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diff --git a/old/blami10.txt b/old/blami10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f8a0e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/blami10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7416 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext Bel Ami, by Henri Rene Guy De Maupassant +#18 in our series by Henri Rene Guy De Maupassant + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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MADAME MARELLE + + CHAPTER XIV. THE WILL + + CHAPTER XV. SUZANNE + + CHAPTER XVI. DIVORCE + + CHAPTER XVII. THE FINAL PLOT + +CHAPTER XVIII. ATTAINMENT + + + + +BEL-AMI + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +POVERTY + + +After changing his five-franc piece Georges Duroy left the +restaurant. He twisted his mustache in military style and cast a +rapid, sweeping glance upon the diners, among whom were three +saleswomen, an untidy music-teacher of uncertain age, and two women +with their husbands. + +When he reached the sidewalk, he paused to consider what route he +should take. It was the twenty-eighth of June and he had only three +francs in his pocket to last him the remainder of the month. That +meant two dinners and no lunches, or two lunches and no dinners, +according to choice. As he pondered upon this unpleasant state of +affairs, he sauntered down Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, preserving his +military air and carriage, and rudely jostled the people upon the +streets in order to clear a path for himself. He appeared to be +hostile to the passers-by, and even to the houses, the entire city. + +Tall, well-built, fair, with blue eyes, a curled mustache, hair +naturally wavy and parted in the middle, he recalled the hero of the +popular romances. + +It was one of those sultry, Parisian evenings when not a breath of +air is stirring; the sewers exhaled poisonous gases and the +restaurants the disagreeable odors of cooking and of kindred smells. +Porters in their shirt-sleeves, astride their chairs, smoked their +pipes at the carriage gates, and pedestrians strolled leisurely +along, hats in hand. + +When Georges Duroy reached the boulevard he halted again, undecided +as to which road to choose. Finally he turned toward the Madeleine +and followed the tide of people. + +The large, well-patronized cafes tempted Duroy, but were he to drink +only two glasses of beer in an evening, farewell to the meager +supper the following night! Yet he said to himself: "I will take a +glass at the Americain. By Jove, I am thirsty." + +He glanced at men seated at the tables, men who could afford to +slake their thirst, and he scowled at them. "Rascals!" he muttered. +If he could have caught one of them at a corner in the dark he would +have choked him without a scruple! He recalled the two years spent +in Africa, and the manner in which he had extorted money from the +Arabs. A smile hovered about his lips at the recollection of an +escapade which had cost three men their lives, a foray which had +given his two comrades and himself seventy fowls, two sheep, money, +and something to laugh about for six months. The culprits were never +found; indeed, they were not sought for, the Arab being looked upon +as the soldier's prey. + +But in Paris it was different; there one could not commit such deeds +with impunity. He regretted that he had not remained where he was; +but he had hoped to improve his condition--and for that reason he +was in Paris! + +He passed the Vaudeville and stopped at the Cafe Americain, debating +as to whether he should take that "glass." Before deciding, he +glanced at a clock; it was a quarter past nine. He knew that when +the beer was placed in front of him, he would drink it; and then +what would he do at eleven o'clock? So he walked on, intending to go +as far as the Madeleine and return. + +When he reached the Place de l'Opera, a tall, young man passed him, +whose face he fancied was familiar. He followed him, repeating: +"Where the deuce have I seen that fellow?" + +For a time he racked his brain in vain; then suddenly he saw the +same man, but not so corpulent and more youthful, attired in the +uniform of a Hussar. He exclaimed: "Wait, Forestier!" and hastening +up to him, laid his hand upon the man's shoulder. The latter turned, +looked at him, and said: "What do you want, sir?" + +Duroy began to laugh: "Don't you remember me?" + +"No." + +"Not remember Georges Duroy of the Sixth Hussars." + +Forestier extended both hands. + +"Ah, my dear fellow, how are you?" + +"Very well. And how are you?" + +"Oh, I am not very well. I cough six months out of the twelve as a +result of bronchitis contracted at Bougival, about the time of my +return to Paris four years ago." + +"But you look well." + +Forestier, taking his former comrade's arm, told him of his malady, +of the consultations, the opinions and the advice of the doctors and +of the difficulty of following their advice in his position. They +ordered him to spend the winter in the south, but how could he? He +was married and was a journalist in a responsible editorial +position. + +"I manage the political department on 'La Vie Francaise'; I report +the doings of the Senate for 'Le Salut,' and from time to time I +write for 'La Planete.' That is what I am doing." + +Duroy, in surprise, glanced at him. He was very much changed. +Formerly Forestier had been thin, giddy, noisy, and always in good +spirits. But three years of life in Paris had made another man of +him; now he was stout and serious, and his hair was gray on his +temples although he could not number more than twenty-seven years. + +Forestier asked: "Where are you going?" + +Duroy replied: "Nowhere in particular." + +"Very well, will you accompany me to the 'Vie Francaise' where I +have some proofs to correct; and afterward take a drink with me?" + +"Yes, gladly." + +They walked along arm-in-arm with that familiarity which exists +between schoolmates and brother-officers. + +"What are you doing in Paris?" asked Forestier, Duroy shrugged his +shoulders. + +"Dying of hunger, simply. When my time was up, I came hither to make +my fortune, or rather to live in Paris--and for six months I have +been employed in a railroad office at fifteen hundred francs a +year." + +Forestier murmured: "That is not very much." + +"But what can I do?" answered Duroy. "I am alone, I know no one, I +have no recommendations. The spirit is not lacking, but the means +are." + +His companion looked at him from head to foot like a practical man +who is examining a subject; then he said, in a tone of conviction: +"You see, my dear fellow, all depends on assurance, here. A shrewd, +observing man can sometimes become a minister. You must obtrude +yourself and yet not ask anything. But how is it you have not found +anything better than a clerkship at the station?" + +Duroy replied: "I hunted everywhere and found nothing else. But I +know where I can get three thousand francs at least--as riding- +master at the Pellerin school." + +Forestier stopped him: "Don't do it, for you can earn ten thousand +francs. You will ruin your prospects at once. In your office at +least no one knows you; you can leave it if you wish to at any time. +But when you are once a riding-master all will be over. You might as +well be a butler in a house to which all Paris comes to dine. When +you have given riding lessons to men of the world or to their sons, +they will no longer consider you their equal." + +He paused, reflected several seconds and then asked: + +"Are you a bachelor?" + +"Yes, though I have been smitten several times." + +"That makes no difference. If Cicero and Tiberius were mentioned +would you know who they were?" + +"Yes." + +"Good, no one knows any more except about a score of fools. It is +not difficult to pass for being learned. The secret is not to betray +your ignorance. Just maneuver, avoid the quicksands and obstacles, +and the rest can be found in a dictionary." + +He spoke like one who understood human nature, and he smiled as the +crowd passed them by. Suddenly he began to cough and stopped to +allow the paroxysm to spend itself; then he said in a discouraged +tone: + +"Isn't it tiresome not to be able to get rid of this bronchitis? And +here is midsummer! This winter I shall go to Mentone. Health before +everything." + +They reached the Boulevarde Poissoniere; behind a large glass door +an open paper was affixed; three people were reading it. Above the +door was printed the legend, "La Vie Francaise." + +Forestier pushed open the door and said: "Come in." Duroy entered; +they ascended the stairs, passed through an antechamber in which two +clerks greeted their comrade, and then entered a kind of waiting- +room. + +"Sit down," said Forestier, "I shall be back in five minutes," and +he disappeared. + +Duroy remained where he was; from time to time men passed him by, +entering by one door and going out by another before he had time to +glance at them. + +Now they were young men, very young, with a busy air, holding sheets +of paper in their hands; now compositors, their shirts spotted with +ink--carefully carrying what were evidently fresh proofs. +Occasionally a gentleman entered, fashionably dressed, some reporter +bringing news. + +Forestier reappeared arm-in-arm with a tall, thin man of thirty or +forty, dressed in a black coat, with a white cravat, a dark +complexion, and an insolent, self-satisfied air. Forestier said to +him: "Adieu, my dear sir," and the other pressed his hand with: "Au +revoir, my friend." Then he descended the stairs whistling, his cane +under his arm. + +Duroy asked his name. + +"That is Jacques Rival, the celebrated writer and duelist. He came +to correct his proofs. Garin, Montel and he are the best witty and +realistic writers we have in Paris. He earns thirty thousand francs +a year for two articles a week." + +As they went downstairs, they met a stout, little man with long +hair, who was ascending the stairs whistling. Forestier bowed low. + +"Norbert de Varenne," said he, "the poet, the author of 'Les Soleils +Morts,'--a very expensive man. Every poem he gives us costs three +hundred francs and the longest has not two hundred lines. But let us +go into the Napolitain, I am getting thirsty." + +When they were seated at a table, Forestier ordered two glasses of +beer. He emptied his at a single draught, while Duroy sipped his +beer slowly as if it were something rare and precious. Suddenly his +companion asked, "Why don't you try journalism?" + +Duroy looked at him in surprise and said: "Because I have never +written anything." + +"Bah, we all have to make a beginning. I could employ you myself by +sending you to obtain information. At first you would only get two +hundred and fifty francs a month but your cab fare would be paid. +Shall I speak to the manager?" + +"If you will." + +"Well, then come and dine with me to-morrow; I will only ask five or +six to meet you; the manager, M. Walter, his wife, with Jacques +Rival, and Norbert de Varenne whom you have just seen, and also a +friend of Mme. Forestier, Will you come?" + +Duroy hesitated, blushing and perplexed. Finally he, murmured: "I +have no suitable clothes." + +Forestier was amazed. "You have no dress suit? Egad, that is +indispensable. In Paris, it is better to have no bed than no +clothes." Then, fumbling in his vest-pocket, he drew from it two +louis, placed them before his companion, and said kindly: "You can +repay me when it is convenient. Buy yourself what you need and pay +an installment on it. And come and dine with us at half past seven, +at 17 Rue Fontaine." + +In confusion Duroy picked up the money and stammered: "You are very +kind--I am much obliged--be sure I shall not forget." + +Forestier interrupted him: "That's all right, take another glass of +beer. Waiter, two more glasses!" When he had paid the score, the +journalist asked: "Would you like a stroll for an hour?" + +"Certainly." + +They turned toward the Madeleine. "What shall we do?" asked +Forestier. "They say that in Paris an idler can always find +amusement, but it is not true. A turn in the Bois is only enjoyable +if you have a lady with you, and that is a rare occurrence. The cafe +concerts may divert my tailor and his wife, but they do not interest +me. So what can we do? Nothing! There ought to be a summer garden +here, open at night, where a man could listen to good music while +drinking beneath the trees. It would be a pleasant lounging place. +You could walk in alleys bright with electric light and seat +yourself where you pleased to hear the music. It would be charming. +Where would you like to go?" + +Duroy did not know what to reply; finally he said: "I have never +been to the Folies Bergeres. I should like to go there." + +His companion exclaimed: "The Folies Bergeres! Very well!" + +They turned and walked toward the Faubourg Montmartre. The +brilliantly illuminated building loomed up before them. Forestier +entered, Duroy stopped him. "We forgot to pass through the gate." + +The other replied in a consequential tone: "I never pay," and +approached the box-office. + +"Have you a good box?" + +"Certainly, M. Forestier." + +He took the ticket handed him, pushed open the door, and they were +within the hall. A cloud of tobacco smoke almost hid the stage and +the opposite side of the theater. In the spacious foyer which led to +the circular promenade, brilliantly dressed women mingled with +black-coated men. + +Forestier forced his way rapidly through the throng and accosted an +usher. + +"Box 17?" + +"This way, sir." + +The friends were shown into a tiny box, hung and carpeted in red, +with four chairs upholstered in the same color. They seated +themselves. To their right and left were similar boxes. On the stage +three men were performing on trapezes. But Duroy paid no heed to +them, his eyes finding more to interest them in the grand promenade. +Forestier remarked upon the motley appearance of the throng, but +Duroy did not listen to him. A woman, leaning her arms upon the edge +of her loge, was staring at him. She was a tall, voluptuous +brunette, her face whitened with enamel, her black eyes penciled, +and her lips painted. With a movement of her head, she summoned a +friend who was passing, a blonde with auburn hair, likewise inclined +to embonpoint, and said to her in a whisper intended to be heard; +"There is a nice fellow!" + +Forestier heard it, and said to Duroy with a smile: "You are lucky, +my dear boy. My congratulations!" + +The ci-devant soldier blushed and mechanically fingered the two +pieces of gold in his pocket. + +The curtain fell--the orchestra played a valse--and Duroy said: + +"Shall we walk around the gallery?" + +"If you like." + +Soon they were carried along in the current of promenaders. Duroy +drank in with delight the air, vitiated as it was by tobacco and +cheap perfume, but Forestier perspired, panted, and coughed. + +"Let us go into the garden," he said. Turning to the left, they +entered a kind of covered garden in which two large fountains were +playing. Under the yews, men and women sat at tables drinking. + +"Another glass of beer?" asked Forestier. + +"Gladly." + +They took their seats and watched the promenaders. Occasionally a +woman would stop and ask with a coarse smile: "What have you to +offer, sir?" + +Forestier's invariable answer was: "A glass of water from the +fountain." And the woman would mutter, "Go along," and walk away. + +At last the brunette reappeared, arm-in-arm with the blonde. They +made a handsome couple. The former smiled on perceiving Duroy, and +taking a chair she calmly seated herself in front of him, and said +in a clear voice: "Waiter, two glasses." + +In astonishment, Forestier exclaimed: "You are not at all bashful!" + +She replied: "Your friend has bewitched me; he is such a fine +fellow. I believe he has turned my head." + +Duroy said nothing. + +The waiter brought the beer, which the women swallowed rapidly; then +they rose, and the brunette, nodding her head and tapping Duroy's +arm with her fan, said to him: "Thank you, my dear! However, you are +not very talkative." + +As they disappeared, Forestier laughed and said: "Tell, me, old man, +did you know that you had a charm for the weaker sex? You must be +careful." + +Without replying, Duroy smiled. His friend asked: "Shall you remain +any longer? I am going; I have had enough." + +Georges murmured: "Yes, I will stay a little longer: it is not +late." + +Forestier arose: "Very well, then, good-bye until to-morrow. Do not +forget: 17 Rue Fontaine at seven thirty." + +"I shall not forget. Thank you." + +The friends shook hands and the journalist left Duroy to his own +devices. + +Forestier once out of sight, Duroy felt free, and again he joyously +touched the gold pieces in his pocket; then rising, he mingled with +the crowd. + +He soon discovered the blonde and the brunette. He went toward them, +but when near them dared not address them. + +The brunette called out to him: "Have you found your tongue?" + +He stammered: "Zounds!" too bashful to say another word. A pause +ensued, during which the brunette took his arm and together they +left the hall. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MADAME FORESTIER + + +"Where does M. Forestier live?" + +"Third floor on the left," said the porter pleasantly, on learning +Duroy's destination. + +Georges ascended the staircase. He was somewhat embarrassed and ill- +at-ease. He had on a new suit but he was uncomfortable. He felt that +it was defective; his boots were not glossy, he had bought his shirt +that same evening at the Louvre for four francs fifty, his trousers +were too wide and betrayed their cheapness in their fit, or rather, +misfit, and his coat was too tight. + +Slowly he ascended the stairs, his heart beating, his mind anxious. +Suddenly before him stood a well-dressed gentleman staring at him. +The person resembled Duroy so close that the latter retreated, then +stopped, and saw that it was his own image reflected in a pier- +glass! Not having anything but a small mirror at home, he had not +been able to see himself entirely, and had exaggerated the +imperfections of his toilette. When he saw his reflection in the +glass, he did not even recognize himself; he took himself for some +one else, for a man-of-the-world, and was really satisfied with his +general appearance. Smiling to himself, Duroy extended his hand and +expressed his astonishment, pleasure, and approbation. A door opened +on the staircase, He was afraid of being surprised and began to +ascend more rapidly, fearing that he might have been seen posing +there by some of his friend's invited guests. + +On reaching the second floor, he saw another mirror, and once more +slackened his pace to look at himself. He likewise paused before the +third glass, twirled his mustache, took off his hat to arrange his +hair, and murmured half aloud, a habit of his: "Hall mirrors are +most convenient." + +Then he rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately, and +before him stood a servant in a black coat, with a grave, shaven +face, so perfect in his appearance that Duroy again became confused +as he compared the cut of their garments. + +The lackey asked: + +"Whom shall I announce, Monsieur?" He raised a portiere and +pronounced the name. + +Duroy lost his self-possession upon being ushered into a world as +yet strange to him. However, he advanced. A young, fair woman +received him alone in a large, well-lighted room. He paused, +disconcerted. Who was that smiling lady? He remembered that +Forestier was married, and the thought that the handsome blonde was +his friend's wife rendered him awkward and ill-at-ease. He stammered +out: + +"Madame, I am--" + +She held out her hand. "I know, Monsieur--Charles told me of your +meeting last night, and I am very glad that he asked you to dine +with us to-day." + +Duroy blushed to the roots of his hair, not knowing how to reply; he +felt that he was being inspected from his head to his feet. He half +thought of excusing himself, of inventing an explanation of the +carelessness of his toilette, but he did not know how to touch upon +that delicate subject. + +He seated himself upon a chair she pointed out to him, and as he +sank into its luxurious depths, it seemed to him that he was +entering a new and charming life, that he would make his mark in the +world, that he was saved. He glanced at Mme. Forestier. She wore a +gown of pale blue cashmere which clung gracefully to her supple form +and rounded outlines; her arms and throat rose in, lily-white purity +from the mass of lace which ornamented the corsage and short +sleeves. Her hair was dressed high and curled on the nape of her +neck. + +Duroy grew more at his ease under her glance, which recalled to him, +he knew not why, that of the girl he had met the preceding evening +at the Folies-Bergeres. Mme. Forestier had gray eyes, a small nose, +full lips, and a rather heavy chin, an irregular, attractive face, +full of gentleness and yet of malice. + +After a short silence, she asked: "Have you been in Paris a long +time?" + +Gradually regaining his self-possession, he replied: "a few months, +Madame. I am in the railroad employ, but my friend Forestier has +encouraged me to hope that, thanks to him, I can enter into +journalism." + +She smiled kindly and murmured in a low voice: "I know." + +The bell rang again and the servant announced: "Mme. de Marelle." +She was a dainty brunette, attired in a simple, dark robe; a red +rose in her black tresses seemed to accentuate her special +character, and a young girl, or rather a child, for such she was, +followed her. + +Mme. Forestier said: "Good evening, Clotilde." + +"Good evening, Madeleine." + +They embraced each other, then the child offered her forehead with +the assurance of an adult, saying: + +"Good evening, cousin." + +Mme. Forestier kissed her, and then made the introductions: + +"M. Georges Duroy, an old friend of Charles. Mme. de Marelle, my +friend, a relative in fact." She added: "Here, you know, we do not +stand on ceremony." + +Duroy bowed. The door opened again and a short man entered, upon his +arm a tall, handsome woman, taller than he and much younger, with +distinguished manners and a dignified carriage. It was M. Walter, +deputy, financier, a moneyed man, and a man of business, manager of +"La Vie Francaise," with his wife, nee Basile Ravalade, daughter of +the banker of that name. + +Then came Jacques Rival, very elegant, followed by Norbert de +Varenne. The latter advanced with the grace of the old school and +taking Mme. Forestier's hand kissed it; his long hair falling upon +his hostess's bare arm as he did so. + +Forestier now entered, apologizing for being late; he had been +detained. + +The servant announced dinner, and they entered the dining-room. +Duroy was placed between Mme. de Marelle and her daughter. He was +again rendered uncomfortable for fear of committing some error in +the conventional management of his fork, his spoon, or his glasses, +of which he had four. Nothing was said during the soup; then Norbert +de Varenne asked a general question: "Have you read the Gauthier +case? How droll it was!" + +Then followed a discussion of the subject in which the ladies +joined. Then a duel was mentioned and Jacques Rival led the +conversation; that was his province. Duroy did not venture a remark, +but occasionally glanced at his neighbor. A diamond upon a slight, +golden thread depended from her ear; from time to time she uttered a +remark which evoked a smile upon his lips. Duroy sought vainly for +some compliment to pay her; he busied himself with her daughter, +filled her glass, waited upon her, and the child, more dignified +than her mother, thanked him gravely saying, "You are very kind, +Monsieur," while she listened to the conversation with a reflective +air. The dinner was excellent and everyone was delighted with it. + +The conversation returned to the colonization of Algeria. M. Walter +uttered several jocose remarks; Forestier alluded to the article he +had prepared for the morrow; Jacques Rival declared himself in favor +of a military government with grants of land to all the officers +after thirty years of colonial service. + +"In that way," said he, "you can establish a strong colony, familiar +with and liking the country, knowing its language and able to cope +with all those local yet grave questions which invariably confront +newcomers." + +Norbert de Varenne interrupted: "Yes, they would know everything, +except agriculture. They would speak Arabic, but they would not know +how to transplant beet-root, and how to sow wheat. They would be +strong in fencing, but weak in the art of farming. On the contrary, +the new country should be opened to everyone. Intelligent men would +make positions for themselves; the others would succumb. It is a +natural law." + +A pause ensued. Everyone smiled. Georges Duroy, startled at the +sound of his own voice, as if he had never heard it, said: + +"What is needed the most down there is good soil. Really fertile +land costs as much as it does in France and is bought by wealthy +Parisians. The real colonists, the poor, are generally cast out into +the desert, where nothing grows for lack of water." + +All eyes turned upon him. He colored. M. Walter asked: "Do you know +Algeria, sir?" + +He replied: "Yes, sir, I was there twenty-eight months." Leaving the +subject of colonization, Norbert de Varenne questioned him as to +some of the Algerian customs. Georges spoke with animation; excited +by the wine and the desire to please, he related anecdotes of the +regiment, of Arabian life, and of the war. + +Mme. Walter murmured to him in her soft tones: "You could write a +series of charming articles." + +Forestier took advantage of the situation to say to M. Walter: "My +dear sir, I spoke to you a short while since of M. Georges Duroy and +asked you to permit me to include him on the staff of political +reporters. Since Marambot has left us, I have had no one to take +urgent and confidential reports, and the paper is suffering by it." + +M. Walter put on his spectacles in order to examine Duroy. Then he +said: "I am convinced that M. Duroy is original, and if he will call +upon me tomorrow at three o'clock, we will arrange matters." After a +pause, turning to the young man, he said: "You may write us a short +sketch on Algeria, M. Duroy. Simply relate your experiences; I am +sure they will interest our readers. But you must do it quickly." + +Mme. Walter added with her customary, serious grace: "You will have +a charming title: 'Souvenirs of a Soldier in Africa.' Will he not, +M. Norbert?" + +The old poet, who had attained renown late in life, disliked and +mistrusted newcomers. He replied dryly: "Yes, excellent, provided +that it is written in the right key, for there lies the great +difficulty." + +Mme. Forestier cast upon Duroy a protecting and smiling glance which +seemed to say: "You shall succeed." The servant filled the glasses +with wine, and Forestier proposed the toast: "To the long prosperity +of 'La Vie Francaise.'" Duroy felt superhuman strength within him, +infinite hope, and invincible resolution. He was at his ease now +among these people; his eyes rested upon their faces with renewed +assurance, and for the first time he ventured to address his +neighbor: + +"You have the most beautiful earrings I have ever seen." + +She turned toward him with a smile: "It is a fancy of mine to wear +diamonds like this, simply on a thread." + +He murmured in reply, trembling at his audacity: "It is charming-- +but the ear increases the beauty of the ornament." + +She thanked him with a glance. As he turned his head, he met Mme. +Forestier's eyes, in which he fancied he saw a mingled expression of +gaiety, malice, and encouragement. All the men were talking at the +same time; their discussion was animated. + +When the party left the dining-room, Duroy offered his arm to the +little girl. She thanked him gravely and stood upon tiptoe in order +to lay her hand upon his arm. Upon entering the drawing-room, the +young man carefully surveyed it. It was not a large room; but there +were no bright colors, and one felt at ease; it was restful. The +walls were draped with violet hangings covered with tiny embroidered +flowers of yellow silk. The portieres were of a grayish blue and the +chairs were of all shapes, of all sizes; scattered about the room +were couches and large and small easy-chairs, all covered with Louis +XVI. brocade, or Utrecht velvet, a cream colored ground with garnet +flowers. + +"Do you take coffee, M. Duroy?" Mme. Forestier offered him a cup, +with the smile that was always upon her lips. + +"Yes, Madame, thank you." He took the cup, and as he did so, the +young woman whispered to him: "Pay Mme. Walter some attention." Then +she vanished before he could reply. + +First he drank his coffee, which he feared he should let fall upon +the carpet; then he sought a pretext for approaching the manager's +wife and commencing a conversation. Suddenly he perceived that she +held an empty cup in her hand, and as she was not near a table, she +did not know where to put it. He rushed toward her: + +"Allow me, Madame." + +"Thank you, sir." + +He took away the cup and returned: "If you, but knew, Madame, what +pleasant moments 'La Vie Francaise' afforded me, when I was in the +desert! It is indeed the only paper one cares to read outside of +France; it contains everything." + +She smiled with amiable indifference as she replied: "M. Walter had +a great deal of trouble in producing the kind of journal which was +required." + +They talked of Paris, the suburbs, the Seine, the delights of +summer, of everything they could think of. Finally M. Norbert de +Varenne advanced, a glass of liqueur in his hand, and Duroy +discreetly withdrew. Mme. de Marelle, who was chatting with her +hostess, called him: "So, sir," she said bluntly, "you are going to +try journalism?" That question led to a renewal of the interrupted +conversation with Mme. Walter. In her turn Mme. de Marelle related +anecdotes, and becoming familiar, laid her hand upon Duroy's arm. He +felt that he would like to devote himself to her, to protect her-- +and the slowness with which he replied to her questions indicated +his preoccupation. Suddenly, without any cause, Mme. de Marelle +called: "Laurine!" and the girl came to her. "Sit down here, my +child, you will be cold near the window." + +Duroy was seized with an eager desire to embrace the child, as if +part of that embrace would revert to the mother. He asked in a +gallant, yet paternal tone: "Will you permit me to kiss you, +Mademoiselle?" The child raised her eyes with an air of surprise. +Mme. de Marelle said with a smile: "Reply." + +"I will allow you to-day, Monsieur, but not all the time." + +Seating himself, Duroy took Laurine upon his knee, and kissed her +lips and her fine wavy hair. Her mother was surprised: "Well, that +is strange! Ordinarily she only allows ladies to caress her. You are +irresistible, Monsieur!" + +Duroy colored, but did not reply. + +When Mme. Forestier joined them, a cry of astonishment escaped her: +"Well, Laurine has become sociable; what a miracle!" + +The young man rose to take his leave, fearing he might spoil his +conquest by some awkward word. He bowed to the ladies, clasped and +gently pressed their hands, and then shook hands with the men. He +observed that Jacques Rival's was dry and warm and responded +cordially to his pressure; Norbert de Varenne's was moist and cold +and slipped through his fingers; Walter's was cold and soft, without +life, expressionless; Forestier's fat and warm. + +His friend whispered to him: "To-morrow at three o'clock; do not +forget." + +"Never fear!" + +When he reached the staircase, he felt like running down, his joy +was so great; he went down two steps at a time, but suddenly on the +second floor, in the large mirror, he saw a gentleman hurrying on, +and he slackened his pace, as much ashamed as if he had been +surprised in a crime. + +He surveyed himself some time with a complacent smile; then taking +leave of his image, he bowed low, ceremoniously, as if saluting some +grand personage. