrevocable, I determined to go to see -her on the next day for the last time, and to tell her that I was going -back to my wife. She would think that I was influenced by her advice, -her entreaties; I would not undeceive her.</p> - -<p>I returned to the salon where all the others were assembled. I -determined to forget myself, to be cheerful and merry. I played with the -children, I kissed Madame Ernest, and I laughed with her husband.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with him to-day?” Ernest and his wife asked each -other; “how happy he seems!<a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I am happy.”</p> - -<p>“What has happened to make you so cheerful?”</p> - -<p>“I have had news that pleased me.”</p> - -<p>“From whom?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you shall know later.”</p> - -<p>The husband and wife exchanged glances; but I felt sure that they did -not guess my purpose, and I continued at once:</p> - -<p>“What is going on to-day? I feel strongly inclined to amuse myself.”</p> - -<p>“Why, we might go to the ball,” said Ernest; “to-day is the last -Saint-Mandé ball, and they say that it will be very fine.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t been to one of them since I have been living here; I should -not be sorry to see it. We will go. Do you agree?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t go to balls,” said Marguerite; “I don’t care for them; I -prefer to stay with the children. You two may go. But don’t speak to any -women; for there are women at all these balls in the suburbs of Paris.”</p> - -<p>We promised to be good; and immediately after dinner Ernest and I -started for the place where the local balls were held. As the weather -was superb, there were in addition to the people from Saint-Mandé and -from Vincennes, many Parisians, who desired to enjoy one more rural -festivity. Numerous carriages were standing on the outskirts of the -crowd.</p> - -<p>“The deuce! this will be magnificent!” said Ernest. “I’ll bet that we -shall find more than one actress here; the princesses of the wings -delight in open air balls.”</p> - -<p>“You know that you promised your wife to be good.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my friend, we always promise, and we keep our promise if we -can!—Come, my dear Blémont, the music is striking up.<a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a>”</p> - -<p>In fact, the dancing had begun. There was a great crowd; many pretty -dresses, some peasants, a few bourgeoises, and a large number of kept -women. It is the same at all open air balls.</p> - -<p>We had not walked ten steps when I heard my name called; I turned and -saw Bélan, with his wife and his mother-in-law on his arm, apparently -very proud to escort his superb Armide. He honored me with a gracious -nod; then, after finding seats for the ladies, he came to me and led me -away from the dancing.</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear Blémont, as you see, everything is arranged and I have -returned to the fold. I was a lost lamb, as my mother-in-law says; but -everything is forgotten and I have once more become reconciled with my -wife.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I supposed when I saw you just now. But I confess that it -rather surprised me. After taking your affairs into court, after having -your name published in the newspapers——”</p> - -<p>“What difference does that make? What do the newspapers prove? Besides, -as the court decided that I was mistaken, that I wasn’t a cuckold, I -can’t claim to know more than the judges.”</p> - -<p>“If I remember aright, you talked in a very different tone at Mont-d’Or; -you proposed to appeal from the judgment against you.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that I said that? It’s possible. It is true that I was -excited then—anger, you know, and jealousy—a man often says foolish -things. I am more reasonable now. On my return from Mont-d’Or her -relations came to me; they told me that Armide was inclined to forgive -me. At that, I said: ‘Let us forget all our disagreements.’—All my -friends tell me that I have done well to take back my wife.<a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I am far from blaming you; but if I had been in your place, I would -have made less noise about it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I like to make a noise—to make people talk about me. As soon as I -go anywhere nowadays, I hear people whispering when they look at me. -They say: ‘That’s Monsieur Ferdinand Bélan,’ as they might say: ‘That is -Voltaire, or Frederick the Great.’ I confess it doesn’t displease me. -But au revoir, my dear fellow; the ladies await me, and I like dancing -with Armide.”</p> - -<p>I had no desire to detain Bélan. What a strange man! And yet not so -strange after all; we meet with such characters not infrequently. But I -did not enjoy his society at all.—He had caused me to lose sight of -Ernest, and I set out to find him again.</p> - -<p>I returned to the place where they were dancing. Ernest was performing -with a lady from Saint-Mandé. As I did not care to dance, I was looking -about for a seat, when my eyes met those of a young woman who beckoned -to me. It was Caroline, sitting with her uncle, and she offered me a -chair beside her. I hesitated, for before long I must cease to enjoy her -society; but that would be the last time before bidding her adieu -forever. To refuse would have been discourteous. So I stepped forward -and took the proffered seat by her side.</p> - -<p>“It took you a long while to decide,” she said with a smile, “although -we are not alone here.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply; I dared not even look at her; for I found her eyes very -dangerous since coquetry had ceased to shine in them. Luckily her uncle -put an end to my embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“You do not dance, Monsieur Dalbreuse?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; I don’t care for dancing now.”</p> - -<p>“I used to be very fond of it myself; in fact, I was a very good dancer. -I remember that, in <i>Amphitryon</i>,<a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a> when I played Sosie—A very nice -rôle, that of Sosie! Dugazon made me rehearse it very carefully.—You -know the famous scene of the lantern. Dugazon used to leap over the -lantern and cut all sorts of capers; but I proposed to do differently. I -placed the lantern—look, like this chair, at about this distance. Then -I ran forward, making a pirouette as I ran, and I executed a very neat -<i>entrechat</i> as I landed on the other side. It was very difficult. -Look—I’ll just turn the chair over so that I can show you better.”</p> - -<p>“What, uncle! are you going to jump over chairs now?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear, no, I don’t intend to jump; but I was explaining to -Monsieur Dalbreuse what I did as Sosie; and I flatter myself that no -actor at the Français ever jumped higher than I did.”</p> - -<p>Luckily for Monsieur Roquencourt, one of his Saint-Mandé neighbors came -to bid him good-evening, and seated himself in the chair that he was -about to take. That saved Monsieur Roquencourt the trouble of showing me -how he jumped, and he entered into conversation with the newcomer.</p> - -<p>“You are not dancing?” I said to Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I shouldn’t care to dance here, except with somebody whom I -know very well. Besides, I am like you, I no longer care for dancing. I -don’t intend to go to any balls this winter—or into society at all. All -the things that I used to enjoy so much bore me terribly now. I shall -stay at home—alone—with my thoughts. To be able to think at one’s -leisure is such a great satisfaction sometimes!”</p> - -<p>She looked at me, then we both lowered our eyes and relapsed into -silence. Meanwhile Monsieur Roquencourt was almost quarrelling with his -neighbor.<a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a></p> - -<p>“I tell you, monsieur, that Dugazon never played Moncade in <i>L’École des -Bourgeois</i>!”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, but I saw him.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken—it was Fleury.”</p> - -<p>“No, it was Dugazon.”</p> - -<p>“But it is impossible; the part wasn’t in his line. It is as if you -should say that you had seen me play Hamlet or Œdipe; it is -absolutely the same thing.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you have played, but I saw Dugazon play the Marquis -de Moncade.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that is enough to make a man jump to the ceiling!”</p> - -<p>But the little uncle could not jump to the ceiling, as we were under the -trees; so he contented himself with falling backward with his chair; -which made me afraid that he proposed to play Sosie again. Caroline and -I could not help smiling. That diverted our thoughts for a moment. -Suddenly Mademoiselle Derbin, who was watching the dancing again, said -to her uncle:</p> - -<p>“Ah! there is my lace-mender; how finely she is arrayed! She hasn’t a -bad style; really one would think that she was a lady of fashion. Look, -Monsieur Dalbreuse—that woman in a lilac hat is she.”</p> - -<p>I looked at the person she pointed out to me, and I felt a shock of -terror, as if I had seen a serpent.</p> - -<p>It was Lucile—Lucile, whom I had not seen since the fatal day. Her -presence seemed to revive all the agony that I had felt then. I cannot -describe the pain that the sight of her caused me.</p> - -<p>My features must have expressed very clearly what I felt, for Caroline -instantly said to me:</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! what is the matter? You must know that woman.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I—that is to say, long ago, but not now.<a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What did she ever do to you that the sight of her should upset you to -this extent?