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +FIRST ATTEMPTS + + +When Georges Duroy reached the street, he hesitated as to what he +should do. He felt inclined to stroll along, dreaming of the future +and inhaling the soft night air; but the thought of the series of +articles ordered by M. Walter occurred to him, and he decided to +return home at once and begin work. He walked rapidly along until he +came to Rue Boursault. The tenement in which he lived was occupied +by twenty families--families of workingmen--and as he mounted the +staircase he experienced a sensation of disgust and a desire to live +as wealthy men do. Duroy's room was on the fifth floor. He entered +it, opened his window, and looked out: the view was anything but +prepossessing. + +He turned away, thinking: "This won't do. I must go to work." So he +placed his light upon the table and began to write. He dipped his +pen into the ink and wrote at the head of his paper in a bold hand: +"Souvenirs of a Soldier in Africa." Then he cast about for the first +phrase. He rested his head upon his hand and stared at the blank +sheet before him. What should he say? Suddenly he thought: "I must +begin with my departure," and he wrote: "In 1874, about the +fifteenth of May, when exhausted France was recruiting after the +catastrophe of the terrible years--" Here he stopped short, not +knowing how to introduce his subject. After a few minutes' +reflection, he decided to lay aside that page until the following +day, and to write a description of Algiers. He began: "Algiers is a +very clean city--" but he could not continue. After an effort he +added: "It is inhabited partly by Arabs." Then he threw his pen upon +the table and arose. He glanced around his miserable room; mentally +he rebelled against his poverty and resolved to leave the next day. + +Suddenly the desire to work came on him, and he tried to begin the +article again; he had vague ideas of what he wanted to say, but he +could not express his thoughts in words. Convinced of his inability +he arose once more, his blood coursing rapidly through his veins. He +turned to the window just as the train was coming out of the tunnel, +and his thoughts reverted to his parents. He saw their tiny home on +the heights overlooking Rouen and the valley of the Seine. His +father and mother kept an inn, La Belle-Vue, at which the citizens +of the faubourgs took their lunches on Sundays. They had wished to +make a "gentleman" of their son and had sent him to college. His +studies completed, he had entered the army with the intention of +becoming an officer, a colonel, or a general. But becoming disgusted +with military life, he determined to try his fortune in Paris. When +his time of service had expired, he went thither, with what results +we have seen. He awoke from his reflections as the locomotive +whistled shrilly, closed his window, and began to disrobe, +muttering: "Bah, I shall be able to work better to-morrow morning. +My brain is not clear to-night. I have drunk a little too much. I +can't work well under such circumstances." He extinguished his light +and fell asleep. + +He awoke early, and, rising, opened his window to inhale the fresh +air. In a few moments he seated himself at his table, dipped his pen +in the ink, rested his head upon his hand and thought--but in vain! +However, he was not discouraged, but in thought reassured himself: +"Bah, I am not accustomed to it! It is a profession that must be +learned like all professions. Some one must help me the first time. +I'll go to Forestier. He'll start my article for me in ten minutes." + +When he reached the street, Duroy decided that it was rather early +to present himself at his friend's house, so he strolled along under +the trees on one of the boulevards for a time. On arriving at +Forestier's door, he found his friend going out. + +"You here--at this hour! Can I do anything for you?" + +Duroy stammered in confusion: "I--I--cannot write that article on +Algeria that M. Walter wants. It is not very surprising, seeing that +I have never written anything. It requires practice. I could write +very rapidly, I am sure, if I could make a beginning. I have the +ideas but I cannot express them." He paused and hesitated. + +Forestier smiled maliciously: "I understand that." + +Duroy continued: "Yes, anyone is liable to have that trouble at the +beginning; and, well--I have come to ask you to help me. In ten +minutes you can set me right. You can give me a lesson in style; +without you I can do nothing." + +The other smiled gaily. He patted his companion's arm and said to +him: "Go to my wife; she will help you better than I can. I have +trained her for that work. I have not time this morning or I would +do it willingly." + +But Duroy hesitated: "At this hour I cannot inquire for her." + +"Oh, yes, you can; she has risen. You will find her in my study." + +"I will go, but I shall tell her you sent me!" + +Forestier walked away, and Duroy slowly ascended the stairs, +wondering what he should say and what kind of a reception he would +receive. + +The servant who opened the door said: "Monsieur has gone out." + +Duroy replied: "Ask Mme. Forestier if she will see me, and tell her +that M. Forestier, whom I met on the street, sent me." + +The lackey soon returned and ushered Duroy into Madame's presence. +She was seated at a table and extended her hand to him. + +"So soon?" said she. It was not a reproach, but a simple question. + +He stammered: "I did not want to come up, Madame, but your husband, +whom I met below, insisted--I dare scarcely tell you my errand--I +worked late last night and early this morning, to write the article +on Algeria which M. Walter wants--and I did not succeed--I destroyed +all my attempts--I am not accustomed to the work--and I came to ask +Forestier to assist me--his once." + +She interrupted with a laugh: "And he sent you to me?" + +"Yes, Madame. He said you could help me better than he--but--I dared +not--I did not like to." + +She rose. + +"It will be delightful to work together that way. I am charmed with +your idea. Wait, take my chair, for they know my handwriting on the +paper--we will write a successful article." + +She took a cigarette from the mantelpiece and lighted it. "I cannot +work without smoking," she said; "what are you going to say?" + +He looked at her in astonishment. "I do not know; I came here to +find that out." + +She replied: "I will manage it all right. I will make the sauce but +I must have the dish." She questioned him in detail and finally +said: + +"Now, we will begin. First of all we will suppose that you are +addressing a friend, which will allow us scope for remarks of all +kinds. Begin this way: 'My dear Henry, you wish to know something +about Algeria; you shall.'" + +Then followed a brilliantly worded description of Algeria and of the +port of Algiers, an excursion to the province of Oran, a visit to +Saida, and an adventure with a pretty Spanish maid employed in a +factory. + +When the article was concluded, he could find no words of thanks; he +was happy to be near her, grateful for and delighted with their +growing intimacy. It seemed to him that everything about him was a +part of her, even to the books upon the shelves. The chairs, the +furniture, the air--all were permeated with that delightful +fragrance peculiar to her. + +She asked bluntly: "What do you think of my friend Mme. de Marelle?" + +"I think her very fascinating," he said; and he would have liked to +add: "But not as much so as you." He had not the courage to do so. + +She continued: "If you only knew how comical, original, and +intelligent she is! She is a true Bohemian. It is for that reason +that her husband no longer loves her. He only sees her defects and +none of her good qualities." + +Duroy was surprised to hear that Mme. de Marelle was married. + +"What," he asked, "is she married? What does her husband do?" + +Mme. Forestier shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, he is superintendent of +a railroad. He is in Paris a week out of each month. His wife calls +it 'Holy Week.' or 'The week of duty.' When you get better +acquainted with her, you will see how witty she is! Come here and +see her some day." + +As she spoke, the door opened noiselessly, and a gentleman entered +unannounced. He halted on seeing a man. For a moment Mme. Forestier +seemed confused; then she said in a natural voice, though her cheeks +were tinged with a blush: + +"Come in, my dear sir; allow me to present to you an old comrade of +Charles, M. Georges Duroy, a future journalist." Then in a different +tone, she said: "Our best and dearest friend, Count de Vaudrec." + +The two men bowed, gazed into one another's eyes, and then Duroy +took his leave. Neither tried to detain him. + +On reaching the street he felt sad and uncomfortable. Count de +Vaudrec's face was constantly before him. It seemed to him that the +man was displeased at finding him tete-a-tete with Mme. Forestier, +though why he should be, he could not divine. + +To while away the time until three o'clock, he lunched at Duval's, +and then lounged along the boulevard. When the clock chimed the hour +of his appointment, he climbed the stairs leading to the office of +"La Vie Francaise." + +Duroy asked: "Is M. Walter in?" + +"M. Walter is engaged," was the reply. "Will you please take a +seat?" + +Duroy waited twenty minutes, then he turned to the clerk and said: +"M. Walter had an appointment with me at three o'clock. At any rate, +see if my friend M. Forestier is here." + +He was conducted along a corridor and ushered into a large room in +which four men were writing at a table. Forestier was standing +before the fireplace, smoking a cigarette. After listening to +Duroy's story he said: + +"Come with me; I will take you to M. Walter, or else you might +remain here until seven o'clock." + +They entered the manager's room. Norbert de Varenne was writing an +article, seated in an easychair; Jacques Rival, stretched upon a +divan, was smoking a cigar. The room had the peculiar odor familiar +to all journalists. When they approached M. Walter, Forestier said: +"Here is my friend Duroy." + +The manager looked keenly at the young man and asked: + +"Have you brought my article?" + +Duroy drew the sheets of manuscript from his pocket. + +"Here they are, Monsieur." + +The manager seemed delighted and said with a smile: "Very good. You +are a man of your word. Need I look over it, Forestier?" + +But Forestier hastened to reply: "It is not necessary, M. Walter; I +helped him in order to initiate him into the profession. It is very +good." Then bending toward him, he whispered: "You know you promised +to engage Duroy to replace Marambot. Will you allow me to retain him +on the same terms?" + +"Certainly." + +Taking his friend's arm, the journalist drew him away, while M. +Walter returned to the game of ecarte he had been engaged in when +they entered. Forestier and Duroy returned to the room in which +Georges had found his friend. The latter said to his new reporter: + +"You must come here every day at three o'clock, and I will tell you +what places to go to. First of all, I shall give you a letter of +introduction to the chief of the police, who will in turn introduce +you to one of his employees. You can arrange with him for all +important news, official and semiofficial. For details you can apply +to Saint-Potin, who is posted; you will see him to-morrow. Above +all, you must learn to make your way everywhere in spite of closed +doors. You will receive two hundred francs a months, two sous a line +for original matter, and two sous a line for articles you are +ordered to write on different subjects." + +"What shall I do to-day?" asked Duroy. + +"I have no work for you to-day; you can go if you wish to." + +"And our--our article?" + +"Oh, do not worry about it; I will correct the proofs. Do the rest +to-morrow and come here at three o'clock as you did to-day." + +And after shaking hands, Duroy descended the staircase with a light +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +DUROY LEARNS SOMETHING + + +Georges Duroy did not sleep well, so anxious was he to see his +article in print. He rose at daybreak, and was on the street long +before the newsboys. When he secured a paper and saw his name at the +end of a column in large letters, he became very much excited. He +felt inclined to enact the part of a newsboy and cry out to the +hurrying throng: "Buy this! it contains an article by me!" He +strolled along to a cafe and seated himself in order to read the +article through; that done he decided to go to the railroad office, +draw his salary, and hand in his resignation. + +With great pomposity he informed the chief clerk that he was on the +staff of "La Vie Francaise," and by that means was avenged for many +petty insults which had been offered him. He then had some cards +written with his new calling beneath his name, made several +purchases, and repaired to the office of "La Vie Francaise." +Forestier received him loftily as one would an inferior. + +"Ah, here you are! Very well; I have several things for you to do. +Just wait ten minutes till I finish this work." He continued +writing. + +At the other end of the table sat a short, pale man, very stout and +bald. Forestier asked him, when his letter was completed, "Saint- +Potin, at what time shall you interview those people?" + +"At four o'clock." + +"Take Duroy, who is here, with you and initiate him into the +business." + +"Very well." + +Then turning to his friend, Forestier added: "Have you brought the +other paper on Algeria? The article this morning was very +successful." + +Duroy stammered: "No, I thought I should have time this afternoon. I +had so much to do--I could not." + +The other shrugged his shoulders. "If you are not more careful, you +will spoil your future. M. Walter counted on your copy. I will tell +him it will be ready to-morrow. If you think you will be paid for +doing nothing, you are mistaken." After a pause, he added: "You +should strike while the iron is hot." + +Saint-Potin rose: "I am ready," said he. + +Forestier turned around in his chair and said, to Duroy: "Listen. +The Chinese general Li-Theng-Fao, stopping at the Continental, and +Rajah Taposahib Ramaderao Pali, stopping at Hotel Bishop, have been +in Paris two days. You must interview them." Addressing Saint-Potin, +he said: "Do not forget the principal points I indicated to you. Ask +the general and the rajah their opinions on the dealings of England +in the extreme East, their ideas of their system of colonization and +government, their hopes relative to the intervention of Europe and +of France in particular." To Duroy he said: "Observe what Saint- +Potin says; he is an excellent reporter, and try to learn how to +draw out a man in five minutes." Then he resumed his work. + +The two men walked down the boulevard together, while Saint-Potin +gave Duroy a sketch of all the officials connected with the paper, +sparing no one in his criticism. When he mentioned Forestier, he +said: "As for him, he was fortunate in marrying his wife." + +Duroy asked: "What about his wife?" + +Saint-Potin rubbed his hands. "Oh, she is beloved by an old fellow +named Vaudrec--he dotes upon her." + +Duroy felt as if he would like to box Saint-Potin's ears. To change +the subject he said: "It seems to me that it is late, and we have +two noble lords to call upon!" + +Saint-Potin laughed: "You are very innocent! Do you think that I am +going to interview that Chinese and that Indian? As if I did not +know better than they do what they should think to please the +readers of 'La Vie Francaise'! I have interviewed five hundred +Chinese, Prussians, Hindoos, Chilians, and Japanese. They all say +the same thing. I need only copy my article on the last comer, word +for word, changing the heading, names, titles, and ages: in that +there must be no error, or I shall be hauled over the coals by the +'Figaro' or 'Gaulois.' But on that subject the porter of the hotels +will post me in five minutes. We will smoke our cigars and stroll in +that direction. Total--one hundred sous for cabfare. That is the +way, my dear fellow." + +When they arrived at the Madeleine, Saint-Potin said to his +companion: "If you have anything to do, I do not need you." + +Duroy shook hands with him and walked away. The thought of the +article he had to write that evening haunted him. Mentally he +collected the material as he wended his way to the cafe at which he +dined. Then he returned home and seated himself at his table to +work. Before his eyes was the sheet of blank paper, but all the +material he had amassed had escaped him. After trying for an hour, +and after filling five pages with sentences which had no connection +one with the other, he said: "I am not yet familiar with the work. I +must take another lesson." + +At ten o'clock the following morning he rang the bell, at his +friend's house. The servant who opened the door, said: "Monsieur is +busy." + +Duroy had not expected to find Forestier at home. However he said: +"Tell him it is M. Duroy on important business." + +In the course of five minutes he was ushered into the room in which +he had spent so happy a morning. In the place Mme. Forestier had +occupied, her husband was seated writing, while Mme. Forestier stood +by the mantelpiece and dictated to him, a cigarette between her +lips. + +Duroy paused upon the threshold and murmured: "I beg your pardon, I +am interrupting you." + +His friend growled angrily: "What do you want again? Make haste; we +are busy." + +Georges stammered: "It is nothing." + +But Forestier persisted: "Come, we are losing time; you did not +force your way into the house for the pleasure of bidding us good +morning." + +Duroy, in confusion, replied: "No, it is this: I cannot complete my +article, and you were--so--so kind the last time that I hoped--that +I dared to come--" + +Forestier interrupted with: "So you think I will do your work and +that you have only to take the money. Well, that is fine!" His wife +smoked on without interfering. + +Duroy hesitated: "Excuse me. I believed--I--thought--" Then, in a +clear voice, he said: "I beg a thousand pardons, Madame, and thank +you very much for the charming article you wrote for me yesterday." +Then he bowed, and said to Charles: "I will be at the office at +three o'clock." + +He returned home saying to himself: "Very well, I will write it +alone and they shall see." Scarcely had he entered than he began to +write, anger spurring him on. In an hour he had finished an article, +which was a chaos of absurd matter, and took it boldly to the +office. Duroy handed Forestier his manuscript. "Here is the rest of +Algeria." + +"Very well, I will hand it to the manager. That will do." + +When Duroy and Saint-Potin, who had some political information to +look up, were in the hall, the latter asked: "Have you been to the +cashier's room?" + +"No, why?" + +"Why? To get your pay? You should always get your salary a month in +advance. One cannot tell what might happen. I will introduce you to +the cashier." + +Duroy drew his two hundred francs together with twenty-eight francs +for his article of the preceding day, which, in addition to what +remained to him of his salary from the railroad office, left him +three hundred and forty francs. He had never had so much, and he +thought himself rich for an indefinite time. Saint-Potin took him to +the offices of four or five rival papers, hoping that the news he +had been commissioned to obtain had been already received by them +and that he could obtain it by means of his diplomacy. + +When evening came, Duroy, who had nothing more to do, turned toward +the Folies-Bergeres, and walking up to the office, he said: "My name +is Georges Duroy. I am on the staff of 'La Vie Francaise.' I was +here the other night with M. Forestier, who promised to get me a +pass. I do not know if he remembered it." + +The register was consulted, but his name was not inscribed upon it. +However, the cashier, a very affable man, said to him: "Come in, M. +Duroy, and speak to the manager yourself; he will see that +everything is all right." + +He entered and almost at once came upon Rachel, the woman he had +seen there before. She approached him: "Good evening, my dear; are +you well?" + +"Very well; how are you?" + +"I am not ill. I have dreamed of you twice since the other night." + +Duroy smiled. "What does that mean?" + +"That means that I like you"; she raised her eyes to the young man's +face, took his arm and leaning upon it, said: "Let us drink a glass +of wine and then take a walk. I should like to go to the opera like +this, with you, to show you off." + + * * * * * * * + +At daybreak he again sallied forth to obtain a "Vie Francaise." He +opened the paper feverishly; his article was not there. On entering +the office several hours later, he said to M. Walter: "I was very +much surprised this morning not to see my second article on +Algeria." + +The manager raised his head and said sharply: "I gave it to your +friend, Forestier, and asked him to read it; he was dissatisfied +with it; it will have to be done over." + +Without a word, Duroy left the room, and entering his friend's +office, brusquely asked: "Why did not my article appear this +morning?" + +The journalist, who was smoking a cigar, said calmly: "The manager +did not consider it good, and bade me return it to you to be +revised. There it is." Duroy revised it several times, only to have +it rejected. He said nothing more of his "souvenirs," but gave his +whole attention to reporting. He became acquainted behind the scenes +at the theaters, and in the halls and corridors of the chamber of +deputies; he knew all the cabinet ministers, generals, police +agents, princes, ambassadors, men of the world, Greeks, cabmen, +waiters at cafes, and many others. In short he soon became a +remarkable reporter, of great value to the paper, so M. Walter said. +But as he only received ten centimes a line in addition to his fixed +salary of two hundred francs and as his expenses were large, he +never had a sou. When he saw certain of his associates with their +pockets full of money, he wondered what secret means they employed +in order to obtain it. He determined to penetrate that mystery, to +enter into the association, to obtrude himself upon his comrades, +and make them share with him. Often at evening, as he watched the +trains pass his window, he dreamed of the conduct he might pursue. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE FIRST INTRIGUE + + +Two months elapsed. It was September. The fortune which Duroy had +hoped to make so rapidly seemed to him slow in coming. Above all he +was dissatisfied with the mediocrity of his position; he was +appreciated, but was treated according to his rank. Forestier +himself no longer invited him to dinner, and treated him as an +inferior. Often he had thought of making Mme. Forestier a visit, but +the remembrance of their last meeting restrained him. Mme. de +Marelle had invited him to call, saying: "I am always at home about +three o'clock." So one afternoon, when he had nothing to do, he +proceeded toward her house. She lived on Rue Verneuil, on the fourth +floor. A maid answered his summons, and said: "Yes, Madame is at +home, but I do not know whether she has risen." She conducted Duroy +into the drawing-room, which was large, poorly furnished, and +somewhat untidy. The shabby, threadbare chairs were ranged along the +walls according to the servant's fancy, for there was not a trace +visible of the care of a woman who loves her home. Duroy took a seat +and waited some time. Then a door opened and Mme. de Marelle entered +hastily, clad in a Japanese dressing-gown. She exclaimed: + +"How kind of you to come to see me. I was positive you had forgotten +me." She held out her hand to him with a gesture of delight; and +Duroy, quite at his ease in that shabby apartment, kissed it as he +had seen Norbert de Varenne do. + +Examining him from head to foot, she cried: "How you have changed! +Well; tell me the news." + +They began to chat at once as if they were old acquaintances, and in +five minutes an intimacy, a mutual understanding, was established +between those two beings alike in character and kind. Suddenly the +young woman said in surprise: "It is astonishing how I feel with +you. It seems to me as if I had known you ten years. We shall +undoubtedly become good friends; would that please you?" + +He replied: "Certainly," with a smile more expressive than words. He +thought her very bewitching in her pretty gown. When near Mme. +Forestier, whose impassive, gracious smile attracted yet held at a +distance, and seemed to say: "I like you, yet take care," he felt a +desire to cast himself at her feet, or to kiss the hem of her +garment. When near Mme. de Marelle, he felt a more passionate +desire. + +A gentle rap came at the door through which Mme. de Marelle had +entered, and she cried: "You may come in, my darling." + +The child entered, advanced to Duroy and offered him her hand. The +astonished mother murmured: "That is a conquest." The young man, +having kissed the child, seated her by his side, and with a serious +air questioned her as to what she had done since they last met. She +replied in a flute-like voice and with the manner of a woman. The +clock struck three; the journalist rose. + +"Come often," said Mme. de Marelle; "it has been a pleasant +causerie. I shall always be glad to welcome you. Why do I never meet +you at the Forestiers?" + +"For no particular reason. I am very busy. I hope, however, that we +shall meet there one of these days." + +In the course of a few days he paid another visit to the +enchantress. The maid ushered him into the drawing-room and Laurine +soon entered; she offered him not her hand but her forehead, and +said: "Mamma wishes me to ask you to wait for her about fifteen +minutes, for she is not dressed. I will keep you company." + +Duroy, who was amused at the child's ceremonious manner, replied: +"Indeed, Mademoiselle, I shall be enchanted to spend a quarter of an +hour with you." When the mother entered they were in the midst of an +exciting game, and Mme. de Marelle paused in amazement, crying: +"Laurine playing? You are a sorcerer, sir!" He placed the child, +whom he had caught in his arms, upon the floor, kissed the lady's +hand, and they seated themselves, the child between them. They tried +to converse, but Laurine, usually so silent, monopolized the +conversation, and her mother was compelled to send her to her room. + +When they were alone, Mme. de Marelle lowered her voice and said: "I +have a great project. It is this: As I dine every week at the +Foresters', I return it from time to time by inviting them to a +restaurant. I do not like to have company at home; I am not so +situated that I can have any. I know nothing about housekeeping or +cooking. I prefer a life free from care; therefore I invite them to +the cafe occasionally; but it is not lively when we are only three. +I am telling you this in order to explain such an informal +gathering. I should like you to be present at our Saturdays at the +Cafe Riche at seven-thirty. Do you know the house?" + +Duroy accepted gladly. He left her in a transport of delight and +impatiently awaited the day of the dinner. He was the first to +arrive at the place appointed and was shown into a small private +room, in which the table was laid for four; that table looked very +inviting with its colored glasses, silver, and candelabra. + +Duroy seated himself upon a low bench. Forestier entered and shook +hands with him with a cordiality he never evinced at the office. + +"The two ladies will come together," said he. "These dinners are +truly delightful." + +Very soon the door opened and Mesdames Forestier and De Marelle +appeared, heavily veiled, surrounded by the charming mystery +necessary to a rendezvous in a place so public. As Duroy greeted the +former, she took him to task for not having been to see her; then +she added with a smile: "Ah, you prefer Mme. de Marelle; the time +passes more pleasantly with her." + +When the waiter handed the wine-list to Forestier, Mme. de Marelle +exclaimed: "Bring the gentle-men whatever they want; as for us, we +want nothing but champagne." + +Forestier, who seemed not to have heard her, asked: "Do you object +to my closing the window? My cough has troubled me for several +days." + +"Not at all." + +His wife did not speak. The various courses were duly served and +then the guests began to chat. They discussed a scandal which was +being circulated about a society belle. Forestier was very much +amused by it. Duroy said with a smile: "How many would abandon +themselves to a caprice, a dream of love, if they did not fear that +they would pay for a brief happiness with tears and an irremediable +scandal?" + +Both women glanced at him approvingly. Forestier cried with a +sceptical laugh: "The poor husbands!" Then they talked of love. +Duroy said: "When I love a woman, everything else in the world is +forgotten." + +Mme. Forestier murmured:, "There is no happiness comparable to that +first clasp of the hand, when one asks: 'Do you love me?' and the +other replies: 'Yes, I love you.'" Mme. de Marelle cried gaily as +she drank a glass of champagne: "I am less Platonic." + +Forestier, lying upon the couch, said in serious tone: "That +frankness does you honor and proves you to be a practical woman. But +might one ask, what is M. de Marelle's opinion?" + +She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully and said: "M. de Marelle has +no opinion on that subject." + +The conversation grew slow. Mme. de Marelle seemed to offer +provocation by her remarks, while Mme. Forestier's charming reserve, +the modesty in her voice, in her smile, all seemed to extenuate the +bold sallies which issued from her lips. The dessert came and then +followed the coffee. The hostess and her guests lighted cigarettes, +but Forestier suddenly began to cough. When the attack was over, he +growled angrily: "These parties are not good for me; they are +stupid. Let us go home." + +Mme. de Marelle summoned the waiter and asked for her bill. She +tried to read it, but the figures danced before her eyes; she handed +the paper to Duroy. + +"Here, pay it for me; I cannot see." At the same time, she put her +purse in his hand. + +The total was one hundred and thirty francs. Duroy glanced at the +bill and when it was settled, whispered: "How much shall I give the +waiter?" + +"Whatever you like; I do not know." + +He laid five francs upon the plate and handed the purse to its +owner, saying: "Shall I escort you home?" + +"Certainly; I am unable to find the house." + +They shook hands with the Forestiers and were soon rolling along in +a cab side by side. Duroy could think of nothing to say; he felt +impelled to clasp her in his arms. "If I should dare, what would she +do?" thought he. The recollection of their conversation at dinner +emboldened, but the fear of scandal restrained him. Mme. de Marelle +reclined silently in her corner. He would have thought her asleep, +had he not seen her eyes glisten whenever a ray of light penetrated +the dark recesses of the carriage. Of what was she thinking? +Suddenly she moved her foot, nervously, impatiently. That movement +caused him to tremble, and turning quickly, he cast himself upon +her, seeking her lips with his. She uttered a cry, attempted to +repulse him and then yielded to his caresses as if she had not the +strength to resist. + +The carriage stopped at her door, but she did not rise; she did not +move, stunned by what had just taken place. Fearing that the cabman +would mistrust something, Duroy alighted from the cab first and +offered his hand to the young woman. Finally she got out, but in +silence. Georges rang the bell, and when the door was opened, he +asked timidly: "When shall I see you again?" + +She whispered so low that he could barely hear her: "Come and lunch +with me to-morrow." With those words she disappeared. + +Duroy gave the cabman a five-franc piece, and turned away with a +triumphant, joyful air. He had at last conquered a married woman! A +woman of the world! A Parisian! How easy it had been! + +He was somewhat nervous the following day as he ascended Mme. de +Marelle's staircase. How would she receive him? Suppose she forbade +him to enter her house? If she had told--but no, she could not tell +anything without telling the whole truth! He was master of the +situation! + +The little maid-servant opened the door. She was as pleasant as +usual. Duroy felt reassured and asked: "Is Madame well?" + +"Yes, sir; as well as she always is," was the reply, and he was +ushered into the salon. He walked to the mantelpiece to see what +kind of an appearance he presented: he was readjusting his cravat +when he saw in the mirror the young woman standing on the threshold +looking at him. He pretended not to have seen her, and for several +moments they gazed at one another in the mirror. Then he turned. She +had not moved; she seemed to be waiting. He rushed toward her +crying: "How I love you!" He clasped her to his breast. He thought: +"It is easier than I thought it would be. All is well." He looked at +her with a smile, without uttering a word, trying to put into his +glance a wealth of love. She too smiled and murmured: "We are alone. +I sent Laurine to lunch with a friend." + +He sighed, and kissing her wrists said: "Thanks; I adore you." She +took his arm as if he had been her husband, and led him to a couch, +upon which they seated themselves side by side. Duroy stammered, +incoherently: "You do not care for me." + +She laid her hand upon his lips. "Be silent!" + +"How I love you!" said he. + +She repeated: "Be silent!" + +They could hear the servant laying the table in the dining-room. He +rose: "I cannot sit so near you. I shall lose my head." + +The door opened: "Madame is served!" + +He offered her his arm gravely. They lunched without knowing what +they were eating. The servant came and went without seeming to +notice anything. When the meal was finished, they returned to the +drawing-room and resumed their seats on the couch side by side. +Gradually he drew nearer her and tried to embrace her. + +"Be careful, some one might come in." + +He whispered: "When can I see you alone to tell you how I love you?" + +She leaned toward him and said softly: "I will pay you a visit one +of these days." + +He colored. "My rooms--are--are--very modest." + +She smiled: "That makes no difference. I shall come to see you and +not your rooms." + +He urged her to tell him when she would come. She fixed a day in the +following week, while he besought her with glowing eyes to hasten +the day. She was amused to see him implore so ardently and yielded a +day at a time. He repeated: "To-morrow, say--to-morrow." Finally she +consented. "Yes, to-morrow at five o'clock." + +He drew a deep breath; then they chatted together as calmly as if +they had known one another for twenty years. A ring caused them to +start; they separated. She murmured: "It is Laurine." + +The child entered, paused in surprise, then ran toward Duroy +clapping her hands, delighted to see him, and crying: "Ah, 'Bel- +Ami!'" + +Mme. de Marelle laughed. "Bel-Ami! Laurine has christened you. It is +a pretty name. I shall call you Bel-Ami, too!" + +He took the child upon his knee. At twenty minutes of three he rose +to go to the office; at the half-open door he whispered: "To-morrow, +five o'clock." The young woman replied: "Yes," with a smile and +disappeared. + +After he had finished his journalistic work, he tried to render his +apartments more fit to receive his expected visitor. He was well +satisfied with the results of his efforts and retired, lulled to +rest by the whistling of the trains. Early the next morning he +bought a cake and a bottle of Madeira. He spread the collation on +his dressing-table which was covered with a napkin. Then he waited. +She came at a quarter past five and exclaimed as she entered: "Why, +it is nice here. But there were a great many people on the stairs." + +He took her in his arms and kissed her hair. An hour and a half +later he escorted her to a cab-stand on the Rue de Rome. When she +was seated in the cab, he whispered: "Tuesday, at the same hour." + +She repeated his words, and as it was night, she kissed him. Then as +the cabman started up his horse, she cried:" Adieu, Bel-Ami!" and +the old coupe rumbled off. + +For three weeks Duroy received Mme. de Marelle every two or three +days, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. + +As he was awaiting her one afternoon, a noise on the staircase drew +him to his door. A child screamed. A man's angry voice cried: "What +is the brat howling about?" + +A woman's voice replied: "Nicolas has been tripped up on the +landing-place by the journalist's sweetheart." + +Duroy retreated, for he heard the rustling of skirts. Soon there was +a knock at his door, which he opened, and Mme. de Marelle rushed in, +crying: "Did you hear?" Georges feigned ignorance of the matter. + +"No; what?" + +"How they insulted me?" + +"Who?" + +"Those miserable people below." + +"Why, no; what is it? Tell me." + +She sobbed and could not speak. He was forced to place her upon his +bed and to lay a damp cloth upon her temples. When she grew calmer, +anger succeeded her agitation. She wanted Duroy to go downstairs at +once, to fight them, to kill them. + +He replied: "They are working-people. Just think, it would be +necessary to go to court where you would be recognized; one must not +compromise oneself with such people." + +She said: "What shall we do? I cannot come here again." + +He replied: "That is very simple. I will move." + +She murmured: "Yes, but that will take some time." + +Suddenly she said: "Listen to me, I have found a means; do not worry +about it. I will send you a 'little blue' to-morrow morning." She +called a telegram a "little blue." + +She smiled with delight at her plans, which she would not reveal. +She was, however, very much affected as she descended the staircase +and leaned with all her strength upon her lover's arm. They met no +one. + +He was still in bed the following morning when the promised telegram +was handed him. Duroy opened it and read: + + "Come at five o'clock to Rue de Constantinople, No. 127. Ask + for the room rented by Mme. Duroy. CLO." + +At five o'clock precisely he entered a large furnished house and +asked the janitor: "Has Mme. Duroy hired a room here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you show me to it, if you please?" + +The man, accustomed no doubt to situations in which it was necessary +to be prudent, looked him straight in the eyes; then selecting a +key, he asked: "Are you M. Duroy?" + +"Certainly." + +He opened a small suite, comprising two rooms on the ground floor. + +Duroy thought uneasily: "This will cost a fortune. I shall have to +run into debt. She has done a very foolish thing." + +The door opened and Clotilde rushed in. She was enchanted. "Is it +not fine? There are no stairs to climb; it is on the ground floor! +One could come and go through the window without the porter seeing +one." + +He embraced her nervously, not daring to ask the question that +hovered upon his lips. She had placed a large package on the stand +in the center of the room. Opening it she took out a tablet of soap, +a bottle of Lubin's extract, a sponge, a box of hairpins, a button- +hook, and curling-tongs. Then she amused herself by finding places +in which to put them. + +She talked incessantly as she opened the drawers: "I must bring some +linen in order to have a change. We shall each have a key, besides +the one at the lodge, in case we should forget ours. I rented the +apartments for three months--in your name, of course, for I could +not give mine." + +Then he asked: "Will you tell me when to pay?" + +She replied simply: "It is paid, my dear." + +He made a pretense of being angry: "I cannot permit that." + +She laid her hand upon his shoulder and said in a supplicatory tone: +"Georges, it will give me pleasure to have the nest mine. Say that +you do not care, dear Georges," and he yielded. When she had left +him, he murmured: "She is kind-hearted, anyway." + +Several days later he received a telegram which read: + + "My husband is coming home this evening. We shall therefore not + meet for a week. What a bore, my dearest!" + + "YOUR CLO." + +Duroy was startled; he had not realized the fact that Mme. de +Marelle was married. He impatiently awaited her husband's departure. +One morning he received the following telegram: + + "Five o'clock.