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing; but for some unknown reason, when I looked at her, I -remembered—Sometimes one cannot account for one’s sensations.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the quadrille came to an end. Lucile and her partner came -in our direction. Great heaven! she sat down a few feet away; she saw me -and gazed fixedly at me. I could not endure that woman’s presence, her -eyes; I rose abruptly, forced my way through the throng, left the ball, -and did not stop until I reached a place where I was alone.</p> - -<p>So I was destined never to be happy, never to lose the memory of my -sufferings! When I had decided to forgive Eugénie, to give my children a -mother, the sight of that Lucile must needs recall everything that I -wanted to forget. How she stared at me! She seemed to enjoy the torture, -the shame that her presence caused me. Malice gleamed in her eyes.—Ah! -I had hoped that I never should see Lucile again!</p> - -<p>I threw myself down on the turf and tried to be calm. After all, my -chance meeting with that woman would make no change in my plans. I would -learn to control myself better in the future; but I would travel a -hundred leagues, if necessary, to avoid meeting Lucile.</p> - -<p>I lay in that spot nearly half an hour. At last, feeling more tranquil, -I rose; but I could not decide whether I would return to the ball. -Ernest was waiting for me, no doubt. I walked a few steps, then stopped, -for I did not want to see Lucile again. While I was hesitating, a woman -came toward me from the direction of the dance. She was almost running. -I waited anxiously.—Ah! it was Caroline.</p> - -<p>She joined me and hung upon my arm, saying:<a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a></p> - -<p>“I have found you at last! I have been looking for you everywhere.—Oh! -how glad I am! But come—let us go into the woods, so that I may speak -out to you at last. I have so many things to say to you! I told my uncle -not to be worried, that you would bring me home.”</p> - -<p>I listened to Caroline in amazement; some extraordinary change seemed to -have taken place in her; she was not at all the same person whom I had -left a short time before. She took my arm and pressed it gently; she -seemed intensely agitated, but it was evidently with joy.</p> - -<p>We went into the woods, and Caroline said, gazing affectionately into my -face:</p> - -<p>“I must seem very mad, very reckless to you, my friend, but you have no -idea of all that I have just gone through! Within a few moments, my -destiny, my future has changed. Now I can be happy. I loved you—you -know it, for I have not been able to conceal my feeling for you. Without -telling each other so, we understood each other perfectly.—But that -love was a crime; at least I thought so. I blamed myself for it; I tried -to avoid you, to forget you.—Mon Dieu! how unhappy I was!—But now I -know the whole truth; I know that I am at liberty to love you.”</p> - -<p>“What? what do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“That I know all.—Oh! forgive me for questioning that woman, but I -could not resist my curiosity. Your confusion at the sight of her seemed -so strange!”</p> - -<p>“That woman! Have you talked with Lucile?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I know now that, far from being guilty toward your wife, you -were shamefully deceived by her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! hush! hush!”</p> - -<p>“Never again, I give you my word, will I remind you of a thing that has -caused you such pain. Now I can understand why you would not go back to -her—why you<a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a> fled from her. I blamed you; I thought that I was an -obstacle to your reconciliation, and that is why I tried to go away from -you. But, since things are as they are, why should I doom myself to -everlasting misery? why should I not abandon myself to the sentiment -which you have inspired in me?”</p> - -<p>“What are you saying, Caroline? If my wife were guilty, am I the more -free for that?”</p> - -<p>“Free? no, I am well aware that I cannot be your wife. But what do I -care for that title? it is your love alone that I want; as you know, I -worry very little about the world and the proprieties. I am my own -mistress; why should I not dare to love you? Because you are bound to -somebody who has made your life wretched, must you drag out your whole -existence in bitterness and solitude?—No! on the contrary, I propose, -by my love, to make you forget your sorrows. It will be so sweet to me -to be your only friend—to have all your thoughts, every moment of your -life!—But you do not answer? Great God! have I made a mistake? Can it -be that you do not love me? Oh! then there is nothing left in life for -me—I can only die!—Henri! Henri!—He does not answer!”