--CLO." + +When they met, she rushed into his arms, kissed him passionately, +and asked: "After a while will you take me to dine?" + +"Certainly, my darling, wherever you wish to go." + +"I should like to go to some restaurant frequented by the working- +classes." + +They repaired to a wine merchant's where meals were also served. +Clotilde's entrance caused a sensation on account of the elegance of +her dress. They partook of a ragout of mutton and left that place to +enter a ball-room in which she pressed more closely to his side. In +fifteen minutes her curiosity was satisfied and he conducted her +home. Then followed a series of visits to all sorts of places of +amusement. Duroy soon began to tire of those expeditions, for he had +exhausted all his resources and all means of obtaining money. In +addition to that he owed Forestier a hundred francs, Jacques Rival +three hundred, and he was hampered with innumerable petty debts +ranging from twenty francs to one hundred sous. + +On the fourteenth of December, he was left without a sou in his +pocket. As he had often done before, he did not lunch, and spent the +afternoon working at the office. At four o'clock he received a +telegram from Mme. de Marelle, saying: "Shall we dine together and +afterward have a frolic?" + +He replied at once: "Impossible to dine," then he added: "But I will +expect you at our apartments at nine o'clock." Having sent a boy +with the note in order to save the money for a telegram, he tried to +think of some way by which he could obtain his evening meal. He +waited until all of his associates had gone and when he was alone, +he rang for the porter, put his hand in his pocket and said: +"Foucart, I have left my purse at home and I have to dine at the +Luxembourg. Lend me fifty sous to pay for my cab." + +The man handed him three francs and asked: + +"Is that enough?" + +"Yes, thank you." Taking the coins, Duroy rushed down the staircase +and dined at a cookshop. + +At nine o'clock, Mme. de Marelle, whom he awaited in the tiny salon, +arrived. She wished to take a walk and he objected. His opposition +irritated her. + +"I shall go alone, then. Adieu!" + +Seeing that the situation was becoming grave, he seized her hands +and kissed them, saying: + +"Pardon me, darling; I am nervous and out of sorts this evening. I +have been annoyed by business matters." + +Somewhat appeased but still, vexed, she replied: + +"That does not concern me; I will not be the butt for your ill +humor." + +He clasped her in his arms and murmured his apologies. Still she +persisted in her desire to go out. + +"I beseech you, remain here by the fire with me. Say yes." + +"No," she replied, "I will not yield to your caprices." + +He insisted: "I have a reason, a serious reason--" + +"If you will not go with me, I shall go alone. Adieu!" + +She disengaged herself from his embrace and fled to the door. He +followed her: + +"Listen Clo, my little Clo, listen to me--" + +She shook her head, evaded his caresses and tried to escape from his +encircling arms. + +"I have a reason--" + +Looking him in the face, she said: "You lie! What is it?" + +He colored, and in order to avoid a rupture, confessed in accents of +despair: "I have no money!" + +She would not believe him until he had turned all his pockets inside +out, to prove his words. Then she fell upon his breast: "Oh, my poor +darling! Had I known! How did it happen?" + +He invented a touching story to this effect: That his father was in +straitened circumstances, that he had given him not only his +savings, but had run himself into debt. + +"I shall have to starve for the next six months." + +"Shall I lend you some?" she whispered. + +He replied with dignity: "You are very kind, dearest; but do not +mention that again; it wounds me." + +She murmured: "You will never know how much I love you." On taking +leave of him, she asked: "Shall we meet again the day after to- +morrow?" + +"Certainly." + +"At the same time?" + +"Yes, my darling." + +They parted. + +When Duroy opened his bedroom door and fumbled in his vest pocket +for a match, he was amazed to find in it a piece of money--a twenty- +franc piece! At first he wondered by what miracle it had got there; +suddenly it occurred to him that Mme. de Marelle had given him alms! +Angry and humiliated, he determined to return it when next they met. +The next morning it was late when he awoke; he tried to overcome his +hunger. He went out and as he passed the restaurants he could +scarcely resist their temptations. At noon he said: "Bah, I shall +lunch upon Clotilde's twenty francs; that will not hinder me from +returning the money to-morrow." + +He ate his lunch, for which he paid two francs fifty, and on +entering the office of "La Vie Francaise" he repaid the porter the +three francs he had borrowed from him. He worked until seven +o'clock, then he dined, and he continued to draw upon the twenty +francs until only four francs twenty remained. He decided to say to +Mme. de Marelle upon her arrival: + +"I found the twenty-franc piece you slipped into my pocket. I will +not return the money to-day, but I will repay you when we next +meet." + +When Madame came, he dared not broach the delicate subject. They +spent the evening together and appointed their next meeting for +Wednesday of the following week, for Mme. de Marelle had a number of +engagements. Duroy continued to accept money from Clotilde and +quieted his conscience by assuring himself: "I will give it back in +a lump. It is nothing but borrowed money anyway." So he kept account +of all that he received in order to pay it back some day. + +One evening, Mme. de Marelle said to him: "Would you believe that I +have never been to the Folies-Bergeres; will you take me there?" + +He hesitated, fearing a meeting with Rachel. Then he thought: "Bah, +I am not married after all. If she should see me, she would take in +the situation and not accost me. Moreover, we would have a box." + +When they entered the hall, it was crowded; with difficulty they +made their way to their seats. Mme. de Marelle did not look at the +stage; she was interested in watching the women who were +promenading, and she felt an irresistible desire to touch them, to +see of what those beings were made. Suddenly she said: + +"There is a large brunette who stares at us all the time. I think +every minute she will speak to us. Have you seen her?" + +He replied: "No, you are mistaken." + +He told an untruth, for he had noticed the woman, who was no other +than Rachel, with anger in her eyes and violent words upon her lips. + +Duroy had passed her when he and Mme. de Marelle entered and she had +said to him: "Good evening," in a low voice and with a wink which +said "I understand." But he had not replied; for fear of being seen +by his sweetheart he passed her coldly, disdainfully. The woman, her +jealousy aroused, followed the couple and said in a louder key: +"Good evening, Georges." He paid no heed to her. Then she was +determined to be recognized and she remained near their box, +awaiting a favorable moment. When she saw that she was observed by +Mme. de Marelle, she touched Duroy's shoulder with the tip of her +finger, and said: + +"Good evening. How are you?" + +But Georges did not turn his head. + +She continued: "Have you grown deaf since Thursday?" + +Still he did not reply. She laughed angrily and cried: + +"Are you dumb, too? Perhaps Madame has your tongue?" + +With a furious glance, Duroy then exclaimed: + +"How dare you accost me? Go along or I will have you arrested." + +With flaming eyes, she cried: "Ah, is that so! Because you are with +another is no reason that you cannot recognize me. If you had made +the least sign of recognition when you passed me, I would not have +molested you. You did not even say good evening to me when you met +me." + +During that tirade Mme. de Marelle in affright opened the door of +the box and fled through the crowd seeking an exit. Duroy rushed +after her. Rachel, seeing him disappear, cried: "Stop her! she has +stolen my lover!" + +Two men seized the fugitive by the shoulder, but Duroy, who had +caught up with her, bade them desist, and together he and Clotilde +reached the street. + +They entered a cab. The cabman asked: "Where shall I drive to?" +Duroy replied: "Where you will!" + +Clotilde sobbed hysterically. Duroy did not know what to say or do. +At length he stammered: + +"Listen Clo--my dearest Clo, let me explain. It is not my fault. I +knew that woman--long ago--" + +She raised her head and with the fury of a betrayed woman, she cried +disconnectedly: "Ah, you miserable fellow--what a rascal you are! Is +it possible? What disgrace, oh, my God! You gave her my money--did +you not? I gave him the money--for that woman--oh, the wretch!" + +For several moments she seemed to be vainly seeking an epithet more +forcible. Suddenly leaning forward she grasped the cabman's sleeve. +"Stop!" she cried, and opening the door, she alighted. Georges was +about to follow her but she commanded: "I forbid you to follow me," +in a voice so loud that the passers-by crowded around her, and Duroy +dared not stir for fear of a scandal. + +She drew out her purse, and taking two francs fifty from it, she +handed it to the cabman, saying aloud: "Here is the money for your +hour. Take that rascal to Rue Boursault at Batignolles!" + +The crowd applauded; one man said: "Bravo, little one!" and the cab +moved on, followed by the jeers of the bystanders. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A STEP UPWARD + + +The next morning Georges Duroy arose, dressed himself, and +determined to have money; he sought Forestier. His friend received +him in his study. + +"What made you rise so early?" he asked. + +"A very serious matter. I have a debt of honor." + +"A gaming debt?" + +He hesitated, then repeated: "A gaming debt." + +"Is it large?" + +"Five hundred francs." He only needed two hundred and eighty. + +Forestier asked sceptically: "To whom do you owe that amount?" + +Duroy did not reply at once. "To--to--a--M. de Carleville." + +"Ah, where does he live?" + +"Rue--Rue--" + +Forestier laughed. "I know the gentleman! If you want twenty francs +you can have them, but no more." + +Duroy took the gold-piece, called upon more friends, and by five +o'clock had collected eighty francs. As he required two hundred +more, he kept what he had begged and muttered: "I shall not worry +about it. I will pay it when I can." + +For two weeks he lived economically, but at the end of that time, +the good resolutions he had formed vanished, and one evening he +returned to the Folies Bergeres in search of Rachel; but the woman +was implacable and heaped coarse insults upon him, until he felt his +cheeks tingle and he left the hall. + +Forestier, out of health and feeble, made Duroy's existence at the +office insupportable. The latter did not reply to his rude remarks, +but determined to be avenged. He called upon Mme. Forestier. He +found her reclining upon a couch, reading. She held out her hand +without rising and said: "Good morning, Bel-Ami!" + +"Why do you call me by that name?" + +She replied with a smile: "I saw Mme. de Marelle last week and I +know what they have christened you at her house." + +He took a seat near his hostess and glanced at her curiously; she +was a charming blonde, fair and plump, made for caresses, and he +thought: "She is certainly nicer than the other one." He did not +doubt that he would only have to extend his hand in order to gather +the fruit. As he gazed upon her she chided him for his neglect of +her. + +He replied: "I did not come because it was for the best--" + +"How? Why?" + +"Why? Can you not guess?" + +"No!" + +"Because I loved you; a little, only a little, and I did not wish to +love you any more." + +She did not seem surprised, nor flattered; she smiled indifferently +and replied calmly: "Oh, you can come just the same; no one loves me +long." + +"Why not?" + +"Because it is useless, and I tell them so at once. If you had +confessed your fears to me sooner, I would have reassured you. My +dear friend, a man in love is not only foolish but dangerous. I +cease all intercourse with people who love me or pretend to; +firstly, because they bore me, and secondly, because I look upon +them with dread, as I would upon a mad dog. I know that your love is +only a kind of appetite; while with me it would be a communion of +souls. Now, look me in the face--" she no longer smiled. "I will +never be your sweetheart; it is therefore useless for you to persist +in your efforts. And now that I have explained, shall we be +friends?" + +He knew that that sentence was irrevocable, and delighted to be able +to form such an alliance as she proposed, he extended both hands, +saying: + +"I am yours, Madame, to do with as you will" + +He kissed her hands and raising his head said: "If I had found a +woman like you, how gladly would I have married her." + +She was touched by those words, and in a soft voice, placing her +hand upon his arm, she said: "I am going to begin my offices at +once. You are not diplomatic--" she hesitated. "May I speak freely?" + +"Yes." + +"Call upon Mme. Walter who has taken a fancy to you. But be guarded +as to your compliments, for she is virtuous. You will make a better +impression there by being careful in your remarks. I know that your +position at the office is unsatisfactory, but do not worry; all +their employees are treated alike." + +He said: "Thanks; you are an angel--a guardian angel." + +As he took his leave, he asked again: "Are we friends--is it +settled?" + +"It is." + +Having observed the effect of his last compliment, he said: "If you +ever become a widow, I have put in my application!" Then he left the +room hastily in order not to allow her time to be angry. + +Duroy did not like to call on Mme. Walter, for he had never been +invited, and he did not wish to commit a breach of etiquette. The +manager had been kind to him, appreciated his services, employed him +to do difficult work, why should he not profit by that show of favor +to call at his house? One day, therefore, he repaired to the market +and bought twenty-five pears. Having carefully arranged them in a +basket to make them appear as if they came from a distance he took +them to Mme. Walter's door with his card on which was inscribed: + + "Georges Duroy begs Mme. Walter to accept the fruit which he + received this morning from Normandy." + +The following day he found in his letter-box at the office an +envelope containing Mme, Walter's card on which was written: + + "Mme. Walter thanks M. Georges Duroy very much, and is at home + on Saturdays." + +The next Saturday he called. M. Walter lived on Boulevard +Malesherbes in a double house which he owned. The reception-rooms +were on the first floor. In the antechamber were two footmen; one +took Duroy's overcoat, the other his cane, put it aside, opened a +door and announced the visitor's name. In the large mirror in the +apartment Duroy could see the reflection of people seated in another +room. He passed through two drawing-rooms and entered a small +boudoir in which four ladies were gathered around a tea-table. +Notwithstanding the assurance he had gained during his life in +Paris, and especially since he had been thrown in contact with so +many noted personages, Duroy felt abashed. He stammered: + +"Madame, I took the liberty." + +The mistress of the house extended her hand and said to him: "You +are very kind, M. Duroy, to come to see me." She pointed to a chair. +The ladies chatted on. Visitors came and went. Mme. Walter noticed +that Duroy said nothing, that no one addressed him, that he seemed +disconcerted, and she drew him into the conversation which dealt +with the admission of a certain M. Linet to the Academy. When Duroy +had taken his leave, one of the ladies said: "How odd he is! Who is +he?" + +Mme. Walter replied: "One of our reporters; he only occupies a minor +position, but I think he will advance rapidly." + +In the meantime, while he was being discussed, Duroy walked gaily +down Boulevard Malesherbes. + +The following week he was appointed editor of the "Echoes," and +invited to dine at Mme. Walter's. The "Echoes" were, M. Walter said, +the very pith of the paper. Everything and everybody should be +remembered, all countries, all professions, Paris and the provinces, +the army, the arts, the clergy, the schools, the rulers, and the +courtiers. The man at the head of that department should be wide +awake, always on his guard, quick to judge of what was best to be +said and best to be omitted, to divine what would please the public +and to present it well. Duroy was just the man for the place. + +He was enjoying the fact of his promotion, when he received an +engraved card which read: + + "M. and Mme. Walter request the pleasure of M. Georges Duroy's + company at dinner on Thursday, January 20." + +He was so delighted that he kissed the invitation as if it had been +a love-letter. + +Then he sought the cashier to settle the important question of his +salary. At first twelve hundred francs were allowed Duroy, who +intended to save a large share of the money. He was busy two days +getting settled in his new position, in a large room, one end of +which he occupied, and the other end of which was allotted to +Boisrenard, who worked with him. + +The day of the dinner-party he left the office in good season, in +order to have time to dress, and was walking along Rue de Londres +when he saw before him a form which resembled Mme. de Marelle's. He +felt his cheeks glow and his heart throb. He crossed the street in +order to see the lady's face; he was mistaken, and breathed more +freely. He had often wondered what he should do if he met Clotilde +face to face. Should he bow to her or pretend not to see her? "I +should not see her," thought he. + +When Duroy entered his rooms he thought: "I must change my +apartments; these will not do any longer." He felt both nervous and +gay, and said aloud to himself: "I must write to my father." +Occasionally he wrote home, and his letters always delighted his old +parents. As he tied his cravat at the mirror he repeated: "I must +write home to-morrow. If my father could see me this evening in the +house to which I am going, he would be surprised. Sacristi, I shall +soon give a dinner which has never been equaled!" + +Then he recalled his old home, the faces of his father and mother. +He saw them seated at their homely board, eating their soup. He +remembered every wrinkle on their old faces, every movement of their +hands and heads; he even knew what they said to each other every +evening as they supped. He thought: "I will go to see them some +day." His toilette completed, he extinguished his light and +descended the stairs. + +On reaching his destination, he boldly entered the antechamber, +lighted by bronze lamps, and gave his cane and his overcoat to the +two lackeys who approached him. All the salons were lighted. Mme. +Walter received in the second, the largest. She greeted Duroy with a +charming smile, and he shook hands with two men who arrived after +him, M. Firmin and M. Laroche-Mathieu; the latter had especial +authority at the office on account of his influence in the chamber +of deputies. + +Then the Forestiers arrived, Madeleine looking charming in pink. +Charles had become very much emaciated and coughed incessantly. + +Norbert de Varenne and Jacques Rival came together. A door opened at +the end of the room, and M. Walter entered with two tall young girls +of sixteen and seventeen; one plain, the other pretty. Duroy knew +that the manager was a paterfamilias, but he was astonished. He had +thought of the manager's daughters as one thinks of a distant +country one will never see. Then, too, he had fancied them children, +and he saw women. They shook hands upon being introduced and seated +themselves at a table set apart for them. One of the guests had not +arrived, and that embarrassing silence which precedes dinners in +general reigned supreme. + +Duroy happening to glance at the walls, M. Walter said: "You are +looking at my pictures? I will show them all to you." And he took a +lamp that they might distinguish all the details. There were +landscapes by Guillemet; "A Visit to the Hospital," by Gervex; "A +Widow," by Bouguereau; "An Execution," by Jean Paul Laurens, and +many others. + +Duroy exclaimed: "Charming, charming, char--" but stopped short on +hearing behind him the voice of Mme. de Marelle who had just +entered. M. Walter continued to exhibit and explain his pictures; +but Duroy saw nothing--heard without comprehending. Mme. de Marelle +was there, behind him. What should he do? If he greeted her, might +she not turn her back upon him or utter some insulting remark? If he +did not approach her, what would people think? He was so ill at ease +that at one time he thought he should feign indisposition and return +home. + +The pictures had all been exhibited. M. Walter placed the lamp on +the table and greeted the last arrival, while Duroy recommenced +alone an examination of the canvas, as if he could not tear himself +away. What should he do? He heard their voices and their +conversation. Mme. Forestier called him; he hastened toward her. It +was to introduce him to a friend who was on the point of giving a +fete, and who wanted a description of it in "La Vie Francaise." + +He stammered: "Certainly, Madame, certainly." + +Madame de Marelle was very near him; he dared not turn to go away. +Suddenly to his amazement, she exclaimed: "Good evening, Bel-Ami; do +you not remember me?" + +He turned upon his heel hastily; she stood before him smiling, her +eyes overflowing with roguishness and affection. She offered him her +hand; he took it doubtfully, fearing some perfidy. She continued +calmly: "What has become of you? One never sees you!" + +Not having regained his self-possession, he murmured: "I have had a +great deal to do, Madame, a great deal to do. M. Walter has given me +another position and the duties are very arduous." + +"I know, but that is no excuse for forgetting your friends." + +Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a large woman, +decollette, with red arms, red cheeks, and attired in gay colors. As +she was received with effusion, Duroy asked Mme. Forestier: "Who is +that person?" + +"Viscountess de Percemur, whose nom de plume is 'Patte Blanche.'" + +He was surprised and with difficulty restrained a burst of laughter. + +"Patte Blanche? I fancied her a young woman like you. Is that Patte +Blanche? Ah, she is handsome, very handsome!" + +A servant appeared at the door and announced: "Madame is served." + +Duroy was placed between the manager's plain daughter, Mlle. Rose, +and Mme. de Marelle. The proximity of the latter embarrassed him +somewhat, although she appeared at ease and conversed with her usual +spirit. Gradually, however, his assurance returned, and before the +meal was over, he knew that their relations would be renewed. +Wishing, too, to be polite to his employer's daughter, he addressed +her from time to time. She responded as her mother would have done, +without any hesitation as to what she should say. At M. Walter's +right sat Viscountess de Percemur, and Duroy, looking at her with a +smile, asked Mme. de Marelle in a low voice: "Do you know the one +who signs herself 'Domino Rose'?" + +"Yes, perfectly; Baroness de Livar." + +"Is she like the Countess?" + +"No. But she is just as comical. She is sixty years old, has false +curls and teeth, wit of the time of the Restoration, and toilettes +of the same period." + +When the guests returned to the drawing-room, Duroy asked Mme. de +Marelle: "May I escort you home?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because M. Laroche-Mathieu, who is my neighbor, leaves me at my +door every time that I dine here." + +"When shall I see you again?" + +"Lunch with me to-morrow." + +They parted without another word. Duroy did not remain late; as he +descended the staircase, he met Norbert de Varenne, who was likewise +going away. The old poet took his arm; fearing no rivalry on the +newspaper, their work being essentially different, he was very +friendly to the young man. + +"Shall we walk along together?" + +"I shall be pleased to," replied Duroy. + +The streets were almost deserted that night. At first the two men +did not speak. Then Duroy, in order to make some remark, said: "That +M. Laroche-Mathieu looks very intelligent." + +The old poet murmured: "Do you think so?" + +The younger man hesitated in surprise: "Why, yes! Is he not +considered one of the most capable men in the Chamber?" + +"That may be. In a kingdom of blind men the blind are kings. All +those people are divided between money and politics; they are +pedants to whom it is impossible to speak of anything that is +familiar to us. Ah, it is difficult to find a man who is liberal in +his ideas! I have known several, they are dead. Still, what +difference does a little more or a little less genius make, since +all must come to an end?" He paused, and Duroy said with a smile: + +"You are gloomy to-night, sir!" + +The poet replied: "I always am, my child; you will be too in a few +years. While one is climbing the ladder, one sees the top and feels +hopeful; but when one has reached that summit, one sees the descent +and the end which is death. It is slow work ascending, but one +descends rapidly. At your age one is joyous; one hopes for many +things which never come to pass. At mine, one expects nothing but +death." + +Duroy laughed: "Egad, you make me shudder." + +Norbert de Varenne continued: "You do not understand me now, but +later on you will remember what I have told you. We breathe, sleep, +drink, eat, work, and then die! The end of life is death. What do +you long for? Love? A few kisses and you will be powerless. Money? +What for? To gratify your desires. Glory? What comes after it all? +Death! Death alone is certain." + +He stopped, took Duroy by his coat collar and said slowly: "Ponder +upon all that, young man; think it over for days, months, and years, +and you will see life from a different standpoint. I am a lonely, +old man. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, wife, +children, nor God. I have only poetry. Marry, my friend; you do not +know what it is to live alone at my age. It is so lonesome. I seem +to have no one upon earth. When one is old it is a comfort to have +children." + +When they reached Rue de Bourgogne, the poet halted before a high +house, rang the bell, pressed Duroy's hand and said: "Forget what I +have said to you, young man, and live according to your age. Adieu!" +With those words he disappeared in the dark corridor. + +Duroy felt somewhat depressed on leaving Varenne, but on his way a +perfumed damsel passed by him and recalled to his mind his +reconciliation with Mme. de Marelle. How delightful was the +realization of one's hopes! + +The next morning he arrived at his lady-love's door somewhat early; +she welcomed him as if there had been no rupture, and said as she +kissed him: + +"You do not know how annoyed I am, my beloved; I anticipated a +delightful honeymoon and now my husband has come home for six weeks. +But I could not let so long a time go by without seeing you, +especially after our little disagreement, and this is how I have +arranged matters: Come to dinner Monday. I will introduce you to M. +de Marelle, I have already spoken of you to him." + +Duroy hesitated in perplexity; he feared he might betray something +by a word, a glance. He stammered: + +"No, I would rather not meet your husband." + +"Why not? How absurd! Such things happen every day. I did not think +you so foolish." + +"Very well, I will come to dinner Monday." + +"To make it more pleasant, I will have the Forestiers, though I do +not like to receive company at home." + +On Monday as he ascended Mme. de Marelle's staircase, he felt +strangely troubled; not that he disliked to take her husband's hand, +drink his wine, and eat his bread, but he dreaded something, he knew +not what. He was ushered into the salon and he waited as usual. Then +the door opened, and a tall man with a white beard, grave and +precise, advanced toward him and said courteously: + +"My wife has often spoken of you, sir; I am charmed to make your +acquaintance." + +Duroy tried to appear cordial and shook his host's proffered hand +with exaggerated energy. M. de Marelle put a log upon the fire and +asked: + +"Have you been engaged in journalism a long time?" + +Duroy replied: "Only a few months." His embarrassment wearing off, +he began to consider the situation very amusing. He gazed at M. de +Marelle, serious and dignified, and felt a desire to laugh aloud. At +that moment Mme. de Marelle entered and approached Duroy, who in the +presence of her husband dared not kiss her hand. Laurine entered +next, and offered her brow to Georges. Her mother said to her: + +"You do not call M. Duroy Bel-Ami to-day." + +The child blushed as if it were a gross indiscretion to reveal her +secret. + +When the Forestiers arrived, Duroy was startled at Charles's +appearance. He had grown thinner and paler in a week and coughed +incessantly; he said they would leave for Cannes on the following +Thursday at the doctor's orders. They did not stay late; after they +had left, Duroy said, with a shake of his head: + +"He will not live long." + +Mme. de Marelle replied calmly: "No, he is doomed! He was a lucky +man to obtain such a wife." + +Duroy asked: "Does she help him very much?" + +"She does all the work; she is well posted on every subject, and she +always gains her point, as she wants it, and when she wants it! Oh, +she is as maneuvering as anyone! She is a treasure to a man who +wishes to succeed." + +Georges replied: "She will marry very soon again, I have no doubt." + +"Yes! I should not even be surprised if she had some one in view--a +deputy! but I do not know anything about it." + +M. de Marelle said impatiently: "You infer so many things that I do +not like! We should never interfere in the affairs of others. +Everyone should make that a rule." + +Duroy took his leave with a heavy heart. The next day he called on +the Forestiers, and found them in the midst of packing. Charles lay +upon a sofa and repeated: "I should have gone a month ago." Then he +proceeded to give Duroy innumerable orders, although everything had +been arranged with M. Walter. When Georges left him, he pressed his +comrade's hand and said: + +"Well, old fellow, we shall soon meet again." + +Mme. Forestier accompanied him to the door and he reminded her of +their compact. "We are friends and allies, are we not? If you should +require my services in any way, do not hesitate to call upon me. +Send me a dispatch or a letter and I will obey." + +She murmured: "Thank you, I shall not forget." + +As Duroy descended the staircase, he met M. de Vaudrec ascending. +The Count seemed sad--perhaps at the approaching departure. + +The journalist bowed, the Count returned his salutation courteously +but somewhat haughtily. + +On Thursday evening the Forestiers left town. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A DUEL WITH AN END + + +Charles's absence gave Duroy a more important position on "La Vie +Francaise." Only one matter arose to annoy him, otherwise his sky +was cloudless. + +An insignificant paper, "La Plume," attacked him constantly, or +rather attacked the editor of the "Echoes" of "La Vie Francaise." + +Jacques Rival said to him one day: "You are very forbearing." + +"What should I do? It is no direct attack." + +But, one afternoon when he entered the office, Boisrenard handed him +a number of "La Plume." + +"See, here is another unpleasant remark for you." + +"Relative to what?" + +"To the arrest of one Dame Aubert." + +Georges took the paper and read a scathing personal denunciation. +Duroy, it seems, had written an item claiming that Dame Aubert who, +as the editor of "La Plume," claimed, had been put under arrest, was +a myth. The latter retaliated by accusing Duroy of receiving bribes +and of suppressing matter that should be published. + +As Saint-Potin entered, Duroy asked him: "Have you seen the +paragraph in 'La Plume'?" + +"Yes, and I have just come from Dame Aubert's; she is no myth, but +she has not been arrested; that report has no foundation." + +Duroy went at once to M. Walter's office. After hearing the case, +the manager bade him go to the woman's house himself, find out the +details, and reply, to the article. + +Duroy set out upon his errand and on his return to the office, wrote +the following: + + "An anonymous writer in 'La Plume' is trying to pick a quarrel + with me on the subject of an old woman who, he claims, was + arrested for disorderly conduct, which I deny. I have myself + seen Dame Aubert, who is sixty years old at least; she told me + the particulars of her dispute with a butcher as to the weight + of some cutlets, which dispute necessitated an explanation + before a magistrate. That is the whole truth in a nutshell. As + for the other insinuations I scorn them. One never should reply + to such things, moreover, when they are written under a mask. + GEORGES DUROY." + +M. Walter and Jacques Rival considered that sufficient, and it was +decided that it should be published in that day's issue. + +Duroy returned home rather agitated and uneasy. What would this +opponent reply? Who was he? Why that attack? He passed a restless +night. When he re-read his article in the paper the next morning, he +thought it more aggressive in print than it was in writing. He +might, it seemed to him, have softened certain terms. He was excited +all day and feverish during-the night. He rose early to obtain an +issue of "La Plume" which should contain the reply to his note. He +ran his eyes over the columns and at first saw nothing. He was +beginning to breathe more freely when these words met his eye: + + "M. Duroy of 'La Vie Francaise' gives us the lie! In doing so, + he lies. He owns, however, that a woman named Aubert exists, + and that she was taken before a magistrate by an agent. Two + words only remain to be added to the word 'agent,' which are + 'of morals' and all is told. But the consciences of certain + journalists are on a par with their talents." + + "I sign myself, Louis Langremont." + +Georges's heart throbbed violently, and he returned home in order to +dress himself. He had been insulted and in such a manner that it was +impossible to hesitate. Why had he been insulted? For nothing! On +account of an old woman who had quarreled with her butcher. + +He dressed hastily and repaired to M. Walter's house, although it +was scarcely eight o'clock. M. Walter was reading "La Plume." + +"Well," he said gravely, on perceiving Duroy, "you cannot let that +pass." The young man did not reply. + +The manager continued: "Go at once in search of Rival, who will look +after your interests." + +Duroy stammered several vague words and set out for Rival's house. +Jacques was still in bed, but he rose when the bell rang, and having +read the insulting paragraph, said: "Whom would you like to have +besides me?" + +"I do not know." + +"Boisrenard?" + +"Yes." + +"Are you a good swordsman?" + +"No." + +"A good shot?" + +"I have used a pistol a good deal." + +"Good! Come and exercise while I attend to everything. Wait a +moment." + +He entered his dressing-room and soon reappeared, washed, shaven, +and presentable. + +"Come with me," said he. He lived on the ground floor, and he led +Duroy into a cellar converted into a room for the practice of +fencing and shooting. He produced a pair of pistols and began to +give his orders as briefly as if they were on the dueling ground. He +was well satisfied with Duroy's use of the weapons, and told him to +remain there and practice until noon, when he would return to take +him to lunch and tell him the result of his mission. Left to his own +devices, Duroy aimed at the target several times and then sat down +to reflect. + +Such affairs were abominable anyway! What would a respectable man +gain by risking his life? And he recalled Norbert de Varenne's +remarks, made to him a short while before. "He was right!" he +declared aloud. It was gloomy in that cellar, as gloomy as in a +tomb. What o'clock was it? The time dragged slowly on. Suddenly he +heard footsteps, voices, and Jacques Rival reappeared accompanied by +Boisrenard. The former cried on perceiving Duroy: "All is settled!" + +Duroy thought the matter had terminated with a letter of apology; +his heart gave a bound and he stammered: "Ah--thank you!" + +Rival continued: "M. Langremont has accepted every condition. +Twenty-five paces, fire when the pistol is leveled and the order +given." Then he added: "Now let us lunch; it is past twelve +o'clock." + +They repaired to a neighboring restaurant. Duroy was silent. He ate +that they might not think he was frightened, and went in the +afternoon with Boisrenard to the office, where he worked in an +absent, mechanical manner. Before leaving, Jacques Rival shook hands +with him and warned him that he and Boisrenard would call for him in +a carriage the next morning at seven o'clock to repair to the wood +at Vesinet, where the meeting was to take place. + +All had been settled without his saying a word, giving his opinion, +accepting or refusing, with such rapidity that his brain whirled and +he scarcely knew what was taking place. He returned home about nine +o'clock in the evening after having dined with Boisrenard, who had +not left him all day. When he was alone, he paced the floor; he was +too confused to think. One thought alone filled his mind and that +was: a duel to-morrow! He sat down and began to meditate. He had +thrown upon his table his adversary's card brought him by Rival. He +read it for the twentieth time that day: + + "Louis LANGREMONT, + 176 Rue Montmartre." + +Nothing more! Who was the man? How old was he? How tall? How did he +look? How odious that a total stranger should without rhyme or +reason, out of pure caprice, annoy him thus on account of an old, +woman's quarrel with her butcher! He said aloud: "The brute!" and +glared angrily at the card. + +He began to feel nervous; the sound of his voice made him start; he +drank a glass of water and laid down. He turned from his right side +to his left uneasily. He was thirsty; he rose, he felt restless + +"Am I afraid?" he asked himself. + +Why did his heart palpitate so wildly at the slightest sound? He +began to reason philosophically on the possibility of being afraid. +No, certainly he was not, since he was ready to fight. Still he felt +so deeply moved that he wondered if one could be afraid in spite of +oneself. What would happen if that state of things should exist? If +he should tremble or lose his presence of mind? He lighted his +candle and looked in the glass; he scarcely recognized his own face, +it was so changed. + +Suddenly he thought: "To-morrow at this time I may be dead." He +turned to his couch and saw himself stretched lifeless upon it. He +hastened to the window and opened it; but the night air was so +chilly that he closed it, lighted a fire, and began to pace the +floor once more, saying mechanically: "I must be more composed. I +will write to my parents, in case of accident." He took a sheet of +paper and after several attempts began: + + "My dear father and mother:" + + "At daybreak I am going to fight a duel, and as something + might happen--" + +He could write no more, he rose with a shudder. It seemed to him +that notwithstanding his efforts, he would not have the strength +necessary to face the meeting. He wondered if his adversary had ever +fought before; if he were known? He had never heard his name. +However, if he had not been a remarkable shot, he would not have +accepted that dangerous weapon without hesitation. He ground his +teeth to prevent his crying aloud. Suddenly he remembered that he +had a bottle of brandy; he fetched it from the cupboard and soon +emptied it. Now he felt his blood course more warmly through his +veins. "I have found a means," said he. + +Day broke. He began to dress; when his heart failed him, he took +more brandy. At length there was a knock at the door. His friends +had come; they were wrapped in furs. After shaking hands, Rival +said: "It is as cold as Siberia. Is all well?" + +"Yes." + +"Are you calm?" + +"Very calm." + +"Have you eaten and drunk something?" + +"I do not need anything." + +They descended the stairs. A gentleman was seated in the carriage. +Rival said: "Dr. Le Brument." Duroy shook hands with him and +stammered: "Thank you," as he entered the carriage. Jacques Rival +and Boisrenard followed him, and the coachman drove off. He knew +where to go. + +The conversation flagged, although the doctor related a number of +anecdotes. Rival alone replied to him. Duroy tried to appear self- +possessed, but he was haunted continually by the fear of showing his +feelings or of losing his self-possession. Rival addressed him, +saying: "I took the pistols to Gastine Renette. He loaded them. The +box is sealed." + +Duroy replied mechanically: "Thank you." + +Then Rival proceeded to give him minute directions, that he might +make no mistakes. Duroy repeated those directions as children learn +their lessons in order to impress them upon his memory. As he +muttered the phrases over and over, he almost prayed that some +accident might happen to the carriage; if he could only break his +leg! + +At the end of a glade he saw a carriage standing and four gentlemen +stamping their feet in order to keep them warm, and he was obliged +to gasp in order to get breath. Rival and Boisrenard alighted first, +then the doctor and the combatant. + +Rival took the box of pistols, and with Boisrenard approached the +two strangers, who were advancing toward them. Duroy saw them greet +one another ceremoniously, then walk through the glade together as +they counted the paces. + +Dr. Le Brument asked Duroy: "Do you feel well? Do you not want +anything?" + +"Nothing, thank you." It seemed to him that he was asleep, that he +was dreaming. Was he afraid? He did not know. Jacques Rival returned +and said in a low voice: "All is ready. Fortune has favored us in +the drawing of the pistols." That was a matter of indifference to +Duroy. They helped him off with his overcoat, led him to the ground +set apart for the duel, and gave him his pistol. Before him stood a +man, short, stout, and bald, who wore glasses. That was his +adversary. A voice broke the silence--a voice which came from afar: +"Are you ready, sirs?" + +Georges cried: "Yes." + +The same voice commanded: "Fire!" + +Duroy heard nothing more, saw nothing more; he only knew that he +raised his arm and pressed with all his strength upon the trigger. +Soon he saw a little smoke before him; his opponent was still +standing in the same position, and there was a small white cloud +above his head. They had both fired. All was over! His second and +the doctor felt him, unbuttoned his garments, and asked anxiously: +"Are you wounded?" He replied: "No, I think not." + +Langremont was not wounded either, and Jacques Rival muttered +discontentedly: "That is always the way with those cursed pistols, +one either misses or kills one's opponent" + +Duroy was paralyzed with surprise and joy. All was over! He felt +that he could fight the entire universe. All was over! What bliss! +He felt brave enough to provoke anyone. The seconds consulted +several moments, then the duelists and their friends entered the +carriages and drove off. When the official report was drawn up, it +was handed to Duroy who was to insert it in the "Echoes." He was +surprised to find that two balls had been fired. + +He said to Rival: "We only fired once!" + +The latter smiled: "Yes--once--once each--that makes twice!" + +And Duroy, satisfied with that explanation, asked no more questions. +M. Walter embraced him. + +"Bravo! you have defended the colors of 'La Vie Francaise'! Bravo!" + +The following day at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Duroy received +a telegram: + +"My God! I have been frightened. Come at once to Rue de +Constantinople that I may embrace you, my love. How brave you are. I +adore you. Clo." + +He repaired to the place appointed, and Mme. de Marelle rushed into +his arms, covering him with kisses. + +"Oh, my darling, if you only knew how I felt when I read the morning +papers! Tell me, tell me all about it." + +Duroy was obliged to give her a detailed account. + +"You must have had a terrible night before the duel!" + +"Why, no; I slept very well." + +"I should not have closed my eyes. Tell me what took place on the +ground." + +Forthwith he proceeded to give her a graphic description of the +duel. When he had concluded, she said to him: "I cannot live without +you! I must see you, and with my husband in Paris it is not very +convenient. I often have an hour early in the morning when I could +come and embrace you, but I cannot enter that horrible house of +yours! What can we do?" + +He asked abruptly: "How much do you pay here?" + +"One hundred francs a month." + +"Very well, I will take the apartments on my own account, and I will +move at once. Mine are not suitable anyway for me now." + +She thought a moment and then replied: "No I do not want you to." + +He asked in surprise: "Why not?" + +"Because!" + +"That is no reason. These rooms suit me very well. I am here; I +shall remain." He laughed. "Moreover, they were hired in my name!" + +But she persisted: "No, no, I do not wish you to." + +"Why not, then?" + +She whispered softly, tenderly: "Because you would bring others +here, and I do not wish you to." + +Indignantly he cried: "Never, I promise you!" + +"You would do so in spite of your promise." + +"I swear I will not." + +"Truly?" + +"Truly--upon my word of honor. This is our nest--ours alone!" + +She embraced him in a transport of delight. "Then I agree, my +dearest. But if you deceive me once--just once, that will end all +between us forever." + +He protested, and it was agreed that he should settle in the rooms +that same day. She said to him: + +"You must dine with us Sunday. My husband thinks you charming." + +He was flattered. "Indeed?" + +"Yes, you have made a conquest. Did you not tell me that your home +was in the country?" + +"Yes; why?" + +"Then you know something about agriculture?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well; talk to him of gardening and crops; he enjoys those +subjects." + +"All right. I shall not forget." + +She left him, after lavishing upon him innumerable caresses. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +DEATH AND A PROPOSAL + + +Duroy moved his effects to the apartments in Rue de Constantinople. +Two or three times a week, Mme. de-Marelle paid him visits. Duroy, +to counterbalance them, dined at her house every Thursday, and +delighted her husband by talking agriculture to him. + +It was almost the end of February. Duroy was free from care. One +night, when he returned home, he found a letter under his door. He +examined the postmark; it was from Cannes. Having opened it, he +read: + + "Cannes, Villa Jolie." + + "Dear sir and friend: You told me, did you not, that I could + count upon you at any time? Very well. I have a favor to ask + of you; it is to come and help me--not to leave me alone during + Charles's last moments. He may not live through the week, + although he is not confined to his bed, but the doctor has + warned me. I have not the strength nor the courage to see that + agony day and night, and I think with terror of the approaching + end I can only ask such a thing of you, for my husband has no + relatives. You were his comrade; he helped you to your + position; come, I beg of you; I have no one else to ask." + + "Your friend," + + "Madeleine Forestier." + +Georges murmured: "Certainly I will go. Poor Charles!" + +The manager, to whom he communicated the contents of that letter, +grumblingly gave his consent. He repeated: "But return speedily, you +are indispensable to us." + +Georges Duroy left for Cannes the next day by the seven o'clock +express, after having warned Mme. de Marelle by telegram. He arrived +the following day at four o'clock in the afternoon. A +commissionnaire conducted him to Villa Jolie. The house was small +and low, and of the Italian style of architecture. + +A servant opened the door and cried: "Oh, sir, Madame is awaiting +you patiently." + +Duroy asked: "How is your master?" + +"Not very well, sir. He will not be here long." + +The floor of the drawing-room which the young man entered was +covered with a Persian rug; the large windows looked upon the +village and the sea. + +Duroy murmured: "How cozy it is here! Where the deuce do they get +the money from?" + +The rustling of a gown caused him to turn. Mme. Forestier extended +both her hands, saying: + +"How kind of you to come." + +She was a trifle paler and thinner, but still as bright as ever, and +perhaps prettier for being more delicate. She whispered: "It is +terrible--he knows he cannot be saved and he tyrannizes over me. I +have told him of your arrival. But where is your trunk?" + +Duroy replied: "I left it at the station, not knowing which hotel +you would advise me to stop at, in order to be near you." + +She hesitated, then said: "You must stop here, at the villa. Your +chamber is ready. He might die any moment, and if it should come in +the night, I would be alone. I will send for your luggage." + +He bowed. "As you will." + +"Now, let us go upstairs," said she; he followed her. She opened a +door on the first floor, and Duroy saw a form near a window, seated +in an easy-chair, and wrapped in coverlets. He divined that it was +his friend, though he scarcely recognized him. Forestier raised his +hand slowly and with difficulty, saying: + +"You are here; you have come to see me die. I am much obliged." + +Duroy forced a smile. "To see you die? That would not be a very +pleasant sight, and I would not choose that occasion on which to +visit Cannes. I came here to rest." + +"Sit down," said Forestier, and he bowed his head as if deep in +hopeless meditation. Seeing that he did not speak, his wife +approached the window and pointing to the horizon, said, "Look at +that? Is it not beautiful?" + +In spite of himself Duroy felt the grandeur of the closing day and +exclaimed: "Yes, indeed, it is magnificent" + +Forestier raised his head and said to his wife: "Give me more air." + +She replied: "You must be careful; it is late, the sun is setting; +you will catch more cold and that would be a serious thing in your +condition." + +He made a feeble gesture of anger with his right hand, and said: "I +tell you I am suffocating! What difference does it make if I die a +day sooner or later, since I must die?" + +She opened the window wide. The air was soft and balmy. Forestier +inhaled it in feverish gasps. He grasped the arms of his chair and +said in a low voice: "Shut the window. I would rather die in a +cellar." + +His wife slowly closed the window, then leaned her brow against the +pane and looked out. Duroy, ill at ease, wished to converse with the +invalid to reassure him, but he could think of no words of comfort. +He stammered: "Have you not been better since you are here?" + +His friend shrugged his shoulders impatiently: "You will see very +soon." And he bowed his head again. + +Duroy continued: "At home it is still wintry. It snows, hails, +rains, and is so dark that they have to light the lamps at three +o'clock in the afternoon." + +Forestier asked: "Is there anything new at the office?" + +"Nothing. They have taken little Lacrin of the 'Voltaire' to fill +your place, but he is incapable. It is time you came back." + +The invalid muttered: "I? I will soon be writing under six feet of +sod." A long silence ensued. + +Mme. Forestier did not stir; she stood with her back to the room, +her face toward the window. At length Forestier broke the silence in +a gasping voice, heartrending to listen to: "How many more sunsets +shall I see--eight--ten--fifteen--twenty--or perhaps thirty--no +more. You have more time, you two--as for me--all is at an end. And +everything will go on when I am gone as if I were here." He paused a +few moments, then continued: "Everything that I see reminds me that +I shall not see them long. It is horrible. I shall no longer see the +smallest objects--the glasses--the dishes--the beds on which we +rest--the carriages. It is fine to drive in the evening. How I loved +all that." + +Again Norbert de Varenne's words occurred to Duroy. The room grew +dark. Forestier asked irritably: + +"Are we to have no lamp to-night? That is what is called caring for +an invalid!" + +The form outlined against the window disappeared and an electric +bell was heard to ring. A servant soon entered and placed a lamp +upon the mantel-piece. Mme. Forestier asked her husband: "Do you +wish to retire, or will you go downstairs to dinner?" + +"I will go down to dinner." + +The meal seemed to Duroy interminable, for there was no +conversation, only the ticking of a clock broke the silence. When +they had finished, Duroy, pleading fatigue, retired to his room and +tried in vain to invent some pretext for returning home as quickly +as possible. He consoled himself by saying: "Perhaps it will not be +for long." + +The next morning Georges rose early and strolled down to the beach. +When he returned the servant said to him: "Monsieur has asked for +you two or three times. Will you go upstairs?" + +He ascended the stairs. Forestier appeared to be in a chair; his +wife, reclining upon a couch, was reading. The invalid raised his +head. Duroy asked: + +"Well, how are you? You look better this morning." + +Forestier murmured: "Yes, I am better and stronger. Lunch as hastily +as you can with Madeleine, because we are going to take a drive." + +When Mme. Forestier was alone with Duroy, she said to him: "You see, +to-day he thinks he is better! He is making plans for to-morrow. We +are now going to Gulf Juan to buy pottery for our rooms in Paris. He +is determined to go, but he cannot stand the jolting on the road." + +The carriage arrived, Forestier descended the stairs, step by step, +supported by his servant. When he saw the closed landau, he wanted +it uncovered. His wife opposed him: "It is sheer madness! You will +take cold." + +He persisted: "No, I am going to be better, I know it." + +They first drove along a shady road and then took the road by the +sea. Forestier explained the different points of interest. Finally +they arrived at a pavilion over which were these words: "Gulf Juan +Art Pottery," and the carriage drew up at the door. Forestier wanted +to buy a vase to put on his bookcase. As he could not leave the +carriage, they brought the pieces to him one by one. It took him a +long time to choose, consulting his wife and Duroy: "You know it is +for my study. From my easy-chair I can see it constantly. I prefer +the ancient form--the Greek." + +At length he made his choice. "I shall return to Paris in a few +days," said he. + +On their way home along the gulf a cool breeze suddenly sprang up, +and the invalid began to cough. At first it was nothing, only a +slight attack, but it grew worse and turned to a sort of hiccough--a +rattle; Forestier choked, and every time he tried to breathe he +coughed violently. Nothing quieted him. He had to be carried from +the landau to his room. The heat of the bed did not stop the attack, +which lasted until midnight. The first words the sick man uttered +were to ask for a barber, for he insisted on being shaved every +morning. He rose to be shaved, but was obliged to go to bed at once, +and began to breathe so painfully that Mme. Forestier in affright +woke Duroy and asked him to fetch the doctor. He returned almost +immediately with Dr. Gavant who prescribed for the sick man. When +the journalist asked him his opinion, he said: "It is the final +stage. He will be dead to-morrow morning. Prepare that poor, young +wife and send for a priest. I can do nothing more. However, I am +entirely at your disposal" Duroy went to Mme. Forestier. "He is +going to die. The doctor advises me to send for a priest. What will +you do?" + +She hesitated a moment and then said slowly: + +"I will go and tell him that the cure wishes to see him. Will you be +kind enough to procure one who will require nothing but the +confession, and who will not make much fuss?" + +The young man brought with him a kind, old priest who accommodated +himself to circumstances. When he had entered the death chamber, +Mme. Forestier went out and seated herself with Duroy in an +adjoining room. + +"That has upset him," said she. "When I mentioned the priest to him, +his face assumed a scared expression. He knew that the end was near. +I shall never forget his face." + +At that moment they heard the priest saying to him: "Why no, you are +not so low as that. You are ill, but not in danger. The proof of +that is that I came as a friend, a neighbor." They could not hear +his reply. The priest continued: "No, I shall not administer the +sacrament. We will speak of that when you are better. If you will +only confess, I ask no more. I am a pastor; I take advantage of +every occasion to gather in my sheep." + +A long silence followed. Then suddenly the priest said, in the tone +of one officiating at the altar: + +"The mercy of God is infinite; repeat the 'Confiteor,' my son. +Perhaps you have forgotten it; I will help you. Repeat with me: +'Confiteor Deo omnipotenti; Beata Mariae semper virgini.'" He paused +from time to time to permit the dying man to catch up to him. + +Then he said: "Now, confess." The sick man murmured something. The +priest repeated: "You have committed sins: of what kind, my son?" + +The young woman rose and said simply: "Let us go into the garden. We +must not listen to his secrets." + +They seated themselves upon a bench before the door, beneath a +blossoming rosebush. After several moments of silence Duroy asked: +"Will it be some time before you return to Paris?" + +"No," she replied; "when all is over, I will go back." + +"In about ten days?" + +"Yes, at most." + +He continued; "Charles has no relatives then?" + +"None, save cousins. His father and mother died when he was very +young." + +In the course of a few minutes, the servant came to tell them that +the priest had finished, and together they ascended the stairs. +Forestier seemed to have grown thinner since the preceding day. The +priest was holding his hand. + +"Au revoir, my son. I will come again to-morrow morning"; and he +left. When he was gone, the dying man, who was panting, tried to +raise his two hands toward his wife and gasped: + +"Save me--save me, my darling. I do not want to die--oh, save me--go +for the doctor. I will take anything. I do not want to die." He +wept; the tears coursed down his pallid cheeks. Then his hands +commenced to wander hither and thither continually, slowly, and +regularly, as if gathering something on the coverlet. His wife, who +was also weeping, sobbed: + +"No, it is nothing. It is only an attack; you will be better to- +morrow; you tired yourself with that drive." + +Forestier drew his breath quickly and so faintly that one could +scarcely hear him. He repeated: + +"I do not want to die! Oh, my God--my God--what has happened to me? +I cannot see. Oh, my God!" His staring eyes saw something invisible +to the others; his hands plucked continually at the counterpane. +Suddenly he shuddered and gasped: "The cemetery--me--my God!" He did +not speak again. He lay there motionless and ghastly. The hours +dragged on; the clock of a neighboring convent chimed noon. + +Duroy left the room to obtain some food. He returned an hour later; +Mme. Forestier would eat nothing. The invalid had not stirred. The +young woman was seated in an easy-chair at the foot of the bed. +Duroy likewise seated himself, and they watched in silence. A nurse, +sent by the doctor, had arrived and was dozing by the window. + +Duroy himself was almost asleep when he felt a presentiment that +something was about to happen. He opened his eyes just in time to +see Forestier close his. He coughed slightly, and two streams of +blood issued from the corners of his mouth and flowed upon his night +robe; his hands ceased their perpetual motion; he had breathed his +last. His wife, perceiving it, uttered a cry and fell upon her knees +by the bedside. Georges, in surprise and affright, mechanically made +the sign of the cross. + +The nurse, awakening, approached the bed and said: "It has come." +Duroy, recovering his self-possession, murmured with a sigh of +relief: "It was not as hard as I feared it would be." + +That night Mme. Forestier and Duroy watched in the chamber of death. +They were alone beside him who was no more. They did not speak, +Georges's eyes seemed attracted to that emaciated face which the +flickering light made more hollow. That was his friend, Charles +Forestier, who the day before had spoken to him. For several years +he had lived, eaten, laughed, loved, and hoped as did everyone--and +now all was ended for him forever. + +Life lasted a few months or years, and then fled! One was born, +grew, was happy, and died. Adieu! man or woman, you will never +return to earth! He thought of the insects which live several hours, +of the feasts which live several days, of the men who live several +years, of the worlds which last several centuries. What was the +difference between one and the other? A few more dawns, that was +all. + +Duroy turned away his eyes in order not to see the corpse. Mme. +Forestier's head was bowed; her fair hair enhanced the beauty of her +sorrowful face. The young man's heart grew hopeful. Why should he +lament when he had so many years still before him? He glanced at the +handsome widow. How had she ever consented to marry that man? Then +he pondered upon all the hidden secrets of their lives. He +remembered that he had been told of a Count de Vaudrec who had +dowered and given her in marriage. What would she do now? Whom would +she marry? Had she projects, plans? He would have liked to know. Why +that anxiety as to what she would do? + +Georges questioned himself, and found that it was caused by a desire +to win her for himself. Why should he not succeed? He was positive +that she liked him; she would have confidence in him, for she knew +that he was intelligent, resolute, tenacious. Had she not sent for +him? Was not that a kind of avowal? He was impatient to question +her, to find out her intentions. He would soon have to leave that +villa, for he could not remain alone with the young widow; therefore +he must find out her plans before returning to Paris, in order that +she might not yield to another's entreaties. He broke the oppressive +silence by saying: + +"You must be fatigued." + +"Yes, but above all I am grieved." + +Their voices sounded strange in that room. They glanced +involuntarily at the corpse as if they expected to see it move. +Duroy continued: + +"It is a heavy blow for you, and will make a complete change in your +life." + +She sighed deeply, but did not reply. He added: + +"It is very sad for a young woman like you to be left alone." He +paused; she still did not reply, and he stammered: "At any rate, you +will remember the compact between us; you can command me as you +will. I am yours." + +She held out her hand to him and said mournfully and gently: +"Thanks, you are very kind. If I can do anything for you, I say too: +'Count on me.'" + +He took her proffered hand, gazed at it, and was seized with an +ardent desire to kiss it. Slowly he raised it to his lips and then +relinquished it. As her delicate fingers lay upon her knee the young +widow said gravely: + +"Yes, I shall be all alone, but I shall force myself to be brave." + +He did not know how to tell her that he would be delighted to wed +her. Certainly it was no time to speak to her on such a subject; +however, he thought he might be able to express himself by means of +some phrase which would have a hidden meaning and would infer what +he wished to say. But that rigid corpse lay between them. The +atmosphere became oppressive, almost suffocating. Duroy asked: "Can +we not open the window a little? The air seems to be impure." + +"Certainly," she replied; "I have noticed it too." + +He opened the window, letting in the cool night air. He turned: +"Come and look out, it is delightful." + +She glided softly to his side. He whispered: "Listen to me. Do not +be angry that I broach the subject at such a time, but the day after +to-morrow I shall leave here and when you return to Paris it might +be too late. You know that I am only a poor devil, who has his +position to make, but I have the will and some intelligence, and I +am advancing. A man who has attained his ambition knows what to +count on; a man who has his way to make does not know what may come- +-it may be better or worse. I told you one day that my most +cherished dream was to have a wife like you." + +"I repeat it to you to-day. Do not reply, but let me continue. This +is no proposal--the time and place would render it odious. I only +wish to tell you that by a word you can make me happy, and that you +can make of me as you will, either a friend or a husband--for my +heart and my body are yours. I do not want you to answer me now. I +do not wish to speak any more on the subject here. When we meet in +Paris, you can tell me your decision." + +He uttered these words without glancing at her, and she seemed not +to have heard them, for she stood by his side motionless, staring +vaguely and fixedly at the landscape before her, bathed in +moonlight. + +At length she murmured: "It is rather chilly," and turned toward the +bed. Duroy followed her. They did not speak but continued their +watch. Toward midnight Georges fell asleep. At daybreak the nurse +entered and he started up. Both he and Mme. Forestier retired to +their rooms to obtain some rest. At eleven o'clock they rose and +lunched together; while through the open window was wafted the +sweet, perfumed air of spring. After lunch, Mme. Forestier proposed +that they take a turn in the garden; as they walked slowly along, +she suddenly said, without turning her head toward him, in a low, +grave voice: + +"Listen to me, my dear friend; I have already reflected upon what +you proposed to me, and I cannot allow you to depart without a word +of reply. I will, however, say neither yes nor no. We will wait, we +will see; we will become better acquainted. You must think it well +over too. Do not yield to an impulse. I mention this to you before +even poor Charles is buried, because it is necessary, after what you +have said to me, that you should know me as I am, in order not to +cherish the hope you expressed to me any longer, if you are not a +man who can understand and bear with me." + +"Now listen carefully: Marriage, to me, is not a chain but an +association. I must be free, entirely unfettered, in all my actions- +-my coming and my going; I can tolerate neither control, jealousy, +nor criticism as to my conduct. I pledge my word, however, never to +compromise the name of the man I marry, nor to render him ridiculous +in the eyes of the world. But that man must promise to look upon me +as an equal, an ally, and not as an inferior, or as an obedient, +submissive wife. My ideas, I know, are not like those of other +people, but I shall never change them. Do not answer me, it would be +useless. We shall meet again and talk it all over later. Now take a +walk; I shall return to him. Good-bye until to-night." + +He kissed her hand and left her without having uttered a word. That +night they met at dinner; directly after the meal they sought their +rooms, worn out with fatigue. + +Charles Forestier was buried the next day in the cemetery at Cannes +without any pomp, and Georges returned to Paris by the express which +left at one-thirty. Mme. Forestier accompanied him to the station. +They walked up and down the platform awaiting the hour of departure +and conversing on indifferent subjects. + +The train arrived, the journalist took his seat; a porter cried: +"Marseilles, Lyons, Paris! All aboard!" The locomotive whistled and +the train moved slowly out of the station. + +The young man leaned out of the carriage, and looked at the youthful +widow standing on the platform gazing after him. Just as she was +disappearing from his sight, he threw her a kiss, which she returned +with a more discreet wave of her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MARRIAGE + + +Georges Duroy resumed his old habits. Installed in the cozy +apartments on Rue de Constantinople, his relations with Mme. de +Marelle became quite conjugal. + +Mme. Forestier had not returned; she lingered at Cannes. He, +however, received a letter from her announcing her return about the +middle of April, but containing not a word as to their parting. He +waited. He was resolved to employ every means to marry her if she +seemed to hesitate; he had faith in his good fortune, in that power +of attraction which he felt within him--a power so irresistible that +all women yielded to it. + +At length a short note admonished him that the decisive moment had +arrived. + + "I am in Paris. Come to see me." + + "Madeleine Forestier." + +Nothing more. He received it at nine o'clock. At three o'clock of +the same day he called at her house. She extended both hands to him +with a sweet smile, and they gazed into each other's eyes for +several seconds, then she murmured: + +"How kind of you to come!" + +He replied: "I should have come, whensoever you bade me." + +They sat down; she inquired about the Walters, his associates, and +the newspaper. + +"I miss that very much," said she. "I had become a journalist in +spirit. I like the profession." She paused. He fancied he saw in her +smile, in her voice, in her words, a kind of invitation, and +although he had resolved not to hasten matters, he stammered: + +"Well--why--why do you not resume--that profession--under--the name +of Duroy?" + +She became suddenly serious, and placing her hand on his arm, she +said: "Do not let us speak of that yet." + +Divining that she would accept him, he fell upon his knees, and +passionately kissed her hands, saying: + +"Thank you--thank you--how I love you." + +She rose, she was very pale. Duroy kissed her brow. When she had +disengaged herself from his embrace, she said gravely: "Listen, my +friend, I have not yet fully decided; but my answer may be 'yes.' +You must wait patiently, however, until I disclose the secret to +you." + +He promised and left her, his heart overflowing with joy. He worked +steadily, spent little, tried to save some money that he might not +be without a sou at the time of his marriage, and became as miserly +as he had once been prodigal. Summer glided by; then autumn, and no +one suspected the tie existing between Duroy and Mme. Forestier, for +they seldom met in public. + +One evening Madeleine said to him: "You have not yet told Mme. de +Marelle our plans?" + +"No, my dear; as you wished them kept secret, I have not mentioned +them to a soul." + +"Very well; there is plenty of time. I will tell the Walters." + +She turned away her head and continued: "If you wish, we can be +married the beginning of May." + +"I obey you in all things joyfully." + +"The tenth of May, which falls on Saturday, would please me, for it +is my birthday." + +"Very well, the tenth of May." + +"Your parents live near Rouen, do they not?" + +"Yes, near Rouen, at Canteleu." + +"I am very anxious to see them!" + +He hesitated, perplexed: "But--they are--" Then he added more +firmly: "My dear, they are plain, country people, innkeepers, who +strained every nerve to give me an education. I am not ashamed of +them, but their--simplicity--their rusticity might annoy you." + +She smiled sweetly. "No, I will love them very much. We will visit +them; I wish to. I, too, am the child of humble parents--but I lost +mine--I have no one in the world"--she held out her hand to him-- +"but you." + +He was affected, conquered as he had never been by any woman. + +"I have been thinking of something," said she, "but it is difficult +to explain." + +He asked: "What is it?" + +"It is this: I am like all women. I have my--my weaknesses. I should +like to bear a noble name. Can you not on the occasion of our +marriage change your name somewhat?" She blushed as if she had +proposed something indelicate. + +He replied simply: "I have often thought of it, but it does not seem +easy to me." + +"Why not?" + +He laughed. "Because I am afraid I should be ridiculed." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "Not at all--not at all. Everyone does +it, and no one laughs. Separate your name in this way: Du Roy. It +sounds very well." + +He replied: "No, that will not do; it is too common a proceeding. I +have thought of assuming the name of my native place, first as a +literary pseudonym and then as my surname in conjunction with Duroy, +which might later on, as you proposed, be separated." + +She asked: "Is your native place Canteleu?" + +"Yes." + +"I do not like the termination. Could we not modify it?" + +She took a pen and wrote down the names in order to study them. +Suddenly she cried: "Now I have it," and held toward him a sheet of +paper on which was written: "Mme. Duroy de Cantel." + +Gravely he replied: "Yes, it is very nice." + +She was delighted, and repeated: "Duroy de Cantel. Mme. Duroy de +Cantel. It is excellent, excellent!" + +Then she added with an air of conviction: "You will see how easily +it will be accepted by everyone! After to-morrow, sign your articles +'D. de Cantel,' and your 'Echoes' simply 'Duroy.' That is done on +the press every day and no one will be surprised to see you take a +nom de plume. What is your father's name?" + +"Alexandre." + +She murmured "Alexandre!" two or three times in succession; then she +wrote upon a blank sheet: + +"M. and Mme. Alexandre du Roy de Cantel announce the marriage of +their son, M. Georges du Roy de Cantel with Mme. Forestier." + +She examined her writing, and, charmed with the effect, exclaimed: +"With a little method one can succeed in anything." + +When Georges reached the street resolved to call himself, +henceforth, "Du Roy," or even "Du Roy de Cantel," it seemed to him +that he was of more importance. He swaggered more boldly, held his +head more erect and walked as he thought gentlemen should. He felt a +desire to inform the passers-by, "My name is Du Roy de Cantel." + +Scarcely had he entered his apartments when the thought of Mme. de +Marelle rendered him uneasy, and he wrote to her immediately, +appointing a meeting for the following day. + +"It will be hard," thought he. "There will be a quarrel surely." + +The next morning he received a telegram from Madame, informing him +that she would be with him at one o'clock. He awaited her +impatiently, determined to confess at once and afterward to argue +with her, to tell her that he could not remain a bachelor +indefinitely, and that, as M. de Marelle persisted in living, he had +been compelled to choose some one else as a legal companion. When +the bell rang, his heart gave a bound. + +Mme. de Marelle entered and cast herself into his arms, saying: +"Good afternoon, Bel-Ami." Perceiving that his embrace was colder +than usual, she glanced up at him and asked: "What ails you?" + +"Take a seat," said he. "We must talk seriously." + +She seated herself without removing her hat, and waited. He cast +down his eyes; he was preparing to commence. + +Finally he said slowly: "My dear friend, you see that I am very much +perplexed, very sad, and very much embarrassed by what I have to +confess to you. I love you; I love you with all my heart, and the +fear of giving you pain grieves me more than what I have to tell +you." + +She turned pale, trembled, and asked: "What is it? Tell me quickly." + +He said sadly but resolutely: "I am going to be married." + +She sighed like one about to lose consciousness; then she gasped, +but did not speak. + +He continued: "You cannot imagine how much I suffered before taking +that resolution. But I have neither position nor money. I am alone +in Paris, I must have near me some one who can counsel, comfort, and +support me. What I need is an associate, an ally, and I have found +one!" He paused, hoping that she would reply, expecting an outburst +of furious rage, reproaches, and insults. She pressed her hand to +her heart and breathed with difficulty. He took the hand resting on +the arm of the chair, but she drew it away and murmured as if +stupefied: "Oh, my God!" + +He fell upon his knees before her, without, however, venturing to +touch her, more moved by her silence than he would have been by her +anger. + +"Clo, my little Clo, you understand my position. Oh, if I could have +married you, what happiness it would have afforded me! But you were +married! What could I do? Just think of it! I must make my way in +the world and I can never do so as long as I have no domestic ties. +If you knew. There are days when I should like to kill your +husband." He spoke in a low, seductive voice. He saw two tears +gather in Mme. de Marelle's eyes and trickle slowly down her cheeks. +He whispered: "Do not weep, Clo, do not weep, I beseech you. You +break my heart." + +She made an effort to appear dignified and haughty, and asked, +though somewhat unsteadily: "Who is it?" + +For a moment he hesitated before he replied: "Madeleine Forestier!" + +Mme. de Marelle started; her tears continued to flow. She rose. +Duroy saw that she was going to leave him without a word of reproach +or pardon, and he felt humbled, humiliated. He seized her gown and +implored: + +"Do not leave me thus." + +She looked at him with that despairing, tearful glance so charming +and so touching, which expresses all the misery pent-up in a woman's +heart, and stammered: "I have nothing--to say; I can do nothing. +You--you are right; you have made a good choice." + +And disengaging herself she left the room. + +With a sigh of relief at escaping so easily, he repaired to Mme. +Forestier's, who asked him: "Have you told Mme. de Marelle?" + +He replied calmly: "Yes." + +"Did it affect her?" + +"Not at all. On the contrary, she thought it an excellent plan." + +The news was soon noised abroad. Some were surprised, others +pretended to have foreseen it, and others again smiled, inferring +that they were not at all astonished. The young man, who signed his +articles, "D. de Cantel," his "Echoes," "Duroy," and his political +sketches, "Du Roy," spent the best part of his time with his +betrothed, who had decided that the date fixed for the wedding +should be kept secret, that the ceremony should be celebrated in the +presence of witnesses only, that they should leave the same evening +for Rouen, and that the day following they should visit the +journalist's aged parents and spend several days with them. Duroy +had tried to persuade Madeleine to abandon that project, but not +succeeding in his efforts he was finally compelled to submit. + +The tenth of May arrived. Thinking a religious ceremony unnecessary, +as they had issued no invitations, the couple were married at a +magistrate's and took the six o'clock train for Normandy. + +As the train glided along, Duroy seated in front of his wife, took +her hand, kissed it, and said: "When we return we will dine at +Chatou sometimes." + +She murmured: "We shall have a great many things to do!" in a tone +which seemed to say: "We must sacrifice pleasure to duty." + +He retained her hand wondering anxiously how he could manage to +caress her. He pressed her hand slightly, but she did not respond to +the pressure. + +He said: "It seems strange that you should be my wife." + +She appeared surprised: "Why?" + +"I do not know. It seems droll. I want to embrace you and I am +surprised that I have the right." + +She calmly offered him her cheek which he kissed as he would have +kissed his sister's. He continued: + +"The first time I saw you (you remember, at that dinner to which I +was invited at Forestier's), I thought: 'Sacristi, if I could only +find a wife like that!' And now I have one." + +She glanced at him with smiling eyes. + +He said to himself: "I am too cold. I am stupid. I should make more +advances." And he asked: "How did you make Forestier's +acquaintance?" + +She replied with provoking archness: "Are we going to Rouen to talk +of him?" + +He colored. "I am a fool. You intimidate me." + +She was delighted. "I? Impossible." + +He seated himself beside her. She exclaimed: "Ah! a stag!" The train +was passing through the forest of Saint-Germain and she had seen a +frightened deer clear an alley at a bound. As she gazed out of the +open window, Duroy bending over her, pressed a kiss upon her neck. +For several moments she remained motionless, then raising her head, +she said: "You tickle me, stop!" + +But he did not obey her. + +She repeated: "Stop, I say!" + +He seized her head with his right hand, turned it toward him and +pressed his lips to hers. She struggled, pushed him away and +repeated: "Stop!" + +He did not heed her. With an effort, she freed herself and rising, +said: "Georges, have done. We are not children, we shall soon reach +Rouen." + +"Very well," said he, gaily, "I will wait." + +Reseating herself near him she talked of what they would do on their +return; they would keep the apartments in which she had lived with +her first husband, and Duroy would receive Forestier's position on +"La Vie Francaise." In the meantime, forgetting her injunctions and +his promise, he slipped his arm around her waist, pressed her to him +and murmured: "I love you dearly, my little Made." + +The gentleness of his tone moved the young woman, and leaning toward +him she offered him her lips; as she did so, a whistle announced the +proximity of the station. Pushing back some stray locks upon her +temples, she exclaimed: + +"We are foolish." + +He kissed her hands feverishly and replied: + +"I adore you, my little Made." + +On reaching Rouen they repaired to a hotel where they spent the +night. The following morning, when they had drunk the tea placed +upon the table in their room, Duroy clasped his wife in his arms and +said: "My little Made, I feel that I love you very, very much." + +She smiled trustfully and murmured as she returned his kisses: "I +love you too--a little." + +The visit to his parents worried Georges, although he had prepared +his wife. He began again: "You know they are peasants, real, not +sham, comic-opera peasants." + +She smiled. "I know it, you have told me often enough." + +"We shall be very uncomfortable. There is only a straw bed in my +room; they do not know what hair mattresses are at Canteleu." + +She seemed delighted. "So much the better. It would be charming to +sleep badly--when--near you--and to be awakened by the crowing of +the cocks." + +He walked toward the window and lighted a cigarette. The sight of +the harbor, of the river filled with ships moved him and he +exclaimed: "Egad, but that is fine!" + +Madeleine joined him and placing both of her hands on her husband's +shoulder, cried: "Oh, how beautiful! I did not know that there were +so many ships!" + +An hour later they departed in order to breakfast with the old +couple, who had been informed several days before of their intended +arrival. Both Duroy and his wife were charmed with the beauties of +the landscape presented to their view, and the cabman halted in +order to allow them to get a better idea of the panorama before +them. As he whipped up his horse, Duroy saw an old couple not a +hundred meters off, approaching, and he leaped from the carriage +crying: "Here they are, I know them." + +The man was short, corpulent, florid, and vigorous, notwithstanding +his age; the woman was tall, thin, and melancholy, with stooping +shoulders--a woman who had worked from childhood, who had never +laughed nor jested. + +Madeleine, too, alighted and watched the couple advance, with a +contraction of her heart she had not anticipated. They did not +recognize their son in that fine gentleman, and they would never +have taken that handsome lady for their daughter-in-law. They walked +along, passed the child they were expecting, without glancing at the +"city folks." + +Georges cried with a laugh: "Good day, Father Duroy." + +Both the old man and his wife were struck dumb with astonishment; +the latter recovered her self-possession first and asked: "Is it +you, son?" + +The young man replied: "Yes, it is I, Mother Duroy," and approaching +her, he kissed her upon both cheeks and said: "This is my wife." + +The two rustics stared at Madeleine as if she were a curiosity, with +anxious fear, combined with a sort of satisfied approbation on the +part of the father and of jealous enmity on that of the mother. + +M. Duroy, senior, who was naturally jocose, made so bold as to ask +with a twinkle in his eye: "May I kiss you too?" His son uttered an +exclamation and Madeleine offered her cheek to the old peasant; who +afterward wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The old woman, +in her turn, kissed her daughter-in-law with hostile reserve. Her +ideal was a stout, rosy, country lass, as red as an apple and as +round. + +The carriage preceded them with the luggage. The old man took his +son's arm and asked him: "How are you getting on?" + +"Very well." + +"That is right. Tell me, has your wife any means?" + +Georges replied: "Forty thousand francs." + +His father whistled softly and muttered: "Whew!" Then he added: "She +is a handsome woman." He admired his son's wife, and in his day had +considered himself a connoisseur. + +Madeleine and the mother walked side by side in silence; the two men +joined them. They soon reached the village, at the entrance to which +stood M. Duroy's tavern. A pine board fastened over the door +indicated that thirsty people might enter. The table was laid. A +neighbor, who had come to assist, made a low courtesy on seeing so +beautiful a lady appear; then recognizing Georges, she cried: "Oh +Lord, is it you?" + +He replied merrily: "Yes, it is I, Mother Brulin," and he kissed her +as he had kissed his father and mother. Then he turned to his wife: + +"Come into our room," said he, "you can lay aside your hat." + +They passed through a door to the right and entered a room paved +with brick, with whitewashed walls and a bed with cotton hangings. + +A crucifix above a holy-water basin and two colored prints, +representing Paul and Virginia beneath a blue palm-tree, and +Napoleon I. on a yellow horse, were the only ornaments in that neat, +but bare room. + +When they were alone, Georges embraced Madeleine. + +"Good morning, Made! I am glad to see the old people once more. When +one is in Paris one does not think of this place, but when one +returns, one enjoys it just the same." + +At that moment his father cried, knocking on the partition with his +fist: "Come, the soup is ready." + +They re-entered the large public-room and took their seats at the +table. The meal was a long one, served in a truly rustic fashion. +Father Duroy, enlivened by the cider and several glasses of wine, +related many anecdotes, while Georges, to whom they were all +familiar, laughed at them. + +Mother Duroy did not speak, but sat at the board, grim and austere, +glancing at her daughter-in-law with hatred in her heart. + +Madeleine did not speak nor did she eat; she was depressed. +Wherefore? She had wished to come; she knew that she was coming to a +simple home; she had formed no poetical ideas of those peasants, but +she had perhaps expected to find them somewhat more polished, +refined. She recalled her own mother, of whom she never spoke to +anyone--a governess who had been betrayed and who had died of grief +and shame when Madeleine was twelve years old. A stranger had had +the little girl educated. Her father without doubt. Who was he? She +did not know positively, but she had vague suspicions. + +The meal was not yet over when customers entered, shook hands with +M. Duroy, exclaimed on seeing his son, and seating themselves at the +wooden tables began to drink, smoke, and play dominoes. The smoke +from the clay pipes and penny cigars filled the room. + +Madeleine choked and asked: "Can we go out? I cannot remain here any +longer," + +Old Duroy grumbled at being disturbed. Madeleine rose and placed her +chair at the door in order to wait until her father-in-law and his +wife had finished their coffee and wine. + +Georges soon joined her. + +"Would you like to stroll down to the Seine?" + +Joyfully she cried: "Yes." + +They descended the hillside, hired a boat at Croisset, and spent the +remainder of the afternoon beneath the willows in the soft, warm, +spring air, and rocked gently by the rippling waves of the river. +They returned at nightfall. The evening repast by candle-light was +more painful to Madeleine than that of the morning. Neither Father +Duroy nor his wife spoke. When the meal was over, Madeleine drew her +husband outside in order not to have to remain in that room, the +atmosphere of which was heavy with smoke and the fumes of liquor. + +When they were alone, he said: "You are already weary." + +She attempted to protest; he interrupted her: + +"I have seen it. If you wish we will leave tomorrow." + +She whispered: "I should like to go." + +They walked along and entered a narrow path among high trees, hedged +in on either side by impenetrable brushwood. + +She asked: "Where are we?" + +He replied: "In the forest--one of the largest in France." + +Madeleine, on raising her head, could see the stars between the +branches and hear the rustling of the leaves. She felt strangely +nervous. Why, she could not tell. She seemed to be lost, surrounded +by perils, abandoned, alone, beneath that vast vaulted sky. + +She murmured: "I am afraid; I should like to return." + +"Very well, we will." + +On their return they found the old people in bed. The next morning +Madeleine rose early and was ready to leave at daybreak. When +Georges told his parents that they were going to return home, they +guessed whose wish it was. + +His father asked simply: "Shall I see you soon again?" + +"Yes--in the summer-time." + +"Very well." + +His mother grumbled: "I hope you will not regret what you have +done." + +Georges gave them two hundred francs to appease them, and the cab +arriving at ten o'clock, the couple kissed the old peasants and set +out. + +As they were descending the side of the hill, Duroy laughed. "You +see," said he, "I warned you. I should, however, not have presented +you to M. and Mme. du Roy de Cantel, senior." + +She laughed too and replied: "I am charmed now! They are nice people +whom I am beginning to like very much. I shall send them confections +from Paris." Then she murmured: "Du Roy de Cantel. We will say that +we spent a week at your parents' estate," and drawing near him, she +kissed him saying: + +"Good morning, Georges." + +He replied: "Good morning, Madeleine," as he slipped his arm around +her waist. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +JEALOUSY + + +The Du Roys had been in Paris two days and the journalist had +resumed work; he had given up his own especial province to assume +that of Forestier, and to devote himself entirely to politics. On +this particular evening he turned his steps toward home with a light +heart. As he passed a florist's on Rue Notre Dame de Lorette he +bought a bouquet of half-open roses for Madeleine. Having forgotten +his key, on arriving at his door, he rang and the servant answered +his summons. + +Georges asked: "Is Madame at home?" "Yes, sir." + +In the dining-room he paused in astonishment to see covers laid for +three: the door of the salon being ajar, he saw Madeleine arranging +in a vase on the mantelpiece a bunch of roses similar to his. + +He entered the room and asked: "Have you invited anyone to dinner?" + +She replied without turning her head and continuing the arrangement +of her flowers: "Yes and no: it is my old friend, Count de Vaudrec, +who is in the habit of dining here every Monday and who will come +now as he always has," + +Georges murmured: "Very well." + +He stopped behind her, the bouquet in his hand, the desire strong +within him to conceal it--to throw it away. However, he said: + +"Here, I have brought you some roses!" + +She turned to him with a smile and said: "Ah, how thoughtful of +you!" and she kissed him with such evident affection that he felt +consoled. + +She took the flowers, inhaled their perfume, and put them in an +empty vase. Then she said as she noted the effect: "Now I am +satisfied; my mantelpiece looks pretty," adding with an air of +conviction: + +"Vaudrec is charming; you will become intimate with him at once," + +A ring announced the Count. He entered as if he were at home. After +gallantly kissing Mme. Du Roy's hand, he turned to her husband and +cordially offered his hand, saying: "How are you, my dear Du Roy?" + +He had no longer that haughty air, but was very affable. One would +have thought in the course of five minutes, that the two men had +known one another for ten years. Madeleine, whose face was radiant, +said: "I will leave you together. I have work to superintend in the +kitchen." The dinner was excellent and the Count remained very late. +When he was gone, Madeleine said to her husband: "Is he not nice? He +improves, too, on acquaintance. He is a good, true, faithful friend. +Ah, without him--" + +She did not complete her sentence and Georges replied: "Yes, he is +very pleasant, I think we shall understand each other well." + +"You do not know," she said, "that we have work to do to-night +before retiring. I did not have time to tell you before dinner, for +Vaudrec came. Laroche-Mathieu brought me important news of Morocco. +We must make a fine article of that. Let us set to work at once. +Come, take the lamp." + +He carried the lamp and they entered the study. Madeleine leaned, +against the mantelpiece, and having lighted a cigarette, told him +the news and gave him her plan of the article. He listened +attentively, making notes as she spoke, and when she had finished he +raised objections, took up the question and, in his turn, developed +another plan. His wife ceased smoking, for her interest was aroused +in following Georges's line of thought. From time to time she +murmured: "Yes, yes; very good--excellent--very forcible--" And when +he had finished speaking, she said: "Now let us write." + +It was always difficult for him to make a beginning and she would +lean over his shoulder and whisper the phrases in his ear, then he +would add a few lines; when their article was completed, Georges re- +read it. Both he and Madeleine pronounced it admirable and kissed +one another with passionate admiration. + +The article appeared with the signature of "G. du Roy de Cantel," +and made a great sensation. M. Walter congratulated the author, who +soon became celebrated in political circles. His wife, too, +surprised him by the ingenuousness of her mind, the cleverness of +her wit, and the number of her acquaintances. At almost any time +upon returning home he found in his salon a senator, a deputy, a +magistrate, or a general, who treated Madeleine with grave +familiarity. + +Deputy Laroche-Mathieu, who dined at Rue Fontaine every Tuesday, was +one of the largest stockholders of M. Walter's paper and the +latter's colleague and associate in many business transactions. Du +Roy hoped, later on, that some of the benefits promised by him to +Forestier might fall to his share. They would be given to +Madeleine's new husband--that was all--nothing was changed; even his +associates sometimes called him Forestier, and it made Du Roy +furious at the dead. He grew to hate the very name; it was to him +almost an insult. Even at home the obsession continued; the entire +house reminded him of Charles. + +One evening Du Roy, who liked sweetmeats, asked: + +"Why do we never have sweets?" + +His wife replied pleasantly: "I never think of it, because Charles +disliked them." + +He interrupted her with an impatient gesture: "Do you know I am +getting tired of Charles? It is Charles here, Charles there, Charles +liked this, Charles liked that. Since Charles is dead, let him rest +in peace." + +Madeleine ascribed her husband's burst of ill humor to puerile +jealousy, but she was flattered and did not reply. On retiring, +haunted by the same thought, he asked: + +"Did Charles wear a cotton nightcap to keep the draft out of his +ears?" + +She replied pleasantly: "No, a lace one!" + +Georges shrugged his shoulders and said scornfully: "What a bird!" + +From that time Georges never called Charles anything but "poor +Charles," with an accent of infinite pity. One evening as Du Roy was +smoking a cigarette at his window, toward the end of June, the heat +awoke in him a desire for fresh air. He asked: + +"My little Made, would you like to go as far as the Bois?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +They took an open carriage and drove to the Avenue du Bois de +Boulogne. It was a sultry evening; a host of cabs lined the drive, +one behind another. When the carriage containing Georges and +Madeleine reached the turning which led to the fortifications, they +kissed one another and Madeleine stammered in confusion: "We are as +childish as we were at Rouen." + +The road they followed was not so much frequented, a gentle breeze +rustled the leaves of the trees, the sky was studded with brilliant +stars and Georges murmured, as he pressed his wife to his breast: +"Oh, my little Made." + +She said to him: "Do you remember how gloomy the forest at Canteleu +was? It seemed to me that it was full of horrible beasts and that it +was interminable, while here it is charming. One can feel the +caressing breezes, and I know that Sevres is on the other side." + +He replied: "In our forests there are nothing but stags, foxes, +roebucks, and boars, with here and there a forester's house." He +paused for a moment and then asked: "Did you come here in the +evening with Charles occasionally?" + +She replied: "Frequently." + +He felt a desire to return home at once. Forestier's image haunted +him, however; he could think of nothing else. The carriage rolled on +toward the Arc de Triomphe and joined the stream of carriages +returning home. As Georges remained silent, his wife, who divined +his thoughts, asked in her soft voice: "Of what are you thinking? +For half an hour you have not uttered a word." + +He replied with a sneer: "I am thinking of all those fools who kiss +one another, and I believe truly that there is something else to be +done in life." + +She whispered: "Yes, but it is nice sometimes! It is nice when one +has nothing better to do." + +Georges' thoughts were busy with the dead; he said to himself +angrily: "I am foolish to worry, to torment myself as I have done." +After remonstrating thus with himself, he felt more reconciled to +the thought of Forestier, and felt like exclaiming: "Good evening, +old fellow!" + +Madeleine, who was bored by his silence, asked: "Shall we go to +Tortoni's for ices before returning home?" + +He glanced at her from his corner and thought: "She is pretty; so +much the better. Tit for tat, my comrade. But if they begin again to +annoy me with you, it will get somewhat hot at the North Pole!" + +Then he replied: "Certainly, my darling," and before she had time to +think he kissed her. It seemed to Madeleine that her husband's lips +were icy. However he smiled as usual and gave her his hand to assist +her to alight at the cafe. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MADAME WALTER TAKES A HAND + + +On entering the office the following day, Du Roy sought Boisrenard +and told him to warn his associates not to continue the farce of +calling him Forestier, or there would be war. When Du Roy returned +an hour later, no one called him by that name. From the office he +proceeded to his home, and hearing the sound of ladies' voices in +the drawing-room, he asked the servant: "Who is here?" + +"Mme. Walter and Mme. de Marelle," was the reply. + +His heart pulsated violently as he opened the door. Clotilde was +seated by the fireplace; it seemed to Georges that she turned pale +on perceiving him. + +Having greeted Mme. Walter and her two daughters seated like +sentinels beside her, he turned to his former mistress. She extended +her hand; he took and pressed it as if to say: "I love you still!" +She returned the pressure. + +He said: "Have you been well since we last met?" + +"Yes; have you, Bel-Ami?" And turning to Madeleine she added: "Will +you permit me to call him Bel-Ami?" + +"Certainly, my dear; I will permit anything you wish." + +A shade of irony lurked beneath those words, uttered so pleasantly. + +Mme. Walter mentioned a fencing-match to be given at Jacques Rival's +apartments, the proceeds to be devoted to charities, and in which +many society ladies were going to assist. She said: "It will be very +entertaining; but I am in despair, for we have no one to escort us, +my husband having an engagement." + +Du Roy offered his services at once. She accepted, saying: "My +daughters and I shall be very grateful." + +He glanced at the younger of the two girls and thought: "Little +Suzanne is not at all bad, not at all." + +She resembled a doll, being very small and dainty, with a well- +proportioned form, a pretty, delicate face, blue-gray eyes, a fair +skin, and curly, flaxen hair. Her elder sister, Rose, was plain--one +of those girls to whom no attention is ever paid. Her mother rose, +and turning to Georges, said: "I shall count on you next Thursday at +two o'clock." + +He replied: "Count upon me, Madame." + +When the door closed upon Mme. Walter, Mme. de Marelle, in her turn, +rose. + +"Au revoir, Bel-Ami." + +This time she pressed his hand and he was moved by that silent +avowal. "I will go to see her to-morrow," thought he. + +Left alone with his wife, she laughed, and looking into his eyes +said: "Mme. Walter has taken a fancy to you!" + +He replied incredulously: "Nonsense!" + +"But I know it. She spoke of you to me with great enthusiasm. She +said she would like to find two husbands like you for her daughters. +Fortunately she is not susceptible herself." + +He did not understand her and repeated: "Susceptible herself?" + +She replied in a tone of conviction: "Oh, Mme. Walter is +irreproachable. Her husband you know as well as I. But she is +different. Still she has suffered a great deal in having married a +Jew, though she has been true to him; she is a virtuous woman." + +Du Roy was surprised: "I thought her a Jewess." + +"She a Jewess! No, indeed! She is the prime mover in all the +charitable movements at the Madeleine. She was even married by a +priest. I am not sure but that M. Walter went through the form of +baptism." + +Georges murmured: "And--she--likes--me--" + +"Yes. If you were not married I should advise you to ask for the +hand of--Suzanne--would you not prefer her to Rose?" + +He replied as he twisted his mustache: "Eh! the mother is not so +bad!" + +Madeleine replied: "I am not afraid of her. At her age one does not +begin to make conquests--one should commence sooner." + +Georges thought: "If I might have had Suzanne, ah!" Then he shrugged +his shoulders: "Bah, it is absurd; her father would not have +consented." + +He determined to treat Mme. Walter very considerately in order to +retain her regard. All that evening he was haunted by recollections +of his love for Clotilde; he recalled their escapades, her kindness. +He repeated to himself: "She is indeed nice. Yes, I shall call upon +her to-morrow." + +When he had lunched the following morning he repaired to Rue +Verneuil. The same maid opened the door, and with the familiarity of +an old servant she asked: "Is Monsieur well?" + +He replied: "Yes, my child," and entered the drawing-room in which +some one was practising scales. It was Laurine. He expected she +would fall upon his neck. She, however, rose ceremoniously, bowed +coldly, and left the room with dignity; her manner was so much like +that of an outraged woman that he was amazed. Her mother entered. He +kissed her hand. + +"How much I have thought of you," said he. + +"And I of you," she replied. + +They seated themselves and smiled as they gazed into one another's +eyes. + +"My dear little Clo, I love you." + +"And I love you." + +"Still--still--you did not miss me." + +"Yes and no. I was grieved, but when I heard your reason, I said to +myself: 'Bah, he will return to me some day.'" + +"I dared not come. I did not know how I should be received. I dared +not, but I longed to come. Now, tell me what ails Laurine; she +scarcely bade me good morning and left the room with an angry air." + +"I do not know, but one cannot mention you to her since your +marriage; I really believe she is jealous." + +"Nonsense." + +"Yes, my dear, she no longer calls you Bel-Ami, but M. Forestier +instead." + +Du Roy colored, then drawing nearer the young woman, he said: "Kiss +me." + +She obeyed him. + +"Where can we meet again?" he asked. + +"At Rue de Constantinople." + +"Ah, are the apartments not rented?" + +"No, I kept them." + +"You did?" + +"Yes, I thought you would return." + +His heart bounded joyfully. She loved him then with a lasting love! +He whispered: "I adore you." Then he asked: "Is your husband well?" + +"Yes, very well. He has just been home for a month; he went away the +day before yesterday." + +Du Roy could not suppress a smile: "How opportunely that always +happens!" + +She replied naively: "Yes, it happens opportunely, but he is not in +the way when he is here; is he?" + +"That is true; he is a charming man!" + +"How do you like your new life?" + +"Tolerably; my wife is a comrade, an associate, nothing more; as for +my heart--" + +"I understand; but she is good." + +"Yes, she does not trouble me." + +He drew near Clotilde and murmured: "When shall we meet again?" + +"To-morrow, if you will." + +"Yes, to-morrow at two o'clock." + +He rose to take his leave somewhat embarrassed. + +"You know I intend to take back the rooms on Rue de Constantinople +myself. I wish to; it is not necessary for you to pay for them." + +She kissed his hands, saying: "You may do as you like. I am +satisfied to have kept them until we met again." And Du Roy took his +leave very well satisfied. + +When Thursday came, he asked Madeleine: "Are going to the fencing- +match at Rival's?" + +"No, I do not care about it. I will go to the chamber of deputies." + +Georges called for Mme. Walter in an open carriage, for the weather +was delightful. He was surprised to find her looking so handsome and +so young. Never had she appeared so fresh. Her daughter, Suzanne, +was dressed in pink; her sister looked like her governess. At +Rival's door was a long line of carriages. Du Roy offered his arm to +Mme. Walter and they entered. + +The entertainment was for the benefit of the orphans of the Sixth +Ward under the patronage of all the wiles of the senators and +deputies who were connected with "La Vie Francaise." + +Jacques Rival received the arrivals at the entrance to his +apartments, then he pointed to a small staircase which led to the +cellar in which were his shooting-gallery and fencing-room, saying: +"Downstairs, ladies, downstairs. The match will take place in the +subterranean apartments." + +Pressing Du Roy's hand, he said: "Good evening, Bel-Ami." + +Du Roy was surprised: "Who told you about that name?" + +Rival replied: "Mme. Walter, who thinks it very pretty." + +Mme. Walter blushed. + +"Yes, I confess that if I knew you better, I should do as little +Laurine, and I should call you Bel-Ami, too. It suits you +admirably." + +Du Roy laughed. "I beg you to do so, Madame." + +She cast down her eyes. "No, we are not well enough acquainted." + +He murmured: "Permit me to hope that we shall become so." + +"Well, we shall see," said she. + +They descended the stairs and entered a large room, which was +lighted by Venetian lanterns and decorated with festoons of gauze. +Nearly all the benches were filled with ladies, who were chatting as +if they were at a theater. Mme. Walter and her daughters reached +their seats in the front row. + +Du Roy, having obtained their places for them, whispered: "I shall +be obliged to leave you; men cannot occupy the seats." + +Mme. Walter replied hesitatingly: "I should like to keep you, just +the same. You could tell me the names of the participants. See, if +you stand at the end of the seat, you will not annoy anyone." She +raised her large, soft eyes to his and insisted: "Come, stay with +us--Bel-Ami--we need you!" + +He replied: "I obey with pleasure, Madame!" + +Suddenly Jacques Rival's voice announced: "We will begin, ladies." + +Then followed the fencing-match. Du Roy retained his place beside +the ladies and gave them all the necessary information. When the +entertainment was over and all expenses were paid, two hundred and +twenty francs remained for the orphans of the Sixth Ward. + +Du Roy, escorting the Walters, awaited his carriage. When seated +face to face with Mme. Walter, he met her troubled but caressing +glance. + +"Egad, I believe she is affected," thought he; and he smiled as he +recognized the fact that he was really successful with the female +sex, for Mme. de Marelle, since the renewal of their relations, +seemed to love him madly. + +With a light heart he returned home. Madeleine was awaiting him in +the drawing-room. + +"I have some news," said she. "The affair with Morocco is becoming +complicated. France may send an expedition out there in several +months. In any case the ministry will be overthrown and Laroche will +profit by the occasion." + +Du Roy, in order to draw out his wife, pretended not to believe it. +"France would not be silly enough to commence any folly with Tunis!" + +She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "I tell you she will! You do +not understand that it is a question of money--you are