</p> - -<p>She had placed her head on my breast. I cannot describe what took place -within me. How could I spurn, how fly from a woman whom I loved? I had -not the strength. I raised that lovely head. As I sought to comfort her, -my face touched hers; our cheeks were burning, our lips met. We forgot -the whole world, we existed only for each other.</p> - -<p>I do not know how long we stayed there on that turf, the scene of our -transports. I was happy, and yet something oppressed and saddened me. I -was afraid to reflect. Caroline had thrown her arms about my neck;<a name="page_411" id="page_411"></a> she -was engrossed by her love. I looked about and listened; there was no -sound to be heard.</p> - -<p>“It is very late. I think that I must go home,” said Caroline; “you will -go with me, won’t you, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“Where are we?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know; but I should think that we were not far from Ernest’s -garden. Yes—that wall——”</p> - -<p>“True—and I think that I see a summer-house too.”</p> - -<p>“A summer-house? Oh! let us go at once.”</p> - -<p>“You will come to-morrow, won’t you, dear?—However, I shall see you -every day now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will see you to-morrow—I will talk with you.”</p> - -<p>“How strangely you say that! What is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing. But come—let us go away from here.”</p> - -<p>Caroline put her arm about me; mine was about her waist, and in that -position we walked away from the spot that had heard our oaths. It was -very dark, we had not taken ten steps when our feet tripped over -something. Caroline stooped and exclaimed with a shriek of terror:</p> - -<p>“O my God! it is a woman, my dear!”</p> - -<p>“A woman!”</p> - -<p>I shuddered from head to foot; I hardly dared to lower my eyes to -examine the woman who lay at our feet.</p> - -<p>“She seems to be dead!” cried Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Dead! Ah! if it were——”</p> - -<p>I fell on my knees, I raised the unfortunate creature’s head, I put -aside the leaves that shut out what light there was in the sky. A low -groan escaped from my breast. I was utterly overwhelmed. It was Eugénie, -it was my wife, who lay inanimate before me.</p> - -<p>Caroline had heard me murmur Eugénie’s name, and she too recognized the -unhappy woman; thereupon she<a name="page_412" id="page_412"></a> fell on her knees beside her and abandoned -herself to despair, for she guessed that it was she who had caused her -death. For my part, I could neither speak nor act. I was dumb, turned to -stone, before that shocking spectacle. Suddenly Caroline cried:</p> - -<p>“Ah! her heart is still beating! She is not dead!”</p> - -<p>Those words revived me. I stooped and took Eugénie in my arms, while -Caroline held the branches aside. But where could I find help so late? -Ernest’s garden was the nearest place. I went to the little gate; it was -open and we entered. There was a light in the summer-house, the door of -which also was open. It was plain that she had gone out in haste. We -went inside and I laid Eugénie on the bed. Caroline looked about and -brought me water and salts; then she ran to the house, to summon help.</p> - -<p>I was left alone with Eugénie; I poured water on her forehead and -temples, while I tried to warm her ice-cold hands with mine. At last she -moved; she opened her eyes, recognized me, and, taking my hand, put it -to her mouth, murmuring:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I am happy once more! You are with me!”</p> - -<p>“Eugénie, return to life and happiness. I have forgiven you! I had made -up my mind to restore a mother to her children.”</p> - -<p>“Is it possible? But no; it is better that I should die. You love -another; I heard you. I was here, your voice reached my ears; I hurried -out into the forest, and I saw you in her arms. That killed me. And yet -I deserved this punishment.—I pray that Caroline may make you happier -than I have done!—Tell me again that you forgive me, that you will love -your son—-”</p> - -<p>“Eugénie!—Great God! She is fainting again—and no one comes!<a name="page_413" id="page_413"></a>”</p> - -<p>Ernest and Marguerite rushed into the summer-house and ran to the bed. -Eugénie opened her eyes again and held out her hand to me, murmuring:</p> - -<p>“I have not seen my children.”</p> - -<p>Marguerite started to go out, but Eugénie motioned to her to stop.</p> - -<p>“No,” she faltered, “they are asleep, don’t wake them.”</p> - -<p>Then she too fell asleep, but never to wake again.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Cocu (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume -XVIII), by Charles Paul de Kock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE COCU *** - -***** This file should be named 40959-h.htm or 40959-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/9/5/40959/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -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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