as simple as +Forestier." + +Her object was to wound and irritate him, but he only smiled and +replied: "What! as simple as that stupid fellow?" + +She ceased and murmured: "Oh, Georges!" + +He added: "Poor devil!" in a tone of profound pity. + +Madeleine turned her back upon him scornfully; after a moment of +silence, she continued: "We shall have some company Tuesday. Mme. +Laroche-Mathieu is coming here to dine with Viscountess de Percemur. +Will you invite Rival and Norbert de Varenne? I shall go to Mmes. +Walter and de Marelle to-morrow. Perhaps, too, we may have Mme. +Rissolin." + +Du Roy replied: "Very well, I will see to Rival and Norbert." + +The following day he thought he would anticipate his wife's visit to +Mme. Walter and attempt to find out if she really was in love with +him. He arrived at Boulevard Malesherbes at two o'clock. He was +ushered into the salon and waited. Finally Mme. Walter appeared and +offered him her hand cordially. "What good wind blows you here?" + +"No good wind, but a desire to see you. Some power has impelled me +hither, I do not know why; I have nothing to say except that I have +come; here I am! Pardon the morning call and the candor of my +explanation." + +He uttered those words with a smile upon his lips and a serious +accent in his voice. + +In her astonishment, she stammered with a blush: "But indeed--I do +not understand--you surprise me." + +He added: "It is a declaration made in jest in order not to startle +you." + +They were seated near each other. She took the matter as a jest. "Is +it a declaration--seriously?" + +"Yes, for a long time I have wished to make it, but I dared not; +they say you are so austere, so rigid." + +She had recovered her self-possession and replied: + +"Why did you choose to-day?" + +"I do not know." Then he lowered his voice: "Or rather because I +have thought only of you since yesterday." + +Suddenly turning pale, she gasped: "Come, enough of this +childishness! Let us talk of something else." + +But he fell upon his knees before her. She tried to rise; he +prevented her by twining his arms about her waist, and repeated in a +passionate voice: "Yes, it is true that I have loved you madly for +some time. Do not answer me. I am mad--I love you. Oh, if you knew +how I love you!" + +She could utter no sound; in her agitation she repulsed him with +both hands, for she could feel his breath upon her cheek. He rose +suddenly and attempted to embrace her, but gaining her liberty for a +moment, she escaped him and ran from chair to chair. He, considering +such pursuit beneath his dignity, sank into a chair, buried his face +in his hands, and feigned to sob convulsively. Then he rose, cried: + +"Adieu, adieu!" and fled. + +In the hall he took his cane calmly and left the house saying: +"Cristi! I believe she loves me!" + +He went at once to the telegraph office to send a message to +Clotilde, appointing a rendezvous for the next day. + +On entering the house at his usual time, he said to his wife: "Well, +is everyone coming to dinner?" + +She replied: "Yes, all but Mme. Walter, who is uncertain as to +whether she can come. She acted very strangely. Never mind, perhaps +she can manage it anyway." + +He replied: "She will come." + +He was not, however, certain and was rendered uneasy until the day +of the dinner. That morning Madeleine received a message from Mme. +Walter to this effect: "I have succeeded in arranging matters and I +shall be with you, but my husband cannot accompany me." + +Du Roy thought: "I did right not to return there. She has calmed +down." Still he awaited her arrival anxiously. + +She appeared very composed, somewhat reserved, and haughty. He was +very humble, very careful, and submissive. Mmes. Laroche-Mathieu and +Rissolin were accompanied by their husbands. Mme. de Marelle looked +bewitching in an odd combination of yellow and black. + +At Du Roy's right sat Mme. Walter, and he spoke to her only of +serious matters with exaggerated respect. From time to time he +glanced at Clotilde. + +"She is really very pretty and fresh looking," thought he. But Mme. +Walter attracted him by the difficulty of the conquest. She took her +leave early. + +"I will escort you," said he. + +She declined his offer. He insisted: "Why do you not want me? You +wound me deeply. Do not let me feel that I am not forgiven. You see +that I am calm." + +She replied: "You cannot leave your guests thus." + +He smiled: "Bah! I shall be absent twenty minutes. No one will even +notice it; if you refuse me, you will break my heart." + +"Very well," she whispered, "I will accept." + +When they were seated in the carriage, he seized her hand, and +kissing it passionately said: "I love you, I love you. Let me tell +it to you. I will not touch you. I only wish to repeat that I love +you." + +She stammered: "After what you promised me--it is too bad--too bad." + +He seemed to make a great effort, then he continued in a subdued +voice: "See, how I can control myself--and yet--let me only tell you +this--I love you--yes, let me go home with you and kneel before you +five minutes to utter those three words and gaze upon your beloved +face." + +She suffered him to take her hand and replied in broken accents: +"No, I cannot--I do not wish to. Think of what my servants, my +daughters, would say--no--no--it is impossible." + +He continued: "I cannot live without seeing you; whether it be at +your house or elsewhere, I must see you for only a moment each day +that I may touch your hand, breathe the air stirred by your gown, +contemplate the outlines of your form, and see your beautiful eyes." + +She listened tremblingly to the musical language of love, and made +answer: "No, it is impossible. Be silent!" + +He spoke very low; he whispered in her ear, comprehending that it +was necessary to win that simple woman gradually, to persuade her to +appoint a meeting where she willed at first, and later on where he +willed. + +"Listen: I must see you! I will wait at your door like a beggar. If +you do not come down, I will come to you, but I shall see you to- +morrow." + +She repeated: "No, do not come. I shall not receive you. Think of my +daughters!" + +"Then tell me where I can meet you--in the street--it matters not +where--at any hour you wish--provided that I can see you. I will +greet you; I will say, I love you; and then go away." + +She hesitated, almost distracted. As the coupe stopped at the door, +she whispered hastily: "I will be at La Trinite to-morrow, at half +past three." + +After alighting, she said to her coachman: "Take M. du Roy home." + +When he returned, his wife asked: "Where have you been?" + +He replied in a low voice: "I have been to send an important +telegram." + +Mme. de Marelle approached him: "You must take me home, Bel-Ami; you +know that I only dine so far from home on that condition." Turning +to Madeleine, she asked: "You are not jealous?" + +Mme. du Roy replied slowly: "No, not at all." + +The guests departed. Clotilde, enveloped in laces, whispered to +Madeleine at the door: "Your dinner was perfect. In a short while +you will have the best political salon in Paris." + +When she was alone with Georges, she said: "Oh, my darling Bel-Ami, +I love you more dearly every day." + +The cab rolled on, and Georges' thoughts were with Mme. Walter. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A MEETING AND THE RESULT + + +The July sun shone upon the Place de la Trinite, which was almost +deserted. Du Roy drew out his watch. It was only three o'clock: he +was half an hour too early. He laughed as he thought of the place of +meeting. He entered the sacred edifice of La Trinite; the coolness +within was refreshing. Here and there an old woman kneeled at +prayer, her face in her hands. Du Roy looked at his watch again. It +was not yet a quarter past three. He took a seat, regretting that he +could not smoke. At the end of the church near the choir; he could +hear the measured tread of a corpulent man whom he had noticed when +he entered. Suddenly the rustle of a gown made him start. It was +she. He arose and advanced quickly. She did not offer him her hand +and whispered: "I have only a few minutes. You must kneel near me +that no one will notice us." + +She proceeded to a side aisle after saluting the Host on the High +Altar, took a footstool, and kneeled down. Georges took one beside +it and when they were in the attitude of prayer, he said: "Thank +you, thank you. I adore you. I should like to tell you constantly +how I began to love you, how I was conquered the first time I saw +you. Will you permit me some day to unburden my heart, to explain +all to you?" + +She replied between her fingers: "I am mad to let you speak to me +thus--mad to have come hither--mad to do as I have done, to let you +believe that this--this adventure can have any results. Forget it, +and never speak to me of it again." She paused. + +He replied: "I expect nothing--I hope nothing--I love you--whatever +you may do, I will repeat it so often, with so much force and ardor +that you will finally understand me, and reply: 'I love you too.'" + +He felt her frame tremble as she involuntarily repeated: "I love you +too." + +He was overcome by astonishment. + +"Oh, my God!" she continued incoherently, "Should I say that to you? +I feel guilty, despicable--I--who have two daughters--but I cannot-- +cannot--I never thought--it was stronger than I--listen--listen--I +have never loved--any other--but you--I swear it--I have loved you a +year in secret--I have suffered and struggled--I can no longer; I +love you." She wept and her bowed form was shaken by the violence of +her emotion. + +Georges murmured: "Give me your hand that I may touch, may press +it." + +She slowly took her hand from her face, he seized it saying: "I +should like to drink your tears!" + +Placing the hand he held upon his heart he asked: "Do you feel it +beat?" + +In a few moments the man Georges had noticed before passed by them. +When Mme. Walter heard him near her, she snatched her fingers from +Georges's clasp and covered her face with them. After the man had +disappeared, Du Roy asked, hoping for another place of meeting than +La Trinite: "Where shall I see you to-morrow?" + +She did not reply; she seemed transformed into a statue of prayer. +He continued: "Shall I meet you to-morrow at Park Monceau?" + +She turned a livid face toward him and said unsteadily: "Leave me-- +leave me now--go--go away--for only five minutes--I suffer too much +near you. I want to pray--go. Let me pray alone--five minutes--let +me ask God--to pardon me--to save me--leave me--five minutes." + +She looked so pitiful that he rose without a word and asked with +some hesitation: "Shall I return presently?" + +She nodded her head in the affirmative and he left her. She tried to +pray; she closed her eyes in order not to see Georges. She could not +pray; she could only think of him. She would rather have died than +have fallen thus; she had never been weak. She murmured several +words of supplication; she knew that all was over, that the struggle +was in vain. She did not however wish to yield, but she felt her +weakness. Some one approached with a rapid step; she turned her +head. It was a priest. She rose, ran toward him, and clasping her +hands, she cried: "Save me, save me!" + +He stopped in surprise. + +"What do you want, Madame?" + +"I want you to save me. Have pity on me. If you do not help me, I am +lost!" + +He gazed at her, wondering if she were mad. + +"What can I do for you?" The priest was a young man somewhat +inclined to corpulence. + +"Receive my confession," said she, "and counsel me, sustain me, tell +me what to do." + +He replied: "I confess every Saturday from three to six." + +Seizing his arm she repeated: "No, now, at once--at once! It is +necessary! He is here! In this church! He is waiting for me." + +The priest asked: "Who is waiting for you?" + +"A man--who will be my ruin if you do not save me. I can no longer +escape him--I am too weak--too weak," + +She fell upon her knees sobbing: "Oh, father, have pity upon me. +Save me, for God's sake, save me!" She seized his gown that he might +not escape her, while he uneasily glanced around on all sides to see +if anyone noticed the woman at his feet. Finally, seeing that he +could not free himself from her, he said: "Rise; I have the key to +the confessional with me." + + * * * * * * * + +Du Roy having walked around the choir, was sauntering down the nave, +when he met the stout, bold man wandering about, and he wondered: +"What can he be doing here?" + +The man slackened his pace and looked at Georges with the evident +desire to speak to him. When he was near him, he bowed and said +politely: + +"I beg your pardon, sir, for disturbing you; but can you tell me +when this church was built?" + +Du Roy replied: "I do not know; I think it is twenty or twenty-five +years. It is the first time I have been here. I have never seen it +before." Feeling interested in the stranger, the journalist +continued: "It seems to me that you are examining into it very +carefully." + +The man replied: "I am not visiting the church; I have an +appointment." He paused and in a few moments added: "It is very warm +outside." + +Du Roy looked at him and suddenly thought that he resembled +Forestier. "Are you from the provinces?" he asked. + +"Yes, I am from Rennes. And did you, sir, enter this church from +curiosity?" + +"No, I am waiting for a lady." And with a smile upon his lips, he +walked away. + +He did not find Mme. Walter in the place in which he had left her, +and was surprised. She had gone. He was furious. Then he thought she +might be looking for him, and he walked around the church. Not +finding her, he returned and seated himself on the chair she had +occupied, hoping that she would rejoin him there. Soon he heard the +sound of a voice. He saw no one; whence came it? He rose to examine +into it, and saw in a chapel near by, the doors of the +confessionals. He drew nearer in order to see the woman whose voice +he heard. He recognized Mme. Walter; she was confessing. At first he +felt a desire to seize her by the arm and drag her away; then he +seated himself near by and bided his time. He waited quite awhile. +At length Mme. Walter rose, turned, saw him and came toward him. Her +face was cold and severe. + +"Sir," said she, "I beseech you not to accompany me, not to follow +me and not to come to my house alone. You will not be admitted. +Adieu!" And she walked away in a dignified manner. + +He permitted her to go, because it was against his principles to +force matters. As the priest in his turn issued from the +confessional, he advanced toward him and said: "If you did not wear +a gown, I would give you a sound thrashing." Then he turned upon his +heel and left the church whistling. In the doorway he met the stout +gentleman. When Du Roy passed him, they bowed. + +The journalist then repaired to the office of "La Vie Francaise." As +he entered he saw by the clerks' busy air that something of +importance was going on, and he hastened to the manager's room. The +latter exclaimed joyfully as Du Roy entered: "What luck! here is +Bel-Ami." + +He stopped in confusion and apologized: "I beg your pardon, I am +very much bothered by circumstances. And then I hear my wife and +daughter call you Bel-Ami from morning until night, and I have +acquired the habit myself. Are you displeased?" + +Georges laughed. "Not at all." + +M. Walter continued: "Very well, then I will call you Bel-Ami as +everyone else does. Great changes have taken place. The ministry has +been overthrown. Marrot is to form a new cabinet. He has chosen +General Boutin d'Acre as minister of war, and our friend Laroche- +Mathieu as minister of foreign affairs. We shall be very busy. I +must write a leading article, a simple declaration of principles; +then I must have something interesting on the Morocco question--you +must attend to that." + +Du Roy reflected a moment and then replied: "I have it. I will give +you an article on the political situation of our African colony," +and he proceeded to prepare M. Walter an outline of his work, which +was nothing but a modification of his first article on "Souvenirs of +a Soldier in Africa." + +The manager having read the article said: "It is perfect; you are a +treasure. Many thanks." + +Du Roy returned home to dinner delighted with his day, +notwithstanding his failure at La Trinite. His wife was awaiting him +anxiously. She exclaimed on seeing him: + +"You know that Laroche is minister of foreign affairs." + +"Yes, I have just written an article on that subject." + +"How?" + +"Do you remember the first article we wrote on 'Souvenirs of a +Soldier in Africa'? Well, I revised and corrected it for the +occasion." + +She smiled. "Ah, yes, that will do very well." + +At that moment the servant entered with a dispatch containing these +words without any signature: + +"I was beside myself. Pardon me and come to-morrow at four o'clock +to Park Monceau." + +He understood the message, and with a joyful heart, slipped the +telegram into his pocket. During dinner he repeated the words to +himself; as he interpreted them, they meant, "I yield--I am yours +where and when you will." He laughed. + +Madeleine asked: "What is it?" + +"Nothing much. I was thinking of a comical old priest I met a short +while since." + + * * * * * * * + +Du Roy arrived at the appointed hour the following day. The benches +were all occupied by people trying to escape from the heat and by +nurses with their charges. + +He found Mme. Walter in a little antique ruin; she seemed unhappy +and anxious. When he had greeted her, she said: "How many people +there are in the garden!" + +He took advantage of the occasion: "Yes, that is true; shall we go +somewhere else?" + +"Where?" + +"It matters not where; for a drive, for instance. You can lower the +shade on your side and you will be well concealed." + +"Yes, I should like that better; I shall die of fear here." + +"Very well, meet me in five minutes at the gate which opens on the +boulevard. I will fetch a cab." + +When they were seated in the cab, she asked: "Where did you tell the +coachman to drive to?" + +Georges replied: "Do not worry; he knows." + +He had given the man his address on the Rue de Constantinople. + +Mme. Walter said to Du Roy: "You cannot imagine how I suffer on your +account--how I am tormented, tortured. Yesterday I was harsh, but I +wanted to escape you at any price. I was afraid to remain alone with +you. Have you forgiven me?" + +He pressed her hand. "Yes, yes, why should I not forgive you, loving +you as I do?" + +She looked at him with a beseeching air: "Listen: You must promise +to respect me, otherwise I could never see you again." + +At first he did not reply; a smile lurked beneath his mustache; then +he murmured: "I am your slave." + +She told him how she had discovered that she loved him, on learning +that he was to marry Madeleine Forestier. Suddenly she ceased +speaking. The carriage stopped. Du Roy opened the door. + +"Where are we?" she asked. + +He replied: "Alight and enter the house. We shall be undisturbed +there." + +"Where are we?" she repeated. + +"At my rooms; they are my bachelor apartments which I have rented +for a few days that we might have a corner in which to meet." + +She clung to the cab, startled at the thought of a tete-a-tete, and +stammered: "No, no, I do not want to." + +He said firmly: "I swear to respect you. Come, you see that people +are looking at us, that a crowd is gathering around us. Make haste!" +And he repeated, "I swear to respect you." + +She was terror-stricken and rushed into the house. She was about to +ascend the stairs. He seized her arm: "It is here, on the ground +floor." + +When he had closed the door, he showered kisses upon her neck, her +eyes, her lips; in spite of herself, she submitted to his caresses +and even returned them, hiding her face and murmuring in broken +accents: "I swear that I have never had a lover"; while he thought: +"That is a matter of indifference to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MADAME DE MARELLE + + +Autumn had come. The Du Roys had spent the entire summer in Paris, +leading a vigorous campaign in "La Vie Francaise," in favor of the +new cabinet. Although it was only the early part of October, the +chamber was about to resume its sessions, for affairs in Morocco +were becoming menacing. The celebrated speech made by Count de +Lambert Sarrazin had furnished Du Roy with material for ten articles +on the Algerian colony. "La Vie Francaise" had gained considerable +prestige by its connection with the power; it was the first to give +political news, and every newspaper in Paris and the provinces +sought information from it. It was quoted, feared, and began to be +respected: it was no longer the organ of a group of political +intriguers, but the avowed mouthpiece of the cabinet. Laroche- +Mathieu was the soul of the journal and Du Roy his speaking-trumpet. +M. Walter retired discreetly into the background. Madeleine's salon +became an influential center in which several members of the cabinet +met every week. The president of the council had even dined there +twice; the minister of foreign affairs was quite at home at the Du +Roys; he came at any hour, bringing dispatches or information, which +he dictated either to the husband or wife as if they were his +secretaries. After the minister had departed, when Du Roy was alone +with Madeleine, he uttered threats and insinuations against the +"parvenu," as he called him. His wife simply shrugged her shoulders +scornfully, repeating: "Become a minister and you can do the same; +until then, be silent." + +His reply was: "No one knows of what I am capable; perhaps they will +find out some day." + +She answered philosophically: "He who lives will see." + +The morning of the reopening of the Chamber, Du Roy lunched with +Laroche-Mathieu in order to receive instructions from him, before +the session, for a political article the following day in "La Vie +Francaise," which was to be a sort of official declaration of the +plans of the cabinet. After listening to Laroche-Mathieu's eloquence +for some time with jealousy in his heart, Du Roy sauntered slowly +toward the office to commence his work, for he had nothing to do +until four o'clock, at which hour he was to meet Mme. de Marelle at +Rue de Constantinople. They met there regularly twice a week, +Mondays and Wednesdays. + +On entering the office, he was handed a sealed dispatch; it was from +Mme. Walter, and read thus: + + "It is absolutely necessary that I should see you to-day. It is + important. Expect me at two o'clock at Rue de Constantinople. I + can render you a great service; your friend until death," + + "VIRGINIE." + +He exclaimed: "Heavens! what a bore!" and left the office at once, +too much annoyed to work. + +For six weeks he had ineffectually tried to break with Mme. Walter. +At three successive meetings she had been a prey to remorse, and had +overwhelmed her lover with reproaches. Angered by those scenes and +already weary of the dramatic woman, he had simply avoided her, +hoping that the affair would end in that way. + +But she persecuted him with her affection, summoned him at all times +by telegrams to meet her at street corners, in shops, or public +gardens. She was very different from what he had fancied she would +be, trying to attract him by actions ridiculous in one of her age. +It disgusted him to hear her call him: "My rat--my dog--my treasure- +-my jewel--my blue-bird"--and to see her assume a kind of childish +modesty when he approached. It seemed to him that being the mother +of a family, a woman of the world, she should have been more sedate, +and have yielded With tears if she chose, but with the tears of a +Dido and not of a Juliette. He never heard her call him "Little one" +or "Baby," without wishing to reply "Old woman," to take his hat +with an oath and leave the room. + +At first they had often met at Rue de Constantinople, but Du Roy, +who feared an encounter with Mme. de Marelle, invented a thousand +and one pretexts in order to avoid that rendezvous. He was therefore +obliged to either lunch or dine at her house daily, when she would +clasp his hand under cover of the table or offer him her lips behind +the doors. Above all, Georges enjoyed being thrown so much in +contact with Suzanne; she made sport of everything and everybody +with cutting appropriateness. At length, however, he began to feel +an unconquerable repugnance to the love lavished upon him by the +mother; he could no longer see her, hear her, nor think of her +without anger. He ceased calling upon her, replying to her letters, +and yielding to her appeals. She finally divined that he no longer +loved her, and the discovery caused her unutterable anguish; but she +watched him, followed him in a cab with drawn blinds to the office, +to his house, in the hope of seeing him pass by. He would have liked +to strangle her, but he controlled himself on account of his +position on "La Vie Francaise" and he endeavored by means of +coldness, and even at times harsh words, to make her comprehend that +all was at an end between them. + +Then, too, she persisted in devising ruses for summoning him to Rue +de Constantinople, and he was in constant fear that the two women +would some day meet face to face at the door. + +On the other hand, his affection for Mme. de Marelle had increased +during the summer. They were both Bohemians by nature; they took +excursions together to Argenteuil, Bougival, Maisons, and Poissy, +and when he was forced to return and dine at Mme. Walter's, he +detested his mature mistress more thoroughly, as he recalled the +youthful one he had just left. He was congratulating himself upon +having freed himself almost entirely from the former's clutches, +when he received the telegram above mentioned. + +He re-read it as he walked along. He thought: "What does that old +owl want with me? I am certain she has nothing to tell me except +that she adores me. However, I will see, perhaps there is some truth +in it. Clotilde is coming at four, I must get rid of the other one +at three or soon after, provided they do not meet. What jades women +are!" + +As he uttered those words he was reminded of his wife, who was the +only one who did not torment him; she lived by his side and seemed +to love him very much at the proper time, for she never permitted +anything to interfere with her ordinary occupations of life. He +strolled toward the appointed place of meeting, mentally cursing +Mme. Walter. + +"Ah, I will receive her in such a manner that she will not tell me +anything. First of all, I will give her to understand that I shall +never cross her threshold again." + +He entered to await her. She soon arrived and, seeing him, +exclaimed: "Ah, you received my dispatch! How fortunate!" + +"Yes, I received it at the office just as I was setting out for the +Chamber. What do you want?" he asked ungraciously. + +She had raised her veil in order to kiss him, and approached him +timidly and humbly with the air of a beaten dog. + +"How unkind you are to me; how harshly you speak! What have I done +to you? You do not know what I have suffered for you!" + +He muttered: "Are you going to begin that again?" + +She stood near him awaiting a smile, a word of encouragement, to +cast herself into his arms, and whispered: "You need not have won me +to treat me thus; you might have left me virtuous and happy. Do you +remember what you said to me in the church and how you forced me to +enter this house? And now this is the way you speak to me, receive +me! My God, my God, how you maltreat me!" + +He stamped his foot and said violently: "Enough, be silent! I can +never see you a moment without hearing that refrain. You were mature +when you gave yourself to me. I am much obliged to you; I am +infinitely grateful, but I need not be tied to your apron-strings +until I die! You have a husband and I a wife. Neither of us is free; +it was all a caprice, and now it is at an end!" + +She said: "How brutal you are, how coarse and villainous! No, I was +no longer a young girl, but I had never loved, never wavered in my +dignity." + +He interrupted her: "I know it, you have told me that twenty times; +but you have had two children." + +She drew back as if she had been struck: "Oh, Georges!" And pressing +her hands to her heart, she burst into tears. + +When she began to weep, he took his hat: "Ah, you are crying again! +Good evening! Is it for this that you sent for me?" + +She took a step forward in order to bar the way, and drawing a +handkerchief from her pocket she wiped her eyes. Her voice grew +steadier: "No, I came to--to give you--political news--to give you +the means of earning fifty thousand francs--or even more if you wish +to." + +Suddenly softened he asked: "How?" + +"By chance last evening I heard a conversation between my husband +and Laroche. Walter advised the minister not to let you into the +secret for you would expose it." + +Du Roy placed his hat upon a chair and listened attentively. + +"They are going to take possession of Morocco!" + +"Why, I lunched with Laroche this morning, and he told me the +cabinet's plans!" + +"No, my dear, they have deceived you, because they feared their +secret would be made known." + +"Sit down," said Georges. + +He sank into an armchair, while she drew up a stool and took her +seat at his feet. She continued: + +"As I think of you continually, I pay attention to what is talked of +around me," and she proceeded to tell him what she had heard +relative to the expedition to Tangiers which had been decided upon +the day that Laroche assumed his office; she told him how they had +little by little bought up, through agents who aroused no +suspicions, the Moroccan loan, which had fallen to sixty-four or +sixty-five francs; how when the expedition was entered upon the +French government would guarantee the debt, and their friends would +make fifty or sixty millions. + +He cried: "Are you sure of that?" + +She replied: "Yes, I am sure." + +He continued: "That is indeed fine! As for that rascal of a Laroche, +let him beware! I will get his ministerial carcass between my +fingers yet!" + +Then, after a moment's reflection, he muttered: "One might profit by +that!" + +"You too can buy some stock," said she; "it is only seventy-two +francs." + +He replied: "But I have no ready money." + +She raised her eyes to his--eyes full of supplication. + +"I have thought of that, my darling, and if you love me a little, +you will let me lend it to you." + +He replied abruptly, almost harshly: "No, indeed." + +She whispered imploringly: "Listen, there is something you can do +without borrowing money. I intended buying ten thousand francs' +worth of the stock; instead, I will take twenty thousand and you can +have half. There will be nothing to pay at once. If it succeeds, we +will make seventy thousand francs; if not, you will owe me ten +thousand which you can repay at your pleasure." + +He said again: "No, I do not like those combinations." + +She tried to persuade him by telling him that she advanced nothing-- +that the payments were made by Walter's bank. She pointed out to him +that he had led the political campaign in "La Vie Francaise," and +that he would be very simple not to profit by the results he had +helped to bring about. As he still hesitated, she added: "It is in +reality Walter who will advance the money, and you have done enough +for him to offset that sum." + +"Very well," said he, "I will do it. If we lose I will pay you back +ten thousand francs." + +She was so delighted that she rose, took his head between her hands, +and kissed him. At first he did not repulse her, but when she grew +more lavish with her caresses, he said: + +"Come, that will do." + +She gazed at him sadly. "Oh, Georges, I can no longer even embrace +you." + +"No, not to-day. I have a headache." + +She reseated herself with docility at his feet and asked: + +"Will you dine with us to-morrow? It would give me such pleasure," + +He hesitated at first, but dared not refuse. + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Thank you, dearest." She rubbed her cheek against the young man's +vest; as she did so, one of her long black hairs caught on a button; +she twisted it tightly around, then she twisted another around +another button and so on. When he rose, he would tear them out of +her head, and would carry away with him unwittingly a lock of her +hair. It would be an invisible bond between them. Involuntarily he +would think, would dream of her; he would love her a little more the +next day. + +Suddenly he said: "I must leave you, for I am expected at the +Chamber for the close of the session. I cannot be absent to-day." + +She sighed: "Already!" Then adding resignedly: "Go, my darling, but +you will come to dinner tomorrow"; she rose abruptly. For a moment +she felt a sharp, stinging pain, as if needles had been stuck into +her head, but she was glad to have suffered for him. + +"Adieu," said she. + +He took her in his arms and kissed her eyes coldly; then she offered +him her lips which he brushed lightly as he said: "Come, come, let +us hurry; it is after three o'clock." + +She passed out before him saying: "To-morrow at seven"; he repeated +her words and they separated. + +Du Roy returned at four o'clock to await his mistress. She was +somewhat late because her husband had come home for a week. She +asked: + +"Can you come to dinner to-morrow? He will be delighted to see you." + +"No; I dine at the Walters. We have a great many political and +financial matters to talk over." + +She took off her hat. He pointed to a bag on the mantelpiece: "I +bought you some sweetmeats." + +She clapped her hands. "What a darling you are!" She took them, +tasted one, and said: "They are delicious. I shall not leave one. +Come, sit down in the armchair, I will sit at your feet and eat my +bonbons." + +He smiled as he saw her take the seat a short while since occupied +by Mme. Walter. She too, called him "darling, little one, dearest," +and the words seemed to him sweet and caressing from her lips, while +from Mme. Walter's they irritated and nauseated him. + +Suddenly he remembered the seventy thousand francs he was going to +make, and bluntly interrupting Mme. de Marelle's chatter, he said: + +"Listen, my darling; I am going to intrust you with a message to +your husband. Tell him from me to buy to-morrow ten thousand francs' +worth of Moroccan stock which is at seventy-two, and I predict that +before three months are passed he will have made eighty thousand +francs. Tell him to maintain absolute silence. Tell him that the +expedition to Tangiers, is decided upon, and that the French +government will guarantee the Moroccan debt. It is a state secret I +am confiding to you, remember!" + +She listened to him gravely and murmured: + +"Thank you. I will tell my husband this evening. You may rely upon +him; he will not speak of it; he can be depended upon; there is no +danger." + +She had eaten all of her bonbons and began to toy with the buttons +on his vest. Suddenly she drew a long hair out of the buttonhole and +began to laugh. + +"See! Here is one of Madeleine's hairs; you are a faithful husband!" +Then growing serious, she examined the scarcely perceptible thread +more closely and said: "It is not Madeleine's, it is dark." + +He smiled. "It probably belongs to the housemaid." + +But she glanced at the vest with the care of a police-inspector and +found a second hair twisted around a second button; then she saw a +third; and turning pale and trembling somewhat, she exclaimed: "Oh, +some woman has left hairs around all your buttons." + +In surprise, he stammered: "Why you--you are mad." + +She continued to unwind the hairs and cast them upon the floor. With +her woman's instinct she had divined their meaning and gasped in her +anger, ready to cry: + +"She loves you and she wished you to carry away with you something +of hers. Oh, you are a traitor." She uttered a shrill, nervous cry: +"Oh, it is an old woman's hair--here is a white one--you have taken +a fancy to an old woman now. Then you do not need me--keep the other +one." She rose. + +He attempted to detain her and stammered: "No--Clo--you are absurd-- +I do not know whose it is--listen--stay--see--stay--" + +But she repeated: "Keep your old woman--keep her--have a chain made +of her hair--of her gray hair--there is enough for that--" + +Hastily she donned her hat and veil, and when he attempted to touch +her she struck him in the face, and made her escape while he was +stunned by the blow. When he found that he was alone, he cursed Mme. +Walter, bathed his face, and went out vowing vengeance. That time he +would not pardon. No, indeed. + +He strolled to the boulevard and stopped at a jeweler's to look at a +chronometer he had wanted for some time and which would cost +eighteen hundred francs. He thought with joy: "If I make my seventy +thousand francs, I can pay for it"--and he began to dream of all the +things he would do when he got the money. First of all he would +become a deputy; then he would buy the chronometer; then he would +speculate on 'Change, and then, and then--he did not enter the +office, preferring to confer with Madeleine before seeing Walter +again and writing his article; he turned toward home. He reached Rue +Drouot when he paused; he had forgotten to inquire for Count de +Vaudrec, who lived on Chaussee d'Antin. He retraced his steps with a +light heart, thinking of a thousand things--of the fortune he would +make,--of that rascal of a Laroche, and of old Walter. + +He was not at all uneasy as to Clotilde's anger, knowing that she +would soon forgive him. + +When he asked the janitor of the house in which Count de Vaudrec +lived: "How is M. de Vaudrec? I have heard that he has been ailing +of late," the man replied; "The Count is very ill, sir; they think +he will not live through the night; the gout has reached his heart." + +Du Roy was so startled he did not know what to do! Vaudrec dying! He +stammered: "Thanks--I will call again"--unconscious of what he was +saying. He jumped into a cab and drove home. His wife had returned. +He entered her room out of breath: "Did you know? Vaudrec is dying!" + +She was reading a letter and turning to him asked: "What did you +say?" + +"I said that Vaudrec is dying of an attack of gout." + +Then he added: "What shall you do?" + +She rose; her face was livid; she burst into tears and buried her +face in her hands. She remained standing, shaken by sobs, torn by +anguish. Suddenly she conquered her grief and wiping her eyes, said: +"I am going to him--do not worry about me--I do not know what time I +shall return--do not expect me." + +He replied: "Very well. Go." + +They shook hands and she left in such haste that she forgot her +gloves. Georges, after dining alone, began to write his article. He +wrote it according to the minister's instructions, hinting to the +readers that the expedition to Morocco would not take place. He took +it, when completed, to the office, conversed several moments with M. +Walter, and set out again, smoking, with a light heart, he knew not +why. + +His wife had not returned. He retired and fell asleep. Toward +midnight Madeleine came home. Georges sat up in bed and asked: +"Well?" + +He had never seen her so pale and agitated. She whispered: "He is +dead!" + +"Ah--and--he told you nothing?" + +"Nothing. He was unconscious when I arrived." + +Questions which he dared not ask arose to Georges' lips. + +"Lie down and rest," said he. + +She disrobed hastily and slipped into bed. + +He continued: "Had he any relatives at his death-bed?" + +"Only a nephew." + +"Ah! Did he often see that nephew?" + +"They had not met for ten years." + +"Had he other relatives?" + +"No, I believe not." + +"Will that nephew be his heir?" + +"I do not know." + +"Was Vaudrec very rich?" + +"Yes, very." + +"Do you know what he was worth?" + +"No, not exactly--one or two millions perhaps." + +He said no more. She extinguished the light. He could not sleep. He +looked upon Mme. Walter's promised seventy thousand francs as very +insignificant. Suddenly he thought he heard Madeleine crying. In +order to insure himself he asked: "Are you asleep?" + +"No." Her voice was tearful and unsteady. + +He continued: "I forgot to tell you that your minister has deceived +us." + +"How?" + +He gave her a detailed account of the combination prepared by +Laroche and Walter. When he concluded she asked: "How did you know +that?" + +He replied: "Pardon me if I do not tell you! You have your means of +obtaining information into which I do not inquire; I have mine which +I desire to keep. I can vouch at any rate for the truth of my +statements." + +She muttered: "It may be possible. I suspected that they were doing +something without our knowledge." + +As she spoke Georges drew near her; she paid no heed to his +proximity, however, and turning toward the wall, he closed his eyes +and fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE WILL + + +The church was draped in black, and over the door a large escutcheon +surmounted by a coronet announced to the passers-by that a nobleman +was being buried. The ceremony was just over; those present went out +slowly, passing by the coffin, and by Count de Vaudrec's nephew, who +shook hands and returned salutations. + +When Georges du Roy and his wife left the church, they walked along +side by side on their way home. They did not speak; they were both +preoccupied. At length Georges said, as if talking to himself: +"Truly it is very astonishing!" + +Madeleine asked: "What, my friend?" + +"That Vaudrec left us nothing." + +She blushed and said: "Why should he leave us anything? Had he any +reason for doing so?" Then after several moments of silence, she +continued: "Perhaps there is a will at a lawyer's; we should not +know of it." + +He replied: "That is possible, for he was our best friend. He dined +with us twice a week; he came at any time; he was at home with us. +He loved you as a father; he had no family, no children, no brothers +nor sisters, only a nephew. Yes, there should be a will. I would not +care for much--a remembrance to prove that he thought of us--that he +recognized the affection we felt for him. We should certainly have a +mark of friendship." + +She said with a pensive and indifferent air: "It is possible that +there is a will." + +When they entered the house, the footman handed Madeleine a letter. +She opened it and offered it to her husband. + + "OFFICE OF M. LAMANEUR, + Notary. + 17 Rue des Vosges," + + "Madame: Kindly call at my office at a quarter past two o'clock + Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, on business which concerns + you." + + "Yours respectfully," + + "LAMANEUR." + +Georges, in his turn, colored. + +"That is as it should be. It is strange, however, that he should +write to you and not to me, for I am the head of the family +legally." + +"Shall we go at once?" she asked. + +"Yes, I should like to." + +After luncheon they set out for M. Lamaneur's office. + +The notary was a short, round man--round all over. His head looked +like a ball fastened to another ball, which was supported by legs so +short that they too almost resembled balls. + +He bowed, as Du Roy and his wife were shown into his office, pointed +to seats, and said, turning to Madeleine: "Madame, I sent for you in +order to inform you of Count de Vaudrec's will, which will be of +interest to you." + +Georges could not help muttering: "I suspected that." + +The notary continued: "I shall read you the document which is very +brief." + + "'I, the undersigned, Paul Emile Cyprien Gontran, Count de + Vaudrec, sound both in body and mind, here express my last + wishes. As death might take me away at any moment, I wish to + take the precaution of drawing up my will, to be deposited with + M. Lamaneur.'" + + "'Having no direct heirs, I bequeath all my fortune, comprising + stocks and bonds for six hundred thousand francs and landed + property for five hundred thousand, to Mme. Claire Madeleine du + Roy unconditionally. I beg her to accept that gift from a dead + friend as a proof of devoted, profound, and respectful + affection.'" + +The notary said: "That is all. That document bears the date of +August last, and took the place of one of the same nature made two +years ago in the name of Mme. Claire Madeleine Forestier. I have the +first will, which would prove, in case of contestation on the part +of the family, that Count de Vaudrec had not changed his mind." + +Madeleine cast down her eyes; her cheeks were pale. Georges +nervously twisted his mustache. + +The notary continued after a moment's pause: "It is of course +understood that Madame cannot accept that legacy without your +consent." + +Du Roy rose and said shortly: "I ask time for reflection." + +The notary smiled, bowed, and replied pleasantly: "I comprehend the +scruples which cause you to hesitate. I may add that M. de Vaudrec's +nephew, who was informed this morning of his uncle's last wishes, +expresses himself as ready to respect them if he be given one +hundred thousand francs. In my opinion the will cannot be broken, +but a lawsuit would cause a sensation which you would probably like +to avoid. The world often judges uncharitably. Can you let me have +your reply before Saturday?" + +Georges bowed, and together with his wife left the office. When they +arrived home, Du Roy closed the door and throwing his hat on the +bed, asked: "What were the relations between you and Vaudrec?" + +Madeleine, who was taking off her veil, turned around with a +shudder: "Between us?" + +"Yes, between you and him! One does not leave one's entire fortune +to a woman unless--" + +She trembled, and could scarcely take out the pins which fastened +the transparent tissue. Then she stammered in an agitated manner: +"You are mad--you are--you are--you did not think--he would leave +you anything!" + +Georges replied, emphazing each word: "Yes, he could have left me +something; me, your husband, his friend; but not you, my wife and +his friend. The distinction is material in the eyes of the world." + +Madeleine gazed at him fixedly: "It seems to me that the world would +have considered a legacy from him to you very strange." + +"Why?" + +"Because,"--she hesitated, then continued: "Because you are my +husband; because you were not well acquainted; because I have been +his friend so long; because his first will, made during Forestier's +lifetime, was already in my favor." + +Georges began to pace to and fro. He finally said: "You cannot +accept that." + +She answered indifferently: "Very well; it is not necessary then to +wait until Saturday; you can inform M. Lamaneur at once." + +He paused before her, and they gazed into one another's eyes as if +by that mute and ardent interrogation they were trying to examine +each other's consciences. In a low voice he murmured: "Come, confess +your relations." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "You are absurd. Vaudrec was very fond +of me, very, but there was nothing more, never." + +He stamped his foot. "You lie! It is not possible." + +She replied calmly: "It is so, nevertheless." + +He resumed his pacing to and fro; then pausing again, he said: +"Explain to me, then, why he left all his fortune to you." + +She did so with a nonchalant air: "It is very simple. As you said +just now, we were his only friends, or rather, I was his only +friend, for he knew me when a child. My mother was a governess in +his father's house. He came here continually, and as he had no legal +heirs, he selected me. It is possible that he even loved me a +little. But what woman has never been loved thus? He brought me +flowers every Monday. You were never surprised at that, and he never +brought you any. To-day he leaves me his fortune for the same +reason, because he had no one else to leave it to. It would on the +other hand have been extremely surprising if he had left it to you." + +"Why?" + +"What are you to him?" + +She spoke so naturally and so calmly that Georges hesitated before +replying: "It makes no difference; we cannot accept that bequest +under those conditions. Everyone would talk about it and laugh at +me. My fellow-journalists are already too much disposed to be +jealous of me and to attack me. I have to be especially careful of +my honor and my reputation. I cannot permit my wife to accept a +legacy of that kind from a man whom rumor has already assigned to +her as her lover. Forestier might perhaps have tolerated that, but I +shall not." + +She replied gently: "Very well, my dear, we will not take it; it +will be a million less in our pockets, that is all." + +Georges paced the room and uttered his thoughts aloud, thus speaking +to his wife without addressing her: + +"Yes, a million--so much the worse. He did not think when making his +will what a breach of etiquette he was committing. He did not +realize in what a false, ridiculous position he was placing me. He +should have left half of it to me--that would have made matters +right." + +He seated himself, crossed his legs and began to twist the ends of +his mustache, as was his custom when annoyed, uneasy, or pondering +over a weighty question. + +Madeleine took up a piece of embroidery upon which she worked +occasionally, and said: "I have nothing to say. You must decide." + +It was some time before he replied; then he said hesitatingly: "The +world would never understand how it was that Vaudrec constituted you +his sole heiress and that I allowed it. To accept that legacy would +be to avow guilty relations on your part and an infamous lack of +self-respect on mine. Do you know how the acceptance of it might be +interpreted? We should have to find some adroit means of palliating +it. We should have to give people to suppose, for instance, that he +divided his fortune between us, giving half to you and half to me." + +She said: "I do not see how that can be done, since there is a +formal will." + +He replied: "Oh, that is very simple. We have no children; you can +therefore deed me part of the inheritance. In that way we can +silence malignant tongues." + +She answered somewhat impatiently: "I do not see how we can silence +malignant tongues since the will is there, signed by Vaudrec." + +He said angrily: "Do you need to exhibit it, or affix it to the +door? You are absurd! We will say that the fortune was left us +jointly by Count de Vaudrec. That is all. You cannot, moreover, +accept the legacy without my authority; I will only consent on the +condition of a partition which will prevent me from becoming a +laughing-stock for the world." + +She glanced sharply at him: "As you will. I am ready." + +He seemed to hesitate again, rose, paced the floor, and avoiding his +wife's piercing gaze, he said: "No--decidedly no--perhaps it would +be better to renounce it altogether--it would be more correct--more +honorable. From the nature of the bequest even charitably-disposed +people would suspect illicit relations." + +He paused before Madeleine. "If you like, my darling, I will return +to M. Lamaneur's alone, to consult him and to explain the matter to +him. I will tell him of my scruples and I will add that we have +agreed to divide it in order to avoid any scandal. From the moment +that I accept a portion of the inheritance it will be evident that +there is nothing wrong. I can say: 'My wife accepts it because I, +her husband, accept'--I, who am the best judge of what she can do +without compromising herself." + +Madeleine simply murmured: "As you wish." + +He continued: "Yes, it will be as clear as day if that is done. We +inherit a fortune from a friend who wished to make no distinction +between us, thereby showing that his liking for you was purely +Platonic. You may be sure that if he had given it a thought, that is +what he would have done. He did not reflect--he did not foresee the +consequences. As you said just now, he offered you flowers every +week, he left you his wealth." + +She interrupted him with a shade of annoyance: + +"I understand. No more explanations are necessary. Go to the notary +at once." + +He stammered in confusion: "You are right; I will go." He took his +hat, and, as he was leaving the room, he asked: "Shall I try to +compromise with the nephew for fifty thousand francs?" + +She replied haughtily: "No. Give him the hundred thousand francs he +demands, and take them from my share if you wish." + +Abashed, he murmured: "No, we will share it. After deducting fifty +thousand francs each we will still have a million net." Then he +added: "Until later, my little Made." + +He proceeded to the notary's to explain the arrangement decided +upon, which he claimed originated with his wife. The following day +they signed a deed for five hundred thousand francs, which Madeleine +du Roy gave up to her husband. + +On leaving the office, as it was pleasant, Georges proposed that +they take a stroll along the boulevards. He was very tender, very +careful of her, and laughed joyously while she remained pensive and +grave. + +It was a cold, autumn day. The pedestrians seemed in haste and +walked along rapidly. + +Du Roy led his wife to the shop into the windows of which he had so +often gazed at the coveted chronometer. + +"Shall I buy you some trinket?" he asked. + +She replied indifferently: "As you like." + +They entered the shop: "What would you prefer, a necklace, a +bracelet, or earrings?" + +The sight of the brilliant gems made her eyes sparkle in spite of +herself, as she glanced at the cases filled with costly baubles. + +Suddenly she exclaimed: "There is a lovely bracelet." + +It was a chain, very unique in shape, every link of which was set +with a different stone. + +Georges asked: "How much is that bracelet?" + +The jeweler replied: "Three thousand francs, sir." + +"If you will let me have it for two thousand five hundred, I will +take it." + +The man hesitated, then replied: "No, sir, it is impossible." + +Du Roy said: "See here--throw in this chronometer at fifteen hundred +francs; that makes four thousand, and I will pay cash. If you do not +agree, I will go somewhere else." + +The jeweler finally yielded. "Very well, sir." + +The journalist, after leaving his address, said: "You can have my +initials G. R. C. interlaced below a baron's crown, engraved on the +chronometer." + +Madeleine, in surprise, smiled, and when they left the shop, she +took his arm quite affectionately. She thought him very shrewd and +clever. He was right; now that he had a fortune he must have a +title. + +They passed the Vaudeville on their way arid, entering, secured a +box. Then they repaired to Mme, de Marelle's at Georges' suggestion, +to invite her to spend the evening with them. Georges rather dreaded +the first meeting with Clotilde, but she did not seem to bear him +any malice, or even to remember their disagreement. The dinner, +which they took at a restaurant, was excellent, and the evening +altogether enjoyable. + +Georges and Madeleine returned home late. The gas was extinguished, +and in order to light the way the journalist from time to time +struck a match. On reaching the landing on the first floor they saw +their reflections in the mirror. Du Roy raised his hand with the +lighted match in it, in order to distinguish their images more +clearly, and said, with a triumphant smile: + +"The millionaires are passing by." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +SUZANNE + + +Morocco had been conquered; France, the mistress of Tangiers, had +guaranteed the debt of the annexed country. It was rumored that two +ministers, Laroche-Mathieu being one of them, had made twenty +millions. + +As for Walter, in a few days he had become one of the masters of the +world--a financier more omnipotent than a king. He was no longer the +Jew, Walter, the director of a bank, the proprietor of a yellow +newspaper; he was M. Walter the wealthy Israelite, and he wished to +prove it. + +Knowing the straitened circumstances of the Prince de Carlsbourg who +owned one of the fairest mansions on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, +he proposed to buy it. He offered three million francs for it. The +prince, tempted by the sum, accepted his offer; the next day, Walter +took possession of his new dwelling. Then another idea occurred to +him--an idea of conquering all Paris--an idea a la Bonaparte. + +At that time everyone was raving over a painting by the Hungarian, +Karl Marcovitch, exhibited by Jacques Lenoble and representing +"Christ Walking on the Water." Art critics enthusiastically declared +it to be the most magnificent painting of the age. Walter bought it, +thereby causing entire Paris to talk of him, to envy him, to censure +or approve his action. He issued an announcement in the papers that +everyone was invited to come on a certain evening to see it. + +Du Roy was jealous of M. Walter's success. He had thought himself +wealthy with the five hundred thousand francs extorted from his +wife, and now he felt poor as he compared his paltry fortune with +the shower of millions around him. His envious rage increased daily. +He cherished ill will toward everyone--toward the Walters, even +toward his wife, and above all toward the man who had deceived him, +made use of him, and who dined twice a week at his house. Georges +acted as his secretary, agent, mouthpiece, and when he wrote at his +dictation, he felt a mad desire to strangle him. Laroche reigned +supreme in the Du Roy household, having taken the place of Count de +Vaudrec; he spoke to the servants as if he were their master. +Georges submitted to it all, like a dog which wishes to bite and +dares not. But he was often harsh and brutal to Madeleine, who +merely shrugged her shoulders and treated him as one would a fretful +child. She was surprised, too, at his constant ill humor, and said: +"I do not understand you. You are always complaining. Your position +is excellent." + +His only reply was to turn his back upon her. He declared that he +would not attend M. Walter's fete--that he would not cross the +miserable Jew's threshold. For two months Mme. Walter had written to +him daily, beseeching him to come to see her, to appoint a meeting +where he would, in order that she might give him the seventy +thousand francs she had made for him. He did not reply and threw her +letters into the fire. Not that he would have refused to accept his +share of the profits, but he enjoyed treating her scornfully, +trampling her under foot; she was too wealthy; he would be +inflexible. + +The day of the exhibition of the picture, as Madeleine chided him +for not going, he replied: "Leave me in peace. I shall remain at +home." + +After they had dined, he said suddenly, "I suppose I shall have to +go through with it. Get ready quickly." + +"I shall be ready in fifteen minutes," she said. + +As they entered the courtyard of the Hotel de Carlsbourg it was one +blaze of light. A magnificent carpet was spread upon the steps +leading to the entrance, and upon each one stood a man in livery, as +rigid as marble. + +Du Roy's heart was torn with jealousy. He and his wife ascended the +steps and gave their wraps to the footmen who approached them. + +At the entrance to the drawing-room, two children, one in pink, the +other in blue, handed bouquets to the ladies. + +The rooms were already well filled. The majority of the ladies were +in street costumes, a proof that they came thither as they would go +to any exhibition. The few who intended to remain to the ball which +was to follow wore evening dress. + +Mme. Walter, surrounded by friends, stood in the second salon and +received the visitors. Many did not know her, and walked through the +rooms as if in a museum--without paying any heed to the host and +hostess. + +When Virginie perceived Du Roy, she grew livid and made a movement +toward him; then she paused and waited for him to advance. He bowed +ceremoniously, while Madeleine greeted her effusively. Georges left +his wife near Mme. Walter and mingled with the guests. Five drawing- +rooms opened one into the other; they were carpeted with rich, +oriental rugs, and upon their walls hung paintings by the old +masters. As he made his way through the throng, some one seized his +arm, and a fresh, youthful voice whispered in his ear: "Ah, here you +are at last, naughty Bel-Ami! Why do we never see you any more?" + +It was Suzanne Walter, with her azure eyes and wealth of golden +hair. He was delighted to see her, and apologized as they shook +hands. + +"I have been so busy for two months that I have been nowhere." + +She replied gravely: "That is too bad. You have grieved us deeply, +for mamma and I adore you. As for myself, I cannot do without you. +If you are not here, I am bored to death. You see I tell you so +frankly, that you will not remain away like that any more. Give me +your arm; I will show you 'Christ Walking on the Water' myself; it +is at the very end, behind the conservatory. Papa put it back there +so that everyone would be obliged to go through the rooms. It is +astonishing how proud papa is of this house." + +As they walked through the rooms, all turned to look at that +handsome man and that bewitching girl. A well-known painter said: +"There is a fine couple." Georges thought: "If my position had been +made, I would have married her. Why did I never think of it? How +could I have taken the other one? What folly! One always acts too +hastily--one never reflects sufficiently." And longing, bitter +longing possessed him, corrupting all his pleasure, rendering life +odious. + +Suzanne said: "You must come often, Bel-Ami; we can do anything we +like now papa is rich." + +He replied: "Oh, you will soon marry--some prince, perhaps, and we +shall never meet any more." + +She cried frankly: "Oh, oh, I shall not! I shall choose some one I +love very dearly. I am rich enough for two." + +He smiled ironically and said: "I give you six months. By that time +you will be Madame la Marquise, Madame la Duchesse, or Madame la +Princesse, and you will look down upon me, Mademoiselle." + +She pretended to be angry, patted his arm with her fan, and vowed +that she would marry according to the dictates of her heart. + +He replied: "We shall see; you are too wealthy." + +"You, too, have inherited some money." + +"Barely twenty thousand livres a year. It is a mere pittance +nowadays." + +"But your wife has the same." + +"Yes, we have a million together; forty thousand a year. We cannot +even keep a carriage on that." + +They had, in the meantime, reached the last drawing-room, and before +them lay the conservatory with its rare shrubs and plants. To their +left, under a dome of palms, was a marble basin, on the edges of +which four large swans of delftware emitted the water from their +beaks. + +The journalist stopped and said to himself: "This is luxury; this is +the kind of house in which to live. Why can I not have one?" + +His companion did not speak. He looked at her and thought once more: +"If I only had taken her!" + +Suddenly Suzanne seemed to awaken from her reverie. "Come," said +she, dragging Georges through a group which barred their way, and +turning him to the right. Before him, surrounded by verdure on all +sides, was the picture. One had to look closely at it in order to +understand it. It was a grand work--the work of a master--one of +those triumphs of art which furnishes one for years with food for +thought. + +Du Roy gazed at it for some time, and then turned away, to make room +for others. Suzanne's tiny hand still rested upon his arm. She +asked: + +"Would you like a glass of champagne? We will go to the buffet; we +shall find papa there." + +Slowly they traversed the crowded rooms. Suddenly Georges heard a +voice say: "That is Laroche and Mme. du Roy." + +He turned and saw his wife passing upon the minister's arm. They +were talking in low tones and smiling into each other's eyes. He +fancied he saw some people whisper, as they gazed at them, and he +felt a desire to fall upon those two beings and smite them to the +earth. His wife was making a laughing-stock of him. Who was she? A +shrewd little parvenue, that was all. He could never make his way +with a wife who compromised him. She would be a stumbling-block in +his path. Ah, if he had foreseen, if he had known. He would have +played for higher stakes. What a brilliant match he might have made +with little Suzanne! How could he have been so blind? + +They reached the dining-room with its marble columns and walls hung +with old Gobelins tapestry. Walter spied his editor, and hastened to +shake hands. He was beside himself with joy. "Have you seen +everything? Say, Suzanne, have you shown him everything? What a lot +of people, eh? Have you seen Prince de Guerche? he just drank a +glass of punch." Then he pounced upon Senator Rissolin and his wife. + +A gentleman greeted Suzanne--a tall, slender man with fair whiskers +and a worldly air. Georges heard her call him Marquis de Cazolles, +and he was suddenly inspired with jealousy. How long had she known +him? Since she had become wealthy no doubt. He saw in him a possible +suitor. Some one seized his arm. It was Norbert de Varenne. The old +poet said: "This is what they call amusing themselves. After a while +they will dance, then they will retire, and the young girls will be +satisfied. Take some champagne; it is excellent." + +Georges scarcely heard his words. He was looking for Suzanne, who +had gone off with the Marquis de Cazolles; he left Norbert de +Varenne abruptly and went in pursuit of the young girl. The thirsty +crowd stopped him; when he had made his way through it, he found +himself face to face with M. and Mme. de Marelle. He had often met +the wife, but he had not met the husband for some time; the latter +grasped both of his hands and thanked him for the message he had +sent him by Clotilde relative to the stocks. + +Du Roy replied: "In exchange for that service I shall take your +wife, or rather offer her my arm. Husband and wife should always be +separated." + +M. de Marelle bowed. "Very well. If I lose you we can meet here +again in an hour." + +The two young people disappeared in the crowd, followed by the +husband. Mme. de Marelle said: "There are two girls who will have +twenty or thirty millions each, and Suzanne is pretty in the +bargain." + +He made no reply; his own thought coming from the lips of another +irritated him. He took Clotilde to see the painting. As they crossed +the conservatory he saw his wife seated near Laroche-Mathieu, both +of them almost hidden behind a group of plants. They seemed to say: +"We are having a meeting in public, for we do not care for the +world's opinion." + +Mme. de Marelle admired Karl Marcovitch's painting, and they turned +to repair to the other rooms. They were separated from M. de +Marelle. He asked: "Is Laurine still vexed with me?" + +"Yes. She refuses to see you and goes away when you are mentioned." + +He did not reply. The child's sudden enmity grieved and annoyed him. + +Suzanne met them at a door and cried: "Oh, here you are! Now, Bel- +Ami, you are going to be left alone, for I shall take Clotilde to +see my room." And the two women glided through the throng. At that +moment a voice at his side murmured: "Georges!" + +It was Mme. Walter. She continued in a low voice: "How cruel you +are! How needlessly you inflict suffering upon me. I bade Suzanne +take that woman away that I might have a word with you. Listen: I +must speak to you this evening--or--or--you do not know what I shall +do. Go into the conservatory. You will find a door to the left +through which you can reach the garden. Follow the walk directly in +front of you. At the end of it you will see an arbor. Expect me in +ten minutes. If you do not meet me, I swear I will cause a scandal +here at once!" + +He replied haughtily: "Very well, I shall be at the place you named +in ten minutes." + +But Jacques Rival detained him. When he reached the alley, he saw +Mme. Walter in front of him; she cried: "Ah, here you are! Do you +wish to kill me?" + +He replied calmly: "I beseech you, none of that, or I shall leave +you at once." + +Throwing her arms around his neck, she exclaimed: "What have I done +to you that you should treat me so?" + +He tried to push her away: "You twisted your hair around my coat +buttons the last time we met, and it caused trouble between my wife +and myself." + +She shook her head: "Ah, your wife would not care. It was one of +your mistresses who made a scene." + +"I have none." + +"Indeed! Why do you never come to see me? Why do you refuse to dine +with me even once a week? I have no other thoughts than of you. I +suffer terribly. You cannot understand that your image, always +present, closes my throat, stifles me, and leaves me scarcely +strength enough to move my limbs in order to walk. So I remain all +day in my chair thinking of you." + +He looked at her in astonishment. These were the words of a +desperate woman, capable of anything. He, however, cherished a vague +project and replied: "My dear, love is not eternal. One loves and +one ceases to love. When it lasts it becomes a drawback. I want none +of it! However, if you will be reasonable, and will receive and +treat me as a friend, I will come to see you as formerly. Can you do +that?" + +She murmured: "I can do anything in order to see you." + +"Then it is agreed that we are to be friends, nothing more." + +She gasped: "It is agreed"; offering him her lips she cried in her +despair: "One more kiss--one last kiss!" + +He gently drew back. "No, we must adhere to our rules." + +She turned her head and wiped away two tears, then drawing from her +bosom a package of notes tied with pink ribbon, she held it toward +Du Roy: "Here is your share of the profits in that Moroccan affair. +I was so glad to make it for you. Here, take it." + +He refused: "No, I cannot accept that money." + +She became excited: "Oh, you will not refuse it now! It is yours, +yours alone. If you do not take it, I will throw it in the sewer. +You will not refuse it, Georges!" + +He took the package and slipped it into his pocket "We must return +to the house; you will take cold." + +"So much the better; if I could but die!" + +She seized his hand, kissed it passionately, and fled toward the +house. He returned more leisurely, and entered the conservatory with +head erect and smiling lips. His wife and Laroche were no longer +there. The crowd had grown thinner. Suzanne, leaning on her sister's +arm, advanced toward him. In a few moments, Rose, whom they teased +about a certain Count, turned upon her heel and left them. + +Du Roy, finding himself alone with Suzanne, said in a caressing +voice: "Listen, my dear little one; do you really consider me a +friend?" + +"Why, yes, Bel-Ami." + +"You have faith in me?" + +"Perfect faith." + +"Do you remember what I said to you a while since?" + +"About what?" + +"About your, marriage, or rather the man you would marry." + +"Yes." + +"Well, will you promise me one thing?" + +"Yes; what is it?" + +"To consult me when you receive a proposal and to accept no one +without asking my advice." + +"Yes, I will gladly." + +"And it is to be a secret between us--not a word to your father or +mother." + +"Not a word." + +Rival approached them saying: "Mademoiselle, your father wants you +in the ballroom." + +She said: "Come, Bel-Ami," but he refused, for he had decided to +leave at once, wishing to be alone with his thoughts. He went in +search of his wife, and found her drinking chocolate at the buffet +with two strange men. She introduced her husband without naming +them. + +In a short while, he asked: "Shall we go?" + +"Whenever you like." + +She took his arm and they passed through the almost deserted rooms. + +Madeleine asked: "Where is Mme. Walter; I should like to bid her +good-bye." + +"It is unnecessary. She would try to keep us in the ballroom, and I +have had enough." + +"You are right." + +On the way home they did not speak. But when they had entered their +room, Madeleine, without even taking off her veil, said to him with +a smile: "I have a surprise for you." + +He growled ill-naturedly: "What is it?" + +"Guess." + +"I cannot make the effort." + +"The day after to-morrow is the first of January." + +"Yes." + +"It is the season for New Year's gifts." + +"Yes." + +"Here is yours, which Laroche handed me just now." She gave him a +small black box which resembled a jewel-casket. + +He opened it indifferently and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. +He turned a trifle pale, then smiled, and said: "I should have +preferred ten millions. That did not cost him much." + +She had expected a transport of delight and was irritated by his +indifference. + +"You are incomprehensible. Nothing seems to satisfy you." + +He replied calmly: "That man is only paying his debts; he owes me a +great deal more." + +She was astonished at his tone, and said: "It is very nice, however, +at your age." + +He replied: "I should have much more." + +He took the casket, placed it on the mantelpiece, and looked for +some minutes at the brilliant star within it, then he closed it with +a shrug of his shoulders and began to prepare to retire. + +"L'Officiel" of January 1 announced that M. Prosper Georges du Roy +had been decorated with the Legion of Honor for exceptional +services. The name was written in two words, and that afforded +Georges more pleasure than the decoration itself. + +An hour after having read that notice, he received a note from Mme. +Walter, inviting him to come and bring his wife to dine with them +that evening, to celebrate his distinction. + +At first he hesitated, then throwing the letter in the fire, he said +to Madeleine: "We shall dine at the Walters' this evening." + +In her surprise she exclaimed: "Why, I thought you would never set +your foot in their house again." + +His sole reply was: "I have changed my mind." + +When they arrived at Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, they found Mme. +Walter alone in the dainty boudoir in which she received her +intimate friends. She was dressed in black and her hair was +powdered. At a distance she appeared like an old lady, in proximity, +like a youthful one. + +"Are you in mourning?" asked, Madeleine. + +She replied sadly: "Yes and no. I have lost none of my relatives, +but I have arrived at an age when one should wear somber colors. I +wear it to-day to inaugurate it; hitherto I have worn it in my +heart." + +The dinner was somewhat tedious. Suzanne alone talked incessantly. +Rose seemed preoccupied. The journalist was overwhelmed with +congratulations, after the meal, when all repaired to the drawing- +rooms. Mme. Walter detained him as they were about to enter the +salon, saying: "I will never speak of anything to you again, only +come to see me, Georges. It is impossible for me to live without +you. I see you, I feel you, in my heart all day and all night. It is +as if I had drunk a poison which preyed upon me. I cannot bear it. I +would rather be as an old woman to you. I powdered my hair for that +reason to-night; but come here--come from time to time as a friend." + +He replied calmly: "Very well. It is unnecessary to speak of it +again. You see I came to-day on receipt of your letter." + +Walter, who had preceded them, with his two daughters and Madeleine, +awaited Du Roy near the picture of "Christ Walking on the Water." + +"Only think," said he, "I found my wife yesterday kneeling before +that painting as if in a chapel. She was praying!" + +Mme. Walter replied in a firm voice, in a voice in which vibrated a +secret exaltation: "That Christ will save my soul. He gives me fresh +courage and strength every time that I look at Him." And pausing +before the picture, she murmured: "How beautiful He is! How +frightened those men are, and how they love Him! Look at His head, +His eyes, how simple and supernatural He is at the same time!" + +Suzanne cried: "Why, He looks like you, Bel-Ami! I am sure He looks +like you. The resemblance is striking." + +She made him stand beside the painting and everyone recognized the +likeness. Du Roy was embarrassed. Walter thought it very singular; +Madeleine, with a smile, remarked that Jesus looked more manly. Mme. +Walter stood by motionless, staring fixedly at her lover's face, her +cheeks as white as her hair. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +DIVORCE + + +During the remainder of the winter, the Du Roys often visited the +Walters. Georges, too, frequently dined there alone, Madeleine +pleading fatigue and preferring to remain at home. He had chosen +Friday as his day, and Mme. Walter never invited anyone else on that +evening; it belonged to Bel-Ami. Often in a dark corner or behind a +tree in the conservatory, Mme. Walter embraced the young man and +whispered in his ear: "I love you, I love you! I love you +desperately!" + +But he always repulsed her coldly, saying: "If you persist in that, +I will not come again." + +Toward the end of March people talked of the marriage of the two +sisters: Rose was to marry, Dame Rumor said, Count de Latour-Ivelin +and Suzanne, the Marquis de Cazolles. The subject of Suzanne's +possible marriage had not been broached again between her and +Georges until one morning, the latter having been brought home by M. +Walter to lunch, he whispered to Suzanne: "Come, let us give the +fish some bread." + +They proceeded to the conservatory in which was the marble basin +containing the fish. As Georges and Suzanne leaned over its edge, +they saw their reflections in the water and smiled at them. +Suddenly, he said in a low voice: "It is not right of you to keep +secrets from me, Suzanne." + +She asked: + +"What secrets, Bel-Ami?" + +"Do you remember what you promised me here the night of the fete?" + +"No." + +"To consult me every time you received a proposal." + +"Well?" + +"Well, you have received one!" + +"From whom?" + +"You know very well." + +"No, I swear I do not." + +"Yes, you do. It is from that fop of a Marquis de Cazolles." + +"He is not a fop." + +"That may be, but he is stupid. He is no match for you who are so +pretty, so fresh, so bright!" + +She asked with a smile: "What have you against him?" + +"I? Nothing!" + +"Yes, you have. He is not all that you say he is." + +"He is a fool, and an intriguer." + +She glanced at him: "What ails you?" + +He spoke as if tearing a secret from the depths of his heart: "I am- +-I am jealous of him." + +She was astonished. + +"You?" + +"Yes, I." + +"Why?" + +"Because I love you and you know it" + +Then she said severely: "You are mad, Bel-Ami!" + +He replied: "I know that I am! Should I confess it--I, a married +man, to you, a young girl? I am worse than mad--I am culpable, +wretched--I have no possible hope, and that thought almost destroys +my reason. When I hear that you are going to be married, I feel +murder in my heart. You must forgive me, Suzanne." + +He paused. The young girl murmured half sadly, half gaily: "It is a +pity that you are married; but what can you do? It cannot be +helped." + +He turned toward her abruptly and said: "If I were free would you +marry me?" + +She replied: "Yes, Bel-Ami, I would marry you because I love you +better than any of the others." + +He rose and stammering: "Thanks--thanks--do not, I implore you, say +yes to anyone. Wait a while. Promise me." + +Somewhat confused, and without comprehending what he asked, she +whispered: "I promise." + +Du Roy threw a large piece of bread into the water and fled, without +saying adieu, as if he were beside himself. Suzanne, in surprise, +returned to the salon. + +When Du Roy arrived home, he asked Madeleine, who was writing +letters: "Shall you dine at the Walters' Friday? I am going." + +She hesitated: "No, I am not well. I prefer to remain here." + +"As you like. No one will force you." Then he took up his hat and +went out. + +For some time he had watched and followed her, knowing all her +actions. The time he had awaited had come at length. + +On Friday he dressed early, in order, as he said, to make several +calls before going to M. Walter's. At about six o'clock, after +having kissed his wife, he went in search of a cab. He said to the +cabman: "You can stop at No. 17 Rue Fontaine, and remain there until +I order you to go on. Then you can take me to the restaurant Du Coq- +Faisan, Rue Lafayette." + +The cab rolled slowly on; Du Roy lowered the shades. When in front +of his house, he kept watch of it. After waiting ten minutes, he saw +Madeleine come out and go toward the boulevards. When she was out of +earshot, he put his head out of the window and cried: "Go on!" + +The cab proceeded on its way and stopped at the Coq-Faisan. Georges +entered the dining-room and ate slowly, looking at his watch from +time to time. At seven-thirty he left and drove to Rue La +Rochefoucauld. He mounted to the third story of a house in that +street, and asked the maid who opened the door: "Is M. Guibert de +Lorme at home?" + +"Yes, sir." + +He was shown into the drawing-room, and after waiting some time, a +tall man with a military bearing and gray hair entered. He was the +police commissioner. + +Du Roy bowed, then said: "As I suspected, my wife is with her lover +in furnished apartments they have rented on Rue des Martyrs." + +The magistrate bowed: "I am at your service, sir." + +"Very well, I have a cab below." And with three other officers they +proceeded to the house in which Du Roy expected to surprise his +wife. One officer remained at the door to watch the exit; on the +second floor they halted; Du Roy rang the bell and they waited. In +two or three minutes Georges rang again several times in succession. +They heard a light step approach, and a woman's voice, evidently +disguised, asked: + +"Who is there?" + +The police officer replied: "Open in the name of the law." + +The voice repeated: "Who are you?" + +"I am the police commissioner. Open, or I will force the door." + +The voice continued: "What do you want?" + +Du Roy interrupted: "It is I; it is useless to try to escape us." + +The footsteps receded and then returned. Georges said: "If you do +not open, we will force the door." + +Receiving no reply he shook the door so violently that the old lock +gave way, and the young man almost fell over Madeleine, who was +standing in the antechamber in her petticoat, her hair loosened, her +feet bare, and a candle in her hand. + +He exclaimed: "It is she. We have caught them," and he rushed into +the room. The commissioner turned to Madeleine, who had followed +them through the rooms, in one of which were the remnants of a +supper, and looking into her eyes said: + +"You are Mme. Claire Madeleine du Roy, lawful wife of M. Prosper +Georges du Roy, here present?" + +She replied: "Yes, sir." + +"What are you doing here?" + +She made no reply. The officer repeated his question; still she did +not reply. He waited several moments and then said: "If you do not +confess, Madame, I shall be forced to inquire into the matter." + +They could see a man's form concealed beneath the covers of the bed. +Du Roy advanced softly and uncovered the livid face of M. Laroche- +Mathieu. + +The officer again asked: "Who are you?" + +As the man did not reply, he continued: "I am the police +commissioner and I call upon you to tell me your name. If you do not +answer, I shall be forced to arrest you. In any case, rise. I will +interrogate you when you are dressed." + +In the meantime Madeleine had regained her composure, and seeing +that all was lost, she was determined to put a brave face upon the +matter. Her eyes sparkled with the audacity of bravado, and taking a +piece of paper she lighted the ten candles in the candelabra as if +for a reception. That done, she leaned against the mantelpiece, took +a cigarette out of a case, and began to smoke, seeming not to see +her husband. + +In the meantime the man in the bed had dressed himself and advanced. +The officer turned to him: "Now, sir, will you tell me who you are?" + +He made no reply. + +"I see I shall have to arrest you." + +Then the man cried: "Do not touch me. I am inviolable." + +Du Roy rushed toward him exclaiming: "I can have you arrested if I +want to!" Then he added: "This man's name is Laroche-Mathieu, +minister of foreign affairs." + +The officer retreated and stammered: "Sir, will you tell me who you +are?" + +"For once that miserable fellow has not lied. I am indeed Laroche- +Mathieu, minister," and pointing to Georges' breast, he added, "and +that scoundrel wears upon his coat the cross of honor which I gave +him." + +Du Roy turned pale. With a rapid gesture he tore the decoration from +his buttonhole and throwing it in the fire exclaimed: "That is what +a decoration is worth which is given by a scoundrel of your order." + +The commissioner stepped between them, as they stood face to face, +saying: "Gentlemen, you forget yourselves and your dignity." + +Madeleine smoked on calmly, a smile hovering about her lips. The +officer continued: "Sir, I have surprised you alone with Mme. du Roy +under suspicious circumstances; what have you to say?" + +"Nothing; do your duty." + +The commissioner turned to Madeleine: "Do you confess, Madame, that +this gentleman is your lover?" + +She replied boldly: "I do not deny it. That is sufficient." + +The magistrate made several notes; when he had finished writing, the +minister, who stood ready, coat upon arm, hat in hand, asked: "Do +you need me any longer, sir? Can I go?" + +Du Roy addressed him with an insolent smile: "Why should you go, we +have finished; we will leave you alone together." Then, taking the +officer's arm, he said: "Let us go, sir; we have nothing more to do +in this place." + +An hour later Georges du Roy entered the office of "La Vie +Francaise." M. Walter was there; he raised his head and asked: +"What, are you here? Why are you not dining at my house? Where have +you come from?" + +Georges replied with emphasis: "I have just found out something +about the minister of foreign affairs." + +"What?" + +"I found him alone with my wife in hired apartments. The +commissioner of police was my witness. The minister is ruined." + +"Are you not jesting?" + +"No, I am not. I shall even write an article on it." + +"What is your object?" + +"To overthrow that wretch, that public malefactor." + +Georges placed his hat upon a chair and added: "Woe to those whom I +find in my path. I never pardon." + +The manager stammered: "But your wife?" + +"I shall apply for a divorce at once." + +"A divorce?" + +"Yes, I am master of the situation. I shall be free. I have a stated +income. I shall offer myself as a candidate in October in my native +district, where I am known. I could not win any respect were I to be +hampered with a wife whose honor was sullied. She took me for a +simpleton, but since I have known her game, I have watched her, and +now I shall get on, for I shall be free." + +Georges rose. + +"I will write the item; it must be handled prudently." + +The old man hesitated, then said: "Do so: it serves those right who +are caught in such scrapes." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE FINAL PLOT + + +Three months had elapsed. Georges du Roy's divorce had been +obtained. His wife had resumed the name of Forestier. + +As the Walters were going to Trouville on the fifteenth of July, +they decided to spend a day in the country before starting. + +The day chosen was Thursday, and they set out at nine o'clock in the +morning in a large six-seated carriage drawn by four horses. They +were going to lunch at Saint-Germain. Bel-Ami had requested that he +might be the only young man in the party, for he could not bear the +presence of the Marquis de Cazolles. At the last moment, however, it +was decided that Count de Latour-Ivelin should go, for he and Rose +had been betrothed a month. The day was delightful. Georges, who was +very pale, gazed at Suzanne as they sat in the carriage and their +eyes met. + +Mme. Walter was contented and happy. The luncheon was a long and +merry one. Before leaving for Paris, Du Roy proposed a walk on the +terrace. They stopped on the way to admire the view; as they passed +on, Georges and Suzanne lingered behind. The former whispered +softly: "Suzanne, I love you madly." + +She whispered in return: "I love you too, Bel-Ami." + +He continued: "If I cannot have you for my wife, I shall leave the +country." + +She replied: "Ask papa. Perhaps he will consent." + +He answered impatiently: "No, I repeat that it is useless; the door +of the house would be closed against me. I would lose my position on +the journal, and we would not even meet. Those are the consequences +a formal proposal would produce. They have promised you to the +Marquis de Cazolles; they hope you will finally say 'yes' and they +are waiting." + +"What can we do?" + +"Have you the courage to brave your father and mother for my sake?" + +"Yes." + +"Truly?" + +"Yes." + +"Well! There is only one way. It must come from you and not from me. +You are an indulged child; they let you say anything and are not +surprised at any audacity on your part. Listen, then! This evening +on returning home, go to your mother first, and tell her that you +want to marry me. She will be very much agitated and very angry." + +Suzanne interrupted him: "Oh, mamma would be glad." + +He replied quickly: "No, no, you do not know her. She will be more +vexed than your father. But you must insist, you must not yield; you +must repeat that you will marry me and me alone. Will you do so?" + +"I will." + +"And on leaving your mother, repeat the same thing to your father +very decidedly." + +"Well, and then--" + +"And then matters will reach a climax! If you are determined to be +my wife, my dear, dear, little Suzanne, I will elope with you." + +She clapped her hands, as all the charming adventures in the +romances she had read occurred to her, and cried: + +"Oh, what bliss! When will you elope with me?" + +He whispered very low: "To-night!" + +"Where shall we go?" + +"That is my secret. Think well of what you are doing. Remember that +after that flight you must become my wife. It is the only means, but +it is dangerous--very dangerous--for you." + +"I have decided. Where shall I meet you?" + +"Meet me about midnight in the Place de la Concorde." + +"I will be there." + +He clasped her hand. "Oh, how I love you! How brave and good you +are! Then you do not want to marry Marquis de Cazolles?" + +"Oh, no!" + +Mme. Walter, turning her head, called out: "Come, little one; what +are you and Bel-Ami doing?" + +They rejoined the others and returned by way of Chatou. When the +carriage arrived at the door of the mansion, Mme. Walter pressed +Georges to dine with them, but he refused, and returned home to look +over his papers and destroy any compromising letters. Then he +repaired in a cab with feverish haste to the place of meeting. He +waited there some time, and thinking his ladylove had played him +false, he was about to drive off, when a gentle voice whispered at +the door of his cab: "Are you there, Bel-Ami?" + +"Is it you, Suzanne?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah, get in." She entered the cab and he bade the cabman drive on. + +He asked: "Well, how did it all pass off?" + +She murmured faintly: + +"Oh, it was terrible, with mamma especially." + +"Your mamma? What did she say? Tell me!" + +"Oh, it was frightful! I entered her room and made the little speech +I had prepared. She turned pale and cried: 'Never!' I wept, I +protested that I would marry only you; she was like a mad woman; she +vowed I should be sent to a convent. I never saw her like that, +never. Papa, hearing her agitated words, entered. He was not as +angry as she was, but he said you were not a suitable match for me. +As they had vexed me, I talked louder than they, and papa with a +dramatic air bade me leave the room. That decided me to fly with +you. And here I am; where shall we go?" + +He replied, encircling her waist with his arm: "It is too late to +take the train; this cab will take us to Sevres where we can spend +the night, and to-morrow we will leave for La Roche-Guyon. It is a +pretty village on the banks of the Seine between Mantes and +Bonnieres." + +The cab rolled on. Georges took the young girl's hand and kissed it +respectfully. He did not know what to say to her, being unaccustomed +to Platonic affection. Suddenly he perceived that she was weeping. +He asked in affright: + +"What ails you, my dear little one?" + +She replied tearfully: "I was thinking that poor mamma could not +sleep if she had found out that I was gone!" + + * * * * * * * + +Her mother indeed was not asleep. + +When Suzanne left the room, Mine. Walter turned to her husband and +asked in despair: "What does that mean?" + +"It means that that intriguer has influenced her. It is he who has +made her refuse Cazolles. You have flattered and cajoled him, too. +It was Bel-Ami here, Bel-Ami there, from morning until night. Now +you are paid for it!" + +"I?" + +"Yes, you. You are as much infatuated with him as Madeleine, +Suzanne, and the rest of them. Do you think that I did not see that +you could not exist for two days without him?" + +She rose tragically: "I will not allow you to speak to me thus. You +forget that I was not brought up like you, in a shop." + +With an oath, he left the room, banging the door behind him. + +When he was gone, she thought over all that had taken place. Suzanne +was in love with Bel-Ami, and Bel-Ami wanted to marry Suzanne! No, +it was not true! She was mistaken; he would not be capable of such +an action; he knew nothing of Suzanne's escapade. They would take +Suzanne away for six months and that would end it. + +She rose, saying: "I cannot rest in this uncertainty. I shall lose +my reason. I will arouse Suzanne and question her." + +She proceeded to her daughter's room. She entered; it was empty; the +bed had not been slept in. A horrible suspicion possessed her and +she flew to her husband. He was in bed, reading. + +She gasped: "Have you seen Suzanne?" + +"No--why?" + +"She is--gone! she is not in her room." + +With one bound he was out of bed; he rushed to his daughter's room; +not finding her there, he sank into a chair. His wife had followed +him. + +"Well?" she asked. + +He had not the strength to reply: he was no longer angry; he +groaned: "He has her--we are lost." + +"Lost, how?" + +"Why, he must marry her now!" + +She cried wildly: "Marry her, never! Are you mad?" + +He replied sadly: "It will do no good to yell! He has disgraced her. +The best thing to be done is to give her to him, and at once, too; +then no one will know of this escapade." + +She repeated in great agitation: "Never; he shall never have +Suzanne." + +Overcome, Walter murmured: "But he has her. And he will keep her as +long as we do not yield; therefore, to avoid a scandal we must do so +at once." + +But his wife replied: "No, no, I will never consent." + +Impatiently he returned: "It is a matter of necessity. Ah, the +scoundrel--how he has deceived us! But he is shrewd at any rate. She +might have done better as far as position, but not intelligence and +future, is concerned. He is a promising young man. He will be a +deputy or a minister some day." + +Mme. Walter, however, repeated wildly: "I will never let him marry +Suzanne! Do you hear--never!" + +In his turn he became incensed, and like a practical man defended +Bel-Ami. "Be silent! I tell you he must marry her! And who knows? +Perhaps we shall not regret it! With men of his stamp one never +knows what may come about. You saw how he downed Laroche-Mathieu in +three articles, and that with a dignity which was very difficult to +maintain in his position as husband. So, we shall see." + +Mme. Walter felt a desire to cry aloud and tear her hair. But she +only repeated angrily: "He shall not have her!" + +Walter rose, took up his lamp, and said: "You are silly, like all +women! You only act on impulse. You do not know how to accommodate +yourself to circumstances. You are stupid! I tell you he shall marry +her; it is essential." And he left the room. + +Mme. Walter remained alone with her suffering, her despair. If only +a priest were at hand! She would cast herself at his feet and +confess all her errors and her agony--he would prevent the marriage! +Where could she find a priest? Where should she turn? Before her +eyes floated, like a vision, the calm face of "Christ Walking on the +Water," as she had seen it in the painting. He seemed to say to her: +"Come unto Me. Kneel at My feet. I will comfort and instruct you as +to what to do." + +She took the lamp and sought the conservatory; she opened the door +leading into the room which held the enormous canvas, and fell upon +her knees before it. At first she prayed fervently, but as she +raised her eyes and saw the resemblance to Bel-Ami, she murmured: +"Jesus--Jesus--" while her thoughts were with her daughter and her +lover. She uttered a wild cry, as she pictured them together--alone- +-and fell into a swoon. When day broke they found Mme. Walter still +lying unconscious before the painting. She was so ill, after that, +that her life was almost despaired of. + +M. Walter explained his daughter's absence to the servants by saying +to them that she had been sent to a convent for a short time. Then +he replied to a long letter from Du Roy, giving his consent to his +marriage with his daughter. Bel-Ami had posted that epistle when he +left Paris, having prepared it the night of his departure. In it he +said in respectful terms that he had loved the young girl a long +time; that there had never been any understanding between them, but +that as she came to him to say: "I will be your wife," he felt +authorized in keeping her, in hiding her, in fact, until he had +obtained a reply from her parents, whose wishes were to him of more +value than those of his betrothed. + +Georges and Suzanne spent a week at La Roche-Guyon. Never had the +young girl enjoyed herself so thoroughly. As she passed for his +sister, they lived in a chaste and free intimacy, a kind of living +companionship. He thought it wiser to treat her with respect, and +when he said to her: "We will return to Paris to-morrow; your father +has bestowed your hand upon me" she whispered naively: "Already? +This is just as pleasant as being your wife." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ATTAINMENT + + +It was dark in the apartments in the Rue de Constantinople, when +Georges du Roy and Clotilde de Marelle, having met at the door, +entered them. Without giving him time to raise the shades, the +latter said: + +"So you are going to marry Suzanne Walter?" + +He replied in the affirmative, adding gently: "Did you not know it?" + +She answered angrily: "So you are going to marry Suzanne Walter? For +three months you have deceived me. Everyone knew of it but me. My +husband told me. Since you left your wife you have been preparing +for that stroke, and you made use of me in the interim. What a +rascal you are!" + +He asked: "How do you make that out? I had a wife who deceived me; I +surprised her, obtained a divorce, and am now going to marry +another. What is more simple than that?" + +She murmured: "What a villain!" + +He said with dignity: "I beg of you to be more careful as to what +you say." + +She rebelled at such words from him: "What! Would you like me to +handle you with gloves? You have conducted yourself like a rascal +ever since I have known you, and now you do not want me to speak of +it. You deceive everyone; you gather pleasure and money everywhere, +and you want me to treat you as an honest man." + +He rose; his lips twitched: "Be silent or I will make you leave +these rooms." + +She cried: "Leave here--you will make me--you? You forget that it is +I who have paid for these apartments from the very first, and you +threaten to put me out of them. Be silent, good-for-nothing! Do you +think I do not know how you stole a portion of Vaudrec's bequest +from Madeleine? Do you think I do not know about Suzanne?" + +He seized her by her shoulders and shook her. "Do not speak of that; +I forbid you." + +"I know you have ruined her!" + +He would have taken anything else, but that lie exasperated him. He +repeated: "Be silent--take care"--and he shook her as he would have +shaken the bough of a tree. Still she continued; "You were her ruin, +I know it." He rushed upon her and struck her as if she had been a +man. Suddenly she ceased speaking, and groaned beneath his blows. +Finally he desisted, paced the room several times in order to regain +his self-possession, entered the bedroom, filled the basin with cold +water and bathed his head. Then he washed his hands and returned to +see what Clotilde was doing. She had not moved. She lay upon the +floor weeping softly. He asked harshly: + +"Will you soon have done crying?" + +She did not reply. He stood in the center of the room, somewhat +embarrassed, somewhat ashamed, as he saw the form lying before him. +Suddenly he seized his hat. "Good evening. You can leave the key +with the janitor when you are ready. I will not await your +pleasure." + +He left the room, closed the door, sought the porter, and said to +him: "Madame is resting. She will go out soon. You can tell the +proprietor that I have given notice for the first of October." + +His marriage was fixed for the twentieth; it was to take place at +the Madeleine. There had been a great deal of gossip about the +entire affair, and many different reports were circulated. Mme. +Walter had aged greatly; her hair was gray and she sought solace in +religion. + +In the early part of September "La Vie Francaise" announced that +Baron du Roy de Cantel had become its chief editor, M. Walter +reserving the title of manager. To that announcement were subjoined +the names of the staff of art and theatrical critics, political +reporters, and so forth. Journalists no longer sneered in speaking +of "La Vie Francaise;" its success had been rapid and complete. The +marriage of its chief editor was what was called a "Parisian event," +Georges du Roy and the Walters having occasioned much comment for +some time. + +The ceremony took place on a clear, autumn day. At ten o'clock the +curious began to assemble; at eleven o'clock, detachments of +officers came to disperse the crowd. Soon after, the first guests +arrived; they were followed by others, women in rich costumes, men, +grave and dignified. The church slowly began to fill. Norbert de +Varenne espied Jacques Rival, and joined him. + +"Well," said he, "sharpers always succeed." + +His companion, who was not envious, replied: "So much the better for +him. His fortune is made." + +Rival asked: "Do you know what has become of his wife?" + +The poet smiled. "Yes and no--she lives a very retired life, I have +been told, in the Montmartre quarter. But--there is a but--for some +time I have read political articles in 'La Plume,' which resemble +those of Forestier and Du Roy. They are supposed to be written by a +Jean Le Dol, a young, intelligent, handsome man--something like our +friend Georges--who has become acquainted with Mme. Forestier. From +that I have concluded that she likes beginners and that they like +her. She is, moreover, rich; Vaudrec and Laroche-Mathieu were not +attentive to her for nothing." + +Rival asked: "Tell me, is it true that Mme. Walter and Du Roy do not +speak?" + +"Yes. She did not wish to give him her daughter's hand. But he +threatened the old man with shocking revelations. Walter remembered +Laroche-Mathieu's fate and yielded at once; but his wife, obstinate +like all women, vowed that she would never address a word to her +son-in-law. It is comical to see them together! She looks like the +statue of vengeance, and he is very uncomfortable, although he tries +to appear at his ease." + +Suddenly the beadle struck the floor three times with his staff. All +the people turned to see what was coming, and the young bride +appeared in the doorway leaning upon her father's arm. She looked +like a beautiful doll, crowned with a wreath of orange blossoms. She +advanced with bowed head. The ladies smiled and murmured as she +passed them. The men whispered: + +"Exquisite, adorable!" + +M. Walter walked by her side with exaggerated dignity. Behind them +came four maids of honor dressed in pink and forming a charming +court for so dainty a queen. + +Mme. Walter followed on the arm of Count de Latour-Ivelin's aged +father. She did not walk; she dragged herself along, ready to faint +at every step. She had aged and grown thinner. + +Next came Georges du Roy with an old lady, a stranger. He held his +head proudly erect and wore upon his coat, like a drop of blood, the +red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. + +He was followed by the relatives: Rose, who had been married six +weeks, with a senator; Count de Latour-Ivelin with Viscountess de +Percemur. Following them was a motley procession of associates and +friends of Du Roy, country cousins of Mme. Walter's, and guests +invited by her husband. + +The tones of the organ filled the church; the large doors at the +entrance were closed, and Georges kneeled beside his bride in the +choir. The new bishop of Tangiers, cross in hand, miter on head, +entered from the sacristy, to unite them in the name of the +Almighty. He asked the usual questions, rings were exchanged, words +pronounced which bound them forever, and then he delivered an +address to the newly married couple. + +The sound of stifled sobs caused several to turn their heads. Mme. +Walter was weeping, her face buried in her hands. She had been +obliged to yield; but since the day on which she had told Du Roy: +"You are the vilest man I know; never speak to me again, for I will +not answer you," she had suffered intolerable anguish. She hated +Suzanne bitterly; her hatred was caused by unnatural jealousy. The +bishop was marrying a daughter to her mother's lover, before her and +two thousand persons, and she could say nothing; she could not stop +him. She could not cry: "He is mine, that man is my lover. That +union you are blessing is infamous." + +Several ladies, touched by her apparent grief, murmured: "How +affected that poor mother is!" + +The bishop said: "You are among the favored ones of the earth. You, +sir, who are raised above others by your talent--you who write, +instruct, counsel, guide the people, have a grand mission to +fulfill--a fine example to set." + +Du Roy listened to him proudly. A prelate of the Roman Church spoke +thus to him. A number of illustrious people had come thither on his +account. It seemed to him that an invisible power was impelling him +on. He would become one of the masters of the country--he, the son +of the poor peasants of Canteleu. He had given his parents five +thousand francs of Count de Vaudrec's fortune and he intended +sending them fifty thousand more; then they could buy a small estate +and live happily. + +The bishop had finished his harangue, a priest ascended the altar, +and the organ pealed forth. Suddenly the vibrating tones melted into +delicate, melodious ones, like the songs of birds; then again they +swelled into deep, full tones and human voices chanted over their +bowed heads. Vauri and Landeck of the Opera were singing. + +Bel-Ami, kneeling beside Suzanne, bowed his head. At that moment he +felt almost pious, for he was filled with gratitude for the +blessings showered upon him. Without knowing just whom he was +addressing, he offered up thanks for his success. When the ceremony +was over, he rose, and, giving his arm to his wife, they passed into +the sacristy. A stream of people entered. Georges fancied himself a +king whom the people were coming to greet. He shook hands, uttered +words which signified nothing, and replied to congratulations with +the words: "You are very kind." + +Suddenly he saw Mme. de Marelle, and the recollection of all the +kisses he had given her and which she had returned, of all their +caresses, of the sound of her voice, possessed him with the mad +desire to regain her. She was so pretty, with her bright eyes and +roguish air! She advanced somewhat timidly and offered him her hand. +He took, retained, and pressed it as if to say: "I shall love you +always, I am yours." + +Their eyes met, smiling, bright, full of love. She murmured in her +soft tones: "Until we meet again, sir!" and he gaily repeated her +words. + +Others approached, and she passed on. Finally the throng dispersed. +Georges placed Suzanne's hand upon his arm to pass through the +church with her. It was filled with people, for all had resumed +their seats in order to see them leave the sacred edifice together. +He walked along slowly, with a firm step, his head erect. He saw no +one. He only thought of himself. + +When they reached the threshold he saw a crowd gathered outside, +come to gaze at him, Georges du Roy. The people of Paris envied him. +Raising his eyes, he saw beyond the Place de la Concorde, the +chamber of deputies, and it seemed to him that it was only a stone's +throw from the portico of the Madeleine to that of the Palais +Bourbon. + +Leisurely they descended the steps between two rows of spectators, +but Georges did not see them; his thoughts had returned to the past, +and before his eyes, dazzled by the bright sunlight, floated the +image of Mme. de Marelle, rearranging the curly locks upon her +temples before the mirror in their apartments. + + + + + +End ofEProject Gutenberg Etext Bel Ami, by Henri Rene Guy De Maupassant + diff --git a/old/blami10.zip b/old/blami10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d4ac1c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/blami10.zip |